Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean - Страница 90

• Предыдущая
• 90/145
• Следующая

“Robert,” I said, “don't be sullen. It ill becomes you. You know I only offered you because I knew she wouldn't take you. You don't imagine for one instant that I should have allowed you to leave me!”

He retorted that he would have refused to go even if the Princess had accepted him.

“Nonsense,” I said. “You know you have always craved for a crown.”

“Not a crown… only one woman.”

“Dear Robert,” I said. “You must take more care of your health. Why do you get this gout? Because you stuff like a pig. Look at me. How slender I am! Why do you think that is so? It is because I am not always concerned with what I am putting into my mouth. Eat sparingly and you will cease to suffer from gout, and if you will not of your own accord, I shall see that you do.”

He liked to be scolded thus; and we were especially fond of each other for a while.

In spite of this frivolous side to my nature, it must not be thought that I was not deeply concerned with matters of state. I never forgot for one moment that I was the Queen of a great country. Even while I was dancing and acting in a most flirtatious manner with my men, I was having serious conferences with Cecil, Bacon and Walsingham on intricate matters of state. Robert, of course, often joined in these and believed himself to be something of a statesman, but he would never be a Burghley. I imagined that the difference was that Robert, being the man he was, must always think first of the advantage to himself. Burghley thought first of his country. I was the same. I loved my country. It came first. I saw my role clearly, and often when I appeared to be at my most flirtatiously frivolous I was most concerned.

Burghley and I were constantly considering the position of the Netherlands which gave us some anxiety. The struggle of that heroic nation with Spain was just beginning, for it was the aim of Philip to turn that essentially

Protestant country into a Catholic province. Burghley—stern Protestant that he was—believed that England should support the Netherlands heartily in their struggles against Spain, and the rest of the Council was with him in this.

Burghley was very lucid on the point. Our policy must be to weaken the power of France and Spain and to make sure that the Catholics in England took no comfort from them. We should help those who were fighting for liberty of conscience. “In the Netherlands they are struggling against the Pope and the tyranny of the Inquisition, which Philip is striving to set up in their land,” he maintained.

I hated war, and I was determined not to put my country at risk by making it. War was costly and, I insisted, it brought no good to any… even the victors. I had no desire for conquest. I had my country, which meant everything to me. It was enough. All I asked was to keep that country at peace and prosperous, and I did not believe it was possible to have one without the other. It was England for me… and England only. I had not even the same feeling for Wales—the home of my ancestors—and certainly not for Scotland. It was the green and pleasant country around my capital city that I loved so dearly, and even when I went to the remote parts of England I did not feel they were quite the same to me.

Burghley earnestly pointed out the importance of the Netherlands, and although I saw the need to curb the power of Spain, I did not want to go to war on behalf of any country but my own. If any tried to invade England, then that would be the time to rise up, and none would be more fierce than I in the defense of my country; but the Netherlands was far away and the Netherlanders must sort out their own difficulties.

“There is one point which perhaps Your Majesty might like to consider,” said Burghley. “If we stand aside, the French might not.”

I saw the point of this but I reminded Burghley that while there was a possibility of an alliance between France and ourselves the French would not want to offend us.

“The negotiations for a marriage go on and on, and nothing comes of them,” said Burghley.

“This much has come of them,” I reminded him. “They have not broken down.”

“True,” he agreed, “and the Queen Mother suggests sending one of her ablest diplomats to plead her son's cause with you. To woo you on his behalf, she says.”

That appealed to me. I should enjoy being wooed by some elegant Frenchman.

“Let him come,” I said. “What keeps him?”

“Your Majesty, it will be necessary to treat the gentleman with some degree of seriousness.”

“But indeed I shall. I have always regarded these marriage propositions with serious intent.”

“Serious intent to refuse them,” said Burghley grimly.

“My lord…”

He shook his head. “It would be a great help to Your Majesty if there were one to stand beside you and share your burdens.”

“Are you suggesting, dear Spirit, that I am not capable of carrying them alone?”

“Never,” he said. “But it would be helpful to you and perhaps…”

“Perhaps I am not too old to bear an heir? Come, Burghley, you deceive yourself.”

“I would see Your Grace married to the man of your choice. And none of us has any doubt who that would be.”

“Leicester!” I cried. “I tell you this: It would be unlike myself and unmindful of my royal majesty to prefer a servant whom I myself have raised up before the greatest princes in Christendom.”

I had spoken lightly but I had raised my voice and there were others in the apartment, though not close to us. I heard the shocked silence, and I knew that there would be many to report to Robert what I had said. He would guess I was only teasing. Or would he? It was only a short time ago that I had offered him to Cecilia of Sweden.

“Come, Burghley,” I said, “let us offer a warm welcome to this Frenchman who comes to woo me.”

JEHAN DE SIMIER, the charming Frenchman who had come to woo me on behalf of his master, arrived in England and I was greatly looking forward to the exercise. Burghley, who knew me well, again warned me that I should have to take the utmost care. The situation with the Netherlands was tricky, and Walsingham agreed with him that it would go hard with us if either the French or the Spanish gained control there.

“The French will do nothing there while I dally with their little Duc through his proxy,” I said. “This marriage is of the utmost importance to the Queen Mother. Did you know that one of her soothsayers told her that all her sons would wear crowns? It has come true with one exception. My little Anjou. You see how earnest she is in her endeavors to marry me to him. She would not dream of destroying the hopes of that prophecy's coming true… even for the sake of the Netherlands.”

“Unless you propose to marry, Your Majesty must walk with extreme care.”

“Dear Spirit, you must know that when I appear to step with little consequence I am picking my way with utmost care.”

He bowed his head. He believed me.

I gave myself up to entertaining Monsieur de Simier, and what a joy that was! “I declare,” I said to him, “I am fast falling deeper in love with the Duc d'Anjou through his proxy.”

How graceful he was! How witty! He had all the social virtues and I had to admit that the French certainly shone in society. Simier could dance with grace; he had a deep knowledge of music; he was exquisite in his dress—less flamboyant than our gentlemen but somehow managing to outshine them in elegance without dazzling the observer only with the glitter of multicolored jewels. The compliments he paid were discreet and yet somehow tender and passionate and more provocative in intent than any I had received before. In fact Simier behaved like a lover—and the best sort of lover from my point of view; for this was a courtship which could go on as long as he was in the country, and I had no fear of an attempt to hurry me into a climax which might be detrimental to my dignity.

• Предыдущая
• 90/145
• Следующая