Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (3 page)

“Do not upset yourself. We do the queen no dishonor. We were merely talking about Master Tom Wotton and somehow we got carried away,” said Mary.

“Why on earth would you be discussing Master Wotton? Isn’t he the boy who has played the devil with you in your studies?” said Mistress Blanche.

“Yes. That’s what we were talking about … oh, Mistress Blanche … Master Tom kissed me in the field today!” said Mary.

“Ah. Well, that explains a great deal! Sit down, child, and tell Parry all about it,” said Mistress Blanche.

Three

June 1569

Given the warm breezes, the gillyflowers and roses in full bloom, the court preparing for summer progress, Mary could not contain the fullness in her heart, a joy that threatened to burst out for all to see. It was no surprise she found herself consumed with love, dreaming about Tom Wotton, imagining herself in fantasies with him so often she lost all track of time. She’d pricked her finger more than once while sewing, her mind distracted by remembering the feel of his lips, his strong arms. She had met him many times since they had exchanged that first kiss and now fancied herself in love with him. If anyone noticed how often she walked her dog, no one mentioned it. As long as she was there of an evening when Elizabeth seemed to need her, she could count many of her afternoons free.

On this day, she had met Tom in the palace gardens and, as usual, he began kissing her, his large hands trying to rove over her body. Thus far, she had not allowed such touches. But then he had surprised her, asking her to leave their familiar haunts for a ride in the country.

“I cannot. Her Majesty’s mood is so grim these days, I fear to do anything that might upset her—if she asks for me and I am not there, there would be the devil to pay!” said Mary, her back against the scratchy hedgerow that both shaded them and provided privacy.

“Think what fun we could have! I can secure a couple of horses … we could ride into the countryside, smell the fresh air, and remove ourselves from this odious place,” said Tom, standing in front of her, his body close.

“I would love to go, Tom, you know I would. I dare not,” said Mary. She placed her hand on his chest and could feel the thumping of his heart.

“If you love me as you say you do, you’ll find a way. If you love the queen better than you love me, well, I might as well return to my own lands—I shall be of age soon enough to take charge of them. Do you not see what that means, Mary? When I come of age, we can be wed in a very little time,” said Tom, enclosing her hand with his own.

“God’s blood! I have not given you an answer, Tom. And you have not yet spoken to the queen. Or your mother. You know how Her Majesty feels about marriage, especially
my
marriage. I do not believe she will give her permission,” said Mary.

“If we are already wed, there will not be much she can do about it. If we run away, she will come around. You’ll see,” said Tom.

Mary broke away from him and peeked around the hedge.

“She’s coming! Go! I shall send word to you later! Go, now!” said Mary in a whisper.

Tom crept through a small gap in the hedges, disappearing quickly. Mary straightened her hair and smoothed her dress. She planned to rejoin the queen’s ladies as they walked by. She stood stock-still as she heard the queen approach, her voice loud.

*   *   *

“God’s death! You are telling me the Duke of Norfolk, the premier lord in all the land, is planning to marry the Queen of Scots! Mistress Eleanor, are you certain of this?” said the queen.

“I have only said what has been said to me, Majesty. I know not the truth of it,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“Tut-tut. I’ll warrant there
is
truth to it—what a match they would be against me! He a Catholic, she likewise. He a duke and she a queen! If they marry, it would not be four months before
I
was in the Tower,” said the queen. “Oh, how am I to manage this monstrous woman, this cousin of mine! Would she were as easy as my other dear cousin, Mary. Mary, where are you?” said the queen as she walked on, impervious to all but her own cares.

Mary hurried from behind the hedge and joined the last of the ladies-in-waiting.

“Here, Your Grace. Here!” Mary shouted as she made her way through the women to catch up with the queen.

“Where have you been?” said the queen, not breaking her stride.

“I have been here, walking with Your Majesty,” said Mary, her face coloring.

“Do you think I do not know what goes on beneath my own nose? You were not here—you scurried behind yon hedge, most likely to meet that Wotton boy with whom you seem besotted. Do you deny it?” said the queen, rounding on Mary, facing her.

Mary had the look of a coney caught in a trap. She had seen how frantic a captured rabbit could become and she felt just that way. Her face paled and she looked all around, anywhere but into the queen’s own eyes. She said nothing.

“God’s blood, as if I do not have enough to vex me! My very own girl, my darling Mary, betraying
me
for a callow youth! Yes, yes, child—I know all about it. But it is easily solved,” said the queen, a strange smile playing across her mouth.

Mary dared not move. She had observed what could happen when the queen caught lovers making plans behind her back. To the Tower! They were sent to the Tower!

“I shall have the boy return to his lands. When he arrives at Yorkshire, he shall have a wedding feast,” said the queen, staring at Mary.

“You … will send him away?” said Mary, barely able to speak. She could not look at the queen. She could not think what to do or say. All she could feel was the queasiness in the pit of her guts and the pumping blood that coursed through her veins, a blood that called for release of the rage she felt in that moment. She raised her head and gazed at the queen.

The queen was smiling, a cruel little curl of her lips. Her black eyes had a proud look about them.

“He shall leave on the morrow. You shall never see him again, I fear. Yorkshire is far from London and I intend to keep a much closer eye on you, young woman. Have a care! You are my creature to marry at my discretion! You do not make any choices on your own!” screamed the queen, her face now turning red and her body shaking with anger.

“I am God’s creature! You are my queen, not my jailer! Just because
you
find no happiness in love now that your ‘Sweet Robin’ has found a roost with the Lady Essex, you have no right to ruin
my
happiness! God’s bones, I will never forgive you for this! I loathe you!” said Mary, running from the queen onto the brick pathway that led to the doors of the castle. The ladies surrounding the queen had become quiet; they had seen such skirmishes between Mary and the queen before and knew better than to utter a sound.

“I have not excused you! You do not have my permission to leave!” the queen shouted. Then, just as suddenly as the storm arose, the waters were calm again and the queen motioned for Mistress Blanche.

“Oh Parry, I mishandled that, I fear. Go to her. Try to explain. I shall speak with her later in the bedchamber. And, dear Parry, be gentle, as
I
was not,” said the queen.

*   *   *

Mary stood in disbelief in the empty bedchamber. She hadn’t realized tears were streaming down her face. She’d been oblivious to them, startled to find her cheeks wet, much the same way she had astonished herself when she raised her voice to the queen. Such passions always took her by surprise. She and the queen had argued before, many times, but nothing like today. Mary had shown her temper in full bloom, raised her voice to the queen, said awful things to the one who had been like a mother to her.

To scream wicked words to the Queen of England! Mary’s insides began to quiver. Soon, the shivering rattled up and down her very bones. She could not tell if this quaking came from anger at what the queen had done, or if it was from fear of what the queen would do now. The queen! She had told the queen she
loathed
her. She had rubbed the queen’s nose in the fact her Sweet Robin had been giving his attentions to Lady Essex, the former Lettice Knollys, another cousin to the queen. Lettice had returned to court while her husband served in Ireland and she gave Lord Robert her hand at every opportunity. The whole court was abuzz about their supposed “secret” romance. But no one had dared mention it in the queen’s presence. No one except Mary.

Mary had left the queen’s presence without permission and turned her back on Her Majesty! She would be in the Tower by nightfall. But she didn’t care! She had told the queen what was in her heart, let her see the hurt and anger. She had done so since she’d first come to Elizabeth, though, of late, the queen seemed less than pleased by such outbursts.

She must run away! That was the only way to save herself—run to Shelton Hall, her childhood home. Surely they would take her in. Her brother, Ralph, who had inherited the lands when their father passed on, would be forced to give her the small parcel of land her father had left for her. They would
have
to take her in—they were her blood! Mary glanced around the bedchamber. Her eyes lit on a small casket on the floor near the queen’s wardrobe. She could pack her few valuables in there, grab food and drink from the royal kitchens. She quickly tossed a clean shift, two pairs of her favorite sleeves, a kirtle, and a pair of woolen hose into the casket and was closing the lid when she remembered her treasure box. She pulled it from beneath the queen’s bed and put it in the bottom of the casket. She didn’t want anyone to find it; she would never leave it behind. It meant everything to her.

Perhaps one of the stable boys would give her a pony to ride. She ticked off a list of other items she would need to make the long journey as she reached for a bodice from the queen’s wardrobe.

“Mary, dearest, what are you doing?” said Mistress Blanche.

“Leaving! I must! The queen will have my head!” said Mary, running into Mistress Blanche’s outstretched arms.

“Come, come, child. Her Majesty has sent me to speak gentle words of comfort. She will not send you to the Tower, dearie. She only wishes you to know how very much she loves you. She is concerned for your welfare, as she has been these eleven years since you came to us,” said Mistress Blanche.

“How could she! How could she send Tom away—he’s done nothing wrong! He has kissed me a few times, nothing more. He wanted me to marry him—and I was going to say yes before the queen ruined it all. How did she know?” said Mary.

“The queen knows all and sees all, dearie. I did not divulge your secret, though I considered doing so. I understand her concern for your welfare—you are like her own child. As such, she does not want to see you hurt or used for some young man’s advancement. She is wise to the ways of men and you should harken unto her wisdom,” said Mistress Blanche.

“I only do what the queen herself has done. I have danced with Tom and met him secretly in the gardens. We have kissed a little and pledged our love. He has had me in his arms, but not nearly so often as Sweet Robin has held the queen thus. And Tom has never touched my dugs, as I have seen Robin do with the queen. Once, I even saw him put his mouth to the queen’s nipple. I have seen much over the years, Mistress Blanche. On our picnics, when they thought I was sleeping, sometimes I would open my eyes just a crack and I watched them kiss and whisper together, fondling one another. I have never done such with Tom—so how is it she can tell me to keep my honor when she besmirches her own?” said Mary, still sobbing into Mistress Blanche’s shoulders.

“No matter what you have seen Her Majesty do, she is the bearer of her own consequences. She is a grown woman and she is queen. You, however, are still a girl and you remain her ward. Granted, you are old enough for marriage, but only if the queen allows it. She wants great things for you, Mary. She has trained you as she, herself, was trained: you know the classics, you can read Latin and Greek, even French; you do mathematics and can write a splendid hand; you dance and sing and play the lute and the virginals. Why do you think the queen has taken such pains with you? Why would she bother even keeping a royal ward in her presence for all these years, rather than sell the wardship to enhance her own coffers?” said Mistress Blanche.

“I suppose no one would have me,” said Mary, allowing herself to be led by the hand to sit at the window across from Mistress Blanche.

“Oh, Shelton Hall is a fine palace and your brother would have had you back within its walls years ago. He wanted your marriage rights but the queen refused him. Elizabeth wanted you here, child. She loves you. Surely you must know that,” said Mistress Blanche.

“Then why would she send Tom away from me? Does she not wish my happiness?” said Mary.

“She has a grand plan for you! She intends to make you a fine match—not marriage to the son of a minor lord but perhaps to a prince! She has seen to your education and has dressed you in fine clothes and jewels. Have you not noticed that among all her ladies, you are the only one allowed to wear colorful gowns of blue and yellow? She wants your beauty to shine forth for all the court to see. And you, selfish girl, have almost ruined it,” said Mistress Blanche.

Mary remembered all the nights she and the queen had spent together when Mary was a little girl. So many times, Mary had been afraid and sad, waiting for the queen to join her in the royal bed. Elizabeth would sing to Mary, funny ditties about lambs and wool and ring-around-the-rosy. Mary could still recall taking Elizabeth’s long, delicate hand in her own and rubbing each nail, feeling the sleekness of the fingers and the heaviness of the rings that adorned them.

“I am sorry,” said Mary. Such an admission was difficult to make, but it was true. Mary
was
sorry.

“Give your apologies to the queen. You have naught to fear—she will not send you to the Tower. Tonight, when she comes into the bedchamber after dancing, go to her and make amends. I have found Her Majesty quick to anger but even quicker to forgive,” said Mistress Blanche. “Now, crawl into your trundle bed and I shall bring you some bread and ale. You need to sleep a little, methinks.”