The Tudor Secret (5 page)

When I looked about, I noticed that Walsingham had slipped away. Cecil bowed before Elizabeth. “Master Walsingham asked me to offer his apologies; he had business to attend to. By your leave, I’ll see Urian to his kennel.” He kissed her extended hand, started to turn away.

“Cecil,” she said, and he paused. “I must do this, for Edward. I cannot let them think that I’ll cower in my house and wait for their summons.”

He gave her a sad smile. “I know. I only hope you’ll come to no harm because of it.” He walked away, the hound at his side.

I watched Elizabeth turn toward the hall entrance. Her women flanked her; she suddenly looked small, vulnerable, even as she lifted her chin with regal poise to descend the steps. When she entered that crowded space, the music in the gallery sputtered, twanging discordantly before it ceased. Silence fell, so profound I could hear her footsteps on the painted wood floor. I inched forward, slipping past the shadows by the doors, blending into the crowd to watch as the duke strode to her through bowing courtiers.

“My lord of Northumberland, this is an honor,” said Elizabeth. She held out her hand. The duke bowed, his bearded lips lingering on her fingers even as his eyes lifted to hers.

“The honor is mine, Your Grace. I welcome you to court.”

“Do you?” She smiled with dazzling candor. “I confess I’d begun to think you would deny me the pleasure of this court indefinitely. How long has it been since my sister Mary came to visit? Four months? Five? Yet not one invitation did you extend to me in all that time.”

“Ah, you see I waited for an opportune time.” The duke righted himself, standing a head taller than her. “As you are aware, His Majesty has been ill.”

“Yes. I am aware. I trust Edward is on his way to a full recovery?”

“Indeed, and he has asked for you several times. Did you not get his letters?”

“I did, yes. I … I am relieved.” I saw her soften; she even managed to toss her head with a touch of flirtatiousness as she set her hand on the duke’s arm and allowed him to guide her into the hall. Amid the incandescent flames and sheen of mirrors, the colored satins, and extravagant jewels, as courtiers sank into obeisance like overdressed heaps, she stood out like alabaster. A chill slithered up my spine. It was as if I were seeing everything for the first time, my senses attuned to this forest of treachery and deceit, populated by well-fed predators who circled the princess much as wolves circle their prey.

I had to remind myself that my antiquated notions of chivalry, nurtured on childhood tales of knights of lore, were getting the best of me. Delicate in appearance as she may be, Elizabeth Tudor was not a helpless fawn. She’d been breathing this venomous air from the very hour of her birth. If anyone knew how to survive at court, it was she. Instead of worrying about her, I’d do better to focus on my own troubles. I had yet to deliver the ring, and Robert had made it clear what I could expect if I failed. I saw others like me in the hall, liveried shadows behind their masters, carrying goblet and napkin. Perhaps I too could become invisible, until I found the opportunity to approach her again.

I searched the crowd. Elizabeth drifted in and out of my vision, pausing to tap a shoulder here, offer a smile there. When she reached an enormous hearth near the dais, she paused. Sitting on upholstered chairs were persons of obvious importance. All rose to offer obeisance. I thought it must be difficult to command such deference, to know she’d always be set apart by rank and blood. And then I saw my chance.

Lurking at a sideboard not far from that noble company was Master Shelton.

The Tudor Secret

I stepped into a surge of incoming courtiers, evading an onslaught of servitors carrying platters as I navigated toward a cluster of ladies in mammoth gowns, who blocked my way.

Someone hauled me by my sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” hissed Master Shelton. I smelled wine on his breath as he pulled me to the sideboard. He had a foul frown, the same one he wore when the household accounts failed to add up or he’d discovered one of the gamekeepers poaching Dudley livestock.

“Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to answer? Where is your master Lord Robert?”

I decided that the less I said, the better. “His lordship the duke sent him to the Tower on an errand. He asked me to meet him here.” As I spoke, I was distracted by a shift in the ebb and flow of the crowd, through which I caught sight of the princess, standing by the chairs.

“Then you should have gone with him,” said Shelton. “A squire must never be far from his master’s side.”

Elizabeth was talking to a diminutive girl seated in one of those grand chairs. The girl wore simple garb that resembled Elizabeth’s, as did her copper-tinted hair and pale skin, only hers was freckled. Sprawled in a chair at her side, flushed from wine, was Guilford Dudley.

“Stop staring!” barked Master Shelton, but his face was set like mortar, his own eyes focused on Elizabeth, who smiled at something the girl was saying. He seemed to have trouble looking away, his big hand fumbling as he reached for his cup. As he quaffed its contents, I remembered that I had never seen him drink while on duty. But perhaps he wasn’t on duty tonight. Perhaps Lady Dudley had given him the night to himself. Somehow, I doubted it. For as long as I had known him, Master Shelton had always been on duty.

“Who is that?” I asked, thinking I might as well draw him into conversation while I debated how best to deliver the ring hidden in my pocket.

He frowned. “Who else would it be? Are you blind? That’s Lord Guilford, of course.”

“I mean the lady sitting next to Lord Guilford.”

He went silent. Then he muttered, “Lady Jane Grey,” and I thought I heard a pained timbre in his voice. “She’s the eldest daughter of Her Grace the Duchess of Suffolk.”

“Suffolk?” I echoed, and he added impatiently, “Yes. Jane Grey’s mother is the daughter of the late French queen, Mary, younger sister of our King Henry the Eighth. Jane is now betrothed to Lord Guilford.” He took another sip of wine. “Not that it has any concern for you.”

That tiny slip of a girl was the she-bitch who’d allegedly given Guilford sour ale? I found that amusing and was about to probe further when another figure caught my attention.

Elizabeth’s other attendant had discarded her cloak somewhere and now moved confidently through the crowd, dressed in a tawny velvet gown that matched the umber in her hair, which tumbled, loose, under her crescent-shaped headdress. She was quite striking, a vivid contrast to the painted creatures around her, with natural radiance to her skin and easy grace to her movements. I thought she must be seeking out an admirer—a girl like her must have many—but then I saw that she seemed intent on avoiding the gallants who eyed her, sauntering instead past the immense white hearth and nearing the noble company. She must be returning to attend the princess, I started to think, but then I saw Elizabeth make a pointed turn, acting as though she did not recognize her own attendant.

I stared. I may not have been at court long but I knew theatrics when I saw them. It looked to me as if the girl was eavesdropping on her betters’ conversation, and Elizabeth, her mistress, was fully aware of it. As if she sensed my scrutiny, the girl paused, looked up. Her gaze met mine. In her regard, I read defiance, arrogance—and definite challenge.

I smiled. Besides her evident attractions, she offered the perfect solution to my dilemma. She’d seen me speaking with Elizabeth; she may have even guessed that I sought to convey a private message, which, in different circumstances, Elizabeth might be inclined to accept. Surely so trusted a servant would be amenable to facilitating her mistress’s desires?

All of a sudden, I felt the urgent need to act, get the errand done with. I wanted to deliver my part of the bargain, make my excuses, and go to bed. Whether or not I could retrace my steps to the Dudley chambers remained to be seen, but at least I could rest easy knowing I’d done as ordered. After a good night’s sleep, I’d be in a better frame of mind to ascertain how best to navigate any future role I might have in Robert Dudley’s schemes.

I continued to watch the girl for an appropriate time to approach, following her with my gaze as she turned to a group of passing women. Before I knew what was happening, she’d blended into their midst. As they sauntered past, she cast a smile over her shoulder. It was an invitation only a fool would pass up.

Master Shelton chortled. “There’s a comely wench. Why not see what she has to offer?” He gave me a pat on the back. “Go on. If Lord Robert comes looking for you, I’ll tell him I sent you away, the hall being no place for a squire alone.”

I was momentarily flummoxed. I might have been mistaken, but I had the distinct impression he wanted to get rid of me, which suited me fine. Forcing out a smile, I squared my shoulders and strolled off. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw he had turned to the wine decanter behind him.

I trailed the girl at a distance, admiring her confident air and that lustrous hair rippling like a banner down her back. I wasn’t inexperienced when it came to women, and I thought her far more enticing than any primped or powdered court lady. But I had so taken to her pursuit, I didn’t pause to consider she might have another end in mind than facilitating our acquaintance.

She made an abrupt maneuver, and, like smoke, vanished into the crowd. I turned, searching, turned again, and came to a stop.

I couldn’t believe it. I’d never seen anyone disappear thus. It was as if she’d taken flight.

Only then did I take stock of my surroundings and realize with a belated curse that she had, in fact, brought me around the hall to the other side. Now I stood closer than before to the royal dais, the company of nobles, and the princess.

I sought to make myself small. Close up, they were an intimidating group: privileged and glossy, with the air of unassailable primacy that characterized the nobility. Elizabeth had left Jane Grey and sat, bemused, listening to the person opposite her. All I could see of this person was a gross, ringed hand clutching a cane.

I began to sidle backward, wary as a cat, praying the princess would not catch sight of me. All I needed was for her to single me out and cast the remainder of my already doubtful future into ruin.

So intent was I on my retreat that I almost failed to see the person bearing down upon me. When I did, I froze in my tracks.

It was Lady Dudley, Duchess of Northumberland.

The sight of her was like cold water flung in my face. Lady Dudley, Lord Robert’s mother. Could it get any worse? Of all the people I might have come across, why her? In her world, lackeys always knew their proper place. And mine was certainly not lurking in this hall.

She was like marble, her austere beauty enhanced by an exquisite garnet velvet gown. As I stood there, paralyzed to my spot, I was plunged back to a day, years ago, when she’d come upon me smuggling a book out of the Dudley Castle library.

I’d turned thirteen and was grief-stricken over the sudden loss of Mistress Alice. The book was one of French psalms, a favorite of Alice’s, bound in calfskin, with a French dedication on its frontispiece: A mon amie de votre amie, Marie.

Lady Dudley had taken it from my hands, told me to remove myself to the stables. An hour later, Master Shelton arrived with a whip. He had been in the Dudley service less than a year; he scarcely knew me and thus delivered the punishing strokes uncertainly, causing more humiliation than pain. But until Lady Dudley departed for court, I never went near the library again. Even after she left, it took weeks before the books lured me back, and I only went at night, returning each book to its shelf the moment I was done with it, as if she might somehow spy my transgression from afar.

As for the volume of psalms, it was the only thing that didn’t belong to me that I’d taken when I left the castle. I wrapped it in cloth and hid it in my saddlebag. I could not leave it behind.

Caustic laughter came from the person in the chair opposite Elizabeth, jolting me to attention. Lady Dudley hadn’t seen me yet. Left with no other alternative, I started to inch my way toward the group, sweat soaking me under my doublet. I was so focused on evading Lady Dudley’s notice, I didn’t watch where I was going until I’d stumbled against Jane Grey’s chair.

She shifted about, startled. In her gray-blue eyes, I glimpsed haunting resignation. Then she tensed her thin shoulders. In a tremulous voice she said, “Who are you?”

I felt my entire existence come crashing down around me.

At her side Guilford exclaimed, “What, you again!” He sprang to his feet, an accusatory finger pointed at me. “Prescott, you intrude on your betters.”

I had made a fine mess of things. I should never have come so close. I should never have followed that girl. Come to think of it, I should have just stayed put in Worcestershire.

“Prescott?” Jane Grey looked at Guilford in confusion. “You know him?”

“Yes, and he’s supposed to be serving my brother Robert,” Guilford snarled. “Prescott, you’d best have a reason for this.”

I opened my mouth. No sound came out. Jane Grey was staring at me. In a jerking motion, I removed my cap and bowed. “My lady, please forgive me if I have disturbed you.”

Glancing up through the tangle of hair falling across my eyes, I saw faint color blotch her cheeks. “You look familiar,” she said, her voice halting, hesitant. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t believe so, my lady,” I said softly. “I would remember it.”

“Well, you obviously haven’t remembered your manners,” snapped Guilford. “Go find something to serve us this instant, before I have you flogged.”

As I feared, his belligerence alerted the others. Elizabeth rose from her chair and retreated to the hearth. Her disdain was secondary, however, to Lady Dudley’s inexorable passage. My chest constricted. I had no excuse to offer, save that I searched for Robert, which sounded contrived even to me. As I bowed low, I feared it was the end of whatever illusions I had of furthering myself in the Dudley service.

“Is something amiss, my dear?” Lady Dudley asked Jane. I imagined her chill green-blue eyes passing over me in utter disregard. “I trust this manservant of ours isn’t troubling you. He’s obviously misinformed as to his proper place.”

“Yes,” said Guilford gleefully. “Mother, see to it he doesn’t disturb us again.”

I peeked up, saw Jane’s gaze shift from Guilford to her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and back again. She gnawed her lip. I had the distinct impression she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“He, he…”

“Yes?” prompted Lady Dudley. “Speak up, dear.”

Jane crumpled. Darting an apologetic look in my direction she muttered, “I thought I knew him. I was mistaken. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Your eyes must be tired from all that reading you do. You really must try to study less. It can’t be good for you. Now please excuse me a moment.”

I almost gasped aloud as I felt Lady Dudley’s fingers like blades, digging into my sleeve. She steered me a short distance away. Without a slip of that rigid smile, she said, “Where, pray tell, is Robert?”

My mouth went dry as bone. “I thought Lord Robert might…”

It was useless. I could barely talk to her, much less lie. It had always been like this. I often wondered why she’d taken me in, when it was clear she couldn’t abide me. I lowered my gaze, bracing for an ignominious end to my short-lived career at court. She’d not forgive my breach of etiquette. I’d be lucky if I spent the rest of my days scrubbing her kennels.

Before she could speak, a strident voice boomed, “Why the fuss over there?” And the ringed hand gripping the cane banged it twice, hard, on the floor. “I would know this instant!”

I recoiled. Lady Dudley went perfectly still. Then a peculiar smile tilted her lips. She motioned to me. “Well, then. It seems Her Grace of Suffolk would meet you.”

The Tudor Secret