The Marriage Game (16 page)

“Rest assured, Sir William, I will speak with the Queen,” Quadra promised, “although I am not sure that it will help, as she has never taken my advice in the past.”

“She will pay more heed to you than to me, assuredly,” Cecil grunted.

Elizabeth watched Bishop de Quadra, who was standing in the crowded gallery, trying to ignore Lady Katherine Gray’s efforts to make him notice her. She knew that the bishop was waiting to catch her own eye, but on this glorious morning she could not be bothered with him. She was enjoying sitting close to Robert on this comfortable cushioned window seat, gazing into the eyes of her lover and laughing at some private joke he had made. Her ladies were waiting with her plumed bonnet and her embroidered kid gloves. Soon, with the sun rising high in the sky, she and Robert would be off hawking for the day.

A page approached and announced that a Master Bowes had arrived and was asking to see Lord Robert.

“Who is this?” she murmured.

“My man at Cumnor,” Robert said, his face darkening. “I think I know what it betokens.” His voice had lost its usual bombast.

“Show him in,” the Queen said.

Bowes came hastening and knelt. His clothing bore the evidence of hard riding and he appeared to be in some distress. His words tumbled out in a rush. “Your Majesty, my lord, I bring grave tidings. My good mistress is dead. She was found at the foot of the stairs with her neck broken.”

Robert stared at him, clearly shocked. Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. She was speechless, chilled to her soul.

It had happened again. Love had ended in violent death. Not so long ago, before matters had soured between them, Robert had held Amy in his arms and been as one flesh with her—and now Amy was a cold corpse, her neck broken. Just as Elizabeth’s mother’s neck had been broken, even more bloodily, for all that she had been loved passionately
by a king. The two horrible images—imagined because, mercifully, she had seen neither reality—were superimposed in Elizabeth’s head: Amy sprawled with her neck twisted at the foot of the stairs; Anne lying on the bloodied straw of the scaffold, her neck severed.

“Tell me what happened,” Robert said, his voice hoarse.

“It was yesterday, my lord. Our Lady’s Fair was being held in Abingdon, and my lady gave us all permission to go. Some protested, not feeling it fitting to go jaunting on a Sunday, but she insisted. It was almost as if she wanted us out of the house.”

“What of the other ladies, her companions?” Robert asked. Elizabeth had so far said nothing, but her hands were shaking. Quadra was staring at her.

“One of them said she did not see why she should go and rub shoulders with mean persons, at which my lady grew very heated, but the lady insisted she stay behind, and by the time we left she had retired to her rooms. My lady was going to dine with another, then spend a quiet afternoon resting. She was not looking well at all.”

“Did any servants remain behind?” Robert inquired.

“A few, but they had been given the afternoon off, and were in their own quarters. None of them saw or heard anything amiss, so they say. But when we got back late yesterday afternoon and went into the hall, we found my lady lying at the foot of the stairs.”

“She was dead?”

“Yes, my lord. Her neck was at an impossible angle and there was blood in her hair from two head wounds.”

Elizabeth found her voice. “Master Bowes, could those wounds have resulted from an accidental fall?”

Bowes was clearly overawed by the dread person of his sovereign looming above him. “Yes, Your Majesty—” He faltered, considering, then turned gratefully back to Robert. “I believe they could. The poor lady was very frail. Maybe she fainted on the stairs, or tripped. Mr. Forster said I was to take horse at once to tell you the news. On the road, my lord, I met your man, Thomas Blount, riding toward Cumnor. He said he had gifts from you for Lady Dudley. I told him what
had befallen her and he bade me ride on in haste to Windsor. He said he would continue his journey to Cumnor to see if he could find out more about this great misfortune, and discover what people were saying about it.”

“That is what worries me,” Robert said. “What people will say. Madam, may we talk in private?”

“No, Lord Robert,” Elizabeth said, in a loud voice that could be heard by all those standing around. “There is nothing to talk about. Your wife must have had a fall. I will have the news of this terrible accident announced in the court. Then it is my will and pleasure that an inquest be held. While that is taking place, we require you to go to Kew and remain there until you are recalled.” So saying, she rose and walked majestically past Robert, and away along the gallery.

Robert was plainly stunned. Those watching would later relate that his jaw actually dropped. He was realizing that he must have sounded less concerned about his wife’s death than about the consequences for himself. Was that what had angered Elizabeth? He looked around desperately, as if seeking some support, but the faces he saw were hostile. Now that the Queen had so publicly withdrawn her favor, the wolves were waiting to pounce. He got up and hastened after her.

He caught up with her in the presence chamber as she was about to go through the privy chamber door. Her two ladies fell back in astonishment at the sight of Dudley, wild-eyed and agitated, bearing down on her, and the usher guarding the door shot him a warning look.

“No, Robin!” she growled, her father to the very life. “Importune me not!”

“Bess!” he pleaded. “Hear me out. I have done nothing wrong! The greatness and suddenness of this misfortune perplexes me as much as it does you. Think what the malicious world will say! And I have no means of purging myself of the evil rumors that wicked people will put about. All I care about is that the plain truth be known. I did not murder my wife! I will employ every device and means in my power for discovering the truth, without respect to any person. I want a full inquiry, carried out by the most discreet and substantial men who can
search and probe thoroughly until they get to the bottom of the matter. I would be sorry in my heart if they found that evil was committed, but it
must
appear to the world that I am innocent! Madam, you must believe that!”

Elizabeth had heard him out with an impassive expression on her face, but now she turned to go. “Lord Robert, you know as well as I what people will think. There have been rumors that you intended Amy’s destruction, or sought to be rid of her. It matters not what I believe. The coroner must decide in the matter, and until your innocence can be proclaimed to the world, you must leave court. If you stay and I show you favor, people will believe that I too am guilty. So go, now.”

She could not look him in the eye. If she did, she knew she would be lost. This changed everything. The long, glorious summer was over, perhaps forever. She made herself walk on and close the door. She must be a queen first—and a woman second.

While the coroner was busy about his business, Elizabeth kept mostly to her apartments. She did not feel like seeing anyone, and on the few occasions she came forth, she appeared pale and agitated. She missed Robert unbearably, and of the implications—and the horror—of Amy Dudley’s death, she did not dare to think.

As soon as Robert left court, Cecil had been back at her side, his talk of resignation forgotten. Effortlessly restored to his old supremacy in her counsels, he was her Spirit once more, supportive as ever, and unobtrusively shouldering the burdens of government that she did not feel she could face. She was like a broken thing, cast from daylight into nightmare, hardly able to think ahead.

Cecil was kind. He even showed some sympathy for Robert and visited him at Kew. It was easy for him to be sympathetic, Elizabeth thought, now that his rival was out of the way. Even so, she appreciated his strength and wisdom at this time.

They spoke often of Amy Dudley’s death. It was the only topic of conversation at court, and speculation was rampant.

“Most people suspect foul play,” Cecil said, his face impassive.

“They think Robert did it,” Elizabeth said dully.

“He is hot to protest his innocence. He writes daily urging that the truth be uncovered. He too believes that his wife was murdered. He is zealous seeking out the truth and to see justice done. Of course, he wants to clear his name. A man without friends at court is like a hop without a pole.”

“Do you believe him innocent?”

“Madam, it is no secret that I have little love for Lord Robert. But I find it hard to believe him capable of such cruelty. His wife was dying. He had only to wait a little longer. Do
you
believe it, madam?”

Elizabeth looked him square in the eye. “No, William, I do not. But I am of two minds about the matter. Either someone loyal to Robert murdered Lady Dudley in the belief that it would clear the way for him to marry me; or one of his enemies did away with her, knowing that calumny would fasten upon him. You know as well as I, my Spirit, that whatever the outcome, I can never marry him now. People would always point the finger and say we plotted her death together. I have wondered if someone who was against our marrying decided to scupper any possibility of it.”

Cecil frowned. “Have you discounted the likelihood that it was an accident?”

“If it was, it was a timely one,” Elizabeth said. “And something struck me as very strange: the fact that Lady Dudley was so earnest to have her servants go to the fair, and became angry with those who insisted on staying. It was as if she wanted everyone out of the house for some secret purpose of her own.”

Cecil was silent for a few moments. “I have heard tales about her that make me think she was strange in her mind. What of the testimony of her maid, who said that Lady Dudley was on her knees every day, begging God to deliver her from desperation?”

“You think she took her own life?” Elizabeth was amazed.

“Imagine, madam, that you are ill, in much pain, and expecting death daily. You are alone and forsaken, your lord being continually
away at court.” Elizabeth stirred at the implied criticism, but let it go. Cecil went on: “You are deeply disturbed in your mind. You might take an easy way out, and make sure that no one is there to stop you.”

“But it is not an easy way!” she cried. “It means eternal damnation. Who would willingly be cast out forever from the sight of God for the sake of a few more days’ suffering on Earth? Nay, William, there is more to this—there has to be. Mayhap Lady Dudley wanted people out of the way because she was expecting a visitor—the man who murdered her.”

“Madam, this is pure speculation,” Cecil answered, a trifle testily. “There is no evidence for it.”

“William, by all reports she was intent on being left alone on that fatal afternoon. She was insistent that her people went to the fair, and angry when some wanted to stay behind. Why? She might well have planned a secret meeting with the person who killed her. The house was mostly deserted that afternoon. The murderer could have come, done his work, and departed, unseen by anyone else.”

Cecil was adamant. “Again, this is supposition, madam. The evidence strongly suggests that Lady Dudley killed herself.”

“We cannot rule out any possibility,” Elizabeth insisted. “God grant that the coroner reaches his verdict soon. Then the truth will be known.”

The coroner had spoken: Amy Dudley’s death had been an accident.

“His ruling leaves no room for doubt,” Elizabeth declared to Cecil, considerably lighter in spirits.

“It certainly does not,” Cecil agreed, looking—much to her gratification—agreeably relieved. “But still Lord Robert is not satisfied. He is adamant that his wife was murdered, and he has pressed for a second jury to be empaneled, to determine who was responsible.”

“No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “One inquest is sufficient. If the death was accidental, no one was responsible, so there is no need for further investigation. The matter is closed.”

She ordered court mourning for Amy—one had to observe the formalities—and commanded Robert back to court at once. He came
as fast as a falcon in full flight, but she saw before her a man chastened and much tried, struggling to recover his equanimity.

“God be praised that your name has been cleared!” she cried, as they embraced in the privacy of her chamber.

“All I care about is that I am restored to your favor,” Robert said huskily, holding her close as if he would never let her go.

“You are, you are, my sweet Eyes,” she breathed, “and thankfully the matter is now closed.”

“Alas, Bess, I fear it never will be,” Robert murmured. “Until Amy’s murderer is found, I will not be exonerated. As I came through the court I was aware of people watching me, whispering behind their hands.”

Elizabeth stiffened. She was all too aware that he spoke the truth. Only this morning the council had received a letter from a Puritan minister urging them to order an earnest searching and trying of the truth, since his part of the country was alive with dangerous and grievous suspicions about Lady Dudley’s death. His was not a lone voice. The courtiers had tried and condemned Robert, with themselves as jury and judge.

She drew away. Her greatest fear was that she herself would be seen as complicit in the murder of one who was perceived to be her rival, and thereby lose the love of her subjects—the most precious jewel in her crown, as she was fond of putting it. It occurred to her that monarchs had lost their thrones for less, and she was a female ruler in a precarious, insecure position. Merely associating with Robert now could catapult her on a headlong course to ruin.

But Robert had other ideas. “Marry me, Bess,” he said urgently. “Proclaim to the world that you believe in my innocence!”

“And put my crown in jeopardy?” she flung back, distress making her vehement. “If you think our marrying will stop the rumors, you are more stupid than ever I took you for. Robin, it will fuel them! People are saying that you murdered your wife so that you could have me.”

“We could wait a decent interval,” he replied.

“I assure you that will make no difference.”

“Then what future is there for us?”