My Enemy the Queen

Kenilworth

I was to join the Queen at Greenwich and as my barge carried me along the river I was overwhelmed by the excitement and bustle of London life and the fact that I was coming back to it. The river was, as ever, the busiest of the country's thoroughfares. Craft of all description was sailing along in the direction of the palace. The Lord Mayor's gilded barge was among them, escorted by the less glorious vessels of his officials. The watermen in their livery and silver badges rowed skillfully among the more cumbersome barges, whistling and singing, calling pleasantries to each other. In one was a girl who might have been a boatman's daughter; she was strumming at a lute and singing,

" 'Row thy boat, Norman' "—a song which had been sung for more than a hundred years—in a powerful but somehow raucous voice to the delight of the occupants of passing boats. It was a scene typical of London's river.

I felt in turns exultant and apprehensive. Whatever happened, I warned myself, I must not be banished again. I must guard my tongue—but not too much perhaps, for the Queen liked the occasional caustic remark. I would be watched with regard to her favorite men—people like Heneage, Hatton and the Earl of Oxford —and most of all the Earl of Leicester.

I was telling myself I must have changed in eight years, but I fancied it was not for the worse. I was more mature naturally. I had borne several children, but I knew that men found me more attractive than ever. One thing I was determined on. I should not allow myself to be picked up and dropped as I had been before. Of course, I kept reminding myself, he would only have behaved as he did because of the Queen. There was not another woman who could have displaced me for herself alone. Still, my feminine vanity had been wounded and in future—if there was a future with Robert—I would let him know that I had no intention of allowing it to happen again.

It was spring and the Queen had come to Greenwich, which she liked to do at this time of the year to enjoy the delightful situation there. Everything had been freshened for her arrival; and in the quarters of the ladies attendant on her I was greeted by Kate Carey, Lady Howard of Effingham; Anne, Lady Warwick; and Catharine, Countess of Huntingdon. Kate was my mother's sister and cousin to the Queen; Anne was the wife of Robert's brother Ambrose; and Catharine was Robert's sister.

Aunt Kate embraced me, told me I was looking in good health and that she was glad to see me back at Court.

"You have escaped so long," said Anne with a little grimace.

"She has been with her family and now has a goodly one to show for those years away from Court," said Aunt Kate.

"The Queen talked of you now and then," put in Catharine. "Did she not, Anne?"

"'Tis true that she did. She once said that as a young girl you were one of the prettiest she had ever had at her Court. She likes good-looking people about her."

"She liked me so well that she dispensed with me for eight years," I reminded them.

"She thought your husband had need of you and she did not wish to deprive him."

"So now she sends him to Ireland?"

"You should have gone with him, Lettice," said my aunt. "It's not good to let husbands rove too far away."

"Oh, Walter is welcome to his diversions."

Catharine laughed, but the other two looked grave.

"Lettice my dear," said Kate, very much the wise aunt, "do not let Her Majesty hear you talk like that. She dislikes flippancy regarding the married state."

"It is strange having such a respect for it that she is so reluctant to enter into it herself."

"There are matters beyond our knowledge," said my aunt primly. "She will see you tomorrow at supper when you will be one of the lady tasters. I doubt not that she will have a word with you during the meal. You know how she is ever ready to dispense with ceremony at the table."

I knew my aunt was warning me to take care. I had been banished from the Court for a number of years, which meant that I had without doubt offended the Queen in some way, for she was notoriously lenient with her relatives—particularly those on the Boleyn side. She would be a little sterner with the Tudor ones because she had to be watchful of them, but the Boleyns, having no claim in the throne, were grateful to her for raising them up, and she loved to honor them.

I could scarcely sleep that night, so excited was I to be back at Court. I knew that sooner or later I was going to come face to face with Robert. As soon as we met I should know whether I still attracted him, and then it would be my joy to discover how much and whether he was prepared to take further risks for me. On one thing I had made up my mind: No more quick embraces and then goodbye because the Queen would not tolerate his affection for another woman.

"It will have to be something better this time, Robert," I murmured to myself. "Always supposing that you still find me desirable ... and of course that I feel the same irresistible urge to take you as my lover."

Although it was a sleepless night, what joy it was to lie on my pallet and contemplate the future. How had I endured those barren years ... oh, but not quite barren. I had the children . my own adorable Robert. I could leave him without compunction, for he was well cared for, and boys, when they passed out of babyhood, became impatient of a fond and doting mother beside them. He would always be there, my beloved boy, and when he grew older he could count on his mother as his very good friend.

As it was Sunday there was a great attendance at the palace. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, the Chancellor, officers of the crown and other gentlemen had all come to pay their respects to the Queen. She would receive them in the Presence Chamber, which was hung with rich tapestry, and the floor would have been covered with fresh rushes.

People had assembled to watch the procession, which was really impressive. The Queen liked them to be given freedom to see all the pomp. Having come to her present high eminence by cautiously considering the will of the people, she was always especially eager to please them; when she rode among them she would speak even to the humblest; she wanted them to realize that although she was a glorious being, a divinity on earth, she loved the people and was in a way their servant. It was one of the secrets of her great popularity.

I watched the earls, Knights of the Garter and barons enter, and then came the Chancellor walking between two guards, one of whom carried the royal scepter and the other the sword of state in a red scabbard which was studded with fleurs-de-lis. The Queen followed immediately afterwards, but I could not stay to see her as I had to be at my duties.

The preparation of the table always amused me. No sacred rite could have been performed with more reverence. I and a young countess were the tasters on this morning, for it was a tradition that one taster must be unmarried and the other married—and both of high rank.

First a gentleman appeared holding a rod and behind him came a man carrying the tablecloth; following him came others with the saltcellar, platter and bread. I could scarcely repress a smile as they knelt before the empty table before placing these things on it.

Then it was our turn. We approached the table, I carrying the tasting knife. We both took bread and salt and rubbed it into the plates to make sure they were clean; and when we had finished these tasks the dishes were brought in. I took the knife and cut portions which I gave to several of the guards who had been standing looking on. They ate what I gave them. This ceremony was to safeguard the Queen from poison.

When they had finished eating, the trumpets were sounded, the two men with kettledrums came in and played their instruments to let it be known that the meal was ready.

The Queen would not sit in the main hall but would take her food in a small adjoining chamber. I presumed that she would summon me to her side while she was eating.

I was right. In due course she arrived. We took the food she wanted into a small chamber, and there she bade me welcome back to Court and told me that I might sit beside her.

I expressed myself overwhelmed by the honor and she looked at me searchingly. I longed to examine more closely what the years had done to her, but for that I must wait.

"Ha," she said. "The country does good to you, and so does childbearing. Two sons, I believe, I shall see them one day, I trust."

"Your Majesty has but to express the command," I replied, stating the obvious.

She nodded. "Much has happened since you were at Court. I miss my dear cousin, your mother, sadly."

"Your Majesty was always good to her. Often she told me so."

Was it really a tear I saw in the tawny eyes? It might be, for she was sentimental about those who she believed had been her true friends, and my mother had undoubtedly been one of them.

"She was too young to die." It was almost a reproach. To my mother for leaving her? To God for taking her and causing sorrow to the Queen? "Catherine Knollys, how dare you leave your sovereign, who had need of you!" "Lord, why did You have to take this good servant from me?" I almost gave voice to these thoughts. Guard your tongue, I warned myself. But it was not my tongue which had brought about my exile. Indeed, Her Majesty, who spent her life among sycophants, had on occasions liked it.

"I rejoice to see Your Majesty in good health and recovered from your sickness," I said.

"Oh, they believed me to be near to death and I confess there were times when I fancied it myself."

"No, Madam, you are immortal. So must you be, for your people have need of you."

She nodded and said: "Well, Lettice. I like to see you with us. You still have some beauty left. Essex will have to do without you for a while. He is making a fair hash of things in Ireland. His judgment is not good, I fancy, but his heart is. I trust he will meet with better fortune over there. We shall be leaving Greenwich ere long."

"Your Majesty tires of the place?"

"Nay. 'Twas always a favorite. I suppose one would feel thus about one's birthplace. But I have to humor my Lord Leicester. He is in a fever of impatience to show us Kenilworth. I hear he has made it into one of the finest residences in the country. He will give me no rest until he has shown it to me."

I suddenly bent forward and, taking that most beautiful white hand in mine, I kissed it. If Robert was in a fever of excitement to show the Queen Kenilworth, I was in like state to see him.

I looked up and tried to express fear at my forwardness, but Elizabeth was in a sentimental mood and after all I was a member of the family.

"Madam," I said, "I am presumptuous. I was overcome by my pleasure to be back with you."

The hard eyes softened momentarily. She believed me.

"It pleases me to have you here, Lettice," she said. "Make your preparations for Kenilworth. I doubt not you will wish to have some new dresses for the event. You will have your seamstress with you. There is some scarlet velvet ... enough for a gown. Tell them I have said you may have it." Her mouth turned up at the corners. "We shall all have to look very fine for my Lord Leicester, I trow."

She loved him. I could hear it in her voice when she said his name; and I wondered whether I was setting out on a dangerous road. Even to think of him made my pulse race. I knew that if he had changed I was still going to want him.

If he looked my way, if he showed in the smallest manner that he was ready to revive his desire for me, I would not hesitate to become the Queen's rival.

"I will take a little of the Alicante wine," she said.

I mixed it with water as she liked it. She always ate and drank very sparingly and rarely took wine, preferring a light ale; and when she did take it, it was liberally mixed with water. Sometimes she would grow impatient of food and on informal occasions would rise before the rest of the company was finished. We deplored this because it meant that we had to leave the table, for none of us could stay when she had left; and as we were served after she was, it often meant a hurried meal—so we were not very anxious to eat with the Queen.

But on this occasion she lingered, and all were able to have their fill.

Sipping the wine, she smiled softly—thinking of Robert, I knew.

It was July when we set out for Kenilworth, which is between the towns of Warwick and Coventry and about five miles from each, so it was a far distance from London and we were to take a leisurely journey.

It was a brilliant and large cavalcade which set out, comprising thirty-one of the leading men of the country, and all her ladies, of whom I was one, and four hundred servants. The Queen planned to stay at Kenilworth for more than two weeks.

People came out to watch us pass and there were the usual cheers for the Queen and those pleasant little exchanges between her and the people which she would not have missed for anything.

We had not gone far when we saw riding towards us a party of horsemen. Even from a distance I recognized him at their head. My heart beat faster. I knew how I should feel even before he reached us. How well he sat his horse. He had qualified for the role of Queen's Horse Master in every way. He was older yes—a little more corpulent than he had been eight years before; his face was a shade more ruddy and there was a touch of white in the hair at his temples. In his blue velvet doublet with slashings arranged in a pattern of stars after the new German fashion, and the feather in his hat of the same tone as the doublet, though of a paler shade, he looked magnificent, and I saw at once that the old magnetism was still there. I doubted Elizabeth loved the middle-aged Robert less than she had the young man. I could see it would be the same with me.

He pulled up within a very small distance of our party, and I noticed the faint color beneath the Queen's white skin which indicated her pleasure.

"Why," she said, "it is my Lord Leicester."

He was at her side. He took her hand and kissed it, and as I saw their eyes meet as he raised her hand, the wildest pangs of jealousy overwhelmed me. I could only control this by consoling myself that he was merely paying tribute to the crown. If she were not the Queen he would have eyes for no one but me.

He brought his horse close beside hers.

"What do you mean by coming thus unannounced, you rogue?" she demanded. The rogue, as I had heard it before, was a term of endearment said in that manner.

"I could not allow any but myself to conduct you to Kenilworth," he said ardently.

"Well, since we are eager to see this magic castle of yours, we'll forgive you. You look in good health, Rob."

"Never better," he answered. "And that may be due to the fact that I am beside my lady."

I felt sick with fury, for he had not so much as glanced my way.

"Well, we will go on," said the Queen, "or we'll take weeks to reach Kenilworth."

We dined at Itchingworth, where we were lavishly entertained, and as there was a forest the Queen expressed her desire to hunt.

I watched her ride off side by side with Robert. She made no attempt to hide her doting fondness. As for him, I could not be sure how much was real affection, how much ambition. Surely he was not still hoping for marriage—but even if he were not, he needed to keep her favor. There was not a man in England more detested than Robert Dudley. He had come up by such leaps and bounds through the Queen's especial interest and had engendered so much envy in doing so that there were thousands who hoped for his downfall, many who knew him and many who did not-such was human nature.

I was beginning to understand Robert, and looking back much was clear to me which had not been in the days of our intimacy. He had a courteous way with any who approached him, be they ever so humble, and in fact his manner sometimes belied the calculating strength which lay behind it. He had a temper which could be violent when it was roused; there were many dark secrets in his life; but those who approached him in the normal way received nothing but pleasantness from him. But of course he must tread warily, even with the Queen. If she had memories which had affected her attitude to love, so had he. His grandfather, financial adviser to King Henry VII, had been beheaded— thrown to the wolves, it was said, to placate the people who were dissatisfied with the taxes imposed by the King and collected by Dudley and Empson; Robert's father had lost his head after trying to put Lady Jane Grey and his son Guildford on the throne. So it was only natural that Robert should make an extreme effort to keep his own head on his shoulders. I think he was safe enough. Elizabeth hated signing death warrants even for her enemies. It was hardly likely that, in any circumstances, she would ever sign one for this beloved man.

But of course he could fall from favor, and naturally he was making a supreme effort not to do so.

He still had not noticed me when we reached Grafton, where the Queen had her own house. Elizabeth was in excellent spirits. In fact her demeanor had remained the same from the moment Robert arrived. They rode side by side, and often her laughter rang out as they exchanged secret jokes.

The weather was unusually hot and when we came to Grafton we were very thirsty. We went into the hall, Robert and the Queen leading the way, and Robert called out to the servants to bring the light ale which the Queen liked to drink.

There was a bustle and scurrying about and in due course the ale was brought, but when the Queen tried it she spat it out.

"I cannot drink that stuff," she cried indignantly. "It's too strong for me."

Robert tried it and declared it was stronger than malmsey and made him feel so heavy with drink that he would not trust his temper. He ordered the servants to find the light ale which Her Majesty wanted.

But this was not easily done, for there was none in the house, and the thirstier the Queen grew the more angry she became.

"What servants are these," she cried, "that they know not how to serve me my good ale! Is there naught to drink in this place?"

Robert said he dared not let them bring water, for he could not trust it to be uncontaminated. The closeness of the privies to the house was always a menace and particularly in weather like this.

He was not a man to sit down and lament in a crisis; he sent his servants into the village and before long some light ale was discovered and when Robert brought it to the Queen she expressed herself well pleased with the drink and the bearer.

It was while we were at Grafton that Robert noticed me. I saw him start, look and look again.

He came to me and, bowing, said: "Lettice, it does me good to see you."

"And I am pleased to see you, my Lord Leicester."

"It was Lettice and Robert when we last met."

"That is a long time ago."

"Eight years."

"You remember then?"

"There are some things one never forgets."

The adventure was there. I saw it in his eyes. I believe, as with me, that danger was a fillip to his zest. We stood there looking at each other, and I knew he was remembering—as I was—intimate moments which had taken place behind the locked doors of that secret chamber where we had made love.

"We must meet again ... alone," he said.

I replied: "The Queen will not wish it."

"Tis true," he answered. "But if she does not know she cannot be displeased. Let me say that it pleases me that you will be with us at Kenilworth."

He left me. He was very anxious that the Queen should not be aware of our interest in each other. I persuaded myself that it might be because he feared I should be sent away again.

What excited me was that it was still the same between us. I missed nothing of that magnetism. It had increased with age. I hoped my attraction had for him. We only had to be near each other to know that we both had much to give.

This time, though, it would not be given so freely on my part. He would have to know that I wanted a relationship on a firmer basis. I thought of marrying him. How could I when I had a husband? That was right out of the question. But I would not be picked up and dropped at the Queen's command. I should make that clear to him from the start.

Now the days were full of excitement. We looked for each other and the glances which passed between us were significant. When the opportunity came we should be prepared to take it.

I think the tantalizing position added to our desire.

It would be easier when we were at Kenilworth.

It was the ninth of July when we reached the castle. There was a shout as it came into view and I saw Robert glance at the Queen, begging for her admiration. It was truly a magnificent sight. Those castellated towers and mighty keep proclaimed a fortress in very truth; and on the southwest side was a beautiful lake shimmering in the sunshine. This was spanned by a graceful bridge which Robert had recently had built; and beyond the castle the verdant forest was visible, promising the Queen good hunting.

"It has the look of a royal residence," said the Queen.

"Designed with the sole purpose of pleasing a queen," replied Robert.

"You'll put Greenwich and Hampton to shame," she retorted.

"Nay," replied Robert, always the courtier. "It is only your presence which gives these places their royalty. Without you they are but piles of stones."

I felt a desire to laugh. You lay it on too thickly, Robert, I thought; but she evidently did not think so, for she was giving him a loving, well-pleased look.

We were approaching the keep and ten girls dressed in palls of white silk to represent the sybils stood in a row barring our way. Then one of them stepped forward and spoke a rhyme extolling the perfections of the Queen and predicting a long and happy reign for her which would bring prosperity to her people.

I was watching her as the recitation went on. She loved every word. It was the kind of charade which had so appealed to her father and her love of it was one of the chief characteristics she had inherited from him. Robert watched her with deep satisfaction. How well he must know her! He must care for her in a way. How she must have frustrated him, holding the glittering crown out to him and then, just as he thought he might take it, drawing it back. If the prize had not been so great, if she did not hold his future in her hands, how long would he have allowed himself to be so treated?

We went on to the next little farce and I realized that this was a foretaste of what the next days would be like.

Robert led the Queen into the tiltyard, where they were met by a ferocious-looking man as tall as Robert himself; he wore a silk robe and brandished a club which he waved threateningly. Some of the ladies squealed in mock horror.

"What do you here?" he cried in a voice of thunder. "Know you not that this is the domain of the mighty Earl of Leicester?"

Robert answered: "Good servant, see you not who is among us?"

The giant opened his eyes in amazement as he turned to the Queen and shaded them as though blinded by such brilliance. Then he fell to his knees and when the Queen bade him to rise he offered her the club and the keys of the castle.

"Open the gates," he cried. "This is a day which will long be remembered at Kenilworth."

The gates were opened and we went through. On the walls of the courtyard stood six trumpeters in long silken robes; they were very impressive, for their trumpets were five feet long. They blew a welcome on these which made the Queen clap her hands in pleasure.

As we progressed the scene grew more spectacular. In the middle of the lake an island had been made and on this was a beautiful woman. Two nymphs lay at her feet and about them were a company of ladies and gentlemen holding high blazing torches.

The lady of the lake spoke a panegyric similar to those we had heard before. The Queen cried out that it was beautiful. Then she was led to the base court where was assembled a company dressed to represent the gods: Sylvanus of the woods offered her leaves and flowers, Ceres was there with corn, Bacchus with grapes, Mars with arms, and Apollo with musical instruments to sing a song of the nation's love for the Queen.

She received them all with gracious words, complimenting them on their skill and beauty.

Leicester told her that there was much more for her to see but he believed that she must now be weary and wished to rest. She must be thirsty too and he could promise her that she would find the ale at Kenilworth to her taste.

"I have made certain that nothing shall displease Your Majesty as it did at Grafton, by testing the ale, and, finding it harsh, I brought down ale makers from London so that we shall not offend you here."

"I can trust my dear Eyes to care for my comfort," said the Queen with emotion.

In the inner court a salute of guns was fired, and as she was about to pass into the castle, Robert drew her attention to the clock on that tower which was called Caesar's. Its face was of a delicate shade of blue and the numbers and hands were of pure gold. It could be seen all round the neighborhood. He begged her to watch it for a moment, for if she did she would see the gold hands stop.

"This signifies that while Your Majesty honors Kenilworth with her presence, time stands still," he told her.

She was clearly happy. How she loved this pomp and ceremony! How she loved this adulation and, above all, how she loved Robert!

There was some speculation among her entourage that surely on this visit she would announce her intention to marry him. It seemed certain that this was what Robert was hoping for.

Those days at Kenilworth will never be forgotten—not only by me, which is understandable, as they made a turning point in my life, but by all those present.

I think it is safe to say that there never was, nor ever will be, such entertainment as Robert devised for his Queen's pleasure.

There were displays of fireworks, Italian tumblers, bull- and bear-baiting, and of course tilting and tournaments. Wherever the Queen was, there must be dancing, and she would stay up far into the early hours of morning to dance and never seemed to tire of it.

In the first days at Kenilworth, Robert scarcely left her side, and in fact later he must never absent himself too long. On the rare occasions when he partnered others in the dance I saw her watch him closely and with impatience. I heard her say once: "I trust you enjoyed the dance, my Lord Leicester." She was very cold and very haughty until he leaned towards her and whispered something which made her smile and restored her good humor.

It was hardly possible to believe that they were not lovers.

I might have felt that I was dreaming of the impossible except for the fact that on several occasions I would see his eyes stray round the room and I knew they were looking for me; and when they found me something flashed between us. We were going to meet, but I knew that it was imperative that we take the utmost care.

I was schooling myself. When the moment came I wanted to be ready. No quick tumble behind locked doors this time, Robert. No "Let it be tonight if the Queen can spare me." He would be plausible. He was the most plausible man on earth, but I should be wary. I was wiser now.

It amused me to think that Elizabeth and I were rivals. She was a worthy adversary indeed with her weapons of power and promises of greatness ... and her threats, of course. "Do not think my favor is so locked up in you ..." Her father all over again. "I brought you up. I could as easily throw you down." Henry VIII had said that to his favorites ... men and women who had worked for him and given him of their best: Cardinal Wolsey, Thomas Cromwell, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, poor little Catherine Howard—and Katharine Parr would have been another if he had not died in time. Henry had once loved Anne Boleyn as passionately as Elizabeth loved Robert, but that had not saved her. These thoughts must occur now and then to Robert. ,.

If I displeased her what would happen to me? Such was my nature that contemplation of my danger did not deter me; in some ways it added to my eagerness.

At last there came the moment when we were alone together. He took my hand and looked into my eyes.

"What do you want of me, my lord?" I asked.

"You know," he replied fervently.

"There are many women here," I said. "And I have a husband."

"There is only one I want."

"Take care," I teased. "That's treason. Your mistress would be very displeased with you if she heard you utter such words."

"I care for nothing but that you and I should be together."

I shook my head.

"There is a room—right at the top of the west tower. It is never visited," he persisted.

I turned away but he had caught my hand and I was immediately shaking with that desire which he alone could arouse in me.

"I shall be there at midnight... waiting."

I said: "You may wait, my lord."

Someone was mounting the stairs and he quickly went off. Afraid to be seen, I thought angrily.

I did not go to that room in the tower, though it was difficult to prevent myself doing so. I found a good deal of pleasure, though, imagining his striding up and down waiting impatiently.

He was reproachful and a little more reckless next time we met. We were not alone and although he appeared to be exchanging pleasantries with a guest he was saying: "I must speak to you. There is much I have to say to you."

"Then just for a talk perhaps," I said.

And I went to the room.

He seized me and attempted to kiss me into submission but I noticed that first he had carefully locked the door.

"No," I protested. "Not yet."

"Yes," he said. "Now! I have waited too long. I will not wait a second longer."

I knew I was weak. My resolutions slipped away. He had only to touch me—and I had always known my need of him matched his for me. It was useless to resist. We would talk afterwards.

He laughed triumphantly. I was triumphant too, because I knew this was a temporary surrender. I should have my way in the end.

Afterwards he said complacently: "Oh, Lettice, how we need each other!"

"I have got along very well without you for eight years," I reminded him.

"Eight wasted years!" he sighed.

"Wasted! Oh no, my lord, you advanced far in royal favor during that time."

"Any time not spent with you is wasted time."

"You sound as though you are talking to the Queen."

"Oh, come, Lettice, be reasonable."

"That is exactly what I intend to be."

"You are married. I am in this position ..."

"Hoping to marry. They say: 'Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.' Is that how it is with you? Are you so sick with waiting that you look elsewhere for what you imagine can be a few secret meetings with someone who finds you too handsome to resist?"

"You know it is not so, but you also know my position."

"I know that she has been dangling you these many years and still there is little hope. Or do you go on hoping?"

"The Queen's temper is uncertain."

"Do I not know that! You forget I was banished from the Court for eight years. And do you know why?"

He drew me closer to him.

"You should have a care," I warned him. "She noticed once."

"Do you think she did?"

"For what other reason should I have been kept from Court?"

He laughed. A little complacently, I thought, so sure that he could do what he would with the women who interested him.

I held back and he was immediately the pleading lover.

"Lettice, I love you ... you only ..."

"Then let us go and tell the Queen."

"You've forgotten Essex."

"He is your safeguard."

"If he were not there I would marry you and prove to you the true state of my feelings."

"But he is there and you may say 'if with the greatest complacency. You know full well you dare not tell the Queen what has happened tonight."

"I would not tell her, no. But if I could marry you I would do so and in time break the news to her."

"As a woman cannot have two husbands, there can be no marriage. And if the Queen were to discover that you and I had been together, we know what would happen. I should be sent away from Court. You would be in disgrace for a while and then taken back into favor. That is one of your greatest accomplishments, I believe. The fact is I came here to talk ..."

"And then you found that our love overwhelmed us both."

"I found that I enjoy my pleasures and that in some respects you suit me well. But I will not be picked up and dropped when it is expedient to do so as though I were some serving wench."

"That you could never be mistaken for."

"I hope not. But it would seem you imagined I could be treated like one. It shall not happen again, my lord."

"Lettice, you must understand. More than anything, I want to marry you, and I tell you this... . One day I am going to."

"When?"

"Ere long."

"And Essex?"

"Leave him to me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean who can know what will happen? Be patient. You and I were meant for each other. I knew it when we first met. But you were married to Essex, so what could I do? Ah, Lettice, if you had not married him, how different it would have been. But you have come back to me. Don't think I am ever going to let you go again."

"You should let me go now or I shall be missed, and if I am, and if I am being spied on, and it comes to the Queen's ears, I would not be in your shoes, Robert Dudley. And I fancy mine would not be very comfortable either."

He unlocked the door. Then he held me in an embrace so fierce that I thought the whole thing was going to start all over again; but he realized the sense of my warning and let me go.

I crept back to my apartment. My absence had been noticed by some of the others. I wondered whether any of them thought I had been with a lover, and I amused myself by imagining their shocked wonder if I told them I had and who it was.

The weather grew less hot; there had been a few refreshing showers and the entire company seemed to be in excellent spirits. I saw nothing of Robert in private, but frequently, of course, in the company of others, for he was constantly at the Queen's side. They hunted a great deal together, spending the hours until twilight in the forest; and when they returned to Kenilworth there was invariably some welcoming pageant for Elizabeth. There was no end to Robert's inventiveness, but all the time he had to be wary, for the pleasure he had given the Queen could be quickly forgotten and all his efforts in vain if in some way he should manage to offend her.

On this particular day a water pageant had been devised to welcome her on her return to the castle, for Robert made good use of the lake, which was always its most effective by night when the lighted torches gave a magic touch to the scene. On this occasion a mermaid greeted her and beside her was an enormous dolphin, on whose back sat a man in a mask who was meant to represent Arion. As soon as he saw the Queen he began to recite verses extolling her virtues and the joy of Kenilworth because she did it the honor of staying within its walls.

This incident put the Queen in high good humor because Arion, after having delivered the first few lines of his oration, could not remember the rest of the piece. He fumbled and began again and then in a burst of rage he tore off his mask so that his red sweating face was exposed.

"I am no Arion," he cried aloud. "I am but honest Harry Goldingham, Your Majesty's most loyal subject."

There was silence. Robert glared at the offender, but the Queen burst into loud laughter and cried: "Good Harry Goldingham, you have amused me well, and I do declare that I liked your performance best of anybody's."

So Harry Goldingham left his dolphin and was as pleased with himself as he could be. He had won the Queen's special praise for his performance and no doubt he reckoned it would give him good standing with his lord and master, the Earl of Leicester.

During the evening the Queen referred again and again to the incident, and she told Robert that she would never forget the pleasure she had enjoyed at Kenilworth.

I was piqued by the Queen's absolute devotion to Robert. It meant that he was never free of her. It was only during the time when she was at her toilet that he could get away, and then I had my duties. It was very frustrating for us both and, thus tantalized, our desire for each other was intensified.

Once when I thought there was an opportunity for a few words I saw him in close conversation with another woman. I knew her by sight and had had a special interest in her. She was that Douglass Sheffield whose name had been coupled with Robert's at one time. I remembered the rumors I had heard about them.

I did not believe the story that he had had her husband murdered. What was the point of murdering the Earl of Sheffield? Douglass was much more desirable to Robert with a husband—as I was. The real proof of Robert's love would be marriage. That would mean that he wanted his bride more than the Queen's favor. I did not need a visit to Kenilworth to remind me of what her wrath would be like if he did marry. It would be fierce and terrible, and I doubted even Robert would be able to restore himself to her favor after such an event.

I had not attached a great deal of importance to the Douglass Sheffield scandal until now, because incredible stories had always been circulated about Robert. He was the most envied man in the realm; no one had more enemies; he stood so high with the Queen that thousands—at Court and throughout the country-longed, as envious people will, to see him brought low; and it is a sad commentary on human nature that even those who would gain nothing by it, yet wanted to see it.

Of course there had been the murky scandal of Amy Robsart's death and the scars of that would remain with him throughout his life. Had he murdered her? Who could say? She had certainly seemed to stand between him and ambition, and he greatly desired a marriage which had been impossible while she lived. There were too many dark secrets in Cumnor Place; and there was no doubt that the incident of Amy's death had given the envious the ammunition they needed.

Dr. Julio, Robert's physician, being an Italian, was becoming known as Leicester's poisoner, so it was small wonder that it had been said at the time of the Earl of Sheffield's death that Robert had had him removed. But why, when he had no wish to marry his widow? Except, of course, that Sheffield was at the time threatening divorce—having discovered that Douglass had committed adultery with Robert. That would have created a scandal which Robert would want to avoid at all costs, for if it came to the Queen's ears he would be in great trouble.

That Robert was of a dark and devious nature mattered not to me. I wanted a man who could challenge me. I wanted no mild, ineffectual creature like my husband. I was heartily tired of Walter, and I was as deeply enamored of Robert Dudley as any woman could be. That was why when I saw him talking earnestly to Douglass Sheffield, I was filled with uneasiness.

It was a Sunday. The Queen had attended church in the morning, and as the weather was warm and pleasant, it was decided that some players from Coventry should do Hock Tide, a play about Danes, for her entertainment.

I was mildly amused to see these rustics in their improvised costumes and their local accents portraying men of whom they could have had no conception. The Queen was delighted with them; she enjoyed being among the simple country folk, and to bring home to them the fact that, glittering and glorious as she was, she had a great respect and love for them. Again and again on our progress we must stop by the road if any humble person approached her; and she never failed to have a kind word or reassurance to offer. There must have been many people in the country who would cherish an encounter with her throughout their lives and serve her with the utmost loyalty because she had never been too proud to speak to them.

So now she gave as close an attention to the Coventry players as she would have done to any of the Court actors, and sat in her chair laughing when laughter was expected and applauding only when applause was looked for.

The play was about the coming of the Danes, their insolence, violence and the outrages they inflicted on the English countryside. The chief character was Hunna, King Ethelred's general, and of course the play ended in the defeat of the Danes. As a tribute to her sex, the captive Danes were led onto the stage by women, at which the Queen loudly applauded.

When it was over, she insisted that the players be presented to her that she might tell them how much she had enjoyed their play.

"Good men of Coventry," she said, "you have given me much pleasure and shall be rewarded. Yesterday's hunting brought us several good bucks and I shall order that you be given two of the finest, and in addition you shall have five marks in money."

The good men of Coventry fell on their knees and declared they would never forget the day they had had the honor of playing before the Queen. They were loyal men, and after this day there would not be one of them who would not willingly give his life for her.

She thanked them and, watching her, I noticed how she preserved that rare and royal gift in that she could lose none of her dignity and yet at the same time be completely at ease with them and make them so with her. She could lift them up without descending from her royalty. I was aware of her greatness as never before; that we should be rivals for the same man filled me with an intense excitement and the fact that he was ready to risk so much for the fulfillment of his passion for me was an indication of its depth.

This emotion between us was something which must not be denied. We were bold adventurers, both of us, and I could be sure that the danger was as irresistible to him as it was to me.

It was that very day that I found an opportunity of speaking to Douglass Sheffield.

The play being over and still some hours left before twilight, the Queen, riding side by side with Robert and followed by certain of the ladies and gentlemen, had left for the forest, when I saw Douglass Sheffield walking alone in the gardens and I went to her.

I came up with her near the lake as if by chance and called a greeting.

"It is Lady Essex, is it not?" she asked, and I answered that it was, and that I believed she was Lady Sheffield.

"We should know each other," I went on, "there is a family connection through the Howard family." She was one of the Effingham Howards and it was my great-grandmother, wife of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who was of the family.

"So we are distant cousins," I added.

I studied her intently. I could understand what Robert had found attractive. She had the quality which many of the Howard women had. My grandmother Mary Boleyn and Catherine Howard must have been somewhat similar. Anne Boleyn had something more—this immense physical attractiveness plus a calculating streak which made her ambitious. Anne had miscalculated—of course she had had a very fickle man to deal with—and she had ended up headless, but with a little dexterous handling of her affairs and aided by the birth of a son, it need not have happened as it did.

Douglass then was the soft and yielding type, sensuous and making no demands in return for what she gave. Her sort immediately attracted the opposite sex, but very often it was not durable.

I said: "The Queen grows more and more enamored of my Lord Leicester."

Her mouth drooped and she looked rather sad. I thought: There is something, then.

"Do you think she will marry him?" I went on.

"No," said Douglass vehemently. "He cannot do that."

"I cannot see why. He wants it and at times it seems she is as eager as he is."

"But he could not do it."

I began to feel uneasy. "Why not, Lady Sheffield?"

"Because ..." She hesitated. "No, I must not say. It would be dangerous. He would never forgive me."

"You mean the Earl of Leicester would not?"

She looked perplexed and tears came into her eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked soothingly.

"Oh no, no. I must go in. I don't know what I'm saying. I have been unwell. I have my duties, so ..."

"I thought you looked sad of late," I said, determined to detain her. "I sensed there was something and that I must speak to you. There is a bond between those whose blood is linked, I believe."

She looked a little startled and said: "It may be so."

"Sometimes it is helpful to talk to a sympathetic listener."

"I don't really want to discuss anything. There is nothing to be said. I shouldn't have come. I should be with my son."

"You have a son?"

She nodded.

"I have four children, Penelope, Dorothy, Robert and Walter. I miss them very much."

"So you have a Robert too?"

I was alert. "That is your son's name?"

She nodded.

"Well," I went on, "it's a good name. That of our Queen's husband ... if she ever decided to marry."

"She could not," said Douglass, falling into the trap.

"You seem vehement."

"It is when you talk of their marrying ..."

"It is what he is hoping for. Everybody knows it."

"If she had wanted to marry him she would have done so long ago."

"After the mysterious death of his wife," I whispered. "How could she?"

She shivered. "I often think about Amy Dudley. I have nightmares about her. Sometimes I dream I am in that house and that someone creeps into my room ..."

"You dream that you are his wife ... and he wants to be rid of you. How strange!"

"No ..."

"I believe you are afraid of something."

"How men change," she said wistfully. "They are so ardent and then it is someone else who claims their attention."

"And their ardor," I said lightly.

"It can be ... rather frightening."

"It would be with a man like the Earl... after what happened at Cumnor Place. But how do we know what happened there. It's a dark secret. Tell me about your little boy. How old is he?"

"He is two years old."

I was silent, calculating. When had the Earl of Sheffield died? Was it not in '71 that I had heard how the Howard sisters were pursuing Robert? It was in that year—or perhaps the next—that Lord Sheffield had died and yet in the year '75 Douglass Sheffield had a two-year-old son called Robert.

I was determined to discover what this meant.

I could scarcely expect her to pour out her secrets on this occasion even though there was a relationship between us. I had learned far more than I could have hoped from the rather foolish woman. But I would make a determined effort to discover the truth.

I tried to be sympathetic and friendly when she said she was suffering from a headache. I took her back to her apartment and gave her a soothing potion. Then I made her lie down and told her I would let her know if the Queen returned.

Later that day she told me that she had been feeling very unwell when we had met in the gardens and she was afraid she had talked a lot of nonsense. I reassured her and said we had merely had a friendly chat and how pleasant it was to meet a cousin. My potion had done her so much good and she wondered if I would give her the recipe. Of course I would, I told her. I understood perfectly these feelings of depression. After all, I had children of my own and longed to be with them.

"We'll have another chat... soon," I said.

I was determined to get to the bottom of the Douglass Sheffield affair.

The next day the Queen was entertained in the afternoon by a farce called A Country Bridal. This was, in a manner, poking fun at rustics, and I wondered that the Queen did not feel it was an insult to some of her people. The bridegroom, who was well over thirty, wore his father's worsted jacket of a tawny color, a pair of harvest gloves on his hands, and a pen and inkhorn strapped to his back. He hobbled onto the grass. A great deal of football was played in the country and often players were injured during the game, so the hobble was meant to imply that he had broken a leg at play.

With him were the mummers and Robin Hood with Maid Marian. The Queen's foot tapped as she watched the dancing, and I expected at any time that she would join in.

The bride in her worsted gown came next; she had made her face excessively ugly and wore a wig of hair sticking out in all directions. The spectators roared with laughter at the sight of her, and there were many of them, for the Queen had especially asked that any of those around the neighborhood should be allowed to see the show. So they had come in their hundreds—not so much to see the country wedding as to be in the company of the Queen. She herself—at her best as she always was when the people were present—smiled graciously, reserving her ill humor for her attendants later on. The bridesmaids were in their mid-thirties and, like the bride, quite ugly.

People rolled about in ecstasies of mirth to see the married couple stagger off, and I could not help thinking that this was rather a dangerous show to have put before our unmarried Queen, and the fact that the bride and groom made a great effort to tell us their ages could have been considered as touching Elizabeth. Perhaps that was what Robert had intended. Perhaps he wanted to show her that she was waiting too long. Of course anyone less like the ugly clumsy bride there could not be. She sat there, supreme in her power and her glory—glittering with jewels, her exquisite ruff about her neck, her head held high, looking beautiful, and young too, if one did not look too closely at her face, for her body was as slender as a young girl's and her skin was so delicate and white. She must have seemed like a goddess to these country folk, even apart from her jeweled garments. She was always fastidious and took regular baths, and those of us who attended on her must do the same, for she could not abide evil smells. When she visited country houses the cleaning of them had to begin weeks before her arrival. Ill-smelling rushes made her turn away in disgust, and of course there was the ever-present problem of the privies. I had often seen that somewhat curved nose quiver with distaste on more than one occasion and some sharp remark would be made about the ill preparation for her visit.

Considerable inconvenience was caused, when we traveled, by the Queen's bath, without which she could not manage. Few country houses could provide her with one. In Windsor Castle there were two rooms set aside for her bath, and the ceilings of these were of glass so that she could see the whiteness of her body while she bathed.

Only among the humble people would she accept uncleanliness, and she never showed by a twitch of her nostrils that she noticed their odors. She certainly had the art of queenship at her fingertips.

On this occasion she received the ugly bride and groom and told them how much they had made her laugh, and they, like the Coventry players, were overcome by her graciousness and I knew would give her their utmost loyalty forever.

I was deeply concerned with my own problems. When Douglass Sheffield had mentioned her son Robert, I had become very suspicious. My first impulse was to waylay Robert and demand the truth about Douglass and her son. Could I do that? After all, he was not exactly responsible to me for his actions— particularly those which had occurred some time ago. True, he had said he would marry me ... if I were free. That meant little. I was not free. I wondered if at some time he had said the same to Douglass, and then by a strange coincidence—or was it coincidence?—she became free soon after he had talked of marrying her.

No. I would not tackle him. Douglass was a fool. I could overcome her scruples with a little delicate handling, and perhaps I should be more likely to get the true story from her than from Robert. Moreover, it would not have been easy to talk with him, for he had to dance continual attendance on the Queen. We could perhaps escape to the room in the tower, but there was a possibility that there my desire might overcome my common sense. I must be firm with myself. If Robert gave me his version of the story how could I be sure it was the truth? I doubted not he would have some plausible story to tell, whereas Douglass would not have the wit to make one up.

During the next days I cultivated Douglass. She was easy prey. There was no doubt that she was worried about her future; and that she was madly in love with Robert there was no doubt either.

In a few days of revels in which she was obliged—as I was—to see Robert in continuous attendance on the Queen, I had brought her to a state when she was eager to confide in someone, and who should that be but kind and sympathetic Cousin Lettice?

At last it came.

"I will tell you exactly what happened, Cousin, only you must swear not to breathe a word to anyone. It would be the end of him and of me. The Queen's wrath can be terrible as you know. That is what he is always telling me."

"You must not tell me if it will make you uneasy to do so," I said artfully, "but if it would ease your mind ... or you think I might have some advice to offer... ."

"You are so sympathetic, Lettice. I am sure you can understand as few people would."

I nodded. She was probably right about that.

"It happened four years ago," she told me. "John and I were happily married, and I had never thought of another man. He was a good husband, a little stern ... and not very romantic ... if you know what I mean."

"I do," I assured her.

"The Queen was on one of her progresses through the country, the Earl of Leicester traveling with her, and my husband and I joined her entourage at Belvoir Castle, the Earl of Rutland's place. I can't explain what happened to me. I had been a faithful wife until then, but I had never seen anyone like Robert... ."

"The Earl of Leicester," I murmured.

She nodded. "He was the most attractive man I had ever seen. I could not understand myself because he was the most powerful man in the assembly, and was so firmly in the Queen's favor. Everyone was saying that she would marry him soon."

"They have been saying that since she came to the throne."

"I know. But at this time it seemed as though there was a secret understanding between them. It gave him something ... which I can't describe. If he spoke to any of us, or smiled at us, we were so proud. My sister and I quarreled about him, because he was so charming to us both. Frankly, we were jealous. It was strange because before I had never so much as glanced at another man. I accepted John Sheffield as my husband and he was good to me ... and then ... this happened."

"What happened?" I asked.

"We met in secret. Oh, I am so ashamed. I never should have. I can't think what came over me."

"You became his mistress," I said, and I could not disguise the cold note which crept into my voice.

"I know it sounds unforgivable. But you can't imagine what it was like... ."

Oh yes, Douglass indeed I do! I thought. It seems I was as gullible as you.

"So he seduced you," I said.

She nodded. "I held out for a long time," she excused herself, "but you can't know how relentless he can be. He was determined that I should submit, he told me afterwards, and my refusal was a challenge. I protested that I did not believe such things should be done outside marriage and he asked how he could marry me since I had a husband already. Then he talked of how different it would be if I had not had a husband, and he talked so persuasively that I almost believed John was going to die and I should marry Robert. He wrote a note which he impressed on me I should destroy as soon as I had read it. In it he said that he would marry me when my husband died, which he could promise me would not be long, and then we could legally enjoy the ecstasies together which we had already tasted."

"He wrote that!" I cried.

"Yes." She looked at me almost pleadingly. "How could I destroy such a note?" she asked. "I kept it. I used to read it every day and sleep with it under my pillow. I saw Robert several times at Belvoir. We used to meet in an empty chamber there and sometimes in the wood. He said it was very dangerous and if the Queen knew it would be the end of him. But he was doing it all because he was so madly in love with me."

"I understand perfectly," I said bitterly. "And when your husband died... ."

"Something dreadful happened before that. I lost Robert's letter. I was in a panic. He had commanded me to destroy it, but I couldn't. Every time I read it, it brought him back so clearly. He had said in that letter that he would marry me when my husband died... .You see... ."

"Yes, I do see," I assured her.

"My sister-in-law found the letter. She had never liked me, and I was frantic. I summoned all my women one by one. I questioned them, I threatened them, but they declared they had not seen it. Then I asked Eleanor—my husband's sister. She had found it and read it and taken it to my husband. There was such a scene. He made me confess everything. He was absolutely shocked and he hated me. He locked me out of our bedroom and told me to go to the Queen's lapdog, who had already murdered his wife. He said terrible things about Robert and that he was going to ruin him and me, and that the whole country would know what had happened at Belvoir and that Robert Dudley planned to murder him as he had murdered his wife. I sobbed all night and in the morning he had gone away. My sister-in-law told me that he was going to London to arrange a divorce and that very soon everyone would know me for the harlot I was."

"And what happened then?"

"John died before he could make any of this known."

"How did he die?"

"It was some sort of dysentery."

"And you think that Leicester arranged it... ?"

"Oh no, no. He did not. It just happened that way."

"It was very convenient for Leicester, wasn't it? Had your husband suffered before from this... dysentery?"

"I never knew that he did."

"Well, then there was no obstacle to your marriage."

She looked forlorn. "It would have been the end of everything for him, he said. He used to tell me how much he wanted to marry me, but you see the Queen was so jealous and she had such a fondness for him."

"Which we understand."

"Oh yes, anyone who knew Robert would understand. You see, there were people who knew. There are always some people who know. There was John's family. They were angry. They blamed Robert for John's death and me too of course."

"They accused him of murdering your husband so that you would be free, and yet when you were free he didn't marry you."

"So you see how rumor lied," she said.

I thought: Well, John Sheffield was about to make trouble for him, trouble which would have put him in danger of losing the Queen's regard as a marriage would. I could imagine Elizabeth's fury if she had known of the secret meetings at Belvoir Castle and that Robert had talked of marriage with Douglass. And if Robert had in fact married Douglass he would have been involved in a matter as unsavory as that of the death of his own wife.

I was learning more and more about this man who was dominating my life—as he did the Queen's and Douglass Sheffield's.

"And your son?" I persisted.

She hesitated and then she said: "He was born in wedlock. Robert is not a bastard."

"You mean that you are Leicester's wife?"

She nodded.

"I can't believe it," I burst out.

"Tis true," she answered firmly. "When John died, Robert contracted to marry me in a house in Cannon Row, Westminster, and afterwards he said he could not go through with it because of the Queen's fury. But I was frantic. I was dishonored and this gave me a great deal of anxiety. At length he gave way and we were married."

"When?" I demanded. "And where?"

I was desperately trying to prove that she was lying. I was half convinced that she was, but whether that was because I so badly wanted to believe it, I was not sure.

She answered promptly: "In one of his places—at Esher in Surrey."

"Were there witnesses?"

"Oh yes, Sir Edward Horsey was present and so was Robert's physician, Dr. Julio. Robert gave me a ring with five pointed diamonds and one table diamond. It had been given him by the Earl of Pembroke, who had asked him to give it only to his wife."

"And you have this ring?"

"It is carefully hidden away in safety."

"Why do you not proclaim yourself as his wife?"

"I'm afraid of him."

"I thought you were madly in love with him."

"I am. It is possible to be both in love and afraid."

"And your child?"

"Robert was delighted when he was born. He comes to see him whenever possible. He loves the boy. He always wanted a son. He wrote to me when he was born, thanking God for him and saying that the boy would be a comfort to us in our old age."

"It would seem that your cup should be full of bliss."

She looked straight at me and shook her head. "I am so much afraid."

"Of discovery?"

"No. I would welcome it. I should not care if the Queen dismissed him from Court."

"But he would," I reminded her grimly.

"I should be happy to live quietly away from Court."

"Then you would have to live without this ambitious man you call your husband."

"He is my husband."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

Again she gave me that steady look. "Amy Robsart was found at the bottom of a staircase with her neck broken," she said simply.

She did not go on. There was no need to.

As for myself, I could not believe her. My senses were crying out against this story. It could not be true. Yet she told it guilelessly, and I did not think she was capable of much invention.

Of one thing I was sure. Douglass Sheffield was a very frightened woman.

I had to speak to him. But how difficult it was! I was deter­mined though to discover the truth even if it meant betraying Douglass. If he had in fact married her, it must have meant that he was really in love with her. The very thought enraged me. Had I not often imagined myself married to him, and consoled myself with the assurance that he would never have married anyone but me, and the only reason he had not done so before I had married Essex was because he was dazzled by the Queen's favor and feared an end of his career at Court if ever he turned to anyone else? Not even for me could he afford to risk the Queen's displeasure, and I had understood what disaster there would be for him if he did. Yet he had risked it for silly little Douglass Sheffield. That was if there was any truth in this story of a marriage.

So I must know because I should have no peace until I did.

On the day following that one when I had received Douglass's revelations, one of the servants came to tell me that Lady Mary Sidney wished to speak to me in her apartments. Lady Mary, Robert's sister, who was married to Sir Henry Sidney, was always given the utmost consideration by the Queen because of the smallpox she had developed while nursing her and which had disfigured her. She came to Court now and then to please the Queen, though I knew she would rather have remained in retirement at Penshurst. Elizabeth always made sure that very special apartments were allotted to her. Another reason why Elizabeth was fond of her was because she was Robert's sister. Her affection for him overflowed to the rest of the family.

Carefully veiled and keeping her face in shadow, she greeted me. Her apartments were magnificent, as everything was at Kenilworth, but I imagined that these rooms were of the best. On the floor were fine carpets from Turkey such as I had rarely seen before. Robert was one of the first to make use of carpets to a large degree. There were no rushes on the floors at Kenilworth. I glimpsed the four-poster bed in the next room with its hangings of scarlet velvet. I knew that the sheets would be embroidered with the letter L in a coronet. The pewter pans of the night stools were set in cases covered with quilted velvet to match the colors of the room. How Robert loved extravagance—but it was so tasteful. I let myself imagine a home we would share together one day.

Lady Mary had a gentle voice and she received me with affection.

"Come and sit down, Lady Essex," she said. "My brother has asked me to speak to you."

My heart was racing fast. I was all impatience to hear.

"We cannot tarry much longer at Kenilworth," she said. "It will soon be time for the Queen to continue with her progress. As you know, she rarely stays so long in one place. She made an exception in the case of Kenilworth as a mark of her affection for my brother."

It was true, of course. The visit to the castle had been made during one of her progresses through the country which she frequently undertook. It was part of her wisdom that she did so because these progresses kept her in touch with the humblest of her subjects and her gracious and careful treatment of them continued to be the reason for her popularity in every town and hamlet throughout the land. It meant, too, that there was scarcely a large country house in which she had not stayed for a night at least, and those which lay on her route must be prepared to entertain her in a royal manner. If she were displeased with the hospitality she received, she would not hesitate to make this known. It was only with the humble folk that she remained gracious.

"My brother has been planning the Queen's route with her. They have decided that she will be passing close to Chartley."

I was exultant. He had arranged this and persuaded the Queen to stay at Chartley because it was my home. Then my heart sank as I thought of the inconveniences of Chartley, which, compared with Kenilworth, was poor indeed.

I said: "My husband is in Ireland."

"The Queen knows this, but she thinks you can very well play the hostess. You look dismayed. It has been suggested that you leave us and go to Chartley in advance that you may make arrangements for the visit."

"I fear she will find Chartley most uncomfortable ... after this."

"She does not expect to find a Kenilworth wherever she goes. She has said that she believes there is no place like it. Do your best. Make sure that the place is clean. That is of the greatest importance. Fresh rushes everywhere and the servants in fresh clean livery, of course. Then all will be well. Let your musicians practice the tunes she likes best and if you give her plenty of dancing and music, she will enjoy her stay. I trow she loves that better than anything."

There was a knock on the door and a young man entered. I knew him. He was Philip Sidney, Mary's son and therefore Robert's nephew. I had taken an interest in him because I had heard that Robert loved this young man dearly and looked upon him as a son. He was a very noble-looking boy; he must have been about twenty years of age at this time. He had a very special quality—as Robert had—yet how different was that of this young man. There was something truly gentle about him, although this did not denote a lack of strength. It was a rare quality; I had never known anyone like him then, nor have I since. He was very courteous to his mother, and it was clear to me that she doted on him.

"I have been telling Lady Essex about the Queen's proposed stay at Chartley," said Mary. "I think she is a little disturbed."

He turned his radiant smile on me and I said: "I think she will find Chartley such a poor place compared with Kenilworth."

"Her Majesty realizes that most homes must seem so after this, and I think mayhap she prefers it so because it pleases her to know that my uncle has the finest estate in the country. So cast aside your qualms, Lady Essex. I have no doubt the Queen will enjoy a short stay at Chartley."

"My husband, as you know, is in Ireland on the Queen's business."

"You will prove a most charming hostess," he assured me.

"I have been away from Court so long," I explained. "I only rejoined Her Majesty shortly before we began this progress."

"If I can be of any use to you I shall be at your service," said Philip, and Lady Sidney smiled.

"It was for that reason that I asked you to come to me," she said. "When Robert told us that the Queen proposed visiting Chartley, I reminded him that the Earl of Essex was not in the country. He said that he was sure Lady Essex would do the honors with charm and grace, and suggested that if you needed help, Philip should accompany you back to Chartley and do anything you wished him to."

Philip Sidney smiled at me and I knew at once that I could rely on him.

We would leave together for Chartley, and there would set about making the castle fit and ready to receive the Queen.

Robert would be with her. I should have a chance of talking to him at last, on my own ground, and this I was determined to do.