Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (7 page)

“You will not find her in the Great Hall, mistress. She and that silly artist have ducked out the door—no doubt to find a private cove where they might escape the prying eyes of the court,” said Pakington.

“You do not know Mistress Eleanor, if you think she would put her honor at risk,” said Mary.

“Oh, I don’t believe there would be any risk involved. She lost her honor some time ago,” said Pakington, laughing.

Mary rounded on him, her eyes full of fire.

“God’s blood, you shame yourself, sir!” said Mary, unaware her voice rang out loudly over the stone walls.

The queen and her Sweet Robin had pushed their way across the crowded hall.

“Why speak you so, Fawn? Has this lusty fellow been bothering you?” said the queen, holding on to Leicester’s arm.

Mary knew she blushed under the queen’s gaze. She started to speak but Sir “Lusty,” as she now thought of him, spoke first.

“Your Majesty, forgive me. I was merely jesting with the new maid—I had not seen her before and her beauty is extraordinary. I shall watch my tongue in the future—I did not know she was one of Your Majesty’s favorites,” said Pakington, bowing low to the queen.

“God’s death, Pakington, you would mar a girl if she were
not
my favorite? I should have you thrown from court. But it is not this slip of a girl you want—surely, your queen, in her full maturity, could satisfy you, you great brute! Shall we dance, Sir John?” said the queen as she placed her delicate hands against Sir John’s chest.

“Ma’am, the pleasure is all mine,” he said. The queen gave the sign and music, tapping feet, and swirling skirts filled the Great Hall once again with sound.

Before Mary could make her way to one of the few benches set against the walls for the revelers to take their rest, she felt a tug at her elbow. She turned and faced yet another young man.

“Please, mistress, do not think all men at court are like Pakington. Some of us have proper manners and behave in ways that are suited to our station in life. I am Baron Hunsdon, George Carey. My father, Henry, is cousin to the queen,” he said. He gave Mary a small, prissy bow and offered her his arm.

“Would you care to stroll in the gardens? I assure you, your virtue will be safe with me,” he said. He picked a bit of lint or dirt from his doublet and drew a bouquet of flowers to his nose. He then sniffed at the blooms.

Mary thought he looked like one of the peacocks strutting around the grounds, considering himself beautiful and holding his head up as if he were above the rest of the crowd.

“You are kind to offer, sir. But I fear my feet are tired and I suffer an ache in my head. I shall ask the queen if I may return to her chambers,” said Mary, curtsying and moving quickly away from the baron.

*   *   *

“Why did you not tell me I would be like fresh kill for those vultures?” said Mary as she and Mistress Eleanor prepared the Privy Chamber for the next day.

“How could I have explained what the evenings are like for us? You have been sheltered by the queen, sent off to bed after we sup. Her Majesty has just acknowledged your womanhood—now that you serve as one of her ladies, you must grow used to these men and learn how to handle them. You did very well, I should say,” said Mistress Eleanor as she set the table for the queen’s breakfast.

“I suppose with so many men and so few women, it is no wonder the court is full of romance. The odds are against us—how can we protect ourselves when there are five men laying siege to us at one time?” said Mary, folding a cloth over her arm.

“Even those with wives are not allowed to bring their spouses with them to court—the queen forbids it. She wishes to direct all manly attention to herself—things have always been thus,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“They are all in love with her, no doubt. She is witty and graceful and elegant,” said Mary.

“Humph. She is also beginning to show the wrinkles across her brow. She was never a great beauty, even when she was young, so my mother tells me. She never had your sweet looks!” said Mistress Eleanor.

Mary shook her head.

“Ha! My looks are anything but sweet—the queen has told me she can read my every thought because it is written across my features. My nose is too long and sharp—like the blade of a knife. My lips are not like a rosebud, but pouty, as if I were always unhappy. And my face is shaped like that of a cat. No, the queen outshines me by much. She is the great light at court. The queen is everything glorious in a woman—she dances, plays the virginals and the lute, has a melodious singing voice. She speaks so many languages and is clever in her speech. I would wish to have all her talents and abilities. Most of all, she knows how to handle her courtiers. She has kept the Earl of Leicester’s interest for over ten years and he still adores her,” said Mary.

“Aye, she has her mother’s way about her—the same allure. She runs hot, then cold, then hot again. The poor fellows know not what to think. But Mary, you should mark
this
—I saw the queen’s ill-humored looks directed toward you tonight,” said Mistress Eleanor as she placed the finger bowl next to the queen’s place and filled it with water.

“But why should the queen spear me with dark looks? I have done nothing,” said Mary.

“When you were at the center of that group of young courtiers, she was jealous. Do not be so surprised—you are young and full of beauty. The queen is not. But she cannot abide this, so she forces the attentions of men young enough to be her sons upon herself. It is loathsome,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“This cannot be. Surely the queen is not so vain! What shall I do? I do not wish to anger her against me,” said Mary.

“I do not know—you are close to her heart. She will not turn against you,” said Mistress Eleanor. “Come, let us sit with our sewing until the queen comes in from her walk—the good thing about serving the queen in her Privy Chamber is there is not much to be done—we shall have some time to ourselves.”

As the two young women worked at their needle and thread, Mary realized she had not thought of Tom Wotton in several weeks. In fact, she could barely remember what he looked like. What she could recall was the way his lips felt against hers and the way his lean, muscled arms made a shell around her when they kissed. She thought of the courtiers she’d danced with, each with his own special charm. The Earl of Oxford was somewhat handsome, though small in stature. He was unmarried. Would he be a pleasing match for her? Would the queen allow her to marry someone like him? After all, he was an
earl.
The queen could hardly hope for a better match. Though he was an earl, something about Oxford made Mary’s blood chill. Maybe it was the way he pursed his lips, or the weak look he had about the eyes—a pale blue with very light lashes. No matter. He was not the one—she did not feel anything in her bones, the way she imagined she would when she met the man she would marry.

Mary hummed a familiar ditty, a love song about a maiden and her mysterious lover from the sea. She was sad she had forgotten so much about Tom Wotton. Perhaps she was as fickle as a man. Perhaps she was no better than Oxford, who, according to Eleanor, had the fidelity of a flea.

Nine

Oh Parry, what am I do to? Such rages roil within me, such storms, that I shall never see my way clear of them. What must those young pups in my court think of me? What must my dear Robin think? And Mary, poor Mary … to see the queen command the love of young men away from her?

She is a pretty thing, is she not? And her dancing quite filled with grace. How staunchly she put Oxford in his place! And our “lusty” Pakington! She sparred quite well for her first time in the field.

God’s breath, do I not already see the truth of what you say? Time ticks faster and faster, it seems; the Queen of Scots intrudes on my lands and gathers men to her—there must be something divine about the Queen of Scots, something that obliges her very enemies to speak well of her! She is said to be quite lovely. And she is young, so much younger than I am.

Spain dawdles in the Netherlands and the Duke of Alva amasses a well-equipped army of men. I have no army to speak of and little money to equip one. And Norfolk will not admit to his plan to marry the Queen of Scots—he plots against me, yet smiles and speaks with the greatest charm. My nerves are as frayed as the hem of an old shift.

No! I care not for wine! I must have my wits about me. You think these shifting humors are related to the changes in my monthly course? But I am not yet old enough for the great cessation. I am still young—still pretty. God’s blood, you would have me ready for my winding sheet!

I know not what to do with Mary—if I am not careful, one of these daring young men will woo her and she will be lost to me. I would not wish to live without seeing her smile each day or hearing her sing to me. She is full of vinegar sometimes, like you, Parry. But even so, her company is better than most. Oh, I do not doubt her love, nor do I doubt your own. Even though she is young, I know she loves me deep in her heart. She could not help doing so—I am the only mother she can remember.

Men may think me monstrous, as I show no desire for a husband or children. But they do not know Mary is mine own little lamb—she is the child of my heart.

But her future … what man is worthy of her? Oxford? He seemed taken with her. And he has position and wealth. He could be a good match, with the right woman. Pakington? Heavens, no! Hunsdon? That pompous peacock? Oh, so much rides upon making the right choice—Mary’s entire future happiness.

What to do? What to do?

I have it! I shall summon your cousin Dr. Dee. I shall have him cast a chart for Mary. Then we shall see what the stars can tell us. Then I shall know in which direction to head. I’ll find her a fine husband, a man who can give her as much comfort as she finds in my court. She shall marry well and she shall be happy. By God’s teeth, I shall make it so!

Ten

Late August 1569

The queen and her ladies walked earlier than usual to escape the heat of late summer. The queen had taken Mary by the arm and insisted the young woman walk with her, leaving the rest of the maids to linger among the flowers while the queen and Mary made haste to the far end of the gardens. The sun beamed down and the green fields surrounding Whitehall already showed a hint of brown as the summer season drew to a close. Mary could smell the stench of the court, but overlaying that odor was the sweet scent of late roses and lavender. Already, Mary could feel trickles of sweat stream down her ribs beneath her shift. She hoped it would not blotch her white silk gown and silver sleeves.

“Pick up your pace, little Fawn. You must step high if you hope to keep up with your queen,” said Elizabeth.

“Your Majesty sets a difficult task,” said Mary, struggling with her skirts.

“Just be certain you never try to outpace me. Have no worries, child. I did not bring you with me to scowl at you,” said the queen. She stopped in front of a large yew tree and sat on the stone bench beneath. She patted the spot next to her and indicated for Mary to join her.

“I have been wondering what to do with you, Mary. You are now at an age to return to Shelton Hall if that is your wish, although your brother, Ralph, is very happy there with his family. I do not know how he would feel about shouldering the expense of your care. And I fear that after growing up in my court, you would find life in the country terribly dull. No, do not speak. I would finish my thoughts,” said the queen, holding up her hand as if to stop Mary by physical force if need be.

“If you choose to stay at court, which is the choice I hope you will make, I shall make a good match for you, one that will please you and raise you up. You are my kinswoman and, as such, could marry a foreign noble if you wished it. You are accomplished and have a level head—a gentle temperament,
most
of the time. But, alas, you have little ability to dissemble—you are as honest as the noonday sun,” said the queen.

“Your Majesty has too high an opinion of my poor abilities, but I thank you for your kindness. If it please you, I have no desire to unsettle my brother and his family. I should like to stay here and continue to serve Your Majesty,” said Mary.

“Good. I have consulted our esteemed Dr. Dee about your future and he casts a fine chart for you. Would you like to hear?” said the queen.

“Yes, Majesty, I am most interested in the patterns the stars make on our lives. I have studied some with Lord Robert—he promised to take me to Mortlake to see the stars through Dr. Dee’s great glass. As of yet, he has not found time to do so,” said Mary.

“And I imagine you would like to peruse Dr. Dee’s library; he has more books than all of the universities. I, too, should like to do nothing but read from those great tomes of knowledge … but I have a people to rule,” said the queen. “Here is what he saw in the stars about you, dearest Fawn.”

The queen settled herself more comfortably on the bench and searched Mary’s face. Mary felt herself grow warm under Her Majesty’s gaze.

“First, you are born under the sign of the water bearer, Aquarius. You are friendly and would serve humanity, as would I. Dr. Dee then spoke of your loyalty and honesty, qualities Rob and I have endeavored to instill in you. I believe you to have both traits in great strength—these are characteristics I admire and need in those who would serve me. You are inventive and intellectual, not a follower but a leader like myself,” said the queen as she handed Mary a fan and motioned for her to begin fanning them.

“I do not recognize myself in these words, Your Grace,” said Mary, slowly moving the peacock feathers in front of their faces, stirring a small breeze that felt good against Mary’s damp cheeks.

“We seldom see ourselves as others see us,” said the queen, patting Mary’s knee. Mary noticed a rivulet of sweat sliding down the queen’s cheek.

“There is more, Fawn. If your sign is out of balance, you become stubborn and aloof, showing little emotion. You also become quite unpredictable—I am remembering when you were a child and fought with Master Wotton when he said girls had no business learning Greek. How outraged you were at his words!” said the queen, chuckling. “God’s blood, I thought Master Nowell would never allow you to return to the class after you let Wotton feel the sting of your hand against his cheeks. I had to pay him a pound to let you return, for he agreed with Master Wotton—what was the point of educating a girl unless she was going to rule a kingdom someday.”