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Authors: Anne Clinard Barnhill

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BOOK: Queen Elizabeth's Daughter
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“I do not believe the earl would look quite so pretty in a dress—but I shall dance with you, Mary! It will do my heart good!” said the queen, laughing. The two women stepped lively to a galliard, the others clapping their hands and singing. Round and round they twirled, two pretty birds in flight. Finally, winded, they stopped.

“If only Leicester could make me laugh again! How I have missed a good jest! Oh Mary, you are such a comfort to me,” said the queen, now sitting on her chair while Mary sat on the floor beside her.

“And you, Majesty, are the kindest mother I could have,” said Mary.

“I am Mother to all of England—not only you—to all these maids!” said the queen. She smiled and motioned for Mistress Blanche to approach.

“Parry, go into my jewels and bring a pretty for each maid here—and for Mary, a pearl necklace, one with diamonds, too, so she will sparkle a little now and then,” said the queen. She rose and her women followed suit. “Just remember—never outsparkle your queen!”

As Mistress Blanche did the queen’s bidding, Mary waited at the back of the group. She watched as Mistress Frances elbowed her way to the front so she would receive the first “pretty” and observed the happy smile spread over her features.

“Are you not anxious to see the lovely necklace Mistress Blanche will give you?” said Mistress Eleanor.

“Not really. Though I like jewels as much as anyone, I am pondering the queen’s quicksilver humors. First, she is in a rage; then, she is laughing and dancing—I cannot fathom what spurs these rapid changes,” said Mary.

The two women discussed the myriad of problems besetting the queen: the continuing trouble brewing in the north, the unpredictable Queen of Scots, and the queen’s personal heartbreak over her Sweet Robin’s attentions to Lady Essex.

“How does she manage it? She seems to know everything that happens at court—as if she has eyes everywhere. And, though she faces a ceaseless sea of difficulties, she navigates her way through them. I am in amazement to think on it,” said Mary.

“They say she has spies at all corners—from Old Catspaw, the washerwoman, to Master Walsingham, who assists Master Cecil, to Master Cecil himself. Of course, she has her ‘Eyes’ as well. I do not know why she does not go mad—I’d be in Bedlam were I queen!” said Mistress Eleanor, smiling.

“Oh, Mistress Blanche is beckoning us—let us see what ‘pretties’ she will give us,” said Mary.

Mary was amazed when Mistress Blanche handed her a very long rope of pearls interspersed with diamonds, with one large diamond at the center. This was no bauble, but a jewel fit for a princess. She stood still as Mistress Blanche roped it around her neck and thought of the pleasure she would feel when she secreted it into her treasure box.

*   *   *

The last week in August, the court prepared to move to Greenwich as the smells and heat of the last month had made Whitehall no longer fit for habitation. Mary assisted the queen as she dressed for the night’s activities.

“You will join us in the Great Hall this evening, Fawn. I have arranged for a short play to be presented, and then we shall dance. I would see your skills at conversation and your dancing feet move with great delicacy this night—I have invested much in you and wish to observe how well my efforts have been met,” said the queen, as Mary helped pile curl upon curl of Her Majesty’s hair upon a wire frame, while other ladies tied the queen’s sleeves onto her bodice. Still others painted the royal face with white paste and her cheeks with rouge. For upward of two hours, the ladies worked their magic, turning an almost middle-aged woman into a regal and handsome woman—a desirable woman.

“Yes, ma’am. I shall be along anon. I would like to freshen myself first,” said Mary.

“Of course, of course. You must look your best. Mistress Eleanor and Mistress Frances will help you—also, Mistress Dorothy. Hand me the looking glass,” said the queen.

 

Eight

August 1569

The sultry night sky was clear and the stars glittered like tiny diamonds sewn onto a black velvet cape. Mary and Mistress Eleanor walked behind the queen as she entered the passageway leading from the gardens to the Great Hall.

“You
do
look lovely in your new dress, Mary,” said Mistress Eleanor. “You are the prettiest girl here, of that there can be no doubt.”

“Nay. You are trying to boost my estimation of myself so I will not be clinging to the walls of the Great Hall,” said Mary. “Are there many handsome gallants waiting for us?”

“Sir George Carey, Lord Hunsdon’s son, is at court. He is quite handsome but has his nose out of joint because his father is risen so high. My favorite is Master Nicholas Hilliard—he is a marvelous sketcher of portraits and is fair of face! The queen favors Sir John Pakington and calls him ‘Lusty’ because he writes poetry and is skillful in the tiltyard … and
other
places,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“But Eleanor, you have never mentioned Master Nicholas. Have you been keeping him a secret?” said Mary as she smiled at a group of gentlemen who had nodded and bowed as they passed by.

“He is no secret—he does not know I exist. His eyes are for the queen, as are all the eyes of the court. But, once in a while, I see him glance toward me. The last time I caught him so, he smiled at me. His teeth are white as the pearls in your new necklace,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“What others are there?” said Mary.

“Well, there is the Duke of Norfolk, who disturbs our queen with rumors that he will wed the Scottish queen. He’s not as young as the others—he must have thirty years or more—but he is manly and makes many beaux gestes. The Scottish queen would be fortunate to have him. Oh, I almost forgot Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford—he’s nearest in age to you, Mary. But watch him—I fear he is as randy as a bull in spring,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“I remember Oxford. When I first began my studies at Master Cecil’s house, he was there. I was but eight. He seemed much older at the time—he was perhaps twelve. He studied under Master Nowell for a year, maybe less. I did not see him again. I have no idea what happened to him,” said Mary, shaking her head.

“He would not have bothered you then, but now I fear he chases anyone in skirts. Be forewarned,” said Eleanor.

“I shall watch out for them all. Oh, the queen leads us into the Great Hall. Do stay with me, Nora—I may faint,” said Mary.

The queen walked slowly to her throne, stopping along the way to chat with one courtier or another. She held in her right hand a fan made of peacock feathers with an ivory handle studded with jewels. When she approached the Earl of Leicester, she passed by him without a word but tickled his face and neck with the fan. The earl then left the group of men with whom he was conversing and followed the queen to her throne. He knelt in front of her and she began whispering in his ear. Mary wondered how the earl could be so duplicitous—fawning over the queen after she had caught him in the arms of another woman.

“Mistress Eleanor, I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting your friend,” said a young man dressed in a fine silk doublet with a green velvet cap on his head. On the cap, a white feather plume angled up, making the man seem taller than he actually was.

“This is Mistress Mary Shelton, newly made gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber and royal ward. Mary, please meet Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford,” said Mistress Eleanor as she gave him a small curtsy.

“Mistress Mary, I am charmed … you are the fullest blossom in this bouquet,” said Oxford.

Mary felt her face warming. She lowered her head and curtsied. She was afraid to speak lest her voice betray her fear.

“My lord…” she stammered.

“Might I invite you to dance? Let us join the queen and Leicester—they have begun a stately pavanne,” said Oxford.

“Certainly, my lord,” Mary said as she took his arm and followed him to the dance floor. With great solemnity, she focused on the steps, worried that, though she had practiced this dance a hundred times in the privacy of the queen’s apartments, she might make a misstep. She glanced up and noticed both the queen and Sweet Robin were staring at her. Robin gave her a wink and she smiled at him. Soon after, she began to relax.

“You are not new to court, then?” said Oxford, turning her around as they faced the opposite direction.

“Do you not remember me?” said Mary, skipping with her left foot.

“I am certain we have never met—I would not forget one so lovely,” said Oxford, lifting her into a slow spin.

“God’s blood, you
have
forgotten me!” she said.

His face began to turn pink and Mary could not help but smile. No doubt, he was racking his brain to recall who she was.

“Have no fear, my lord. I am not one of your quickly forgotten conquests. We were both wards at Master Cecil’s house. We studied under Master Nowell—I was the only little girl in the class,” said Mary.

“You are
that
little imp? The queen’s special pet? And quite spoiled, as I recall,” Oxford said.

“I was not! It may interest you to know I have lived at court since I was little—I was only three years old when I first arrived, a poor orphan,” said Mary, lifting her skirts with one hand while he circled her around. She matched the queen’s rhythm exactly and moved with much grace.

“I am sorry to hear you lost your parents at such a young age,” said Oxford.

“Many children lose parents … I am fortunate the queen decided to keep me rather than sell my wardship to some great man far from court,” said Mary.

“I am surprised she did not do so—our Bess is well known for her parsimony,” said Oxford.

“You should not speak so of the queen—it is unkind and untrue. She is most generous to those who love her and whom she loves,” said Mary, fingering the pearls at her throat.

“Have no fear, mistress. My bold talk is part of what the queen loves about me—I am one of her favorites, though I be young,” said Oxford, laughing.

“Bold talk has been known to lower a man by a head, sir,” said Mary.

“God’s blood, you sound like her! Always going on about shortening her subjects when she is in an evil mood. Are you in a foul temper?” said Oxford.

“I was not until I began this dance!” said Mary before she could halt the words.

Oxford stopped where he was, turned to Mary, and began to laugh. He did not take up the dance again but merely kept laughing. Mary realized that soon the whole court was staring at them. She felt the blood rise to her face once more.

“Oh, for the sake of all the devils in Spain, Oxford, what amuses you?” shouted the queen as she, too, stopped moving. She hushed the musicians with a wave of her arm.

“Majesty, forgive me! Mistress Mary’s ‘bold talk’ has tickled me as surely as the feathers of your fan,” said Oxford.

“Come here, my lad, and I shall give you a tickling you will not forget! You have need of a grown woman, not a shooting stalk of a girl,” said the queen.

“May I obey all Your Majesty’s commands with equal pleasure,” said Oxford as he knelt before the queen. She took her fan and ran it round and round his neck. Then, she leaned over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are far too much of a sprout yourself, Oxford, to dawdle with your queen. Return to yon girl and come back to me when a man you be!” said the queen, laughing.

Oxford, without chagrin, walked back to Mary and encircled her waist with his arm. Mary watched as Leicester gave the queen and Oxford a dark look. The queen gestured to the musicians to play again, this time la Volta. The crowd circled around so they could watch the queen and her Master of the Horse begin the dramatic leaping and lifting this dance entailed. Mary searched the hall for Mistress Eleanor and saw her standing next to a handsome man, a goblet in hand.

“Pray excuse me, milord. I am thirsty and will join my friend,” said Mary, giving Oxford a short curtsy.

“A pretty retreat, mistress. Do let me know when you wish to fence with me again,” said Oxford as he turned from Mary toward Mistress Frances Vaughn.

Mary made her way to her friend.

“I see you have survived the dance with young Oxford,” said Mistress Eleanor. “That is better than some have done—I’ve seen more than one maid reduced to tears by his antics.”

“That rutting goat shall never make me cry,” said Mary as she took a goblet from the gentleman standing beside Mistress Eleanor and sipped.

“Well said, ma’am,” said the young man, bowing slightly.

“This is Master Nicholas—the artist I told you about?” said Mistress Eleanor.

“Dear Nora, you have too high an opinion of my small ability,” said Master Nicholas.

“You will find, sir, Mistress Eleanor has a reasonable head on her shoulders and does not stoop to flattery when the truth will serve,” said Mary.

“Who speaks of truth at the court of Elizabeth?” said another young man as he joined them. He was dressed all in red—red doublet, red cloak around his shoulder with false sleeves, red shoes and red hose. The cap on his head was red with gold trim. He, however, had dark coloring with a large prominent nose and a thick black beard. He bowed to Mary and Mistress Eleanor, then grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her toward the dancing space.

“May I present Sir John Pakington,” said Mistress Eleanor, calling out behind them.

Before Mary could respond, Pakington swung her around and around as the fresh music grew steadily faster. She could barely catch her breath as she tried to remember the steps to the country roundel. While her mind could not recall each turn and step, her feet had learned the dance perfectly.

“Methought at court a young gallant would ask a lady
if
she wanted to dance, not drag her to the dancing floor like a stubborn mule,” said Mary once the music stopped and she stood facing Pakington.

“You have an overly high expectation of chivalry, ma’am. Here, we be brutes,” said Pakington, reaching over to a nearby table and lifting a mug of ale to his lips. He gulped down the drink and called for more. A serving man refilled the mug and Pakington drained it.

“You have proven your point well, sir. And now, I shall return to my friend,” said Mary, searching for Nora.

BOOK: Queen Elizabeth's Daughter
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