Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (27 page)

“My dearest, there are eyes everywhere,” he said gently as he broke away from her.

“I do not care—it has been too long since I kissed you. When will you ask Sir James to approach the queen about our marriage? I long to be in your bed!” Mary whispered.

“Oh, my love, you tempt me so! I have spoken to Sir James, but he says the time is not yet ripe—after all, my family is Catholic. Now is a bad time for Catholics,” said Sir John, leading her to Dr. Dee’s doorway.

“But you saved the queen’s life! You took a wound upon your own body for her. Surely this proves your loyalty,” said Mary.

“Perhaps. But I shall trust Sir James on this—he has a wise head upon his shoulders. Look, we are here, my love,” he whispered.

Mary felt a tingle of desire when he called her his “love.”

They entered Mortlake and were led to the dining room where a modest repast was set for them. Dr. Dee welcomed them and urged them to eat their fill.

“The Earl of Leicester may join us later. He is interested in the stars and what they can tell us of the future,” said Dr. Dee, his long beard now almost to his waist.

“I am always happy to see Lord Robert. He has been somewhat absent from court these last few months. I think he steals away to Leicester House to avoid the queen’s foul temper,” said Mary, reaching for a thick slice of wheat bread smeared with marmalade. “This is delicious—so much more hearty than the queen’s manchet.”

“I have found the darker breads more tasty as well as better for my health,” said Dr. Dee. “What questions do you have for me this night?”

“As you may have already surmised, Mary and I wish to marry. I would like to hear what the stars say about our union. I would also like to know when it would be safe to approach the queen to ask for her blessing,” said Sir John.

Mary was surprised he would confess their plans to Dr. Dee and sent him a questioning look. He smiled back at her as if to say, “Do not worry—it is safe.”

“I had guessed as much. The looks of love are difficult to hide,” said Dr. Dee.

After they had supped, they entered Dr. Dee’s laboratory with all his charts and machines and books. While Dr. Dee and John discussed various subjects, Mary wandered around the enormous room, picking up books and leafing through them.

“We are ready, Mistress Mary, if you will join us?” said Dr. Dee, spreading out a scroll of parchment across his long desk.

Mary moved quickly to see what Dr. Dee had discovered.

“You, as I told the queen a long while ago, Mary, were born under the sign of Aquarius and you, Sir John, under Libra. Your match is an excellent one—you are both honest, naturally kind. The only possible problem I can see is that Mary is a bit unpredictable—but then, she is a woman, is she not?” said Dr. Dee with a smile.

“Decidedly so,” said Sir John, smiling at Mary.

“Though I see the match will be a good one, there are some shadows at the beginning. I have done a little scrying in the crystal and have seen a large dragon swooping down upon the two of you—I am not sure of the meaning of this, but you might wish to postpone your marriage for a year or so. To avoid whatever evil may be dogging your steps,” said Dr. Dee.

“A year? Oh no, we could not possibly wait that long,” said Mary, blushing.

“Well, these are just suggestions, dear. Just suggestions,” said Dr. Dee. “Yet I also saw danger when I checked the stars—there is the ominous shadow of death hovering over you both at present. As I said, you would be smart to wait a little while.”

Mary could not help feeling discouraged by this news and her body slumped against John’s. He put his arm around her and bowed to Dr. Dee.

“We thank you for taking such time for us, sir. May I repay your efforts?” said Sir John.

“Only by becoming the godparents of my expected child who, I hope, shall enter this world in exactly six months, five days, and seven hours—according to the stars,” said Dr. Dee.

“Doing such would be our pleasure,” said Mary. “And congratulations!”

“I have some very interesting studies of plant life, if you should wish to see them,” said Dr. Dee, rising from his desk.

“Nothing could please us more,” said Sir John.

Late December 1571

The Christmas celebrations were proceeding with gusto, with dancing, music, theatrical performances, and great feasting. There was even a wedding, one of the most spectacular events in the land. Lord Burghley’s daughter, Anne, married Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. Mary attended the wedding. Mistress Anne looked as pretty as Mary had ever seen her, the joy on her features making her plain face lively, a smile on her lips and a light in her eyes. She wore a pale yellow brocade dress with cloth-of-silver sleeves and a kirtle of matching yellow silk. Her reddish-blond hair looked pretty against the matching French hood. Mary was happy for her.

Oxford, on the other hand, was somber. His mouth drew down and his eyebrows bunched together as if he were in deepest thought. Mary caught him staring at her as he and his new wife walked down the aisle together. If his stare had been a sword, she felt she would have been stabbed in the heart. She knew, at that moment, Oxford would do her harm if he ever got the chance.

PART II

In good time I’ll banish from this place all wicked ones; keeping none of such race.

LINES FROM A POEM BY ELIZABETH I

Thirty-five

March 1572

The blustery March winds had rattled their way into Richmond Palace in spite of the efforts of the serving men to keep the fires burning brightly. The queen had caught a chill and was coughing and sneezing frequently. She complained to Mary that her head hurt and she was too ill to leave her bed. Mary promised to prepare a special cordial for Her Majesty, Rosa Solis, a bright yellow draught that promised to strengthen and nourish the body. Mary had not made this medicine before and needed to procure the main ingredient, sundew, a carnivorous plant that gave the brew its golden color, from the stores in the royal kitchens. She also needed to restock her supply of cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.

Mary hurried from the queen’s apartments to the royal kitchens. The halls grew more and more cold the farther she walked from the queen’s rooms. Though the walls were hung with tapestries and arras, these coverings could not keep out the icy wind, and Mary wondered if there would come yet another snow. It was dusk and the torches were slowly being lit as she quickly walked to her destination. She loved going to her little room; it was a place where she could daydream to her heart’s content as she mixed spices, fermented fruits and flowers, and created delicious cordials. Most of the time, she used time-honored recipes from Catspaw, but sometimes she experimented as her knowledge of herbs and plants grew. She enjoyed taking a pinch from the large amount of sugar she kept in a locked chest, as it was almost as valuable as gold. She also had a dozen jars with stoppers in which she kept herbs and spices. She used wine as the basis for most of her cordials and had a vat halfway full. For stronger drinks, she used aqua vitae. She was ticking off the list of her needs in her mind when she became aware of someone walking close behind her. The hall often bustled with servants going about their duties, but decorum demanded a show of proper respect by maintaining a certain distance. Surely none would be so bold as to dog her steps. But she could feel a presence, almost sense the warm breath of whoever it was. Well, this could not be tolerated! She turned to give the offender a good talking-to and found herself facing Oxford, with Pakington not far behind.

“Milady, you seem in a hurry. Where are you going in such a whirl?” said Oxford, leering at her. He seemed unsteady on his feet.

“My errand is no concern of yours, sir,” she said, taking a step away from him. She used the same tone she had heard the queen use with her servants—haughty and in command.

“Perhaps you would enjoy our company … Pakington and I have nothing better to do,” said Oxford, moving toward her.

“I have no need of your company, gentlemen. As you can see, I am quite capable of managing my own affairs,” Mary said, again speaking as if she were addressing a yeoman rather than an earl. She couldn’t help it; Oxford frightened her. He was unpredictable and unstable—and she did not like the way he was looking at her.

“It is obvious the lady does not want our help, Oxford. Let us return to the Presence Chamber and wait for the queen—I have some land issues I wish to discuss with Her Majesty,” said Pakington, putting his hand on Oxford’s arm in a restraining gesture.

“Nonsense! I know Mary better than you do, Lusty. Aye, that should be
her
name—I remember well how she kissed me in the gardens, how she let me touch her private places and how she sighed with desire when I did so. Didn’t you, Mary? You liked it, did you not?” said Oxford. He came close enough so that she could smell the wine on his breath. She realized he was drunk and was teetering toward her.

“Sir, you are a knave and a liar!” she said with as much disdain as she could muster. She blushed because she knew
she
was the liar, not him. But she wanted to make sure Pakington would not believe Oxford’s drunken ramblings. As he stumbled toward her, he reached for her with both hands, grabbing hold of her waist.

At that moment, she heard the sound of boots upon the stone floor and, to her surprise, Sir John approached them.

“What goes on here?” he said, shoving Oxford away from Mary and pushing him into Pakington.

“None of your bloody business!” said Oxford as he tried to maintain his balance.

“When I see a man bullying a helpless woman, I make it my business,” said Sir John. He stepped in front of Mary, standing between her and Oxford.

“He’s been in his cups today—let me take him to his rooms. Maybe I can get him to sleep it off,” said Pakington, trying to get hold of Oxford’s arm.

Oxford jerked away and started toward Mary again.

“She’s nothing but a stewed whore! Leads a man on—till he can think of nothing else! But I’ll have her yet! By all the gods, she’ll be mine!” said Oxford, launching for Mary once again.

Sir John put his hand on the hilt of his sword and pushed Oxford away. He pulled out his sword and placed the point at Oxford’s throat.

“Leave her alone! If you come near her again, I will run you through. That is a promise, sir,” said Sir John.

For a moment, they stood still. Then a gaggle of serving women walked toward the kitchens. When they saw the drawn sword, they stopped and stared. Oxford’s face had turned red and his arms shook with rage. He looked directly at Mary.

“I won’t forget this, Mistress Mary,” he said.

Then he turned to Sir John. “How dare you draw your sword on me? You will pay for this affront—of that you can be sure. Come, Lusty. Let us be away from here,” said Oxford, turning to his friend. Together, they stumbled away from the kitchens and headed back the way they had come. The serving women moved along, very quietly going about their business.

“I am glad you came along when you did, John. What are you doing down here anyway?” said Mary as she took the arm he offered.

“I was looking for you. I was told the queen was unwell and Old Catspaw told me you were going to make her one of your cordials. I knew where you would be. What in the world was Oxford doing down here?” said John.

“He followed me, I guess. Ever since that night in the garden, he has been after me,” said Mary.

“Night in the garden? What night in the garden?” said John, following her into the small room. He noticed she had made the place cozy. A small stool with a brocade pillow atop was near the table so she could sit when she cut her herbs. Several vases were filled with dried flower arrangements, two in the windowsill and one on the large wooden table where she worked. Fresh rush mats covered the floor and various utensils hung on hooks. Though the small hearth was dark, there was kindling already set to start a fire.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he said.

“I would rather forget all about it,” said Mary. She began to gather the materials for the healing cordial. She did not want to tell John what had happened between her and Oxford. She was afraid if he knew, he would not wish to marry her. Yet, if he was going to be her husband, perhaps he should know this.

“Is it something you can forget? Oxford seems to be having trouble forgetting it. I wish no impediments to our marriage, my love. You will find me an understanding friend,” said Sir John.

“I suppose you have a right to know,” said Mary.

She took a deep breath and began.

“Oxford kissed me one night, after we had danced together. I was … I was upset with the queen and feeling strange. I … I allowed him more freedom with my person than I should have. Do not worry; my virtue is still intact. But he thinks me a wanton because of that night. And I was,” said Mary. She looked down and felt shame flush her face.

“Were you … were you in love with him?” said John quietly.

Mary gave a short laugh, then looked up at him.

“No! I was angry with the queen—it’s all so complicated. I don’t understand quite why I did what I did—but Oxford will never let me forget it. I wish he would turn his attentions to his poor wife,” said Mary.

“I will see that he does not pester you again, dearest. You have my word on it,” said John.

“Can you forgive me for my folly?” Mary said, looking at him. She was not sure she wanted to hear his answer. She feared her indiscretion would make him love her less.

“Do you think you are the only person who has ever acted unwisely? Believe me, I have seen every kind of foolishness at court. Yours was a minor thing, quickly forgotten by all except Oxford. He is a strange man,” said Sir John. He put his arm around her and hugged her to him.

“Yes, and a frightening one,” said Mary.

“But you shall not have to worry about him again. Feeling my steel against his throat should dissuade him of further action,” said Sir John.

“There is one more thing you should know. Oxford asked the queen for my hand in marriage. She told me and wanted to know whether or not I would wish such a match. She reminded me of Oxford’s prestige and how fond she was of him,” said Mary. She leaned into John and his steadiness gave her strength.