The Queen's Secret (20 page)

Elizabeth nodded, sensing no fear in him, only urgency.

There was a low door at the base of one of the towers. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked it, then gestured her inside. It was suffocatingly dark. With no torches to light the way, she was able to make out only a stone staircase in the tiny space before the door swung shut behind them.

Quickly, he locked the door and checked it was secure. ‘Up there,’ he told her, urging her towards the spiral staircase, his voice echoing eerily. ‘Keep climbing.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Hush, I’ll explain when you’re safe.’ Robert ran lightly up the stairs, soon catching her up. ‘Don’t stop.’

He was close behind her in the darkness; she felt his hand in the small of her back, guiding her upwards with a gentle but insistent pressure.

For the first time, Elizabeth felt a flicker of fear. What could Robert be planning?

‘What is it?’ he asked, reading her thoughts.

Instinctively, she lied. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. She stripped off her gloves, suddenly needing to feel the tower wall under her fingertips. ‘Where are you taking me? What is this place?’

His hand touched her cheek and she flinched. Robert laughed under his breath. ‘Coward.’

At his laughter, her temper, brought to the edge of her control by fear, snapped. She gasped at his impudence, batting his hand from her face as she might knock away a wasp. ‘God’s blood, don’t tease me! I am your queen, or had you forgotten?’ Her voice resonated about the stone walls, deep and furious with command.

Robert took a quick step backwards, perhaps surprised by her anger, and she pressed home her advantage.

‘Why did you bring me here, and why isn’t there a single torch on the wall of this godforsaken tower? Must we stand about in darkness all night like dumb beasts in a stable, or will you take me to some properly furnished chamber?’

Huskily, Robert whispered her name and caught her by the waist. ‘Elizabeth, my love.’ One hand dragged her close to his body, the other cupping her cheek. It was not the reaction she had expected. Pressed against the rich fabric of his doublet, her head was almost on a level with his, and she stared into his face in dismay.

‘Let me go or I shall scream.’

‘Not without a kiss, sweet Bess.’ He was smiling again, she could tell from his voice. ‘Besides, there is no one to hear. This tower is empty except for us, and the walls are thick enough to withstand a siege – or muffle a woman’s scream.’

She struggled against his hold. ‘This is treason!’

‘If it’s an act of treason to kiss you, to lie with you and touch you, why is this wicked head still on my shoulders?’

Elizabeth felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Several times, Robert had crept into her bed and lain beside her for a secret hour, kissing and touching her with feverish need, their half-clothed bodies pressed up against each other like a young couple before their wedding night.

Oh yes, she burned for Robert Dudley, and she had never concealed her desire from him or the court. But her fear of becoming pregnant was greater than her fear of assassination.

‘I do not like this dark,’ she said decisively.

Robert hesitated, then released her. ‘Very well,’ he said unsteadily, and Elizabeth realized with a sudden spasm of sympathy that he was not her enemy, merely a man in the grip of the same helpless desire as herself. ‘There’s a private chamber above. You will be both safe and comfortable there until I have sent out to make sure there is no assassin loose in my castle.’

‘Surely we are beyond the reach of our enemies here?’

‘Someone fired a crossbow at you in the woods, Elizabeth. The bolt missed but could have killed you.’ She heard the strain in his voice. ‘When will you learn to take your safety more seriously? It would be hard to rule England if you were dead.’

All argument defeated, she followed him up the winding stairs. Her heavy riding gown gripped in one hand, she felt for the tower wall with the other.

There was a lit torch guttering in the room above. Elizabeth stood uncertain by the door while Robert carried its smoking remains to two freshly trimmed torches set into brackets in the wall, which flooded the chamber with light. It was a small room but comfortably furnished, just as he had promised. A large bed, strewn with silks and furs, stood in the centre, and beside it a table with two straight-backed chairs and an intricately carved chessboard. It spoke of the most intimate of meetings, a secret assignation. Like a good host, Robert lit a large cylindrical candle from one of the torches and set it on the table, where it glowed with a gentle light.

Was this the scene for a seduction?

He drew back one of the chairs and bowed in her direction. ‘Your Majesty?’ She came forward, noting a flagon of wine on the
table
and two smokily patterned cups of the most exquisite Venetian design. ‘Shall I pour you a drink?’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and watched as he served her.

Robert passed her the wine. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he murmured. He left the room via a narrow doorway she had not noticed before, closing it behind him with a quiet click. Another means of escape, should that prove necessary.

Elizabeth sat in a tense silence, sipping at the strong Rhenish wine, willing it to revive her. Her thoughts tumbled about like the pack of hounds they had followed, excitable, chasing their own tails, waiting for some definitive scent or sign from the wild.
Someone fired a crossbow at you in the woods. The bolt missed but could have killed you
. She understood now their headlong flight back to the castle, and Robert’s urgency. But for what purpose had he brought her here, vulnerable and alone, without even the watchful company of her ladies? Did he intend to force her to accept his offer of marriage at last, perhaps by means of a rape?

Elizabeth smiled and rearranged the full skirts of her riding gown. It would not be a rape. Nor would it sway her mind either way. Not while that she-wolf Lettice still stood between them, ambitious, hoping perhaps to be elevated to the throne herself.

She gulped at the fragrant red wine. My sweet cousin, she thought wretchedly, whose neck might yet taste the loving edge of an axe. Yet what could she do to part them forcibly that would not have the court and the whole of England itself in an uproar? It was one thing to have power, and quite another to wield it. Every action had its consequence, and she did not want the people to think of her as too much her father’s daughter.

Robert came back after a few minutes, his face grim. ‘The hunt has returned. It may have been a false alarm. I’ve ordered a full search of the woods though.’

‘I must return to my rooms.’

‘No hurry.’ He perched on the edge of the table, looking down at her. ‘I gave out that you are resting from the day’s exertions.’

Anger flared in her heart. ‘I am not so frail, my lord. You had no business to tell such lies about your queen.’

He smiled. ‘Not frail, no. Yet still a woman.’

‘There will be talk.’

‘There would be talk even if we never saw each other again. That is the way of the court.’

Elizabeth had to acknowledge the truth of that. She placed her wine carefully on the table, glancing at the board there. ‘Chess?’

‘Would you like a game?’

She thought about it, then shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Robert slipped off the table, still as light on his feet as he had been when they were young. He pulled out the high-backed chair opposite, settling himself in it loosely, and leaned on the table, one booted foot swung over his knee. Elizabeth smiled, watching as her favourite dragged the heavy chessboard to a more central position, turning the board so that the white pieces were towards her. Robert had never been able to sit still for any length of time. She supposed such restlessness must be common in men of an active temperament. She too loved to be active, yet as a child it had become second nature to sit still as a stone and attempt not to be noticed, for those who were noticed might not live to learn the lesson.

‘You’ll wish to play white, I imagine.’ His smile was crooked. ‘Unless you had rather keep to my story and go to bed?’

Their eyes met and she knew he was serious. ‘Oh,’ she said lightly, though she could not quite control the tremor in her voice, ‘I will not give you what you can get so easily elsewhere.’

‘Explain?’

She sent a pawn forward two paces. ‘My lady Essex.’

Robert considered the board, frowning. He moved a pawn to counter hers. ‘A married woman. She cannot give me what I desire.’

‘Which is?’

‘Marriage, of course.’

She smiled. ‘You had a wife once before, my lord. Matrimony did not seem to suit you, as I recall.’

‘I married too young and unwisely.’ He watched her deliberations with apparent fascination. ‘Amy was the wrong wife for a man like me, God rest her soul. She had no fire, no spark. She was nothing like you, Elizabeth. Nor could she give me the joy of a son or daughter.’

A sharp physical pain pierced her belly, like a red-hot skewer suddenly forced into her innards by some relentless enemy. She knew what it meant. Elizabeth bit her lip, not wishing to cry out, though she felt her cheeks go pale and cold. ‘I too …’ She hesitated, the intricately carved piece still in her hand. ‘To be able to have children …’

‘Then marry me.’

She shook her head, her hand trembling over the board. ‘I would no longer be queen. You would be king in my place. My father—’

‘You are nothing like your father. You must not allow that fear to haunt you. You are a great prince, Elizabeth, and you know the constitution of this country sideways and backwards. No marriage could ever take away your right to hold the throne and govern England.’

‘But when my cousin Mary married—’

He interrupted her again. ‘Mary is a fool and a Stuart. You are a Tudor and the most intelligent woman I have ever known. Marriage to an English nobleman would strengthen your position on the throne, not weaken it. It would prevent all possibility of good Tudor blood being tainted by that of foreigners. The English have had their fill of Spanish and French overlords.’

He leaned forward, laying his warm hand across hers. Again she became aware of how alone they were in the tower chamber, not even one of her ladies-in-waiting in attendance. ‘Marry me, Elizabeth. I’m not only the ideal candidate but your preferred man. We both know how it lies between us, this heat. Why settle for a stranger when you could have a love match? Marry me before it is too late to bear a son and grant the people their wish for a true English succession.’

‘It’s already too late!’

He shook his head, denying her bitter outburst. ‘That is not what the physicians’ reports have told us. You know as well as I that some English women have been able to bear children even up to their fiftieth year.’

‘I could not hope to. My health will not permit it.’

‘This is nonsense, Elizabeth. Look at yourself. You are as fit and able to have children as any woman I know.’

Her lip trembled. Either Robert was an excellent liar or he genuinely did not know how difficult she had always found her monthly flow of blood, how rarely it came these days, and the pain when it did come, which sometimes left her weak and barely able to stand.

She pulled her hand away from his, consumed with jealousy and helpless fury. ‘What, even Lettice Knollys?’

His smile froze. ‘Lettice? Have I not sworn—?’

‘You lied.’

‘What?’

‘Come, you have been sleeping with Lettice behind my back. Yes, even here in this very castle. Or do you think my spies earn their keep for nothing?’

It was a lie, but a bold one.

He looked at her directly then, his eyes very dark. ‘Very well, I lied. But I have needs, Elizabeth, as any man has. Being so close to you every day, granted so much intimacy, yet unable to touch you …’ His voice became strained. ‘And Lettice is so very like you in looks. If you will not marry me, you cannot blame me for turning to her for my relief.’

His face was deeply flushed. She recognized it as shame, and found it hard to breathe. Suddenly she did not want to hear of his infidelities.

Elizabeth reached for her gloves, knocking over the flagon of wine in her haste. It spilled across the table, the chessboard bloodied with its rich stain.

‘I am ready to return to my rooms now,’ she said coldly, making for the narrow door he had used before. ‘Unlock the door.’

‘It was never locked.’

Her hand trembled on the heavy iron handle, her vision blurred. She wrenched open the door and stumbled out into a deserted, torchlit corridor.

Lettice is so very like you in looks
.

‘Wait.’

Robert was behind her in the corridor, buckling on his gold-encrusted sword-belt, his face unreadable.

‘It’s not safe for you to go about the place unaccompanied.’ His voice was neutral, his anger laid to one side. ‘I’ll instruct my
guards
to double their watch. And I must speak to Walsingham tonight, even if I have to rouse him from his bed. If they can get to you out in the Chase, they may be able to get to you within the castle too.’

Twenty-three