Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean - Страница 52

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“Should they not know the truth?”

“I mean lovers in another sense.”

He laughed. “Well, we are in thought if not in deed. Soon, I trust…”

I shook my head and galloped ahead but he was soon beside me.

“Elizabeth,” he said excitedly, “it is only Amy who stands in our way and she is a very sick woman. She has a malignant growth. My dearest lady, be patient… just a little longer.”

“I do not like this talk of death,” I said. “It is not right for a man to talk so of his wife to another woman.”

“It is right to speak the truth. Be patient a little longer.”

“Poor girl,” I said. “Does she hear rumors of her husband's falseness in that house… what is it?”

“Cumnor Place. She has always felt uneasy about our marriage … knowing that she lacks the social gifts to share in such a union.”

“You have a great opinion of yourselves, you Dudleys.”

“Not quite as great as the Tudors.”

“Indeed not, and how could it be so? But I do not wish to hear of your Amy. I grieve for the poor lonely soul whose husband rarely deigns to visit her.”

“I cannot live without the warmth of the sun.”

“I am the sun, am I? Well, Robert. I'm glad you enjoy the warmth in which you bask. But I think you should be a little kinder to your lawful wedded wife. You neglect her most shamefully. If you do not make a good husband to one, could you to another?”

This brought about one of those declarations of undying devotion and praise of my beauty and wit to which I so much liked to listen.

People were noticing us so I rode on and joined other members of the party.

I was in a strange mood that day. I was almost inclined to believe that I could have married Robert. I argued with myself that although the idea of marriage was not completely enticing, there was one man and one only with whom I would embark on it.

It was unfortunate—or so it turned out later—that I was in this mood when the Spanish Ambassador de Quadra approached me.

He was a very solemn gentleman and like all ambassadors more or less a spy for his master. Since the betrothal of Philip of Spain and Elisabeth of France our relations with Spain had been more difficult than ever. While Philip had been hoping for a marriage with me, the Ambassadors had been very affable. Now they were less so, but still urging their candidate—in this case the Archduke Charles.

I was in a frivolous mood and when de Quadra threw out his hints, I couldn't help bringing Robert's name into the conversation for it always amused me to see their panic when they contemplated a union between me and Robert. The fact that he had a wife made them feel safer about it—as it did me, but on this occasion I threw aside caution.

De Quadra remarked that Lord Robert had seemed somewhat unhappy during the hunt.

“He fears to lose Your Majesty's especial favor on the occasion of your marriage.”

“Lord Robert doubtless thinks of his wife. She is dead or nearly so.”

He looked at me in astonishment and immediately I realized I had been indiscreet.

“Pray, my lord,” I said, “say nothing of this.”

He bowed his head, but I knew he would write at once to Philip and tell him what I had said.

Cecil came to me that very day. He wanted to talk about the rumors regarding Robert and me.

“They are dangerous and I have to confess to Your Majesty a certain indiscretion.”

“You indiscreet! I cannot believe that.”

“De Quadra talked slyly, I thought, of Lord Robert's wife.”

“Why should he speak of her?”

“There are rumors that Lord Robert would like to be rid of her in order to marry you.”

“No doubt he would,” I said. “Any ambitious man would look to exchange a country girl for a queen.”

“He said there was a rumor that Lord Robert was planning to kill her himself and that it was being circulated that the lady was suffering from an incurable illness, to which I replied that I thought the lady was well and taking good care not to be poisoned.”

“That does not seem to me to be so very indiscreet.”

“I was sorry immediately I said it, but I had to confess to you. I wish that you would marry. Once you did and produced an heir, we should have an end to these damaging rumors.”

“I will think seriously of the matter,” I promised him, and I assured him that we were all indiscreet at moments and he had been honorable enough to tell me what had taken place. I did not tell him what I had said to the Ambassador.

A few days later the news broke.

On the previous Sunday, a day after I had told the Spanish Ambassador that Lady Dudley was dead or soon would be, she was indeed dead. She had been found at the bottom of a staircase in Cumnor Place with her neck broken.

I WAS NUMBED by the shock as the enormity of what had happened was brought forcibly home to me. The frivolous side of my nature retreated in shame and the sterner side took over. I had played my games too realistically. I was the first to know that in doing so I had placed myself in acute danger. When I thought of how carefully I had lived through those days when I had emerged from the Tower, how I had considered each step before I took it, I could not believe that I could have become so careless and foolish as to be involved in the death in suspicious circumstances of an unwanted wife.

I summoned Robert immediately. I must see him—and then send him away at once. It must not appear that I was in any way implicated. How could I say that? I was implicated. Mother Dowe and thousands of others were whispering scandal about me. What had I said to the Spanish Ambassador only the day before Amy Dudley died? What had Cecil said?

I knew that this scandal would go on reverberating round the world.

Robert must leave Court at once and I should have to put him under restraint. I must dissociate myself with all speed from this matter. It must be shown that however great a favorite a man was, if the charge of murder was brought against him, he must face it.

I arranged with Kat that he should come to me in secret, and when he entered the room he would have taken me into his arms, but I stood back, aloof, now the Queen.

Yet I knew that I loved him as I never had, nor ever would, love another person. Whatever he had done, I must still love him. I would always make excuses for him. Whatever he had done, he had done for my sake.

But more than Robert, I loved my royalty. I had to protect my future and my crown and at the moment my adored and adoring Robert was a threat to it.

“What happened at Cumnor Place?” I asked as coolly as I could.

“She fell from the top of a staircase and broke her neck. It was an accident.”

“At such a time?”

“There is no knowing when accidents will happen.”

“Who will believe it?” I asked.

“It matters not. You are the Queen. You will tell the people what they must believe.”

I shook my head. “That is beyond my power. The people will believe what they think to be the truth, and there have been rumors about us, Robert.”

He was a little impatient, even arrogant. Perhaps he saw himself already as King. Oh no, Robert, I thought. You shall not be King… not even you. This has shown me clearly which way I must go. But I did not say that to him. I wanted to know whether he had indeed murdered his wife.

“Robert,” I said, “did you…?”

“I was nowhere near the place,” he replied.

But a man like Robert would not need to be. Such distasteful tasks were carried out by servants. It was dangerous to employ servants to do such deeds. Servants, in certain circumstances, could be made to talk.

Oh, what a web I was caught up in. I should have known better. Had I not stepped into danger through Thomas Seymour? And now Robert. I should have learned my lesson.

“The people will never accept that she died by accident at such a time.”

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