Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean - Страница 64

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Cecil smiled. He was beginning to realize that I would never share my throne with any.

“Well, Master Cecil,” I went on, “here we have the Grey girls in restraint where they can do little harm even if they had the wit to do so. Oh, I know they would be merely the figureheads of ambitious men as poor Jane was, but we have them safely under lock and key. And Mary of Scotland is to marry her Darnley. May she have quick joy of him for I'll warrant it will not last long.”

Cecil nodded and I went on: “Should I not have reason for rejoicing?”

“Your Majesty is right,” he said. “We should rejoice.”

And we did even more when the news came to us that Mary had indeed married Darnley and he was proclaimed King of Scotland.

“I am confining the Countess of Lennox to the Tower for daring to bring the marriage about—another troublemaker out of the way. We shall deplore the marriage in public, Master Cecil, and only while we are alone congratulate ourselves that it has taken place.”

“It can bode no good for Scotland,” said Cecil. “And what is bad for Scotland must needs be good for England.”

A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY occurred about this time.

I knew that Kat had been ailing for some time. I insisted that she remain in her bed and pass on her duties to others which she did most reluctantly, until she became too ill to be able to do anything else.

When it was borne home to me that she was not going to recover, I was overcome with grief and whenever I could escape from my state duties I was at her bedside. She loved to hold my hand and talk of the past. Sometimes her mind wandered and I believe she thought she was back in the Dower Palace at Chelsea where Sir Thomas Seymour had pursued me.

“You were a wayward girl,” she said. “You led him on. Oh, it was dangerous … and so exciting. Do you remember when he cut your dress to pieces in the garden? Do you remember when he came barefoot to your bedroom?”

I said I remembered.

“And the terrible time they took me … and Parry, remember? The Tower … I never knew such fear … and I betrayed you, I betrayed my darling…”

Then I would go down on my knees and try to soothe her.

She had never betrayed me, I told her. She had only told what had happened and they had forced her to do that. She was my very dear Kat and one of the happiest days of my life had been when she had come back from the Tower.

So we talked and each day she grew more wan, her voice more faint, and she could not remember very clearly those events from the past. She merged Thomas Seymour with Robert Dudley. “Such men,” she said. “The most handsome men in the world… both of them. We both loved them, didn't we, my precious.”

I hid my tears from her but when I was in my bedchamber I wept for my dearest friend.

It was a very sad day when she died. I shut myself away and would see no one. There was nothing I could do but grieve.

THE POSSIBILITY OF A marriage for me still excited the minds of all those about me. I think Cecil had realized that I was speaking the truth when I told him I would never marry, but being the politician he was he was as interested as I was to receive offers from heads of state with whom he was eager to make alliances.

Catherine de' Medici was offering her son, now Charles IX, and as he was about sixteen years of age and I was past thirty we should have made a somewhat incongruous pair. Moreover I believed he was a little mad, but the crown of France, as Cecil pointed out, was not to be lightly turned aside. I replied that as Queen of England I should be expected to live here and as he was King of France he must be in France; I reminded him of the unsatisfactory state of affairs between Philip of Spain and my sister Mary. It was one of those points which people like to argue over and which are always so useful in making negotiations hang out over a long time. I always looked for them because although I was determined not to marry abroad—or anywhere—I found discussing the possibilities too fascinating to cast on one side. Then it was suggested that as the King of France would certainly have to stay in France why should I not take his brother the Duc d'Anjou. The age difference would be even greater, I said. But talks went on.

Then I made a discovery which infuriated me. I had suspected for some time that my cousin Lettice Knollys was interested in Robert and he in her. I had dismissed this because she was married to Devereux, and although for a girl of her nature that might not be an obstacle to a passionate friendship with another man, I did not think that Robert would jeopardize his future so certainly as to have a relationship with someone so close to me. That there were women in Robert's life I accepted. He was a normal man and I would not have had him otherwise. His wife was dead—not that he had spent much time with her—and I expected that he would have light affairs outside the Court, and I imagined that when he indulged in them he would be thinking with regret how different these women were from the prize he coveted.

I had often watched Lettice. She really was a very beautiful woman. That she was restless, I guessed, for it was clear that Walter Devereux would not satisfy her and I had given him a post which kept him in Ireland for most of the time. He was an excellent administrator but a dullard in company I could well believe.

I should have sent her away from Court before it happened because my instinct told me that any man on whom Lettice set her fancy would not escape very lightly, and that in many ways she would call the tune. In a manner of speaking she was not unlike myself. Perhaps that was why I felt I understood her so well.

I intercepted those glances; I noticed how embarrassed some of my ladies were when I referred to Lettice and Robert, so I was sure.

I felt like summoning them both to my presence and banging their heads together, and then dismissing them from Court. No! I would not give them a chance to be together. They should be clapped into the Tower.

This was folly. I must curb my temper. If I said I would marry Robert he would drop Lettice tomorrow like a piece of hot pie that burned his fingers. But that was too big a price to pay even to discountenance them.

I asked Lettice about her husband and whether she missed him. She made vague answers and I found myself accusing her of clumsiness, taking great pleasure in nipping her arms till she cried out in pain. Sometimes I slapped her with real venom, and because she received these marks of my displeasure with a veiled smile, almost of derision, I wondered whether she suspected I knew.

Robert did not appear to notice any change in my demeanor but then he was not as subtle as Lettice.

I had always liked handsome people around me, particularly men, and I let myself believe that they all meant the charming things they said to me. They all behaved as though they were in love with me—indeed that was one of the passports to my favor, and some of them did it remarkably well.

I had my favorites from time to time and I liked them to work well for me as well as admire me. Cecil was an exception. I did not want compliments from him; he would never have known how to pay them in any case. What I asked from him was all he was prepared to give—devoted service and the truth. Robert was unique. Whatever should come between us I knew could not be lasting. My love for him was a steady flame, yet something which appeared to be in danger of being doused, but I knew never would.

Two of my favorite young men at this time were Christopher Hatton and Thomas Heneage. Both were extremely handsome, with impeccable Court manners; they knew how to dress immaculately and behave in the manner necessary to gain my favor. Hatton was one of the best dancers I had ever seen, and he and I dancing together were a spectacle to make watchers spellbound. He was clever too.

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