Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her (46 page)

and turned to look back across the lawns to where the little crowd still

hovered around the archery butts, uncertain whether they could consider

themselves dismissed or not. “Come—you had better take me back. They

are beginning to talk.”

“Talk about what?” he demanded irritably.

“They say you come too often to my rooms—and I to yours.”

“Oh, for God’s sake—you never come alone!”

She shrugged and began to retrace her steps across the lawn, with the

train of her russet shooting costume trailing over the parched grass.

“The Council doesn’t like your familiarity with me.”

“You mean
Cecil
doesn’t like it.”

She was silent and Robin knew his guess had been correct.

“I can’t begin to understand why you put your trust in that man. He’s

a treacherous, self-seeking bastard.”

“I hear much the same song of you from him—admittedly in a lower

key,” Elizabeth gave him a quick sidelong glance. “Why do you dislike

him so much?”

“He betrayed my father. If it hadn’t been for him—”

“If it hadn’t been for him,” Elizabeth cut in sharply, “I would be dead

now at your father’s hands.”

264

Legacy

Robin shook his head.

“Your life was never in any danger—only Mary’s. Father swore you

would not be harmed.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“And you believed him?”

“He gave me his word. And no matter what he may have done as a

public man, once Father gave his word to any of us—”

Elizabeth’s glance was suddenly curiously full of pity.

“Your father gave his word before God to your mother. He also gave

her thirteen children.” Her voice was quiet and controlled. “Shortly

before Edward died he offered to divorce her and marry me. I refused. If

I had not done so I would now be your step-mother and what you ask of

me would be near incest.”

He was silent, utterly stunned, demoralised by this final disillusion-

ment with a dead man. He could not question the truth of her assertion.

Even Elizabeth would not lie on such a matter.

“Robin,” she said gently, “I would not have told you that for all the

world—but when you speak so lightly of treachery in a loyal man—”

“I understand,” he muttered stiffly. “It ill becomes me. And I see now

that you were right. Once Father had you in his hand your life would

not have been worth a farthing piece. So when Cecil castigates me for

a traitor’s son you naturally listen to him. Under the circumstances you

would be a fool to do otherwise.”

“I don’t always listen to Cecil’s tales,” she remarked lightly, “or to

his advice.”

He turned to her eagerly, grasping her hand so hard that she winced.

“Is he out of favour?”

She smiled evasively. “Let’s just say that some of his pearls of wisdom

have fallen on deaf ears lately. Now forget him and fetch my bow. I still

intend to win this match against you.”

He smiled suddenly.

“And I still intend to beat you hollow—
madam.”

She laid her fingers lightly on his arm.

“That’s why I love to shoot against you. You’re the only man in this

court who would dare.”

t t t

265

Susan Kay

“Here is a great resort of wooers and controversy among lovers,” Cecil

wrote irritably in October. “Would to God the Queen had one and the

rest were honourably satisfied.”

Certainly he had some cause for complaint. The court was a veritable

bear garden of foreign envoys and lesser suitors, all clamouring for attention

and all quite shamelessly encouraged by the most sought after young lady

in Europe. She discouraged no one. They sent expensive gifts and while

they were all planning to marry her, they were far too busy to consider

any less friendly line of action. Let them all come, bearing jewels, furs and

tapestries—she was quite happy to play them off, one against the other.

She was quite blatantly enjoying the farce, but Cecil was not amused.

“It can’t go on much longer, madam—it really can’t. You must—” He

quailed as she looked up pointedly from her papers. “It is—essential—that

you marry soon.”

Elizabeth rose from her chair and arched her back like a lazy cat; he

had never noticed before how decidedly feline all her movements were.

“Who can I marry?” she inquired with studied innocence. “The people

will resent a foreigner, the nobility will resent an Englishman—you must

admit that doesn’t leave a lot of choice.”

“Surely the Earl of Arran, as a Scot, would offend no one.”

“Except me!”

“Madam!” He flung out his hand hopelessly towards her. Of late all

his gestures had become a little more exaggerated when he spoke to the

Queen. “I thought you liked him!”

“I liked him so well I hope never to see him again,” she said drily.

“But, madam, you said—”

“I said nothing of any consequence.”

“Yet Arran was convinced of your intentions.”

“My dear Cecil, they are
all
convinced of my intentions. I spend a

great deal of time and effort to that very purpose. When I marry—
if
I

marry—I trust it will be a man with more to sustain his role than six stiff

inches of manhood. A mind for one thing wouldn’t come amiss. Arran

was more than half out of his—surely you noticed.”

Cecil coughed to cover his discomfort.

“A few unfortunate mannerisms, madam, nothing to cause real concern.”

“I fear they would concern me greatly,” she said coolly, “in the

bedchamber.”

266

Legacy

He looked at the floor and she eyed him with amusement.

“Arran is overbred and unstable—like half the crowned heads in

Europe. I will go virgin to my grave sooner than raise a brood of vacant

lunatics to menace England after my death.”

“They’re not
all
madmen,” he began uneasily.

“No? You’d call the King of Sweden sane? Perhaps you should read

some of his love letters. And the Spanish heir tortures live rabbits in

his private apartments—roasts them alive on a spit so that he can hear

them scream.”

“Rabbits?” he echoed vaguely.

“Distant relatives of yours, perhaps—they too are obsessed with

perpetuating the species.”

“With respect, madam,” he said pointedly, “this matter deserves

serious discussion.”

She gave him a hard little smile that made her lips look like a closed

trap and said silkily, “I stand corrected, Mr. Secretary.”

It would have silenced any other man, even Robin. But Cecil had

courage. In spite of the sudden prickle of sweat above his upper lip, he

had his teeth into the subject now and he did not mean to let go without

a struggle.

“Your Majesty, I repeat, the present situation is insupportable. Your

suitors—”

“My suitors,” she interrupted with a hostility that was now unmistak-

able, “are a box of rotten apples. Show me one without a maggot big

enough to consume me and England too and I’ll marry him tomorrow!”

Retreating hastily from his blunder he said uncomfortably, “Madam, I

don’t deny there are grave difficulties—”

“I’ve had enough of the subject,” she snapped. “If you have nothing

else to say then get out of here and leave me in peace.”

“Your Majesty.” He inclined his head automatically and began to talk

of other business, giving in to her once more as he was finding it neces-

sary to do with increasing frequency these days. She was easily ruffled of

late, flippant and cantankerous by turns and it was extremely difficult to

judge which way her mood would turn. Their relationship was suffering

in consequence and he believed he knew the reason why. There was only

one man in this court who could make her behave like an adolescent girl

in love, stubborn and intractable, blind to all reason. Robert Dudley,

267

Susan Kay

that undesirable young upstart, a married man it was true, but with a

meek little wife who kept herself discreetly in the country, childless

and divorceable. If the Queen should choose Robert Dudley to be her

consort, Cecil had a shrewd idea what his own fate would be.

They began to discuss arrangements for armed men to march on Scotland;

and the atmosphere between them as they did so was decidedly frigid.

t t t

Soft yellow candlelight filled the Queen’s bedchamber, winking on the

jewels of a select little group of courtiers, the favoured, privileged few

who had spent the evening in her company. Talk and laughter faded

slowly in their wake as they kissed her hand and began to file out into the

Privy Chamber.

Robin lingered long over kissing her hand. He was always the first

to arrive and the last to leave and now he stood with her hands in his as

though force alone would make him tear himself away.

She was beautiful tonight, an elegant column of black velvet stamped

with golden oak leaves, her chin framed by a ruff of finely worked lace.

Slowly, deliberately, he drew her forward into his arms and there was a

breathless silence as their lips met. For a long moment she was locked in

his urgent embrace, and then at last she drew away and pressed her hands

against his shoulder, gently pushing him back. He whispered something

in her ear; those by the door heard her laugh softly and saw her shake her

head, then he bowed deeply, reverently, and backed out of the room, his

eyes never leaving her face. The door closed behind him and she stood

staring at it, smiling, oblivious to the tense, uneasy glances her women

exchanged as they materialised from the corners of the room and came

forward to begin the arduous ceremony of the Disrobing. Nobody spoke;

nobody dared. Elizabeth sat down at her dressing-table and stared into her

mirror with distant eyes.

Lettice Knollys removed the little pearl-studded cap and began to

brush the Queen’s long hair until her arm ached. Lettice was one of her

many Boleyn cousins, a light-natured, impudent chit of a girl with a sharp

malicious tongue that often amused her cynical mistress. But the woman

who watched her now in the mirror was not preparing to be amused.

She had caught Lettice smiling very warmly at Robin this evening, and

consequently felt less than cousinly towards her.

268

Legacy

When the brush tugged at a tangled curl and flew from Lettice’s grasp,

she was more than ready for her.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty—”

Elizabeth turned very slowly from the mirror, holding the moment for

her embarrassment.

“Take care how you treat your Queen’s possessions,” she remarked

pointedly.

The cold formality of Elizabeth’s challenge covered Lettice with

confusion as she groped uncertainly for the brush.

“Shall I—shall I continue, madam?”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth took the brush out of the girl’s quivering

hand. “I think I would prefer to keep what little hair is left after your

clumsy ministrations.”

“I’m truly sorry, madam—I swear I never saw the snarl.”

“Yes—I have observed your eyes to be elsewhere more than once

this evening.”

Lettice turned a dull brick-red and tiny beads of perspiration broke out

above her upper lip.

“Madam, I beg—”

“I have no further need of you tonight, Lettice. You may withdraw.”

Lettice curtsied and hurried out of the room and the Queen leaned

her chin on her hands, still staring dreamily into the mirror. It was seldom

necessary for her to put anyone in their place more than once; she put

Lettice out of her mind as easily as she might have closed a book.

“Your Majesty—I must speak to you.”

Elizabeth dragged her eyes unwillingly from her reflection and looked

up to find Mrs. Ashley at her side, nervously twisting her wedding ring.

“What the devil’s wrong with you, Kat? You look as though all the

hounds of hell are on your tail.”

Kat slipped painfully to her knees and groped for the Queen’s hands.

The hounds of hell would be the least of her worries once she had said

what she knew she must.

“Madam, forgive me—forgive me, but I must say this. Lord Robert

Dudley—” She hesitated, groping for the right words, and Elizabeth

sighed faintly.

“Madam, to allow him such freedom—such liberties with your

person—”

269

Susan Kay

Elizabeth smiled and touched the faded face at her knee with affection.

“Kat! Lord Robert is like a brother to me. Why shouldn’t he kiss

me goodnight?”

Kat glared up at her through red-rimmed eyes. When a brother and

sister kissed like that there was a very ugly word for it.

“Such behaviour will ruin your reputation,” she insisted.

Elizabeth picked up the brush and began to brush her hair lazily.

“If you continue to cluck like an old hen I shall simply ignore

you, Kat.”

In all her years of tending Elizabeth, Kat had never once lost her

temper. But she lost it now.

“You can’t behave like this—do you think the people will stand

for it?”

“Kat—”

“By Christ’s soul, madam, I would I had strangled you in your cradle