The Queen's Lady (12 page)

‘Shame.’ Blount winked. ‘The
un
-virtuous ones are so much more fun.’

Refreshed from her river journey, the Queen rose and led her ladies out on to the archery field. ‘Bring the hunting bows. The ladies will battle for the honour of competing against the winner of Master Ralegh’s competition.’

Elizabeth’s own attempt was not to her usual high standard, for which she blamed the damp weather. Her attendants were clearly torn between letting her win and making a decent showing, until the Queen scoffed at one lady’s purposely erratic shot.

‘Ladies, do not mind me. I am not so fragile as to disapprove of another triumphing on occasion.’

After that the standard rose immeasurably. James was delighted to find that Jane was skilled at the bow, proving to be one of the most accurate. He joined the other gentlemen who had elected themselves to the privilege of returning the arrows to the fair competitors after each round.

James bowed and handed Jane her scarlet-fletched darts. ‘You continue to surprise me, my lady. Where did you learn to shoot like that?’

Jane fitted an arrow to the string, raising the feathers to brush her cheek as she lined up her shot and released the bow. The shaft flew sweetly to hit the very centre of the butt. ‘When you have a brother like mine, sir, you soon learn the desirability of being able to knock him off his perch.’

Jane was declared the winner of the ladies’ competition amid much cheering. It was only then that she learnt against whom she would be competing in the final round, occasioning many jests about Cupid’s arrows going astray. James could tell she was finding the whole match an excruciating experience – singled out again in front of the court with her completely unsuitable suitor. She looked very alone standing by the fifty-yard mark, trying to pretend none of this bothered her. The Frenchman, by contrast, was delighted by the coincidence, fluttering his wretched handkerchief at her in some misbegotten attempt at wooing her with his display. James had seen enough. He strode forward to take the quiver from Jane’s shoulder.

‘If you will allow, my lady, I will hand you your arrows.’

Jane’s expression changed to relief that she now had a buffer between her and Montfleury. ‘Thank you.’

He winked at her and whispered: ‘Knock the frog off his log.’

Montfleury switched from the more powerful long bow to a hunting one like Jane’s. He tucked his handkerchief away. ‘Ladies first,
ma belle
.’

Jane lined up her shot, aware that all eyes were on her. The result was a perfect hit. She stood still while the Frenchman huffed over his new weapon, testing the tension on the string. His missile drifted to the outer ring.

His complaint was immediate. ‘
Sacre bleu!
It is not well balanced and I have not used this weapon before.’

‘Then, by all means, take another shot.’ Jane smiled sweetly at him. ‘That can be your practice.’

‘
Non
,
non
, I will keep to the terms of the competition. No one will say that I, Clément Montfleury, is a cheat!’

‘What manner of man is this?’ James whispered as he passed Jane her next arrow.

She raised the bow. ‘A man much enamoured of himself, I would hazard.’ Her second attempt landed right next to her first, eliciting much applause from the onlookers. Montfleury’s reply was a great improvement, landing in the inner circle.

‘I narrow your advantage, my lady.’ The Frenchman mopped the rain from his fingers with his handkerchief. ‘The doe flees, but the hart doth pursue.’

‘I do not run, my lord, I lead.’ Jane released her dart to land a third in the centre of her target with a satisfying thud.

‘I vow you are imagining his face as the bullseye.’ James passed her another missile.

Jane smiled cheekily up at him. ‘Not his face, sir.’

That was the moment when James realized he had fallen in love with her for a second time, his warrior maiden standing up in front of the cruel gossips of the court, shooting down in flames the pretentions of her suitor. When she was declared the victor by ten points, the crowd cheered, rejoicing that England’s reputation for superior archery had been saved for that day. Montfleury feigned magnanimity in defeat, though James could tell he was peeved with his prospective bride. James could not have been prouder of her.

‘You are a marvel, Lady Jane.’ Handing over the bow and quiver to a servant, he offered his arm to escort her back to the Queen’s side.

Jane shook her head. ‘I was lucky. Montfleury is in truth a very good archer – he was hampered by the change in bow.’

‘But any soldier or sailor will tell you that good fortune always plays a vital role in a campaign. I know men who refuse to sail with a captain they consider unlucky.’

She laughed. ‘But I am not considering setting myself up as one of the Queen’s rovers, Jamie.’

‘For shame: you’d make a very good one – a rival to Sir Francis Drake, no less.’

‘I will bear it in mind – I might need another life should the one at court get any worse.’

They were almost at the tent. James discreetly squeezed her arm. ‘I have heard the talk about you, my lady. Consider me at your disposal to assist in any way I can.’

Jane toed the damp ground with her shoe. ‘But you intend to go adventuring. You will not be here to defend me.’

James released her arm reluctantly. ‘Aye, but I do intend to come back. I have to do something with my life, my lady. I cannot remain a cipher, of no use to anyone.’

‘I don’t consider you a cipher.’

‘But I do – and therein lies the problem. I’m not a fit companion for anyone in my present state. I have to earn my place.’

‘But you are good enough as you are. I don’t need a herd of cows to prove to me your worth.’

Wrong-footed by her words that suggested they were discussing courtship, James was momentarily speechless.

Jane flushed, realizing that she had rushed her fence and been pitched from the saddle on the other side. ‘I see you were not on the same stave of the song as me, Master Lacey. I apologize.’

They had been talking privately for too long. James needed time to regroup, a space to regain his footing in this relationship, which he had foolishly allowed to drift too far off-balance. ‘Lady Jane, pray do not be embarrassed that you mentioned such a subject. I would that I could sing the same stanza but so much stands against that event. It is natural, where there is friendship between a man and a woman, to speculate that it might lead to more.’ The Queen was staring at them, her face set in a frown. ‘We must discuss this properly – I want you to understand why I cannot be the one for you. Please, will you meet me later? In the knot garden after supper?’

Jane smiled bravely, racking up his guilt that he had let her assume too much about him. ‘Until then, sir.’ She took her leave, returning to the Queen’s party to receive her congratulations and prize.

James watched the little performance, feeling disgusted with himself. He had spoiled her moment of triumph by his handling of that conversation, making it a hollow victory for her. He could tell that she was mistaken as to the reasons why he rejected her tentative proposal; Jane did not understand that it was no reflection on her worth, but that he considered her far too good for him. He had been serious in his views on luck: he was nothing but a curse on those around him and had no intention of inflicting himself on such a shining lady as Jane. If they married, he would soon dull that glow, be a parasite living off her fortune. He would lose any self-respect he still had – not that there was much left after the Low Countries.

11

Jane dressed with great care for her meeting with James that night, ordering her maid, Margery, to brush her hair with a hundred strokes until it curled like silk over her shoulders. Margery then braided it in a crown and pinned Jane’s favourite black velvet cap to the top. Not quite happy with the affect, Jane tugged a tendril loose so it hung artfully to her ruff, teasing her cheek. That should get his interest. Finally, the maid applied a light touch of cosmetics, just a hint to accent Jane’s eyes.

‘You look very well, my lady,’ Margery announced as they both gazed critically in the mirror.

‘You may go.’ Jane waited for the girl to depart then took a deep breath to gather her courage. At first Jane had been dismayed by James’s reaction at the archery competition to her confession that she had thought of him for a husband; she had been despondent for several hours, only to recover her spirits in an imagined conversation with him in the privacy of her room. She pointed out to the chair that took his role that her money was of no use if it could not buy her happiness. She knew she was not good enough for him, besmirched as she was by slander, but she would work hard to earn his high opinion. He might think he was below her in rank, but did he really want to see her married off to a man like Clément Montfleury? And, as for the Patons, he would prove an invaluable bulwark against their bullying so he was not useless – far from it: he was essential to her wellbeing.

The chair had agreed and let her sit on its lap. Now she only had to persuade the man.

The little garden was deserted when Jane arrived. February was too cold for most people to venture outside after dark so she had the smooth raked paths to herself. She pulled a fur-lined cloak around her, hood over her head. The enclosure was surrounded on all sides by buildings, passageways between hall and private chambers. Needing no more fuel for the gossip about her, Jane sought out a place where their tryst would not be visible from the windows. She found what she needed in one corner: a bench shielded by an evergreen shrub, so deep in the shadows that only the most eagle-eyed spy would note that it was occupied. She had chosen a russet kirtle and cloak of deepest blue and left off all jewellery so knew she must be almost invisible sitting in the furthest recess of the arbour.

She heard James’s footsteps before she saw him. He strode into the very centre of the garden, stepping over the low hedges to reach his goal. Scanning the grounds, hands on hips, he looked very disappointed not to see her there. Allowing herself the pleasure of watching him unobserved for a few moments, Jane then put him out of his misery.

‘Over here!’

With flattering eagerness, James jumped over the box border to reach her. He seized her hand and pressed a kiss on her fingers.

‘Thank you for coming, my lady.’

She patted the bench beside her. ‘Please – I’ve something I want to say to you.’

James sat, keeping a few inches between them, body angled towards her. Jane launched into her little speech as practised before he could intervene, not daring to meet his eyes until she had stumbled all the way through.

‘So, you see,’ she concluded bravely, ‘I see no impediment to our … closer acquaintance.’

She looked up to find James smiling sadly into her face. He reached out and traced the line of her cheek, trailing a fingertip to her chin. ‘No, you wouldn’t: you are too good to see me for what I really am.’

‘You’re wrong. I’ve known what you are since we first met at Lacey Hall. We suit, Jamie, don’t you see that too?’

He leant forward and stole a kiss from her lips, so earnest and serious as they tried to persuade him of his worth. Her breath was warm and sweet, her mouth yielding beneath his. When he moved back, her eyes were closed, her expression full of wonder.

‘If I had one wish, Lady Jane, it would be that I was the man you deserve.’

Her eyes flicked open, the expression in them moving swiftly from confusion to frustration. ‘But you are!’

‘No, I really am not.’

‘Stop saying that!’ Winding an arm round his neck, she pulled him to her and kissed him full and hard, her desperation to convince him in her touch. Something seemed to give way inside him; the wall he had erected between them crumbled and he allowed his desire for her to run free. His hand stole under her cloak to clasp her waist, the other pressed between her shoulder blades to bring her against him. The embrace lasted for many minutes, deepening and intensifying until neither could remember what had brought them here, what lay unresolved between them. Finally, breaking apart to catch their breath, they gazed at each other, both stunned by the lightning bolt of passion that had seared through them.

‘Who would’ve thought?’ James murmured, nibbling her ear, unable to stop touching her.

‘Thought what?’ Her voice was faint as she lost herself in the delight of his caress.

‘That we are powder and flame when brought together. The perfect lady and the flawed adventurer.’

‘Please don’t count me as perfect. I’ve made too many mistakes.’ Jane wished sincerely she could be the girl he thought she was – untouched and pure. If only she had waited for someone like him, not fallen for the first smooth-talking courtier to cross her path, then she would have felt stronger. But she had too much pride to confess that fault to him and she feared to lose his good opinion forever.

‘Your mistakes must be mere molehills to the mountain range of mine.’ James kissed her lightly, a farewell of sorts as his resolve to deny himself any happiness until he had paid for his sins reasserted itself. ‘This mustn’t happen again.’

Infuriating man! Jane was tempted to thump him. They made progress and then he rapidly drew back. ‘Why not?’

‘For all the reasons I’ve said – I have to go away – you deserve better.’

‘But if I decide you are the one I want, can you not accept it?’

He didn’t answer but stroked her face. ‘You are so beautiful.’

Temper flaring, Jane pushed his hand away. ‘And you are so stubborn!’

He had the gall to laugh. ‘That’s right, my darling, don’t let me off easily.’

Jane plucked a handful of ivy leaves and threw them at him. ‘Why can’t you just love me?’

He brushed the leaves from his hair and shoulders patiently, not rising to her bait to lose his control. ‘Because I can’t allow myself that pleasure.’

‘Aargh!’ Jane pulled her cloak around herself tightly and jumped up. ‘I don’t understand you! I’ve told you how I feel – and you – you seem to like me enough to kiss me – why can’t we be together? It’s just your mind telling you this – there’s no real reason, no impediment.’

He hung his head, not meeting her eye. His silence was more damning than anything he could have said.

Jane felt her hope pass from fresh green fruit to a withered Lenten apple, too long in store. ‘You really have made up your mind on this, haven’t you?’

‘I have.’

‘And I’m … I’m not enough to make you change.’

He made no reply.

‘I see.’ Weary of yet another hurt, Jane began to retreat. She had risked her heart by laying herself open to him and he had rejected her offer as not good enough. ‘Then I bid you God speed with your adventuring, Master Lacey.’ Clinging on to her ragged composure, she dipped a curtsy and turned to leave.

‘Jane, wait.’

She stopped, swallowing down tears. Please let him have realized he was wrong – please!

He held empty hands out at his side. ‘Forgive me. I wish I wasn’t as I am.’

The last flicker of hope snuffed out, Jane made herself walk away. One foot in front of the other – for her self-respect she had to do it. But her ankles felt weighed down with chains like prisoners in the Tower walking out to the block.

Milly invented an excuse to come to Whitehall so she could share her news with Jane. Finding her friend alone in her chamber, she dumped the parcels she had brought as cover for her true errand and rushed to hug her.

‘Oh, Jane, I am so happy!’ Milly squeezed her tight, feeling Jane’s stiffness melt and an answering embrace envelop her.

‘I’m pleased for you.’ Jane gently eased herself away. ‘Now tell me exactly why you are so pleased with yourself – as if I couldn’t guess.’ She waved to a chair by the window, bidding her guest to be seated. From the dent in the cushion, it must have been the one Jane had been occupying until Milly arrived – strange because the place by the window was distinctly draughty and not as cosy as the one by the bed.

Milly bounded over to the chair and sat down, only immediately to jump up again, her happiness impossible to contain. ‘Diego came back yesterday. We are betrothed!’

‘Congratulations.’

Milly paced the floor between window and hearth. ‘Now there’s only my father to persuade. Diego said that his master would offer us a home at Lacey Hall if my neighbours are hostile to the match, but I hope we can carry on living in London. There’s my business to consider – and Diego has hopes of earning his way, offering gentlemen riding and fencing lessons. We should do well enough.’ She smiled down at the bracelet on her wrist. ‘Oh, Jane, he’s so wonderful! He really loves me – says he has done so since we were children. He even thinks my wretched hair beautiful.’ She laughed and twirled on the spot. ‘He insists on no dowry – thinks he should give my father his savings for marrying me – that was our first argument!’ She couldn’t stop grinning as she remembered how they had made up. ‘We’re going to get married as soon as we can.’

Milly stopped spinning like a top when she realized Jane wasn’t saying anything. Her friend was silent and pale, her blue eyes had shadows under them like fading bruises.

‘Jane, whatever is the matter? Do you … do you not like my news?’

Jane tried a smile – not a success. ‘I really am happy for you, Milly. It’s not you. James Lacey and I, well, we had a disagreement yester eve, that’s all.’

Flush with love, Milly could not imagine unhappiness for another. ‘Then you must go see him – sort things out! As soon as I saw him, I could tell he would be perfect for you.’

‘It’s not that easy.’ Jane rubbed her arms.

‘But you love him – and he certainly cares for you.’ Milly pounced on one of her parcels. ‘Here, I have a rather fine new hat for you that will make you look simply ravishing. Put this on and go find him – he won’t be able to resist.’

Jane took the hat and tried it on to please Milly. The round brim of the velvet cap circled her face making her eyes seem enormous. With a smile, it would be dashing; today, it merely framed her sadness.

‘Thank you. Please add it to my account.’

Milly sighed. Part of her did not want to spoil her own joyous mood by understanding the source of Jane’s melancholy, but friendship deserved better than that.

‘How bad is it, Jane?’ She unpacked the other garments she had brought, leaving them on the bed for Jane to admire later.

‘Completely awful.’ Jane ran her fingers down the cold stone of the window frame, her back to the delights spread out on the quilt. ‘For knotted reasons of his own, he doesn’t want me and, believe me, I’ve made my interest clear so it is not a misunderstanding. I’m simply not what he wants.’

‘What does he want?’

‘Ah, there’s the question. Absolution for what he sees as past sins? Or maybe punishment for surviving when others did not?’

‘Diego thinks he is troubled by a haunt – an unquiet spirit. I thought you would … I don’t know, maybe cheer him up, make him snap out of this mood?’

Jane traced a raindrop running down the rippled pane of glass. ‘So I hoped. But I’m not enough.’

Milly came up behind her friend and gave her another hug, gentle this time. ‘I love you, Jane. And he’s an idiot.’

‘Then I’m the worse fool for falling in love with him.’