The Lady Elizabeth (16 page)

Later, as Kat was helping her to disrobe, Elizabeth repeated what she had overheard.

“It’s a good thing the King didn’t hear them,” Kat observed with an anxious look on her face, “otherwise the Lady Margaret might have found herself in the Tower a third time!”

“Do you think it’s true, that the Queen was in love with Thomas Seymour before my father asked her to marry him?” Elizabeth asked, sitting down so that Kat could brush her hair.

“There was some talk of that,” Kat replied, “but it may just be court gossip. Things get garbled. By all accounts, she is very fond of your father.”

“Well, I’m glad he has married her,” Elizabeth said. “I think she will be a very good queen. And a kind and loving stepmother. I have always dreamed of having such a stepmother.”

Kat could not help feeling a dart of jealousy. To all intents and purposes,
she
had been a mother to Elizabeth, and virtually the center of her world for many years now. She had thought her position invincible. True, she was glad that the new queen was so well disposed toward her charge, but she was also inwardly fearful that Katherine Parr might prove a rival for Elizabeth’s devotion. The German Princess and that giddy girl, Katherine Howard, had neither of them seemed to pose so much of a threat to Kat’s position as did this charming widow with her very genuine concern for the girl’s welfare, and the power to do all manner of good things for her.

But Kat was determined to ensure that no one should ever usurp her place in Elizabeth’s life—not even the Queen of England.

“I have something to tell you that I think will please you, Elizabeth,” the Queen said. “I have approached the King, and he has agreed that you should now have permanent lodgings at court, like the Lady Mary. And he has consented to both of you being appointed my chief ladies-in-waiting.”

“Oh, madam!” cried Elizabeth ecstatically. She was already greatly fond of her new stepmother, and now she had so much more for which to be beholden to her. “I am so grateful! I am sure I do not deserve such kindness.”

“Nonsense! I knew you would be pleased.” Katherine beamed, and herself insisted on showing Elizabeth to her new apartments.

“They are right next to mine, overlooking the river,” she told her, leading the way along the gallery, “as they will be at Whitehall too. I have sent orders there.”

“Your Majesty is so kind to me,” Elizabeth exclaimed, almost skipping with joy. “I could not wait to come here, to be with you—I have long sighed for such happiness. And these rooms, they are
so
beautiful.” Her admiring gaze took in the vivid tapestries, the Turkish carpets, the polished, carved furniture and bright curtains. All for her!

“I asked for your table to be set in the window embrasure,” the Queen said, “so that you get the best light for your studies.”

“I cannot thank you enough, madam.” Kat, already installed and unpacking clothes, felt the resentful tears prick as Elizabeth, never a child to show much affection, ran to her stepmother and spontaneously hugged and kissed her.

“I promise,” the child vowed, “that you will never have cause to complain of me, and that I will be diligent in showing you obedience and respect.”

“I have no doubt of that.” The Queen smiled. “Now you will assist in tidying away your belongings, and then attend me after dinner in my privy chamber.” She kissed her stepdaughter on both cheeks; then, with a kindly nod at Kat, she was gone.

“Come and sit by me,” Katherine invited, and Elizabeth knelt at her feet.

“Leave us, please, Mistress Champernowne,” the Queen commanded, and Kat went stiffly away.

“You really are very pretty, you know, with that striking coloring,” Elizabeth’s stepmother said. “We will have to order you some new gowns, seeing you are now living at court.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” the child breathed.

“We’ll do that tomorrow,” Katherine said. “For now, I want to talk about your education. The King and I have marked that you are a wise and intelligent girl. You must therefore be aware that Mistress Champernowne, learned as she is, can teach you very little more. The King tells me you have been sharing some of your brother’s lessons, but now that you are growing up, and lodging at court, it is meet and seemly that you have your own tutor. Your father, in his great wisdom, wants you to have every opportunity to become an example of virtuous womanhood and an ornament to the House of Tudor, and with this in mind, he entrusted me with making inquiries as to someone suitable to instruct you. I’m happy to tell you I have found such a man. His name is William Grindal, and he is a famous Greek scholar.”

“Greek? You mean I am to be taught Greek, madam?” Elizabeth cried.

“And many other things besides,” the Queen told her, patting her head.

“I am all impatience!” the child declared eagerly. “I cannot wait to begin.”

The grizzly-haired William Grindal was no longer young, but he was very learned, and he had a quiet, tranquil way with him. On the first day, he produced a timetable of lessons and handed it to his pupil.

“If it please Your Grace, we will study languages in the mornings, when the mind is at its most retentive,” he began, in his calm, authoritative voice. “You already know some Latin, French, Italian, and Spanish, I understand.”

“And some Welsh, sir,” Elizabeth interrupted.

“Indeed. That is interesting. Very good. Well, you will of course continue with those languages, and you will also learn Greek, for Greek is essential for the study of the New Testament, and such works of the ancients as Sophocles’ tragedies and Isocrates’ orations. Thus you will acquire the skills to become a great orator yourself.”

“I hope I will not disappoint you, sir,” Elizabeth said humbly. This was all she had hoped for, and more, and she could not cease blessing her father and stepmother for making it possible.

“For three hours each afternoon, we will read history,” Master Grindal continued. “That is a good habit to establish. Through the study of history we learn more about our own civilization. Then we will look at philosophies ancient and modern. And, of course, you must practice your calligraphy and your needlework with Mistress Champernowne. The accomplished Master Battista Castiglione will attend twice a week to instruct you in Italian, and I understand that the Queen has engaged not only a new music master to further your skill on the lute, the virginals, and the viol, but also”—he sighed—“a dancing master, such is the vanity of this world; yet if you are to adorn princely courts, then you must know how to comport yourself. Her Majesty wishes you take the air each day, and walk and ride regularly, which she tells me you enjoy. Oh, and the King has specifically requested that you be given some instruction in using a crossbow. He thought that you might like to try your hand at shooting, seeing you are so good at fencing.” This was accompanied by a wry smile. “It is not for me to question His Majesty’s wisdom,” Grindal added.

“I should like that very much!” Elizabeth told him excitedly.

Kat had received the news of Master Grindal’s appointment equably enough, but inside she was boiling. So she was being relegated to teaching just calligraphy and needlework, was she? Clearly, her role as governess was being usurped, and there was nothing she could do about it. An honest woman, she admitted to herself that, no, there was not a lot more that she could teach Elizabeth; yet still she felt slighted and hurt.

Of course, she knew whom she had to blame. This was one more notch in the tally against her rival for Elizabeth’s affection.

When Elizabeth arrived at Ashridge on Edward’s sixth birthday, she was impressed to see him out of long skirts and breeched.

“That’s a fine suit of manly clothes you have, Brother!” she complimented the little boy as he stood, feet apart, one hand on his hip, the other clasping the hilt of his dagger, looking for all the world like a miniature imitation of their father. He doffed his feathered bonnet in acknowledgment of her curtsy.

“I thank you, sweet Sister,” he replied. “It was high time I left off those silly skirts.”

Dr. Coxe came forward to greet Elizabeth.

“His Highness looks every inch the prince now,” he declared, smiling.

“Dr. Coxe is now my governor,” Edward explained proudly. “From today, I will no longer be under the governance of women. Lady Bryan and Mistress Penn have already left.”

He spoke dispassionately, as if this were as inconsequential a matter as the weather. Elizabeth tried to imagine how she would feel if her beloved Kat left her. Her brother’s coolness disconcerted her.

“Are you not sad?” she asked. “Those ladies have looked after you from birth. You will miss them sorely.”

“It is not fitting that the heir to the throne be subject to petticoat rule,” Edward said haughtily, obviously reciting words he must have heard several times in recent days, and dismissing the subject. “Come and meet the young gentlemen whom our father has appointed to share my education and be my playfellows.”

He turned to a waiting line of more than a dozen young boys, all aristocrats by birth, and presented each in turn to Elizabeth.

“Henry Brandon, son to the Duke of Suffolk…Henry, Lord Hastings…” Each boy bowed low in turn as Elizabeth progressed along the line.

“Robert Dudley, son to the Viscount Lisle.”

Elizabeth’s eyes met the saucy fellow’s bold gaze and recognized a kindred spirit. Robert Dudley was about her age, she guessed; he looked like a gypsy or satyr with his dark, Italianate coloring and foxy face, and he had a mischievous glint in his eyes. The bow he swept was almost insultingly exaggerated, and certainly designed to draw attention to himself. I shall have to watch this one, thought Elizabeth.
And
I should like to teach him some manners…

As it was Edward’s birthday, there would be no lessons today. Instead, the Prince’s long-cherished wish was to be granted. The King had agreed that he should start his formal instruction in fencing and horsemanship. The boys were chattering excitedly about these activities as they divested themselves of their doublets and tested the points of their blunted foils.

“My Lady Elizabeth, pray be seated,” invited Dr. Coxe, indicating a high carved chair on the dais and pulling a stool up beside her. “We will have a good view of the sport from here.”

“Am I only to watch?” Elizabeth asked, a little indignant. “Barnaby here knows I can handle a foil as well as any boy. He taught me.”

Barnaby FitzPatrick, hearing her words, grinned.

“That is very true, sir. The Lady Elizabeth might put all of us to shame.”

“A girl, fencing?” Robert Dudley asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

“You are impudent, sir,” Elizabeth told him haughtily. “I will show you. Fencing Master, may I be this gentleman’s partner?”

Robert’s jaw dropped. She smiled at him sweetly.

“We shall play to decide which is the better, boy or girl,” she declared.

“But Your Grace cannot fence in those long skirts,” Barnaby pointed out. “Master Robert will have the advantage.”

“Then let him!” Elizabeth laughed. Robert’s cheeks were flushed with annoyance.

“Must I, sir?” he appealed to Dr. Coxe.

“We cannot gainsay a lady, especially a King’s daughter,” the tutor told him with a satisfied grin. It would be good for this proud boy to suffer a little humiliation.

The other young gentlemen having been paired off, the master demonstrated the correct stance and a few expert thrusts. “There are two kinds of swordsman. The duelist will rely on his skill with a rapier,” he explained, “while the athlete will achieve victory through his footwork. You must decide which you will be, gentlemen—and my lady!”

“I will be a duelist,” Elizabeth stated, her eyes gleaming.

“Then I must be also,” Robert muttered reluctantly.

“
Garde!
” she cried and lunged forward, parrying thrust for thrust. Taken unawares, for he had not really believed in her boasts, Robert was unprepared for the determination of her assault, and found himself stepping backward and bumping inelegantly into the young Lord Hastings.

“Parry!” he cried, recovering himself, but Elizabeth stood her ground determinedly. After some minutes of this, the master, seeing that the match was becoming dangerously competitive, called a halt.

“A good first effort, Your Grace!” he cried, beaming at the Prince, who had also been giving a good account of himself.

As they withdrew reluctantly to the dais, Robert, freed from the fear of being vanquished by a mere girl, said gallantly, “You were good, my lady.”

Glancing sideways at the dark-haired boy, Elizabeth was surprised to read admiration in his expression.

“I had a worthy opponent, sir,” she answered. Having proved her point, she could afford to be generous.

She saw a lot of Robert Dudley during the week of her visit, for she was allowed to join the Prince and his noble companions for lessons. Robert did not shine in the schoolroom.

“Why should I learn Greek?” he grumbled, taking advantage of Dr. Coxe’s temporary absence to lay down his pen.

“So that you can be a Humanist and study the works of the ancients,” Edward told him.

“I’d rather be out riding,” Robert said. He had a passion for horses.

“I can understand that, for I also love riding,” said Elizabeth, “but I love learning too, especially history and languages.”

“It’s all right for you, my lady, you are a girl and are not obliged to learn the things that a young gentleman needs to learn,” Robert said, a touch patronizingly.

“I assure you, Master Robert, that I study the same things as you do!” Elizabeth retorted hotly.

“What, geography, statecraft, and classics?” Robert asked.

“Those things and more,” she told him proudly. “And I love every minute of it.”

“How can you?” he groaned.

“Shhh,” Henry Brandon hissed. “Dr. Coxe will hear us.”

“He’s gone for a piss,” smirked Hastings. “Saving your pardon, my lady.”