A Favorite of the Queen: The Story of Lord Robert Dudley and Elizabeth 1 (32 page)

Elizabeth was continually afraid that there would be a rising against her. Indeed that had been her great fear at the time of Amy’s death. The Grey sisters had been carefully brought up and their conduct was not likely to give rise to scandal. There had never been any admirals in their lives to burst into their bedchambers and slap and tickle them while they were in bed. There had never been a handsome man so in love with them that he was suspected of murdering his wife. The characters of Lady Catharine and Lady Mary were quite different from that of Elizabeth. They were quiet, learned, and good Protestants. Many remembered that Elizabeth had been ready to change her religion when she deemed it expedient to do so. The Greys were gentle, pliable; Elizabeth was full of feminine vagaries. Many people in this land might think Lady Catharine or Lady Mary would make a more suitable Queen than this red-headed virago who had a
penchant
for goading men to scandalous behavior.

There was another, even more formidable—Mary Queen of Scots. She was a greater rival, and she was far away, so that Elizabeth could not keep a watchful eye upon her. She would have been happy to have Mary in England, nominally as an honored guest but in reality a prisoner. That was why, when Mary had left France recently on the death of her husband, François Deux, Elizabeth had refused her a safe passage. What a prize a captured Mary would have been!

Mary had said—so Elizabeth had been told—when the death of
Amy had been reported to her: “Ah, now the Queen of England will be able to marry her horse-master!”

“Insolence!” muttered Elizabeth. “Could she but see my ‘horse-master,’ I doubt not she would throw at him some of the languishing glances which we hear are so fascinating.”

That was another quality of Mary’s which exasperated her. Mary was reputed to be very beautiful, and it was mortifying to be reminded that she was nine years younger than Elizabeth herself. At least there was nothing of the meekness of the Grey sisters in Mary’s character.

There were many Catholics who looked on Mary as the real Queen of England.

Such thoughts of her rivals often made Elizabeth fretful; she would lose control of her temper, and many of those about her would be chastised, and not only with words. But her rages were short-lived and would give place to pleasant smiles; and when she felt that she had been unjust she would always seek to make up to her victim in some way.

One day when she was riding to the hunt she noticed that Lady Catharine Grey was not in the company. On inquiring the reason she was told that the lady was sick and had stayed in her apartments. She tried to forget the trifling incident and, if it had been any other, she would not have given it a further thought.

During the hunt she lost her temper, and as Robert was riding beside her he felt the full force of her annoyance.

She said to him quite suddenly: “I have decided that I cannot put off my marriage. I shall invite the King of Sweden to come to England without delay, that the preparations may go ahead.”

Robert was astounded. “The King of Sweden!” he cried. “That man! He is nothing more than an imbecile.”

“How dare you speak thus of your betters?”

“Not being an imbecile, Your Majesty, I do not consider that man to be even my equal.”

“Master Dudley, you give yourself airs.”

His temper was as hot as hers. Their natures were similar; therein lay the great understanding between them. Each was quick to anger and quick
to forget it; both were proud of their positions yet perpetually aware of humble ancestors.

He answered: “Madam, I speak the truth—which is what I believe you have said you wished from me.”

“I would thank you to look to your own affairs.”

“Your Majesty’s marriage is my affair.”

“I do not think so.”

“Madam …”

“I command you to keep your nose out of my affairs.”

“And I insist that your marriage
is
my affair—mine as much as yours.”

“So you think I will marry you, do you?”

“You have led me to believe that it is not an impossibility.”

“Then you are a fool to hold such hopes. You … a Dudley … to marry with a Queen! Do you think I could so far forget my royal rank as to marry such as you!”

“Does Your Majesty mean that?”

“We do mean it.”

“Then have I Your Majesty’s permission to leave Court? I wish to go abroad.”

“Go! Go by all means. Nothing could please us more. It is with the greatest pleasure that we give you leave to go.”

He was silent. She watched him covertly. There, Master Robert, she thought, what now? That will show you who is in command.

He performed his duty with great care and detached perfection during the hunt. She was almost restored to good humor by the time they returned to the palace; but she waited in vain for him to ask her pardon.

For a whole day he absented himself from Court, since there was no particular duty to keep him there. The Queen’s ministers were alert. They had heard of the quarrel. Was this the beginning of a coolness between them?

The following day Cecil said to her: “Since Your Majesty has decided on a match with the King of Sweden, it would be as well to invite him here without delay.”

She was furious suddenly: “I decide on a match with the King of Sweden! I have heard he is nothing more than an imbecile!”

“Your Majesty, he is a King and would make a worthy husband.”

“I am the best judge of who shall be my husband.”

“Then Your Majesty has no intention of proceeding with this match?”

“I have no such intention.”

Cecil retired exasperated. So her statement, during the hunt, which had been reported to him by those who worked for him, had been made with no other purpose than to anger Robert.

She waited for Robert to hear of her remarks. He would, she felt, return humbly and she would meet him halfway; there would be one of those reconciliations which delighted her. She needed such consolation after a whole day without him, for other men seemed stupid and witless when compared with him.

But he did not come; and at length, when she commanded his presence, diffidently he came.

“Why is it that you have absented yourself from Court?” she demanded.

“Because I have been making preparations to leave the country, and I thought by so doing I was obeying Your Majesty’s orders.”

She became woeful and helpless. Her eyes pleaded: So you would desert me! You would leave me to the mercy of my stern ministers. Is that all your love is worth! Do all your protestations mean nothing?

“My lord,” she said despondently, “is it your wish to leave the country? If that is what you desire, so great is our wish for your contentment that we will grant you the permission to go, even though it is against our wishes to do so.”

He was smiling as he kissed her hand with ardor. “How could I ever find contentment but in the service of Your Majesty?”

“Then all is well,” she said gaily.

“And the King of Sweden?”

She “pupped” with her lips, which was a habit of hers; then she began to laugh, and he laughed with her.

“Come,” she said, “sit beside me and give me the benefit of your conversation. I declare the Court has been a dull place these last hours.”

And when the French and Spanish ambassadors were with her, and one expressed his surprise that Robert Dudley was still at Court, as he had heard his lordship had Her Majesty’s permission to go abroad, she laughed lightly.

“I cannot live if I do not see him every day,” she said.

Then, because she fancied Robert’s smile was too complacent, she added quickly: “He is as my lap-dog.”

That brought an angry look to his face and she put out a hand to him with a very tender smile. “Nay,” she went on, “’tis true that I will not be without him, and where this Dudley is, there you may be sure to find Elizabeth.”

Then the whole Court knew that she was as much in love with him as she had ever been; and they did not believe—nor did Robert—that their marriage would be long delayed.

Time passed pleasantly
at Windsor. Elizabeth walked often on the terrace which had been built for her before the castle on the north side. She was fond of walking and was often seen at the head of a little procession of ladies and gentlemen, with Lord Robert beside her, holding an umbrella over her if it rained.

Often she hunted in the park or the forest, for she was as fond of the hunt as her father had been. Bull-baiting and cock-fighting delighted her. She had a stage put in the castle that she might indulge her taste for the drama, and many strolling players had come to Court in the hope of pleasing her and making their fortunes. There were places too for musicians; and in the Windsor Castle orchestra were players of many instruments including lutes and bagpipes, flutes and rebecks.

But she did not forget that it was a Queen’s duty to show herself to her people, and so she set out on a progress through Essex and Suffolk,
staying at various houses which belonged to those ladies and gentlemen who were wealthy enough and worthy enough to entertain her.

While they were staying at Ipswich, Lady Catharine Grey attracted the Queen’s attention.

It was during the robing—always an important ceremony, for there were so many dresses from which to choose, so many jewels which must be tried on only to be discarded. Eventually Elizabeth decided on a gown of black velvet and a caul that went with it set with pearls and emeralds; there was a black velvet hat spangled with gold and adorned with a drooping feather which hung over the shoulder.

While the Lady Catharine was adjusting the jeweled girdle she fell into a faint at her mistress’s feet.

For a few seconds Elizabeth stood still, looking down at the girl, who was very beautiful and in that moment astonishingly like her sister, the tragic Lady Jane.

“See to the girl,” said Elizabeth.

It was Kat who came forward and unlaced Lady Catharine’s gown.

“It is but a faint, Your Majesty.”

“Lift her up,” said the Queen. “Get her to a couch. She looks a little better now. She is too tightly laced, I doubt not.”

While the women were putting Lady Catharine on a couch, Elizabeth drew Kat aside.

“What do you think, Kat?”

Kat’s eyes were alert. When a young lady fainted, one could always suspect a certain reason.

Elizabeth’s eyes were steely. “I know what you are thinking, you evil-minded creature.”

“Your Majesty, I may be wrong, but I have wondered about the lady of late.”

“You have wondered?”

“It is a look in the eyes, Madam. I just cannot explain.”

“You said nothing to me.”

“Madam, how could I be sure, and how could I voice such suspicions unless I was sure?”

“It would seem you have learned discretion in your old age. This is a matter of some moment. She is not a mere serving wench, you must know. I have a duty toward my kinsfolk and those in my personal service. If your suspicions are justified …”

“My dearest lady, do not be harsh with her. She is young and so pretty, and Your Majesty knows how easy it is for these things to happen.”

“Easy!” cried the Queen. Had she not fought
her
temptations? Had she not almost succumbed? Did she not long to be in the condition which might well have overtaken Lady Catharine? “Easy for harlots it may well be!” she snapped. “But this is Lady Catharine Grey—one of three sisters of whose virtue we hear so much.”

She could not control her wrath and jealousy. She thought of the pleasure she might have enjoyed; and being Elizabeth Tudor she was whipping her indignation to fury because the sly Catharine Grey was a possible rival for the throne.

She strode over to the group of women who were clustered about the couch.

“Well?” she demanded. “Well? Well? What is the meaning of this? Why does the girl faint in my presence? Have you discovered yet?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Then why not?” She bent over the Lady Catharine, who looked at her with frightened eyes. “Your Ladyship has often absented herself from duty,” went on the Queen. “Why? Answer me, girl. Have you been meeting a lover? Why do you lie there looking so frightened? What have you to fear if your conduct has been above reproach? But has it been above reproach? Come … let us see for ourselves!” Elizabeth pulled at the gold thread which laced Catharine’s bodice; she seized Catharine’s skirts.

Catharine scrambled up and fell on her knees crying: “Your Majesty, it is true that I am to have a child.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks were scarlet, her eyes blazing. “You … you harlot! You dare tell me that!”

“Your Majesty, it is not as you think. We were married before Christmas and …”

“Married! So your crime is even greater than I thought. What right have you to marry without our consent?”

“Your Majesty, we feared that it might not be granted and we could not endure to be parted … without …”

“Stop! Who is this man?”

“It is Lord Hertford. He is in France, as Your Majesty knows; but he is my lawful husband.”

“We will bring him back from France to answer for his sins. As for you, you will go to your apartment and there you will stay … my prisoner.”