A Court Affair (28 page)

Cecil smiled back at me. “Aye, Majesty, I do not doubt it.”

“Oh, look!” I drew his attention to a tall, dark-haired man elegantly but sombrely attired in deep brown velvet with gold-edged ruff and cuffs and a short velvet cloak swinging smartly from his shoulders coming towards us. “Here comes the Spanish Ambassador now! Come, Cecil, we must greet the Comte de Feria. I am sure he brings us good tidings of his master, and, unless I am very much mistaken, that looks like a box for a necklace tucked beneath his arm.”

“Majesty”—Cecil smiled and shook his head, chuckling in amusement—“you are the only woman I know who can spy a diamond necklace hidden in a box under a man’s cloak across the length of a pleasure garden.”

“
Not
diamonds, Cecil.” I adamantly shook my head. “For me Philip would choose a stone of a much warmer colour, rubies, perhaps, to match his hot blood, to remind me of that scorching Spanish sizzle, or emeralds, perhaps, to speak of the constancy of his affections and his jealousy of any other man who might dare compete with him on the tiltyard of love where my hand in marriage is the ultimate prize.”

After the obligatory greetings had been exchanged, and condolences for Mary and congratulations for myself offered, Ambassador de Feria, still on his knees, begged to present me with a small token of his master’s continued affection, and he opened the box to reveal a long golden necklace set with more than a dozen large rubies sparkling like newly spilt blood.

“It’s
beautiful
!” I breathed with due expression of my awe—I am a woman, and we do like our finery after all. “Señor de Feria, please convey my most bountiful thanks to your master, and assure him I like his gift well. Whenever I wear it, I shall think of him, and … tell him …” I modestly averted my eyes for a moment before I boldly raised them and continued. “… tell him that Elizabeth well remembers a day she spent in the forest with Philip; he will, I have no doubt, know
exactly
which day I mean.”

“With the utmost pleasure shall I convey Your Majesty’s message to His Highness.” De Feria smiled. “And may I be so presumptuously bold as to express—for His Highness, of course, as well as for myself, his most dutiful servant, and
your
servant, Madame—the hope that you shall spend another equally pleasant day in the woods together
very
soon?”

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud, remembering the day Philip had stripped me to my waist and slammed my back against a tree, begging me to marry him even as his wife, my poor, mad, deluded sister, still lived and laboured to expel a phantom child from her womb, but I maintained my composure and serenely nodded. “You may; I would be
most
remiss to discourage you—I mean, of course, him—Philip,” I added, attaching a little sigh to his name and letting my eyes grow soft as though with tender, loving memory. “As a queen, alas, I cannot wear my crown upon my heart, but I know, were I to take Philip as my husband, my heart would not be parched by a loveless, passionless marriage.”

“Oh, Madame,
never
fear that!” de Feria exclaimed. “The passion between you and my royal master would scorch and burn the world and leave all whose lives are devoid of love as green as emeralds with envy!”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Philip did once liken us to Antony and Cleopatra—a successful version of the pair, of course, without failure and suicide at the end.”

“Indeed, Madame.” De Feria nodded assiduously. “You have it within your power to make all your dreams, and my master’s dreams, come true, if you will only say yes and hold out your hand.”

I smiled and held out my hand for de Feria to kiss, to signal that our interview was over. “Perhaps,” I purred. “Only, at the moment, I am so overcome, so
overwhelmed
by the rapid and tremendous wave of changes that have swept me up that I cannot let my heart gallop ahead of my mind, even if it would run right into the arms of a certain person,” I added with a meaningful glance down at the ruby necklace.

As de Feria, smiling broadly, bowed repeatedly before he turned and walked away, I said in an aside to Cecil, “Hope springs eternal, Cecil. It is a
most
stubbornly determined and resolute swimmer, always bobbing right back up to the surface, even when the sharks snap around it or the current endeavours to pull it down. It very rarely sinks to the bottom like a stone or succumbs to death by drowning, and we must keep it alive in the hearts of my suitors for as long as possible. You were saying something about the Treasury being empty, Cecil?” With a last admiring look at the magnificent ruby necklace I decisively snapped the lid shut and handed the box to Cecil. “This should add a few coins to our coffers. But first, have it replicated with glass stones or whatever serves best; only see that it is done well enough to fool the Spanish Ambassador, as I must wear it from time to time, so that he can report back to Philip that he has seen me wearing it. There will be time enough for real gems later, but now England has greater need of them than I do. And above all, see that it is done
discreetly
; it would not bode well for us if word were to leak out that Elizabeth of England was wearing glass gems and had pawned the King of Spain’s precious rubies. We cannot expose our weakness and vulnerability, or they will be upon us like wolves on a newborn lamb.”

“Madame”—Cecil smiled at me in marked admiration—“you are a
marvel
! And never fear; I shall see to it personally. When all is finished, the Count de Feria may stand directly before you with a quizzing glass at his eye and not know the difference.”

“Thank you, Cecil.” I took his arm again as I smilingly accepted his compliment. “I hope I may always astonish you all. God preserve me from the day when my people can read me like a child’s hornbook. Now, about the Council, I shall keep some of Mary’s, of course, ones who are good Englishmen before they are good Catholics, but we shall infuse the Council with new blood, and blend the old with new …” And we continued our stroll around the denuded garden, our footsteps crunching the gravel, as we discussed matters of immediate importance to the realm.

That night in my bedchamber I found myself possessed of a boundless energy. Even as Kat undressed me and helped me into my white linen nightgown, I could not stand still; I was still wide awake and had not the least desire for sleep. Though it would have been unseemly to do so, as I had decreed three days of mourning for Mary, I was sorely tempted to summon musicians and some fun young people to dance with me. “I could dance all night and still be just as nimble on my feet come cock’s crow!” I said to Kat, who just shook her head and smiled indulgently as, humming to myself, I whirled and spun, kicked and leapt all around the room, my bare feet flying like fearless doves through the intricate and boisterous steps.

“Robert!” I breathed when I heard a soft tap upon the door. He had said he would come, and now I would have someone to dance with me. And, ignoring Kat’s protests that it was unseemly to entertain a man alone in my bedchamber, I laughed and ran to throw wide the door and drag him in to dance with me.

He came in his nightclothes—a rich wine velvet dressing gown ornamented all down the front with gold frogs and tassels worn over a long white linen nightshirt with matching tasselled and embroidered velvet slippers. And he was carrying a fresh loaf of white bread and a jar of strawberry jam.

“I thought Your Majesty might like to partake of a midnight picnic,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, Rob, how well you know me!” I cried, and I pulled him farther into the room. “But come, put those things aside for now. I want to dance and dance—tonight I wouldn’t mind dancing with the Pope or the Devil or even Philip of Spain himself!”

“Your wish is my command!” Robert said gallantly as he unhesitatingly swept me up into his arms, swung me around, high in the air, making my hair whip and swing through the air, and my nightgown bell and sway about my limbs, and then led me back and forth and round and round in the most joyous, boisterous gavotte, ending with a kiss at the end as we fell together onto the big feather bed, ignoring Kat’s pursed-lipped disapproval as she took a seat by the fire, folded her arms across her chest, and stubbornly refused to budge and leave me alone with Lord Robert. Our danger-spiced dealings with Tom Seymour had left my dear Kat more a cautious rather than a curious cat.

Robert bounced up to retrieve the bread and jam, then came back and flopped down beside me. And, like naughty children, we feasted, laughing and licking our fingers.

“This is
delicious
!” I declared of the jam. I picked up the jar and studied the script on the label, the word
Strawberry
written in wavering, hesitant, uncertain letters that sprawled wide across the label as though a child had written it. Only much later, when I saw her letters, would I realise that it was Amy’s hand, that she loved to gather berries and help in the kitchen when they made jellies and jams.

“I shall see that my cook is appointed to your kitchens; she shall be the first of
many
jewels I give my gracious queen, who rules my heart as she does this realm,” Robert said with fluid gallantry, taking my hand, covering it with kisses, and licking and sucking away the jam that lingered on my fingertips.

He pressed me back onto the bed and began fanning my hair out across the pillows, saying it was like “flames of red silk”, but when his lips covered mine, and the press of his body and his kisses became too ardent, I pushed him away and, covering my nervousness with laughter and hoping that my nightgown hid my quivering knees, went to my writing desk and pulled out the chair.

“What are you doing?” Robert asked, leaning on his elbow and eyeing me curiously. “Come back to bed!” He patted the mattress beside him.

“I am writing a letter to your wife,” I said, as I selected a quill and pulled forward a sheet of paper. “I want to ask her to serve as one of my ladies. Your position as Master of the Horse will require you to be constantly at my side, and …”

“
Please
don’t do that,” Robert said, frowning and serious, as he came to my side and plucked the quill from my hand.

“But why not?” I asked. “She will surely be very lonely without you.”

Robert shrugged. “She has the cats.”

“Cats?”
I exclaimed, laughing and incredulous. “Being a woman myself, though, granted, an unmarried one, I think I can say with a fair amount of certainty that cats, however sweet and loving and amusing they are, are hardly a fit substitute for a beloved husband.”

“She will not come and will not like for you to ask her. She is afraid of London and the court and will cry and make herself sick, fearing that her refusal will offend you or that you will be angry and send guards to force her to come anyway,” Robert explained, looking very distressed and glum. “Her coming would bring no happiness to either of us. We are estranged.”

“And embittered too, I see.” I nodded, crumpling the letter I had started to write in my hand.

“Amy was a mistake of my youth, better put behind me, better left in the country, which she likes far better than the city. She is content, Elizabeth; she will understand the requirements of my position and not begrudge me, or you, the time we spend together, I assure you. There is no love lost between us; it all died long ago. It never
really
was love. My place is at
your
side, Elizabeth.” He knelt and took my hand and pressed it to his lips. “You know it, and I know it; do not send me away, and do not rub salt in my wounds by talking of my wife, who is better left forgotten. She doesn’t want me, and I don’t want her—only you!” He kissed my hand again.

“Very well, Robin,” I said softly, as I nodded, but my mind was very far away, remembering his wedding day, when I had stood beside Kat and watched the loving couple and wondered aloud, “What will be left for them after the lust pales?” Now I knew the answer—regrets and bitterness for both of them. I knew Amy was a country girl at heart; I had seen with my own eyes how much she loved it and how ill at ease she seemed with the high and nobly born people who had come from London and the court to attend her wedding. Perhaps she truly was content with her life, to dwell in the country with her pets. I hoped so. I remembered the golden-haired girl with the rosy pink cheeks, irrepressible smile, and the bright blue green eyes, in her grandiose rendition of a milkmaid’s garb, and her crown and bouquet of buttercups, and her bare feet. She had one of the most
beautiful
smiles I had ever seen. Such a pure and loving radiance shone like a sunbeam from her that day, I
hated
to think of her frowning and weeping, spending her days and nights submerged in melancholy, with the warm, happy sunshine of her life replaced with night black darkness and bleak, cold, rainy-day greyness.

Robert’s arms were about my waist again, and his warm lips were nuzzling my cheek. “Come back to bed,” he whispered. “Oh, Bess, I have waited
so
long …”

I put him from me with a commanding hand as firm as steel. “If you are tired, go to your own bed, My Lord. Kat! Show Lord Robert to the door if he cannot find it himself, and let no one else trouble me this night. It’s late, and I have much to do on the morrow and all the other morrows to come! Good night, Robert!”

But I slept scarcely at all that night. Whenever I would close my eyes, the phantom shade of my stepfather, Thomas Seymour, would come to caress and fondle the body whose lusts I so insistently denied and to tauntingly sing his courting song of “Cakes and Ale”.