Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (33 page)

How sad were her words! That she had once felt as I
did and would still treat me as her sister had treated her. In her eyes, we were destined to be enemies until the end.

“Count yourself
among those whose luck has blessed them, for I have yet to toss you in the Tower. Do not disappoint me.”

Elizabeth let go of my arm. The flesh where she
’d held me throbbed, and I had no doubt by tomorrow there would be bruises on my pale skin. She turned toward the sideboard, and for a moment, her shoulders slumped before she held them rigid again. She picked up an apple and bit into it with ferocity—like a lioness would bite into prey. I’d heard her say on more than one occasion, “I may not be a lion, but I am a lion’s cub, and I have a lion’s heart.”

The energy it took to exude such
vehemence, to remain so strict in her resolve, was exhausting simply to think about…

An emotion came over me, which I found myself quite surprised
by—pity. I pitied Elizabeth her anger, her bitterness, her fear. I knew she had nothing to fear of me, just as she’d known her sister had had nothing to fear from her. But it was this suspicion and jealousy, it was the actions of others, that perpetuated that fear. Courtiers and councilmen would prod her into thinking she must bear ill will toward those who might have cause to abuse her. I would never dream of attempting to offend Her Majesty in any harmful way, and yet my name had been dragged through the mire, and now I suffered for it.

Mary,
Queen of Scots, may have had an entire ocean between her and Elizabeth, but she also had the back of the French king, and most likely soon the backing of all those on the continent with ties to the pope. I supposed, in a way, I could blame our cousin for Elizabeth’s increased suspicion over my position.

Queen Elizabeth, England itself, represented the bad child. The one who would not bend to
her father’s will. But the pope was not our father. Lord God was, and Elizabeth would uphold our religion and see that we believed in the Lord our God and that His word ruled. The people of England must not take that away by playing in the games of politics with those who would seek to destroy us and lay claim to our very lands, forcing their beliefs and wars upon us as Philip had when he was married to Mary… And there my thoughts stopped.

He was seeking to do that through me. While I had yet to hear from Ambassador de Feria, or Jane Dormer, as if our conversation had never taken place, I was now certain that word of our meeting, and perhaps even word of what was said during that meeting
, had reached Elizabeth’s ears. Was that why she was so pressed to make me her daughter? Not only to show Mary Stuart that she would not yield, but also to show Spain that I would not bend to their Catholic will? That I was with Elizabeth one hundred percent?

The crunch of
the apple as Elizabeth bit again pulled me from my thoughts. “Go now. We depart soon.”

I nodded, curtsied and murmured to her of my loyalty, all of which were waved off, her gaze on some
far-off place in her mind.

When I returned to my room
, a small package sat upon my bed, with a short note that read simply:

To my heart be true, and to your heart spring love. ~N

He had thought of me! I ripped open the packaging to find a beautiful brooch in the shape of a nightingale. Clear diamonds glittered along the body and yellow diamonds on the wings and beak. The eyes were crafted with sapphires. I held it up to the light and watched as a thousand prisms shone through the nightingale to dance along the walls. Arabel and Beau jumped along beneath the lighted dots, and I shifted and swayed the brooch to make them run back and forth, laughing as they tried to catch the prism lights.

“Well received, Ned,” I said to the air, kissed the brooch and pinned it to my gown. His note I folded up neatly and tucked into my bodice. My
oak chest had already been packed, but when we arrived at our first stop along our progress, I would tuck his note inside Jane’s Testament for safekeeping.

July 27, 1560

A week went by with nary a rest. We stopped at several houses during that time and were well received with feasts and entertainments, until finally we reached Eltham Palace, where we were to remain for at least a fortnight. The gardens of Eltham were magnificent, almost a wild-looking place with its rare flowers and trees, unlike the more streamlined gardens of Greenwich and Westminster. The great hall had a vaulted wooden ceiling like the hull of a great ship. Balconies above for entertainers to play and guests to observe the goings-on below. Alcoves for clandestine meetings. The walls were covered in thick brocade tapestries and curtains. The palace had an ancient feel to it.

Having been at court for so many years, I should
have been used to the fast pace, but things were not so with Mary’s court, and this was Elizabeth’s first progress. I suspected she wanted to take the next several months to put her face in front of all her people. I was exhausted, and when shown to my room, I collapsed upon the bed—and upon a parchment that crinkled.

I pul
led it from beneath me and read.

Dearest Love,

This is a poem by that famous lamenter of woes, Thomas Wyatt, and it reminds me of how my heart beats for yours.

The lively sparks that issue from those eyes,

Against the which there vaileth no
defense,

Have pierced my heart, and done it none offence,

With quaking pleasure more than once or twice.

Was never man could any thing devise,

Sunbeams to turn with so great vehemence

To daze
man’s sight, as by their bright presence

Dazed am I; much like unto the guise

Of one stricken with dint of lightning,

Blind with the stroke, and
erring here and there:

So call I for help, I
know not when nor where,

The pa
in of my fall patiently bearing:

For straight after the blaze, as is no wonder,

Of deadly noise hear I the fearful thunder.

I clutched the parchment to my chest. If Ned could not be here with me, at least he was making a noble effort to remain in my heart. Jane must have told him how my heart ached for having no word from him.

I glanced down at his post-script:

I wait on
bated breath until I can behold you again. I shall attend you shortly and leave within a day to meet you at Eltham.

But my joy at Ned’s impending arrival was overshadowed by the haunting memory of Master Cecil’s words.
You are next in line to the throne. You are legitimate. If you should marry and have children, your claim would hold a better stake than hers.
Our child would descend from two royal English houses.

I frowned. Elizabeth would most likely never let us marry unless we had plenty of council members on our side. My mind drifted to the pinched, conservative faces of Elizabeth
’s council. Ned was a good man. A loyal subject to the crown. His father had been falsely accused, which was widely known, so the blight of treason was not as strong on his head as it was on mine, but all the same, we two came from treasonous households.

I rolled over and stared out the
open window. Luckily, today was proving to be overcast. Outside was gray despite being just after noon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and with the impending storm, Elizabeth had taken to her room with one of her megrims—a Tudor female affliction.

For now
, I could rest. Ned would be here soon. If I had not been so exhausted, my excitement would have kept me from sleep. I closed my eyes and heard Mrs. Helen cluck her tongue as she tossed a thin coverlet over my shoulders despite the summer months. Her footsteps faded and then she clicked closed the shutters just as thunder clapped overhead and pellets of rain hit the diamond-shaped windowpanes.

Oh, Ned…

A swift knock interrupted my nap, and from beyond my chamber door, I could hear fierce whispers but could discern not who the owners were.

A rustling of clothes and clicking of heels upon the polished
wood-planked floors brought my worst fears to life. I imagined the queen’s yeomen coming to arrest me. I sat up straight in bed, but was greeted only by the Countess of Feria, Jane Dormer, who was now great with child. Her husband had recently been replaced by Ambassador de Quadra, who’d approached me once about their scheme, but I had quickly rebuffed him.

“Lady Katherine
.” She curtsied as low as her overlarge belly would allow. “Please accept my apologies for intruding upon your slumber, but it was imperative that I come to you. I cannot tarry. My husband has demanded I join him in Spain, and with the current state of things at court, it is best I return there. Spain has joined its opinion with France that Elizabeth should be dethroned.” Her speech was rapid, her fingers twisting in her hands. “The emperor, via my husband, has offered one last time for you to come with me, to escape this place. They will place you upon the throne—“

“No!
Get out!” I covered my ears, not wanting to be a part of what she was saying to me. Her words were treason, and if I heard them, Elizabeth would have cause to toss me in the Tower. “Go, now!” I shouted.

Mrs. Helen
rushed and ushered the shaken Countess de Feria from my room.

I jumped from my bed and knelt upon my knees, looking up at the ceiling as I spoke rapid prayers. I prayed for her safety in returning to Spain. I prayed no one had heard her or s
een her come to my chamber. I prayed Elizabeth slumbered well in her bed. I prayed Ambassador de Quadra would not seek me out. I’d grown so tired of their schemes. I wanted nothing to do with them.

Mrs. Helen
came back in and thrust a cup of warm honeyed wine into my hands, which I gulped greedily, welcoming the warmth and calm it brought my nerves.

“Shall we read from Plato
,
my dear?” she asked, knowing it was the one thing that could calm me.

“Yes,” I said, looking forward to journeying into the
theologian’s complex mind.

But before I could rise
, another swift knock cracked the door. “No!” I said faintly. The guards now for sure! They would take me to the Tower. I would be placed upon the rack, my limbs stretched and yanked from their sockets until I was a limp fleshy mess of my former self.

“My lady
.”

I
t was not the guards. It was the sweet voice of love’s past.

I turned, still on my knees
, as Ned walked into my chamber. Water dripped from the ends of his hair, the tip of his nose. His clothes were soaked through with rain, clinging to every curve of his well-built body.

“Ned,” I whispered.

“Oh, Kat,” he said with emotion cracking his voice. He rushed forward, bent to his knees by my side and gathered me in his arms. Neither of us cared that the rain soaking his body seeped into my own gown. I pressed kisses to his face and he to my hair, both of us whispering fervently of how much we’d missed the other. Our lips connected in a fiery kiss, and I well forgot where we were, still on our knees, until I heard the soft click of my chamber door closing.

Pulling away, I saw we were alone.
Mrs. Helen had, shockingly, left us to our privacy.

Ned
’s hands held the sides of my face as he gazed into my eyes. “They would seek to keep us apart, but I could not bear it any longer. I had to come. I had to see you!”

“
’Tis been too long!” I said ardently, pressing my lips to his once more. Oh, he tasted so sweet, and my body soared from the sensations of his mouth on mine, but also from knowing he loved me as feverishly as I loved him. “Do not leave me for so long again!”

“I
shan’t, I swear it!”

The time for words
ceased as our lips met once more. Passion overwhelmed my senses and my conscience. My fingers divested Ned of his wet clothes as he ripped pins from my gown, tossing pieces of fabric wherever they fell. His lips skimmed down my neck, over my shoulders, to my breasts, which peaked with need of his touch.

He lifted me effortlessly from the floor and placed me atop the satin coverlet
of the bed, his hard body coming down over top of me.

“Marry me, Kat,” he demande
d, our noses touching, lips an inch away, his gaze penetrating mine.

My breath hitched as I gazed into his eyes. To say yes was to defy my sovereign. To say no was deny my heart. A long time ago I
’d thought to put my faith in love. It would seem now was the time. Every inch of my skin tingled with renewed vibrancy. Hope. “Yes,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his hips.

Ned pressed a hard kiss to my lips, placing all the emotion behind his question, behind our decision within that kiss. It was overpowering, overwhelming
, and I was dizzy with it. There would be consequences. But in his arms, then, I felt we could face the world together. That we were potent. We would overcome whatever Elizabeth threw our way.