Seven Will Out: A Renaissance Revel (18 page)

“What about the elderly and frail assistant?”

“Another henchman of Cecil’s. He had to have been well over ninety, and he shook all over with the palsy. Nature would take her course with the poor man soon enough, Cecil said, so he wasn’t unduly worried about the old man shooting off his mouth once the plan had been executed.”

“Well, those are three of your five henchmen—who were the other two?”

“Mrs. Owen and Mrs. Oddingsells, the two ladies who, I later learned, had performed so handily in the Amy Dudley case. Cecil pressed them into duty to move my little caper forward. They were pleased to do their patriotic duty and were quite cheerful and efficient women.”

“We know how to select and train hired help out in the country,” Amy said with pride. “None of your court-style ‘it’s not what you know; it’s who you know’ business practices in my establishment. I hired entirely based on merit.”

“And you didn’t go wrong with those two!” Douglas said.

“Well, Douglas, there you were with two strong men, two smart women, and an old guy with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. I can’t wait to hear exactly what the six of you did to the unsuspecting Robert Dudley during that wintertime tryst!”

Mind you, reader, there was nothing black and white in the answer I received; it would eventually turn out to be strictly shades of Grey.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Quaff, Drop, and Roll Is the Goal

I noticed, as Douglas was winding her way through her tale, that a pitcher and goblets were placed on a dresser across the room from where I was seated. I’d gotten thirsty what with all that had gone on and helped myself to a drink of what turned out to be sweet wine. I poured libations likewise for my companions and raised my glass to them.

“Come, ladies, I hope we shall ‘drink down all unkindness,’” I ventured.

My companions and I bent our elbows and did justice to the wine. As it was very sweet indeed for modern tastes, I sipped at it slowly. Douglas picked up the threads of her tale.

“Robert reported for our tryst as expected. My assistants waited without in nearby rooms. After Robert and I had, um, tarried a bit, he felt he had worked up a powerful thirst and reached out for a goblet of wine. He did not know, of course, that I had spiked it with Cecil’s potion. I was worried to death that Robert might be onto our plan when he said, ‘Tastes rather skinky!’ after the first sip.”

The thought made me choke a bit on the wine I had been heretofore happily sipping. I coughed and sputtered and thought for a moment that I might be sick to my stomach.

“Are you all right, Dolly?” asked Douglas, all solicitude.

“I’m fine, really, ladies. That wine just went straight down the wrong way.”

Douglas chuckled. “Well, when Robert Dudley quaffed that fateful beverage on the night in question, the wine went down
exactly the right way. ‘Zooks! That wine’s gone straight to my codpiece!’ is what he said, as I recall.”

“Nice to know that the stimulant part of Dee’s potion was on target,” I commented.

“It got Dudley gunning for a bull’s-eye, that’s for sure!” Douglas said. “He lunged for me, but after only a moment or two more, he went down as though someone had cut his strings. Robert Dudley was where he never thought he would be—at my feet and totally under my control, at least for a little while; certainly for long enough to execute the remainder of Cecil’s plan.”

“What was your next move, Douglas?”

“It was the dead of night, of course, and no one was up and about. I grabbed a candle, stepped over Dudley, and made my way to the door of the next room to the left, where Owen and Oddingsells were stationed. Upon signal from me, they went to get the three men who were a little farther down the hall and set them to their tasks. I returned to Dudley to keep watch until they joined me. Once they did, everything was in the hands of those two strong men.”

“And by everything, you mean…”

“By everything, I mean Dudley, Dolly.”

“You transferred watch of the unconscious Dudley over to the muscle?”

“No, Dolly. Dudley was literally in their hands. They hoisted him up and toted him off to the sweet little chapel that we had fitted up in the manor house at that time. They handled Dudley as easily as they would have a doll. I led the way with my candle. Owen and Oddingsells followed behind me, Owen bearing my
jewel box and Oddingsells a tray with wine and goblets. We were within the chapel in a trice and found the old man waiting for us there. He’d lit candles, opened a Bible, and donned clerical attire. The musclemen dropped Dudley none too gently into the first pew. Poor Dudley! He was always so fussy about his appearance, you know, and that little journey through the house, and its abrupt ending, had played havoc with his attire and his coiffure.”

“And his wardrobe malfunction was just the beginning of the havoc that was about to be wreaked upon poor Dudley, wasn’t it, Douglas?”

Amy pursed her lips and whistled. “You can say that again!” said Lettice, chuckling as she poured us each another goblet of wine.

Chapter Fifty

Caught Red-Handed and Wedding-Banded

I’d heard about shotgun brides before of course, but a groom looking like he’d been shot out of a cannon was a first.

“Well, Douglas, it sounds like you had all the fixings to make a bride of yourself: chapel, preacher, groom unable to raise objections, and trusted witnesses. Did you rouse Dudley to semi-consciousness and go through some sort of wedding ceremony with him?”

“Not at all, Dolly! We did nothing of the kind. All that had to be done was for Owen to slip two rings that Cecil had provided onto my and Robert’s fingers, and for Oddingsells to pour each of us a goblet of wine. The henchmen made themselves scarce. The rest of us sipped our wine as we waited for Dudley to wake up.”

“What happened when he finally did?”

“Dudley awoke to find myself, what appeared to be a clergyman, and two female witnesses enjoying a nuptial toast. He didn’t know what had hit him. He was congratulated on a marriage and had no way of being sure that one had—or had not—taken place.”

“So Dudley had reason to think you and he might be married, but he couldn’t be entirely sure.”

“Exactly, Dolly.”

“I think I see how it all worked out, Douglas. The situation put paid to any possibility of the queen marrying Dudley to pop out an heir at her eleventh ovulating hour. Had you married Robert legitimately, a simple divorce would have freed up Dudley
to marry Elizabeth and sire children by her. Your ‘maybe’ marriage was an even more powerful tool against a Dudley-Elizabeth union than an indisputable one would be. There would always be the specter, the possibility, that some proof of the marriage would materialize
after
Dudley and the queen had married. And if it did, the legitimacy of the Dudley-Elizabeth union, and any of the children it might produce, would be destroyed. Elizabeth would be humiliated and the country subjected to yet another round of the kind of inheritance issues that so plagued the earlier Tudors.”

“Yes, indeed, Dolly! And if anyone was alive to the desirability of clear-cut legitimacy when it came to royal heirs, it was the queen, bastardized off and on throughout her childhood.”

“So that is why you did not provide the details of the date of your wedding to Dudley or the name of the cleric who performed it when pressed to do so. It always seemed so inexplicable to me that a woman could forget details like that. It wasn’t inexplicable at all. You were just playing possum, Douglas. Nothing flighty and stupid about you; history has got it all wrong!”

“I did feel bad, Dolly, not being able to help my son more during his legitimacy hearing,” Douglas confessed.

“This would be little Robert Dudley, Jr. He grew up to be quite the explorer, eventually suing, after his daddy died, for the benefits of being Robert Dudley Sr.’s heir. You were called upon to give information that would confirm your marriage to Dudley, but of course you could not; there was no marriage to confirm.”

“Correct, Dolly. After it was all over, Owen and Oddingsells went back to the country a bit better off financially than when
they had left it. The henchmen, I am sure, were compensated as well, but I never personally saw or heard from them again after that night. Our antiquated cleric died a month or two after that night, a perfectly natural death; Cecil let me know when it happened just to put my mind at rest.”

“Dudley must have been pretty well conned into thinking there was a marriage of some kind; he offered you seven hundred pounds a year to disavow it, Douglas.”

“And I refused, of course, with tears and wounded dignity. I eventually, as you probably know, Dolly, married Sir Edward Stafford.”

“You explained that little move by saying you feared for your life because of Robert’s wanting to do away with you. With the Amy Dudley scandal behind him, that allegation would be especially compelling.”

“Exactly, Dolly. And my husband, Edward, had not the same aliveness to legitimacy that Queen Elizabeth had. He was perfectly content to marry me under the circumstances of the shadow marriage. He appreciated all that I had to offer a man,” Douglas said, shaking her décolletage a bit, possibly to proffer evidence.

“‘’Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, the name and not the thing,’” I mused to myself, as I pondered poor Dudley’s undoing.

“My new husband, Stafford, and I were off to France shortly after our own marriage was celebrated, starting a new life in a new place, with the past behind us.”

“I’ve read, Douglas, that you became great friends with Catherine de’ Medici during your tenure in France. That always surprised me.”

“Why, Dolly?”

“Well, Douglas—Catherine was such a serious woman, so devious and single-minded when it came to her political doings. Not your girly type at all. At least, that is how history has painted her. I wouldn’t have thought she’d be the type to appreciate your—errrr—persona.”

“You might be surprised by exactly what Catherine appreciated, Dolly,” said Douglas.

“You might be surprised by what there was to appreciate about Catherine de’ Medici as well, Dolly,” added Lettice.

“Or,” said Amy, mysteriously, “you might be surprised by Catherine herself, Dolly.”

As it turned out, all three ladies were correct.

Chapter Fifty-One

The Chi-Chi English Lady and Catherine de’ Medici

Catherine de’ Medici was the Italian daughter of one of the wealthiest merchant families in Europe, but she was not royalty. The French royal family married the young, homely, and gauche Catherine to their spare heir to the throne strictly for her money and then promptly proceeded to look down their noses at her. Her husband’s having a cougar mistress, and her own infertility during the early years of her marriage, compounded Catherine de’ Medici’s dilemma. But after her father-in-law, brother-in-law, husband, and then eldest son died, she came into her own as the mama bear to her remaining sons, two of whom took their turns as kings of France.

Catherine’s surviving sons were a motley crew, but Catherine ruled France through them until 1588, having the last laugh at her early-in-life detractors. They were hard times for France, with the Saint Bartholomew’s Day massacre taking place, sadly, on Catherine’s watch.

I shared my French historical reminiscences with my companions.

“Your description of Catherine de’ Medici is quite accurate as far as it goes, Dolly,” Douglas said. “She was also wily and dedicated without question to the fortunes of her family. Why, with those characteristics, should she be a surprising friend for me to have?”

I was squirming a bit with having to answer this in a PC fashion. I did not want to insult Douglas, but I honestly could not see her going toe-to-toe with a powerhouse like Catherine de’ Medici. I
think she sensed my dilemma, and it amused her. She was kind enough to not let me stew in my own juice for too long, though.

“What does history tell of my relationship with Catherine de’ Medici, Dolly?” Douglas asked.

“It tells of your advising Catherine on running her court more along the lines of Elizabeth I’s, to the improvement of privacy and quality of life there in general. She was said to have been most appreciative of your advice.”

“She was appreciative of more than that, Dolly. You see, she was privy to the whole Robert Dudley shadow-marriage plot.”

“Douglas! Why ever did you confide in Catherine de’ Medici about that? She was easily the most Machiavellian figure of Elizabethan times, and that was up against some pretty stiff competition. What were you thinking about, Douglas, putting yourself in that woman’s hands that way?”

“I was thinking about queen and country, Dolly! Elizabeth was my blood relation. I wanted what was best for her and for our country. I agreed with my husband and Cecil—not to mention Catherine de’ Medici—that a marriage between Elizabeth and a member of the French royal house would be that best of all possible worlds for her.”

“So you told Catherine your story, the truth of it, because—”

“Because it reassured her that Dudley, Earl of Leicester, as my maybe, maybe-not husband, was effectively out of the running as a husband for Elizabeth. That information rekindled her interest in pursuing a marriage between Elizabeth and one of her sons.”

“Is that really what you wanted for your cousin—one of Catherine de’ Medici’s unprepossessing boys?”

“My cousin Elizabeth was royalty, and it would be best for her to wed to royalty. She deserved nothing less than the best the royal houses of Europe had to offer.”

“Even if that ‘best’ was more than a little bit unsavory? History has not exactly been complimentary in describing the physical and mental attributes of Catherine’s surviving sons.”

“I did not make the rules of royal destiny, Dolly. I just wanted to see them pay off for my country and my queen.”

“So Catherine de’ Medici, knowing your story, became your friend. I always perceived Catherine as a terribly straitlaced person. I’d have thought your, um, backstory, from before your French ambassadress days, might have put her off.”

“Not when she knew my modus operandi, Dolly. I had not played the codpiece game only for fun, and I made that clear to her. She approved of codpieces yielding as little pleasure as possible.”