Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (8 page)

The queen paused and took hold of Mary’s hand.

“I hope by now you have forgiven me for sending Master Wotton away,” said the queen.

“Yes, Majesty. Now that he is gone, I can see why we were enemies for so long. He held women in low regard, as so many young men do. I believe God hath appointed all to our place, but that is no reason to fail to see God’s spirit within each. Some still debate whether or not we women have souls—such an attitude should not surprise Your Grace,” said Mary.

“Hah! I should like to hear them say such rubbish in front of me! Well, Fawn, let us not make ourselves any more heated. My only concern regarding Dr. Dee’s chart is in reference to our friendship—for he said it would be unlikely for us to endure each other’s company. However, he was quick to say that the stars cannot tell us all. They are sometimes wrong. At any rate, for the most part, he confirmed what I already knew—I can trust you and you shall be of great service to this realm,” said the queen.

“By serving Your Majesty, I serve the realm,” said Mary.

“I have it in mind to put you to a much greater service than folding my linens. I hope to make a strong ally by marrying you to a foreign dignitary, perhaps even a prince. No, no, clamor not to know the man I have in mind, for I do not yet know myself. You may be set to soar higher than an eagle, my Fawn. You are my cousin, of my blood. You are fit for a king,” said the queen.

Mary shook her head. She could not believe what she was hearing. A foreign prince? Surely the queen was joking.

“You are also levelheaded and thirsty for knowledge; you care about people and you are honest, dearest Fawn. These are the qualities of a highborn lady. Do not gape! You shall catch a fly with that open mouth. Remember, though we have spoken of many things, I have told you nothing. The words that pass between us are never to be repeated,” said the queen.

“I shall never tell, Your Grace,” said Mary. She did not feel she could move—the queen’s words had frozen her and she shivered a little, though the sun overhead beat down on them. She could not imagine leaving England for a foreign court.

“I meet with Master Secretary this afternoon, along with Leicester and a few other advisors. I would have you come with me to observe. Later, in private, give me your thoughts. If you are to marry a foreign noble, you must still serve England. You must learn what concerns us on our little isle. Then, you can use your high position to give us aid if need be,” said the queen.

“As you wish,” said Mary, struggling to rise and follow the queen as she marched through the garden, a woman on a mission.

*   *   *

Before Mary was to join the queen and her advisors, she had time enough to take old
Tom
for a run. She had been too busy lately to attend to the dog, but she felt the need to see him, feel his welcoming licks and escape the pressures she felt at the court. She wanted time in the sun, in the cool shade of the nearby woods, so she could clear her head and digest all the queen had told her. And, though the day grew ever more warm, she hurried to the kennels, quickly soaking her undergarments. She’d made quick time from the castle, past the barns where the horses and ponies were kept, and was headed up the slight rise to the kennels. She could hear the dogs baying at her, welcoming her.

She noticed a figure walking toward her, but the sun shone in her eyes, making it impossible to distinguish any features. She could tell by the silhouette it was a man and, by his brisk walk, she guessed him to be a young man.

“Can the gods have smiled upon me? Can this be Mistress Mary Shelton, the beauty of Elizabeth’s wondrous court?” said a familiar voice.

Mary shaded her eyes with her hand so she could see who addressed her.

“Milord Oxford. What has brought you to the kennels on such a hot day?” said Mary. She could not hide her lack of enthusiasm at seeing him. Something about him put her on her guard. She would rather have run into the blustery Pakington, though neither man particularly appealed to her.

“One of my bitches dropped a litter of eleven pups last week. I came to inspect them and leave instructions with the kennel boy. I am happy to say each is splendid and I shall train them for the hunt,” Oxford said, pausing in front of her, blocking the sunlight.

“Oh, I should like to see them!” said Mary, gazing at him. He was barely taller than she and his body was wiry and quick.

“Then, by all means, allow me to introduce you to the little darlings,” Oxford said, offering her his arm. She took it and they headed toward the kennels.

As they entered a conclave of various-sized buildings, Mary looked to find
Tom
. There he was, in the small hut he shared with two other dogs of similar size. He had seen her and was barking and leaning his front paws against the wooden slats that fenced him in.

“Just a minute,
Tom
. I want to see the puppies first,” she called to him. At the sound of her voice, he jumped, eager to escape his confines.

“He cannot understand you, you know. He’s just a dumb animal,” said Oxford, leading her to a larger pen, one in which they could stand. The space was dark and Mary could make out four smaller cages, each roiling with squirmy pups.

“
Tom
is anything but dumb—God’s blood, you ought to see him chase a pheasant! Fast and very smart,” said Mary, her voice edgy.

“I did not wish to offend—I simply see no reason to become sentimental over a cur. They are a halfpenny a dozen,” said Oxford.

“I paid more than that for
Tom
—I paid with a year’s worth of Greek and Latin. He was my reward for good marks from Master Nowell,” said Mary as she leaned over the pen and gazed at the pups. “Oh, they are darling!”

“I shall make you a gift of one if you like,” said Oxford, standing very close to her.

“That is very kind but I fear
Tom
would be very jealous—I barely have time to spend with him these days,” said Mary.

“I can understand his feelings of envy. I would feel that way, too, if you were my mistress,” said Oxford. There was no mistaking his meaning.

Mary straightened up and faced him.

“You flatter yourself, sir. For I shall be no man’s mistress. God’s teeth, I should rather remain a maid!” Mary said.

“
God’s teeth.
You sound exactly like our esteemed queen—I do believe she has forced her unnatural ways onto you! Surely you know a woman’s best use is as a wife and mother, to be subject to her lord, her husband,” said Oxford.

“I know that is preached from the pulpit, but I have also noticed that is not the true way of things—at least, not at Elizabeth’s court. As I am her ward, it is only right I should reflect those ways she has taught by her example,” said Mary. She turned from him and strode over to
Tom
. She opened the gate and
Tom
jumped on her. She went to her knees and hugged him around the neck, accepting his canine kisses with smiles and sweet words. She noticed Oxford still standing near the puppies.

“I shall take my dog walking now, milord. Thank you for showing me your pups,” she said flatly.

“Perhaps I shall see you this evening after we sup. I should enjoy very much dancing with you again,” he said.

“I do not think so, milord. I have much work to do on the queen’s behalf this evening,” said Mary as she tied the leash around
Tom
and sauntered out of the kennels.

*   *   *

A fortnight later, Mary had joined the queen to listen and observe as Her Majesty met with her councillors. That particular afternoon, Master Cecil was going on and on about how Parliament had given the queen permission to marry whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased years ago, and still the queen remained unwed. Mary sat on cushions at the queen’s feet and stifled a yawn. The afternoon was hot, though the windows were open and a slight breeze drifted in and out. Cecil continued to prate about the unhappy Catholics in the north and the one beacon who drew them to her, Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary watched as his face grew more and more red, up to the very hairs of his head. She glanced up at the queen, who was also pinkish, the familiar look of a rage about to erupt on her features.

Ever since the queen had hinted she might make Mary a noble marriage, the girl had felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her appetite had left her and she had grown pale. At times, she felt haughty and proud; then, quickly, terrified. Now, the queen insisted she meet with these men of import and listen as the problems of the realm were discussed. Even Sweet Robin seemed more solemn than usual—he didn’t wink his eye at her or even smile. The one consolation was that Mary had noticed a new young man among those gathered around the queen. He was incredibly handsome with yellow hair that hung rakishly over his forehead, almost into his eyes. And those eyes—the same shade as the aquamarine jewels in one of the queen’s necklaces. He did not seem to notice Mary at all, but kept his gaze on the queen and her councillors. Mary began to imagine speaking to him, but her reverie was quickly ended when the queen erupted in anger.

“God’s breath! You continue to plague me about getting an heir. And how has getting an heir helped the Scottish queen? She sits at Tutbury all but in prison while her babe sits on her throne,” shouted the queen.

Her Majesty rose and pounded the table in front of her with the palm of her hand.

“I shall seek to marry at the time God chooses—God and no other!” said the queen.

“Your Grace, if you wait for God, you will be past the time for childbearing,” said Sir James Croft, a longtime supporter of the queen. An older man with thick gray hair on his head and a full, white beard, Sir James spoke in a voice that sounded like one of the desert prophets—low, deep, and resonant. And behind Sir James stood Mary’s mysterious young man, who seemed to be smothering a smile.

The queen stood, silent as a stone. No one moved.

“While I am assured of your love for us, Sir James, you abuse that love we have for you! Gentlemen, He who placed me in this seat will keep me here. That is what you must believe. Let me comfort you—I will marry when God leads me to it, for I know full well the needs of my people and I do not wish bring war upon us,” said the queen.

With that, she arose, nodded to Mary to accompany her, and left the men standing, their caps in their hands.

*   *   *

Later that night, Mary sat on the queen’s bed, rubbing Her Majesty’s feet with almond oil. The queen had cleared her bedchamber of all but Mary and Mistress Blanche, who was busy emptying the night stool.

“What think you of my advisors, Fawn?” said the queen, her long red curls spread out on the pillow and her pale face gaunt.

“Master Cecil is quite forceful in voicing his thoughts, ma’am. I found Sir James Crofts a handsome old fellow, kindly. Does he sing?” said Mary.

“God’s teeth, girl! What has singing to do with anything?” said the queen.

“Majesty, calm yourself. His voice was so sonorous—I should like to hear him sing,” said Mary.

The queen laughed. Mary joined in.

“What has the two of you cackling like geese?” said Mistress Blanche.

“Oh Parry, I wanted to see how astute our Fawn is with matters of state. But all she can think about is Sir James’s baritone! If I had only such worries,” said the queen.

“I have no head for state matters, ma’am,” said Mary, her face flaming.

“Your head is as good as any, better than most. But the night grows dark. Let us to bed,” said the queen.

Mary put away the almond oil and crawled into the trundle bed beside the queen’s imposing bedstead. She still wondered about the handsome young man she had seen earlier. She decided to ask the queen about him and hoped she would be able to conceal the level of her interest.

“Majesty, who was that young man standing behind Sir James?” Mary said.

“Oh, that was his son-in-law, Sir John Skydemore. A handsome devil, is he not? I do not wonder why you ask about him,” said the queen, laughing.

“I … did not notice how he looked—it’s just that I had not seen him before and was curious as to how he arrived in the Privy Council,” said Mary.

“God’s blood! You cannot hide your girlish interest from me, mistress. One would have to be dead not to notice his beauty—he rivals Adonis. He is at the Inns of Court, studying law. Sir James asked if the young fellow could sit in on our meeting and I agreed. Fear not, dear Fawn—he is not for you, though you are free to gaze upon him all you like. Just do not become a fool for him!” said the queen.

Mary said nothing. She was disappointed to discover he was married and safe in the family fold, using his father-in-law’s position to wheedle a place at court, no doubt. But he
was
handsome and Mary fell asleep thinking of him.

Eleven

November 1569

The heat of August had passed, and as winter reared its icy head, fires roared in the hearths of Richmond, where the queen had come for several weeks, to enjoy her “warm box.” The colder air was a relief to those at court, for the foul smells, which seemed to grow even more foul in hot weather, were not so bad once the season turned. Mary looked out from the queen’s apartments to the fields below. The sun was shining and the leaves had gone from green to yellow, russet, and brown. Mary especially liked the deep purples she spied in the nearby woods.

Though autumn was her favorite time of year, this particular fall had been difficult. The entire court was worried about the restless north, whether the northern lords would rebel, as the rumors predicted, or whether reason would win out. The tension was palpable and discord rampant. Mary did not enjoy meeting with the queen and her advisors, for, no matter what point of view Mary heard, she could see no way out of the problems facing the realm. She tried to answer the queen’s questions about policies, but she felt completely inadequate and often wished she could disappear into one of the tapestries with scenes from the life of Abraham, those beautiful and bright carpets purchased at great cost by the queen’s father.

Though she had no head for policy, Mary had taken up a new task, the making of cordials, for medicinal use as well as for pleasure. Her interest had been sparked when Mistress Blanche brought her a draught for stomach ailments earlier in the year. She swallowed it down, surprised to discover it tasted sweet, like a mixture of fine fruits. And it quickly soothed her aching belly.