Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (39 page)

Lord Robert remained silent, staring intently at Mary.

“How can you be so sure, Fawn? Walsingham found letters, very compromising letters between Sir John and a Jesuit priest. How do you explain that?” said Lord Robert.

“I cannot explain it. I only know that John is innocent. He has sworn his innocence to me on the lives of his children. I believe him,” said Mary.

“That is not very factual, dear. And I fear you are not unbiased in this case,” said Lord Robert.

“Is there no hope then?” said Mary.

“As long as there is breath, there is hope. I believe the best way for you to help your husband is to speak directly to the queen. Her Majesty often relies on her womanly instincts to make decisions of guilt and innocence. She may see more in your words than do I,” said Lord Robert.

“But how can I see her? She has forbidden me to come to court,” said Mary.

“Ah, that is where I come in. Let me see what I can arrange. I make no promises—I do not have the sway with the queen I once enjoyed. But there may be a way, yet. I shall call for you few days hence. Be ready, little Fawn. Be ready,” he said.

“I shall be at Cross Keys Inn. I shall wait for you there,” said Mary.

“I will send my man, Rogers, for you. He wears a cap with a black feather—that is how you shall know him. Until then, watch yourself. London is full of scalawags,” said Lord Robert as he turned to leave her. She listened as his footsteps grew softer and softer, then stopped altogether.

Mary sighed and waited until her heartbeat returned to normal. Then, she slipped out of the palace and back to her room at the inn.

Fifty-eight

July 10, 1574

“You have not met me in the laundry hall for many years, Rob. What is this all about?” said the queen, leaning against the cool stones.

“I thought you might enjoy remembering our dalliances here, Bess—it seems so long ago,” said Lord Robert, putting his arm against the wall and moving closer to face the queen.

“It was long ago—before your
other
dalliances came between us,” said the queen.

“I confess it—I have made love to others. I had to make do with coarse bread because I could not have manchet. You know, it was only gossip about my marriage to the Sheffield woman—we were never legally wed. She spreads it about because she wishes it were so. But I have loved
you,
Bess. I can never marry another. I still love only
you,
” he said, his face so close his beard tickled her nose.

“Oh please … enough of this foolish talk. Why did you bring me here?” said the queen, pushing him away.

“Is it so foolish? To speak of a love that has lasted these twenty years? Longer than many have lived,” he said. He pressed into her.

“When you have had a baseborn babe with another, yes, it is foolish to remember our own youthful enchantment. Yet, I am happy to learn the rumors about your wedding Mistress Douglass are untrue. I can forgive a bastard or two, I suppose,” said the queen, smiling ruefully at him. “Why have you brought me here?”

“Because I love you. And I would save you from your lesser nature,” he said, moving away from her.

“What do you mean, ‘my lesser nature’—I ought to box your ears for such insolence!” said the queen.

“Bess, dearest, you have done violence enough to those you love, have you not?” he said, grabbing her hand before the blow could land.

“I suppose you speak of the poppet,” said the queen.

“You know I do. You have had Sir John arrested for treason. He is set to die two days hence. Will you not stay your hand? There was scant proof Skydemore was involved—and I do not believe he was. As much as I applaud his efforts to root out every plot against you, I fear Walsingham has been overzealous in this case. I cannot believe you do not see this as well. Your queenly judgment is usually so keen,” said Lord Robert.

“I take Walsingham’s word—you have been happy enough to see me execute Norfolk and almost daily demand I try the Scottish queen. Why are you not happy to see these plotting recusants go to the block?” snapped the queen.

“Those who are guilty deserve death. But I do not think Skydemore is one of these. I think you wish to rid yourself of him so you can have Mary back at court,” said Lord Robert.

The queen turned to him, her finger wagging at him.

“And what if I do want her back! Is that so wrong? He has taken her from me as surely as the hand of Death would. And he shall die for it,” said the queen.

“Bess, sweetheart—this is unworthy of you. Can you not remember when we were young? How we loved? The chances we took so we could be together? Why, right here in this very corridor—do you not remember?” he said. He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him and began to sob softly.

“Yes, Sweet Robin, I remember. We thought we could love and rule the world,” she said.

“I would that I had whisked you away as Skydemore did our Fawn. How happy we might have been,” said Lord Robert.

“Would we? Would you have been happy without your power and position? Would I? We cannot know what might have been. We must live with what is,” said the queen.

“Then let us live in such a way as we first started—with honor and fighting for what is right. Will you see our Fawn? She has come to London to beg your forgiveness. Will you see her?” said Lord Robert, still holding the queen close. He kissed her gently on the mouth.

“God’s blood, Rob. Send her to me. I shall see her. Now, kiss me again, won’t you?” said the queen.

Fifty-nine

By all the saints in heaven, how is it I have agreed to see her? What magic does the Earl of Leicester possess that causes me to throw away my perfectly reasonable ways and take up his own? If I did not know better, I would say Dr. Dee has given Leicester some sort of potion to bend me to his will. God’s blood!

Now that I know she is coming, what am I to do?

Yes, Parry, I will be glad to see the urchin. I know what she wants—that husband of hers released from the Tower. I shall not release him—he has been proven a traitor! I had nothing to do with it, Parry. And what if I did! It is my right as queen, is it not, to suggest possible traitors to my spymaster! I am queen! I will be obeyed!

I wonder if these weeks away from court have changed our girl. Has she gained some creases across her brow? Is she wasting away from worry? Does she miss us? Has she shed tears because she has displeased us?

Well, I have. My heart aches without her to calm me. I cannot sleep—and no, Mistress Frances does not help as our Fawn did. I miss her! I admit it. And now, I am to see her once again. Will she be sincere in her apologies? For I know she will ask my forgiveness, which I would easily give if I thought she meant it. Do you think she will mean it from her heart? Or will this be another example of a courtier trying to get a favor from the daft old queen?

Yes, I have missed her. And I have missed my Sweet Robin, too. Perhaps it is time to forgive him, as well. I have treated him coldly for a very long time. Now, I shall welcome him to my arms. After all, he has sent Lady Douglass to the country and he has sworn to me that they never married. That was a tale she told to force him to it, but he was having none of it. He said if he could not marry the woman he truly loved, he would never marry. I do believe him, Parry. I truly do.

I shall wear my finest clothes. I shall even wear my small crown. She shall see me in all my splendor. By God’s teeth, then we shall see her cower before us! Come, Parry, we have work to do.

Sixty

July 11, 1574

Mary spent a long time preparing to meet the queen. She bathed and perfumed herself with the rose water she’d had Thomas buy at the apothecary’s shop. The yellow gown she had packed was wrinkled and smudged with dirt but she brushed it as best she could. She wore the matching French hood and put her long black hair beneath the snood. She slipped on her velvet shoes with the seed pearls sewn all over and wore the necklace the queen had given her years ago, the one with diamonds and pearls, having been all this time in her special box. She took the ringlet of hair and placed it inside her sleeve. She drank a tall glass of wine before heading for Whitehall.

This time when she went abroad, people noticed her. Out of the plain dress of a serving girl and into clothes fit for the court made all the difference. Men nodded to her as she passed and women stared at her fine dress. Such looks gave her confidence.

Lord Robert had told her to be in the Presence Chamber at noon and he would see that she got an audience with the queen. She had never been more nervous—it was much like the first time she’d been led into the queen’s presence by Mistress Blanche.

She entered the palace halls and walked with purpose to the Presence Chamber. The yeoman announced her and she strode through the door as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She saw Nora, who smiled at her, and Pakington, who did not. Nora looked healthy and thinner than she had been before her pregnancy. Being a mother must suit her.

Mary saw Oxford, who stared at her as if she had a second head growing from her neck. She nodded to him, but did not speak. She found a spot beneath the window and waited. She did not want to contaminate Nora by talking to her—who knew what trouble
that
might cause. After all, she was banished, in the queen’s bad graces. The best thing she could do for her friend was to ignore her.

Soon, the bell tolled twelve and many of the courtiers left the chamber, tired of waiting or having other appointments to attend. Mary settled in, expecting another long wait. She gazed at the fine furnishings around her, the tapestries and paintings. How different from the inn where she’d spent the last few days. How different from her beloved Holme Lacy. Suddenly, she wished she could run, leave the court and return to that peaceful house on the hill, return to the children she was just beginning to love. But it was too late for that. The door to the queen’s Privy Chamber opened and Lord Robert beckoned her in.

She rose and smoothed her hair. She walked as quietly as she could and saw the queen sitting on her throne, waiting. Never had the queen looked so regal. Mary noticed she was wearing her crown, something she rarely did. Her dress was covered with pearls and the sleeves were cloth of gold slashed with white silk. Her Majesty looked more like a goddess than a mere mortal.

Mary immediately went to her knees. She stayed in that position for a long moment. Then, she slowly began to creep toward the throne. The room was long, very long and narrow. Already, she felt pain as her knees scraped along the hard floor. The rushes were filled with foodstuff, spittle, and she could only guess what else, yet she hobbled through the muck, still on her knees. The smell of refuse and urine almost gagged her but on she crawled. She hoped that by humbling herself in this way, she could move the queen’s heart.

Finally, she arrived at the throne. She stayed on her knees, glancing up very quickly one time only. She saw Mistress Blanche standing behind the queen on one side, with Lord Robert on the other.

The queen did not look at her.

She did not know whether to speak or not. She kept her head bowed and waited.

Still, there was nothing but silence.

The silence grew until it was unbearable. This woman, who had been kind to her for most of her life, now refused to look at her. Suddenly, Mary realized how much she had missed the queen, how she had longed to share the day’s events with her as she brushed Her Majesty’s hair. Mary felt a tear trickle down her face. She had not realized she was crying. The queen must have noticed it, too. Finally, Her Majesty spoke.

“Why are you here?” the queen said.

“Your Majesty, I have come to beg your pardon. You took me under your wing as a mother hen does her chick. You provided me with all good things, especially your love. I betrayed that love by marrying without your permission. I am here to beg forgiveness and to ask for your love once again. I have been lost without it,” said Mary.

Again, the room grew quiet.

Mary began to lose hope as the silence continued. She thought she could hear the beating of everyone’s heart. Or maybe it was just the thudding of her own.

“These are sweet words. What proof do I have that you mean them? As I know better than most, those at court learn to dissemble so well, the truth is hard to find,” said the queen, her voice like ice.

“Your Majesty,” said Mary, raising her face to look into the queen’s black eyes, “you know me better than anyone. You have been with me since I was but a child. You know I love you and I am telling you what is in my heart.”

“Have you come to try and save your husband?” said the queen.

“Yes. I am begging you to spare him—he is no traitor, of that I am certain,” said Mary.

“I see. So now you tell me my courts misjudge? There is not justice in my realm?” said the queen, her voice rising.

“No, Your Grace. I just tell you I know this man and I know he loves Your Majesty. He has proven his love with his body,” said Mary.

“I am not given to executing innocent people. If Walsingham finds him guilty, then guilty he must be,” said the queen.

Another silence filled the room.

Mary did not know what else to say. She slipped her hand up her sleeve and pulled out the ringlet of hair.

“Your Majesty gave me this many years ago. I have kept it in my box of treasures. Do you remember it?” said Mary, handing the hair to the queen.

The queen held out her long, delicate hands and carefully received the lock. She took it close to her face to examine it.

“I cannot believe you have held on to it this long—it was just a silly fancy. But you have kept it all these years,” said the queen, her voice softening.

“Those who love Your Majesty often keep trinkets to remind us of your love,” said Lord Robert. “And those who have loved you long, those are the ones you can trust.”

“As she who rocked your cradle, Your Grace, I concur with Lord Robert—you can trust those who have been as close as your own family,” said Mistress Blanche, smiling at Mary. Lord Robert gave her warm looks, too.