Lost Love Found (15 page)

Essex did what he’d always done when he found himself thwarted and in difficulty. He grew ill, working himself into a deep depression and believing himself dying. When Essex’s friends managed to convince him to write a full submission to the queen admitting his wrongdoing and his many faults, plans for his trial were canceled. On Robert Cecil’s advice, the queen accepted the earl’s long-overdue apology. He was allowed to go home to Essex House, but he remained under house arrest there. Elizabeth was moved by the earl’s plight, but she was no longer blind to his flawed character.

Safe inside familiar surroundings, with his retainers and his wife and family, Essex’s confidence grew. He wrote to the queen begging that she not ruin him while correcting him. The chief of his monopolies was due to be renewed soon, and he needed the money. The queen ignored his letter. She had forgiven him to the extent of sparing him a public state trial, but Essex was still bound to appear before a royal tribunal of judges at York House to answer for his actions.

He went, and was censured for his outrageous and appalling conduct in Ireland. The judges pointed out to the earl the queen’s great mercy in allowing him to go home. Then they pronounced his punishment: He was to remain confined to Essex House until released by the queen’s order. He was forbidden from exercising his offices of Earl Marshal, Master of the Horse, and Master of the Ordnance. In the matter of his monopolies, the queen was not yet ready to render judgment.

The fact that she had not confiscated his monopolies gave Essex hope. He became certain that she would not confiscate them. She loved him too much to hurt him, the earl decided smugly.

Indeed Elizabeth did have a soft spot in her heart for her young Robin, and three months later he was released from his captivity. Not having heard from the queen about his monopolies, Essex announced melodramatically that he would retire from public life. His debts were enormous, however, and they grew every day. He desperately needed his chief source of income, the lease of duties on sweet wines that were due to expire at Michaelmas unless the queen renewed them. Essex pleaded with Elizabeth. He needed his leases renewed.

The queen, however, decided to test the earl a final time regarding his loyalty toward her, for even as he groveled for his monopoly on sweet wines, his arrogance was apparent.

“When horses become unmanageable, it is necessary to tame them by stinting them in the quantity of their food,” she said thoughtfully. She refused to renew the earl’s leases on the duties on sweet wines. “My lord of Essex would do well to remember that England has a queen only, and this queen will teach him that she is indeed the mistress of England—and he but her dutiful subject.” The queen confided to her ladies that if the earl would but mend his ways, she would restore his leases, but not just yet. He would wait upon her good nature, which he had sorely tried.

Essex responded true to form, exploding in a fit of blazing temper. The queen’s reasons, he declared loudly to all who would listen, were “as crooked as her carcass!” He stormed from court to await an invitation to return that did not come. The queen smiled grimly, saying nothing further about the matter.

The court was heavily peopled these days with young malcontents who, like Essex, had sought to advance themselves as so many before them had advanced themselves. They had come to court to make their fortunes, but times were different now. Twenty years before Conn O’Malley had, to the queen’s delight, boldly nicknamed her
Gloriana
even as she nicknamed those for whom she cared; but Elizabeth Tudor was old and tired now. The economy was inflationary, and the rewards of royal service today were much less than they had been in the halcyon days of the past two decades. Still, the queen’s reputation was such that many yet came to court, although they were doomed to disappointment for the most part.

It was these eager and arrogant young men, men who had grown up on tales of England’s glory under Elizabeth’s rule, men who had never known real war or deprivation, who now gravitated to Robert Devereaux. Others joined Essex’s ranks as well; his steward had summoned Essex’s male tenants from the Welsh borders. There were Roman Catholics who believed that Essex would help them return England to the Roman faith. Essex wrote to Lord Mountjoy in Ireland, bidding him to come and join him. Essex was even in correspondence with King James of Scotland, but the wily James, while he did not refuse Essex aid, also did not send him any of his own. He waited to see what would happen.

Essex grew ill on his own bile. He had obviously fallen from favor, but he would not accept it. He had been kept in close confinement at York House for nearly a year, away from his family and friends. During that time, his megalomania had fed upon itself and now, the renewal of his leases denied, threatened with imminent backruptcy, Essex began to fear he would lose everything. Like a cornered animal, he acted out of desperation. Had he retired from the scene and waited for a change of fortune, perhaps he might have regained the queen’s favor, but Robert Devereaux’s pride would not allow him to play the chastened penitent. Egged on by his secretary, Henry Cuffe, the earl plotted the queen’s overthrow.

Robert Cecil knew, and therefore the queen knew. Elizabeth Tudor waited for Essex to make his final, fatal blunder. This time, she knew, she could show no mercy.

“I have outlived those who were loyal and those who were disloyal. I have outlived those who loved me, and those who wished me ill,” said the queen to no one in particular as she paced her chamber on a gray, early February afternoon. “For all his youth, I will outlive Essex as well.”

“I cannot believe he really means Your Majesty any harm,” said Lady Scrope soothingly.

“His very thoughts, were he discreet enough to keep them to himself, are a threat to the queen,” Lady Dudly muttered.

“Aye,” seconded the queen’s cousin, Lady Howard. “Robert Devereaux is totally out of control. He has been for some time now.”

Valentina listened from a corner of the room where she sat supervising the maids of honor as they embroidered pillowslips for the queen’s bed. Valentina had great sympathy for the queen and, like Elizabeth’s closest companions, had grown protective of the monarch.

A maidservant was placing platters and bowls on the queen’s private dining table, and Elizabeth glared at her irritably. “What the hell is this?” she demanded.

“Yer dinner, yer grace,” the maid said, curtsying.

The queen looked at the food. There was a joint of beef, a capon in lemon-ginger sauce, a young rabbit baked in pastry, a trout poached in white wine with dill cream, and a bowl of lettuce and mustard greens boiled with red wine and cloves. Steam was rising from the freshly baked bread, and there was a wheel of hard cheese.

“Take it away,” the queen said. “I cannot eat it.”

“But, Your Majesty, you must eat,” Lady Scrope said, fussing.

“Take it away!” the queen shouted, and stamped from the day room into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

For a moment everyone was silent, and then the ladies-in-waiting began chattering all at once. Valentina warned her maids to silence with a sharp look. Getting up, she went to Lady Howard.

Catherine Carey Howard was the queen’s cousin, and she and Elizabeth were deeply fond of each other. “What is it, Lady Barrows?” Lady Howard asked Valentina.

“If I may speak freely, madam,” Valentina said, drawing the other woman aside. Lady Howard nodded. “The queen subsists on barely nothing, madam, and she must eat. Her teeth are the problem, madam. Dame Cecily, my elderly aunt, and Mag, my mother’s old tiring woman, have the same problem. They lack the teeth with which to chew their food. The queen’s cooks are cooking for her as they have always cooked for her, but the queen cannot chew as she once could. What was it the French ambassador said about Her Majesty? ‘She is a lady whom time hath surprised.’ The queen is proud. She won’t complain, for she considers it a weakness not worthy of a reigning monarch. She will starve to death rather than tell the cooks she can no longer eat joints of beef and lamb.”

“My dear, I do believe you’re right!” Lady Howard whispered, awed. “How astute of you to realize the problem on such short acquaintance with Her Majesty.” Lady Howard smiled warmly.

“I feel as if I have known the queen my whole life,” said Valentina, smiling in return.

“What can we do? I am at a loss for a solution.”

“I am a simple country woman, madam,” said Valentina, “and so I would offer a simple solution if you will permit me.” Lady Howard nodded. “The queen needs wholesome, nourishing food that she can easily ingest with her few teeth. If you could introduce me to Her Majesty’s cook, I could instruct him and, once he understands the problem, I know he will do what needs to be done.”

“Thank God you are ‘a simple country woman,’ Lady Barrows!” praised Lady Howard.

The queen’s head cook was more than startled to see the two fine ladies standing in his kitchens. Wiping his red face with a towel, he hurried over. He recognized Lady Howard, and bowed awkwardly.

“How may I serve you, m’lady?” he asked politely.

“This is Lady Barrows, the mistress of the queen’s maids, and she wishes to discuss a problem with you regarding the queen’s meals, Master Browning,” said the Countess of Nottingham.

“Is something wrong, m’lady? Was the joint not to Her Majesty’s liking?” the chief cook said worriedly.

Valentina gave him a warm, friendly smile. “Your meals are always superb, Master Browning. The problem is the queen’s, and it is not a problem she will speak about to anyone, I feel. Therefore, I need your help in a little conspiracy. You see, the queen, like many older people, has lost teeth. Of those remaining, many are loose. She finds it difficult to chew, Master Browning, and so she cannot eat as she once did. Yet you cook for her as you always have.”

The cook clapped a hand to his head. “Aye!” he said, “I see it, m’lady! Poor Queen Bess cannot gnaw on a joint as well as she once did!”

“Exactly, Master Browning. I knew you would understand. Still, the queen must eat, and you know she will refuse pap if you tried to serve it to her.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “She has always enjoyed her food, she has. Then what am I to do, m’lady?”

“Would I offend you if I showed you a country dish or two that you might serve the queen?”

The head cook was flattered. This lady was a noblewoman, yet she was asking his permission to instruct him! “If you would let me put an apron about you, m’lady,” Master Browning said. “I wouldn’t want you to get yer gown dirty.”

“Have you beef stock?” asked Valentina as he tied the apron around her. “And I will need a little piece of raw beef, a carrot, a leek, some sherry wine, and a small pitcher of heavy cream. Have a chopping board, a sharp knife, and a small iron kettle brought to me as well.”

As Lady Howard and Master Browning both watched, fascinated, Valentina ladled two spoonsful of beef stock into a small black iron kettle. Quickly she chopped the carrot and the leek, adding them to the stock. With obvious skill she minced the raw beef, adding it, too, and then, looking up, said to Master Browning, “I will need salt, parsley, and fresh peppercorns.” These were quickly supplied, and Valentina added a pinch of salt to her brew, chopped the parsley, and added it as well and then handed the kettle to Master Browning. “Bring it to a boil,” she said, “and while it cooks I will suggest several other ways of perking up the queen’s appetite. She must retain her strength. She is running on pure nerves right now.”

Lady Howard was fascinated. Once, she knew, all ladies of the noble class were skilled, as young Lady Barrows was, but that was no longer true. As she watched the young woman work and saw the royal cook’s respect for her, Lady Howard thought that perhaps noblewomen had lost something by eschewing this knowledge.

“Meats minced with thinly sliced vegetables and mixed with spices can be put into pies. Capon should be stewed with carrots and baby onions until it is tender. Various fishes minced and mixed with breadcrumbs and spices can be baked in the ovens, then served with a sauce of cheddar cheese and wine. Any meat or poultry or game or fish stock can be made into a rich soup by adding tender bits of vegetable, meat, or poultry. Bring me the kettle now, Master Browning, and I will show you how to finish the soup.”

An apprentice cook set the hot kettle on the table and Valentina liberally laced the mixture with sherry wine before adding a full pitcher of thick cream, then mixing it all together. Finally, she ground some pepper into the soup. Dipping a spoon into it, she offered a taste to the queen’s head cook. He sipped the hot liquid thoughtfully, and a smile lit his face.

“ ’Tis excellent, m’lady! Never have I tasted such a soup!”

“Send it up to the queen’s apartments along with a plate of soft rounds of brown bread spread thickly with a good soft cheese and a tart of plum jam with clotted cream. I know Her Majesty loves that,” said Valentina. “If in future you will keep in mind the delicate condition of Her Majesty’s teeth, I know you can prepare meals for her. But you must say nothing about my little visit, dear Master Browning,” Valentina finished.

“White wine for chicken and fish stock,” said the head cook. “Good red Burgundy for game!”

“Exactly,” replied Valentina with a smile. Then, taking Lady Howard’s arm, she bid the cook farewell.

“My dear, you are a lifesaver,” said Lady Howard as they walked back to the queen’s chambers. “I will not forget this.”

“Madam, I love and respect the queen,” said Valentina, “and I know you will not be offended when I say this, but though she is our queen, she is also an elderly lady—even if she will not admit to it. Her spirit is not old, of course. In spirit the queen will always be a vital, vibrant young woman. But her body has grown old, and it must be cared for in a different way than when she was young.”

They reached the corridor leading to the queen’s apartments, and Lady Howard stopped. Looking up into Valentina’s face, she said quietly, “My child, you are a blessing come to us in a trying time. I will not forget your kindness toward my cousin. You have a friend in me, Lady Barrows, and I hope you will not forget it.”