Queen of This Realm (75 page)

I had news of him. He was very ill, it was said; and my conscience smote me. I went to see him and there was no doubt about his illness. He was not shamming this time. I had a terrible fear that I was going to lose him as I had lost Walsingham, Hatton and my dearest Robert.

I said rashly that I would receive his mother privately.

The effect on him was miraculous. Feverishly he kissed my hands. He said I was the kindest, most beautiful lady in the world and that he loved me as he never could love anyone else. He wished that he could die for me … this very moment. Nothing would give him greater pleasure.

I was touched and told him that the best way in which he could please me was to get well.

Then I began to think of meeting Lettice, and I found I was quite looking forward to the encounter. I wanted to see what the years had done to her. I was over sixty, so she must be in her fifties. Was she eight years younger than I? She had always been an outstandingly beautiful woman and she would know how to preserve her looks, I had no doubt. She seemed to have kept the devotion of that new husband of hers and he was twenty years younger than she was.

I considered what I should wear for the occasion. I wished to look my most regal so that Madame Lettice would not forget for a moment that she was in the presence of the Queen.

I chose a gown of white brocade with a red satin lining in the hanging sleeves which fell back to disclose my hands, and these less than any other part of me showed my age. They were still very white and supple, and I had always thought them my most outstanding beauty; and consequently everything was designed to bring them into prominence. They looked very beautiful adorned with jewels. My dress was ornamented with pearls set in gold filigree and the bodice was slashed with red velvet. My waist, which was as trim as it had been when I was a young girl, was encircled by a jeweled girdle, and my ruff scintillated with diamonds.

Thus I was ready to receive my enemy.

She knelt before me—graceful and still youthful—in blue, and wearing a hat with a curling feather. I saw that her hair was still plentiful and of that
attractive color. She probably had some recipe for keeping it so. Trust her to discover the way to stay young. She doubtless had a good apothecary who could provide her with what she needed. And her eyes were large and darkly beautiful.

“You may rise, cousin,” I said.

I stood up and we were close together. I put my hands on her shoulders and gave her a formal kiss. She flushed a little. I thought I caught a hint of triumph in her eyes.

I sat down and indicated a stool. She placed herself on it, gracefully gathering her skirts about her.

“It is long since I have seen you,” I said.

“So long, Your Majesty,” she answered.

“All those years since he died,” I said. It was strange that while she was with me I could only think of Robert. “You have consoled yourself,” I went on, almost angrily.

She bowed her head.

“You are like my aunt, Mary Boleyn. There must be men. Ah well, it is long ago, but sometimes to me it seems like yesterday. How did he die?”

“Peacefully. In his sleep.”

“There were rumors about his death,” I said, looking at her intently.

“There were always rumors about him.”

“That is true. He was different from all others. Such a man. I never knew his like… nor ever shall. I mourn him still… after all these years.”

She nodded in sympathy.

Then she said: “I want to thank Your Majesty for all you have done for my son. I trust he gives you satisfaction.”

“Essex is a charming boy,” I said. “But he is rash. You should impress on him the dangers of that.”

“I know it well, Your Majesty, and it causes me great anxiety.”

“You have a lively brood, Lettice. Methinks they take after their mother. Certainly not after poor Walter Devereux. He was a mild man… not suited to you at all, cousin. But you soon found that out, did you not? Still he gave you some pleasant children before he passed on. That was a tragedy but then… his usefulness was over, was it not?”

I looked at her sharply. Had Robert had a part in Devereux's death? Had she been party to it? She was a fascinating creature. I had to admit it. She had the sort of beauty which lasts as long as life. It was the contours of her face perhaps, perfectly molded, and of course, with youth, that flaming hair and those magnificent eyes she had been irresistible. One could not blame Robert. Perhaps I should have blamed myself. I could have had Robert at
any time; but there was one question which would have haunted me all my life. Which was more attractive to Robert—myself or the crown? She had had no crown to offer him; he could lose a great deal by marrying her—yet he had done so.

I said: “I was sorry to hear of your son's death.”

She looked sad and I thought: She does love her children.

She answered: “It was a great sorrow, but he wanted to go with his brother. He adored Robert. They all do.”

“Essex has charm,” I agreed. “He could do well for himself…but he must not be so reckless.” Now I was conspiring with her; I was asking for her help for Essex. It showed how I worried about him—more than was wise and reasonable. I should say, Let him make his mistakes and pay for them. But I really loved that young man. “He speaks too freely,” I went on. “He is so careless and I fear that he could fall into very serious trouble.”

“I know it well,” she answered, falling into the mood. We were cousins again as we had been when she had first come to Court and I had been attracted by her as I always was by beauty, no matter in which sex I found it. And the fact that there was a blood relationship between us had drawn me to her. “Oh Your Majesty,” she went on, “I worry a great deal about him.”

“He thinks much of you,” I told her. “He is at least a devoted son. Warn him. Let him understand that he may go so far because of his charm and my affection for him… but he should watch that he does not take too many rash steps. There may come a time when even I cannot help him.”

She rose then and kneeling, took my hand and kissed it. The face which she lifted to me was distorted a little by her anxiety; and if she became less beautiful in that moment, I liked her the better for it.

I said: “We will do our best for this wayward boy… both of us.”

And for a moment we were close because of our love for him.

The moment passed and I said sharply: “You did not wait long after Leicester's death to take another to your bed.”

“I was lonely, Your Majesty.”

“And you were lonely before his death, eh?”

“He was so much at Court.”

“It was his will,” I reminded her. “I trust you find joy in this new husband.”

“We have been married many years now.”

“Oh yes, I remember. Leicester was scarcely cold when you took young Blount to husband. So you are happy in this third marriage? What a woman you are for marrying!”

“I am contented in my marriage,” she said.

I went on: “And that girl of yours. She is another one to watch. Lady Rich is it…or Mountjoy?”

“Lady Rich,” she said.

“Oh yes, Rich is the husband, Mountjoy the paramour… but I believe she is everywhere with Mountjoy and shares his house.”

She was silent.

“And the other girl … rushing off and marrying Perrot. Yes indeed, Lettice, you have a lively brood.”

“They have made me very happy,” she replied quietly. “It is thus with children. We cannot expect to have the joys of parenthood without the accompanying anxieties.”

There she stood—she had been wife to three men and was the mother of several children—Essex among them. And there was I … in my regal state with no husband or child. This was my life; that was hers. I could feel a fleeting envy, but I knew I would not have bartered my crown for any of her husbands—not even Robert—nor for any of the children—not even Essex.

I was tired of her. She depressed me. I brought the interview to an end.

“Essex persuaded me to receive you,” I said, “and I gave in to him. So, Lettice, we have spoken to each other after all these years.”

I held out my hand. It was the signal for her to take it, kiss it and depart.

ESSEX CAME TO ME
glowing with pleasure.

“Your Majesty, my dearest Majesty, you have done this for me. How I adore you! My mother is so happy. It is the one thing she needed for her contentment.”

“I received your mother to please you,” I told him.

“How I thank you! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

All this excitement about receiving his mother! I was irritated. Moreover seeing Lettice again had depressed me considerably. She brought back too many memories of Robert and I had spent a most unhappy night recalling so much of the past, including that never-to-be-forgotten day when I had discovered that he had defied me … I might say abandoned me … to marry her.

The meeting may have gratified Lettice Knollys, but it certainly brought me no joy.

I had made up my mind that never again would I give way to Essex's whims. I would not see Lettice Knollys again. She would never be anything to me but the she-wolf who had spoilt the last years of my life with Robert.

“My mother says it was such a happy interview.”

“I was unaware of that happiness,” I said coldly. He should have realized it was dangerous to go on, but when had Essex ever been wise?

“She is looking forward to her next visit to Court.”

“She may look forward for a long time. She will not have another visit to Court.”

He looked at me in astonishment. “But you have received her! She has come back.”

“My Lord Essex, your mother can only come to Court if I give her permission to do so.”

“But you will, of course.”

“I have decided not to.”

“What?”

Really that young man was heading fast for trouble. He would have to learn to show some restraint.

I said coolly: “I did what you asked me to do. I have received your mother and there is an end to the matter. We have spoken and there is nothing more I have to say to her. And remember this: I have no wish to see her again.”

He stared at me and the color suffused his face. He did not speak, which perhaps was fortunate, for if he had I was sure he would have said something which was unforgivable.

He turned and without asking leave to retire strode from my presence.

BURGHLEY CAME TO
talk privately with me. He seemed a little concerned.

Poor Burghley! He was showing his age. His beard was quite white now and his once lithe and upright figure stooping. I always felt moved when I saw him; he had lost his youth and his health in my service and I used to say to myself: God forgive me if I ever forget what I owe this man.

He had had so many troubles and he had been such a good husband and father, too. He was fond of all children and nurtured his own with great care. He had looked after his grandchildren—those of the profligate Earl of Oxford who had married his daughter, a match which Burghley had never ceased to regret. He had cared assiduously for my welfare and had even provided me with his son Robert, my “Little Elf,” so that when my dear old friend passed on there would be another as able—or almost as able—to step into his shoes.

When we were alone together I was always particularly affectionate with him. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated what he had done for me and for the country.

Of course he had put forward his son. What good father would not? He
had kept Francis Bacon from office out of fear that he would displace the Elf. He never would. I wanted to make use of Robert Cecil's services because I recognized in him his father's particular qualities. Francis Bacon might be brilliant but that tutorial attitude of his would never have suited me.

It was a pity that Essex was in the opposing camp. I should have liked him to work with Burghley. But that was impossible. There could not have been two people less alike than Essex and either of the Cecils.

So when Burghley came to me I feared before he began to tell me that there was some fresh complaint against Essex.

“Pray sit down, my dear friend,” I said. “I know it tires you to stand.”

Gratefully he did so.

“First,” I said, “tell me this: Have you been taking the possets I recommended?”

“Without fail, Your Majesty.”

“Well, I trust they will do good work. My Spirit must take more care of himself. Why should he not rest more? He has that very able son of his to take over much of the work.”

“It is a great pleasure to me that Your Majesty finds my son satisfactory.”

“A clever little Elf. Yes, he pleases me, Master Cecil, and not only because of his good work. He is your son and that gives him special favor in my eyes.”

Now the pleasantries were over, he came to business, and, as I had feared, it concerned Essex.

“Since the regrettable death of Walsingham we have sadly missed his excellent service,” said Burghley, “but there are those among us who have tried to make sure that there are no secret plots which might put Your Majesty's life in danger…”

“Essex works well in that direction,” I said.

“Ah, Essex, Your Majesty.” He paused and I was full of foreboding. “I have made an alarming discovery and I have come here to tell you expressly of it. Essex is corresponding with the King of Scotland.”

“That is impossible!” I cried.

“Alas, Your Majesty, I have evidence. I had discovered this was going on and have secured some of the correspondence.”

“For what purpose was this?”

Burghley looked at me and lifted his shoulders. “The correspondence started when Essex was trying to restore Davison and wanted the King of Scotland to join in the pleas for him since the trouble was about the execution of the King's mother. From that… the letters have continued.”

“How did you discover this?”

“I planted a spy—one Thomas Fowler—at the Scottish Court. The letters have been copied and sent to me. It seems that the prime mover is Lady Rich. Her husband is with her in this.”

“But she is with Mountjoy now.”

“That is so, Your Majesty, but it seems the one thing Penelope Rich has in common with her husband, is a love of intrigue. They are all working for the aggrandizement of Essex. They have code names: Penelope Rich is Rialta, Lord Rich, Ricardo; Your Majesty is Venus and Essex the Weary Knight.”