Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (15 page)

He removed his cap and bowed low so that the feather swept the ground. She returned a curtsy, minimal and brief.

“The lovely Mistress Mary—you are a sight for my weary eyes,” said Oxford, easily rising from his bow to wrap one arm around her waist and lead her to a bench by the window.

“I thank you, sir,” said Mary, sitting down. The place where his arm had touched her tingled and she could think of nothing to say. Her skills at conversation seemed to dissipate into the candlelit air.

“May I sit beside you?” he asked.

He was certainly behaving more politely than he had previously. Mary liked the way he was treating her, a little like the way Lord Robert treated the queen—as if she were a precious vessel and would break easily.

“Everyone is ready to dance by the look of their faces. For on the morrow, as you must know, we give up our earthly pleasures for forty days. For some of us, that is an unwelcome thought,” said Oxford.

“Ah, but then the pleasures will seem so much sweeter when we do take them. I think the season not so much an exercise in restraint as in thanksgiving,” said Mary.

“What pleasures will you give thanks for, milady?” said Oxford, his voice full of suggestion.

“For good food and good company,” said Mary, watching as the queen clapped her hands for the musicians to play.

“I shall give thanks for women such as yourself—women with whom I would share more than a dance,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She withdrew it at once.

“You take too much for granted, sir. God’s blood, I have not agreed to share even this dance with you, let alone anything else,” said Mary.

“But you are angry, mistress. What have I done? Merely complimented your beauty, and now I simply wish to dance with the most lovely woman in the Great Hall,” said Oxford, rising and leading her to the dancing area. The musicians played a slow pavanne and he moved gracefully toward her, their hands touching. He smiled and made no attempt to hide the fact that he ogled her body as if she belonged to him.

Mary began to feel her body flush, as if the blood would warm her all over. She did not like the earl but was not sure how to be rid of him.

After the dance, he again took her by the arm and led her to a nearby portico. The torches blazed golden and the silver moon was full. Before she could protest, he pushed her behind a tall hedgerow and kissed her on the mouth.

“I have wanted to do that for such a long time, my Mary. I have dreamed of your sweet lips, your dark eyes that would drown me if I gazed into them too long,” he said, pressing against her.

“
You
may have wanted to but
I
have not!” said Mary, pushing him away. His arms were strong and she could not move far from him.

“Do not think to refuse me, now that I have you here—your lips say one thing, but your body, oh, your womanly body tells me another. See? You are trembling,” he said as he brought her to him and kissed her again. She felt his tongue moving in her mouth and she grew weak, so weak that she leaned into him. “Ah, that’s it, my Mary. You want me and I want you—let us become one this night. Let me show you the ways of love.”

“Sir, you have mistook me. I do not crave your kisses or your caresses. You once asked if you could pay court to me, with marriage as your goal. Yet you make no move to ask the queen about a possible match between us. It is clear to me that you only wish to besmirch my honor. God’s bones, man! Bother me no more,” said Mary, regaining her composure, pushing away from him.

“I have not mistook you, my Mary. For I know well how to read a woman. It is you who are deceived. But I will wait for you to come to me. And I know you will. No, say nothing. I will wait,” said Oxford as he put his finger to her lips, bowed quickly, and left her standing there, quite out of breath.

She smoothed her dress and her hair. She counted to ten and took a deep breath. Then she counted once more. Finally, when she felt she could face the crowd, she walked from the hedges to the stone portico. Just as she began her journey across the tiles, she saw someone heading toward her.

“Are you studying the position of the moon and stars? For what else could you be doing out here all alone?” said Sir John, his tall silhouette like a shadow moving slowly before her.

“Yes. I thought to see Polaris,” she said, looking up.

“There—see? The one at the end of the Plough—do you see it?” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pointing.

“Why yes, there it is. I thank you, sir. I should not have found it by myself,” said Mary, her mind topsy-turvy.

“I am quite sure you could have found it! Why this sudden modesty? Or are you trying out your womanly ways on me?” said Sir John, laughing.

“I did sound rather like every other lady-in-waiting, didn’t I? And not myself at all. Forgive me, Sir John,” she said.

“There is nothing to forgive—I often find myself sounding like my grandfather! And, since we have agreed to be friends, you are to call me John, remember?” he said.

“I am not sure we can be friends, Sir John. We differ in our beliefs and
yours
are dangerous,” she said.

“Surely two people who enjoy discussing astronomy and religion can be friends, even if they disagree. I swear to you my fealty to the queen and her rule. I do not support any other. Now come—I have danced up an appetite! Would you like to join me for some gooseberry tarts?” he said, smiling. “I know how well you like them!”

“I suppose it will not hurt to share a sweet—surely there is no danger at the table!” said Mary.

Mary couldn’t help but like Sir John, though she was not certain the queen was as pliant as he supposed. He was not grasping, the way Oxford was; instead, he was sincere. An honest man. A man she could not help but admire. There was something about him she had a hard time resisting—as if they were twin stars. He exerted a pull upon her, so that she was not happy unless they were touching. She found herself leaning toward him before she had had time to think about it.

He took her elbow and guided her to the heavily laden table. She was very conscious of his touch against her arm and felt a blush warming her cheeks. Mary noticed Lord Robert was dancing with Lady Douglass and the queen with the newcomer to court, Sir Christopher Hatton. Hatton was an energetic partner, a good match for the queen. As she watched the couples swirl around the floor, she caught a glimpse of Nora and Master Nicholas. Nora was smiling gaily.

She looked over the crowd once again to see if Oxford was anywhere around. He was nowhere to be found. She sighed with relief.

Eighteen

April 1570

In the Presence Chamber, the queen sat on her throne and her councillors gathered around, standing in a semicircle before her. She had had the benches removed, and the men fiddled with their capes, their doublets, the hilts of their swords, their caps in hand, and generally looked like schoolboys ready to be scolded by the tutor. Mary and Mistress Blanche stood behind the queen, Mistress Blanche with a glass of watered wine and Mary with a napkin should the queen need it.

The queen held up her hand to call them to order.

“Our right loving lords, our faithful and obedient servants, we, in the name of God, for His service, and for the safety of this state, are here now assembled to His glory. I hope and pray that it may be to your comfort and the common quiet of all ours forever,” said the queen in a loud voice.

Then she proceeded to name the laws she had changed to suit them, laws that bridled her Catholic subjects more than she would have liked. It was now illegal to speak of the queen as a tyrant or heretic, illegal to post a papal bull in England, and all citizens must attend the Church of England at least once a month. The queen then spoke of a new threat from the King of France, who, it seemed, had taken up the cause of the Queen of Scots. He was insisting Mary be reinstated on her throne and Elizabeth assist her. The queen then explained she would help her cousin regain her crown, if Mary would do three things: first, ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, giving up all claim to the English throne; second, maintain the Protestant religion for the peace of her realm; and lastly, retain the current lords in the governing of the country.

“Majesty, if Queen Mary is reinstated, should we not make provision that her son, young James, be educated in England? That would give us some control over her actions, considering a mother’s natural affection for her child,” said Master Cecil.

“This is a good idea, Your Majesty. She has shown herself to be a woman of loose moral fiber, someone who acts rashly. If we have possession of her son, it might temper her decisions,” added Lord Robert, who had gone down on one knee.

“Well, then, add it, Master Secretary. I trust this measure will be the last we hear from my dear cousin. I, for one, shall be glad to be rid of her,” said the queen. She indicated for Mistress Parry to pour her wine and drank quickly. Then she reached for the napkin Mary offered.

“Gentlemen, I do not know what else to do—I know many of you wish to support James and the Protestants in Scotland. But with the threat of war with France, we must at least
seem
to help Mary regain her throne. After the recent Northern Rebellion, we do not wish to give our Catholic citizens any cause to rise again,” said the queen.

The queen then dismissed her council and turned to Mary.

“Ah, Fawn, how lovely you look—could you be growing more beautiful each spring while I grow old and haggard?” said the queen, her eyes appraising Mary.

“Your Grace knows you are the one who is especially lovely this day—I have selected from among your most luxurious gowns the pale blue satin you now wear. And the white silk sleeves threaded with silver,” said Mary. “How can anyone outshine the sun?”

“You have learned your trade well, my Fawn. I expect those silly geese—my other ladies—to repeat such nonsense to me, but never you. You are allowed to tell me the truth, at least a little of the truth,” said the queen.

“I shall tell Your Majesty the truth,” said Lord Robert, easing into their conversation. He dropped once again to one knee.

“And which truth shall this be, Sweet Robin?” said the queen, her fingers tickling his neck as she had done when she made him the Earl of Leicester.

“The truth is, we three have not picnicked in some long time. Let us go now—just we three and a couple of serving maids. The sun is shining, the day is warm—ah, Bess, I would hold you again in the fresh air of the countryside where we can cast off the burdens of state and take our pleasure in each other, and our little Fawn,” said Lord Robert.

“Fawn is not so little anymore, or have my Eyes been deceived? She is a young woman now and, from what I have noted, the apple of many a young man’s eye,” said the queen.

Mary turned red and looked at her feet.

“See how prettily she blushes—no wonder Oxford moons over her,” said the queen. “Dear Rob, I think a ride in the country should do us all good. Let us be off!”

Mary blushed more deeply. Had Oxford spoken with the queen of his intentions? Was he going to woo her for marriage? Married to an earl … that was quite a leap from her current station, even though she was cousin to the queen. Her father had been a mere knight, nothing more. How proud he would be, she imagined, to think of her marrying an earl.

*   *   *

Mary helped the queen change into her riding clothes, a pale green gown of silk with white satin sleeves edged in gold and her gold cap with the green feather. Then Mary selected her own dusky blue gown with silver sleeves and a deep blue–gray cap with a black caul interwoven with silver thread. Together with Mistress Blanche and two serving women, they walked to the gate where Lord Robert would bring their steeds.

As they waited, Mary saw Lord Robert mounted on glorious Caesar, leading two other horses and two mules. Beside him rode a courtier, though the sun shielded his identity. Mary was confused. She thought the picnic was to be only the three of them.

“Mistress Mary, I hope you do not mind—I have invited my friend the Earl of Oxford to join us,” said Lord Robert, smiling his most dazzling smile.

“After I pleaded with him shamelessly,” said Oxford, grinning at her.

Mary thought perhaps the queen would come to her rescue.

“If it pleases Her Majesty, then his presence is acceptable to me,” said Mary glumly, trying to beam her thoughts to the queen by staring at her. The queen did not seem to notice.

“The more, the merrier! Come, Fawn, let us teach these gentlemen how to ride!” said the queen, mounting her horse and quickly guiding the beast through the gates and onto the open road.

Mary climbed onto her palfrey and followed the queen. She heard Lord Robert shouting orders for the servants to assist Mistress Blanche onto one mule and tie up the baskets of food and the blankets. A serving wench was to follow on the other mule. Mary felt sorry for the beast, forced to carry a person as well as heavy baskets of food and drink.

The queen rode as speedily as possible through the narrow streets of London until she passed through Aldgate, Lord Robert close behind her. He signaled the way, and off through the meadows they galloped. Mary tried to keep up, but she was not as good on a horse as was the queen. Oxford rode beside her, pulling her horse by the bridle when a small flock of sheep, heading into the city, blocked the dirt road.

“Have a care, mistress. Think not to apprehend Her Majesty. Let us keep safe and try not to trample any lambs along the way,” said Oxford.

“But we do not know where Lord Robert is leading us. We must follow,” said Mistress Mary, disturbed by the bleating and sea of wool beneath her.

“I know his mind on this—if we lose sight of them, I shall still be able to get us to the spot. Besides, those mules will be slow to get through this crowd, and
they
must follow
us,
” he said.

Soon enough, the flock passed on and Mary could see the women on their mules coming up behind them. She and Oxford rode at a gentle pace, out over the meadows, toward the forest beyond. The sun shone pale yellow, the first warming rays of spring. The fields had begun to come back to life, bright green blades blending with the brown of winter. Small lime-colored buds showed that soon the trees would be filled with leaves. The air smelled fresh and clean once they had moved a goodly distance from the city.