Queen Of This Realm

The Mystery of Cumnor Place

THERE WAS A GREAT DEAL OF GOSSIP ABOUT ROBERT AND me. We were always together and he made no attempt to hide his feelings; and I fear that I was revealing enough to show my regard for him. He had such outstanding good looks and presence that he was bound to attract attention. He was very jealous of Arundel and Pickering, and as Arundel and Pickering were jealous of each other they quarreled when they met. Cecil said it was unwise to set them against each other, but I could not resist it and would favor one more than the other in turn. But Robert always had more of everything than others so his jealousy was far in excess of that of Arundel and Pickering.

The frivolous side of me enjoyed the situation immensely while the more sober side looked on indulgently.

Robert was essentially a very proud man and I would not have felt so favorable toward him if he had not been. He was frustrated because of his marriage and certainly believed that if he had been free I would have married him…a matter of which I was not entirely sure myself. When he saw me spreading my smiles between Arundel and Pickering he pretended not to notice and when I spoke to him there was a distinct coolness in his voice. He was polite and perfectly proper so there was nothing for which I could reprove him. It was just those ardent glances of love and tenderness which I missed—and I was astonished to discover how affected I could be by his seeming indifference. It was assumed of course, but it did show that he was hurt.

Philip of Spain had turned from me. Would Robert? But Philip had never loved me—only my crown. I had convinced myself that it was different with Robert.

The situation was becoming intolerable. There were others present all the time and I could not speak to Robert as I wished to with people eavesdropping—as they always did on my conversations—and they were particularly eager to do so when I was talking with Robert.

So I wanted to speak to him privately and told Kat to bring him to my apartment. Kat was shocked.

“But, my love, you cannot do that,” she said.

“Since when has Kat Ashley seen fit to instruct the Queen?” I asked.

“Oh, we are Her Majesty today, are we?”

“Today and always,” I reminded her, “and don't forget it, unless…”

“Unless I want my head to part company with my body? But listen, my dearest, there are watchers, you know.”

“I must speak to him,” I said.

She nodded. “He is a lovely gentleman and I know Your Majesty's feeling for him and his for you. 'Tis a pity he has a wife living… somewhere in Oxfordshire I believe it to be.”

“Never mind where it is,” I said. “Bring him.”

So he came.

When we were alone together I gave him my hand to kiss.

“Robert,” I said, “you have been somewhat sullen of late, and I like not sullen men and women about me.”

“I have had good cause,” he said sharply.

“Indeed. In what way?”

“I think Your Majesty knows full well. Arundel and Pickering…My God, you could not so demean yourself.”

“Pray do not take the Lord's name in vain in my presence, Lord Dudley.”

“Madam, I will state my case.” He took both my hands and drew me toward him. I was too astonished—and delighted—to protest. Gone was the deferential Master of Horse; here was the passionate lover determined not to be denied.

I said: “State your case then, sir.”

“I love you, as you know I do. I have put myself at your service and you spurn me.”

“Spurn you! Have I not made you my Master of Horse?”

“It is not good enough.”

“You forget to whom you speak.”

“I speak to my beautiful Elizabeth whom I love. Whether she be Queen or not is no matter to me.”

“Show more respect for my crown, I beg you, Lord Robert.”

“I cannot think of your crown, but only of my love for you.”

Then he kissed me in a practiced manner which reminded me of Sir Thomas Seymour. There was a similarity between those two men. Perhaps that was why I was almost ready to submit to both of them. Almost. But I was stronger in my determination to resist now than I had been in my younger days. Robert was the most fascinating man I had ever known but I would not allow him to become my lover. The sexual act was a symbol of domination on the part of the male, I had always thought, and I had no intention of being dominated for one moment even by the most attractive man I had ever known.

I said: “Robert… dear Robin… you know my regard for you.”

“I know it and I will kill Pickering or Arundel if they dare take liberties.”

“Do you think I would allow any to take liberties with me… save one?”

“Elizabeth…my love… whom I have loved all my life… from the time when we were children and danced together. Do you remember? You noticed me then.”

“I must always notice you, Robin. You are a very noticeable gentleman.”

“You love me, I know. Do you think I am not aware of it? Even when we were in the Tower we thought of each other, did we not?”

“Yes, Robert, we did.”

“And was I not prepared to lay whatever I had at your feet?”

“So you said.”

“And you take up this coquettish stance with Arundel and Pickering.”

“I am the Queen, Robert. I may do as I wish.”

“It is more than I can endure.”

“Why so? It is only if I agreed to marry either of them that you should feel these emotions.”

“So you will not marry one of them!”

I reached up to touch his hair. It was a long way and I had to stand on tiptoe, for although I was not small in stature he was very tall.

“You know full well that I will not marry either of them.”

“They are urging you.”

“I am being urged all the time.”

“Philip has become affianced to France. You have refused Eric of Sweden and the Archduke Charles.”

“Indeed I have.”

“Is it because you love someone else?”

“And if I do?”

“I must know.”

“Are you by any chance referring to Lord Robert Dudley? And if you are how could he be a suitor for my hand? Have you forgotten that he has a wife tucked away somewhere in the country?”

“Life has been very cruel to me,” he said. “Rather has life been good to you. Just think if you had not made that marriage when you did, you would be a headless corpse, for almost certainly you would have been the one your ambitious father married to Lady Jane Grey.”

He looked at me helplessly.

I said: “There is only one course open to you, my lord. You must be a good husband to Mistress Amy.”

“Elizabeth!” He caught my hands and drew me toward him. “She is sick. I do not think she will live long.”

My heart was beating very fast. “Is that true?” I said quietly.

“True. I swear it. It could well be that within a few months I could be… free.”

I was shaken. When he kissed me I wanted him to go on doing so. I wanted him to talk of his devotion, his unrestrained passion. Always between us had been the figure of his wife—Amy, the girl in the country who made it safe for me to dally with Robert Dudley. But if she were no longer there…

It was a dazzling possibility. The frivolous side of my nature wanted him free. The serious side was not so sure.

He looked at me eagerly and I was enchanted to see his devotion to me and I smiled at him when he said: “If …” And I knew he believed that if he were a free man I would marry him.

WHEN ROBERT SAID that his wife was ill he had shaken me more than I would admit to myself. I had to know more about her and his matrimonial situation. I couldn't ask him, so I set Kat to discover. She already knew a good deal. Since he had become such a favorite of mine, there was a great deal of gossip about him.

His grandfather had been that Edmund Dudley, statesman and lawyer, who had found favor with my grandfather King Henry VII because of his clever ways with finance, and who had been beheaded by my father Henry VIII when he came to the throne as a sop to the people who blamed Edmund Dudley, with Empson, for the heavy taxes they had had to pay. Robert's father was, of course, John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who had tried to set Lady Jane Grey on the throne after she had married his son Guildford, and had died on the scaffold. What did Robert feel about having lost his grandfather, his father and his brother to the headsman? That grisly fact must have made him anxious at times, though he never showed it. Robert had an enduring faith in himself and he was determined to marry me. I saw that in his eyes and my desire wavered considerably. There were times when I thought of being married to Robert, and then I said to myself: If he were free, I believe I would. But that other side of me was always there warning me: You would never be completely Queen, if you set up a man beside you. He would become the King. He would oppose your wishes, enforce his will on you, try to subdue you to his desires with soft caresses and with blandishments. No, I must not marry… not even Robert. Yet if he were free… But he was not free.

Kat was indefatigable in her search for information. I picked it up from others, too. Robert Dudley was the most talked-of man in England at that time—far more so than Arundel or Pickering had ever been, although courtiers were still taking bets on those two. I had been unable to hide my feelings for Robert and of course they were much discussed throughout the Court.

What I learned was that Robert's father, the Earl of Warwick, as he had been then, had gone as General of the King's army to Norfolk to suppress a rebellion of the peasants there. This he had done very successfully, much to the joy of the landowners in that part of the country because the rising had concerned the enclosures of land. It was while he was there that John Dudley had been entertained by one of those landowners, Sir John Robsart who had a daughter, Amy; and although he had several stepchildren, for he had married a widow, Amy was the only child Robsart had fathered and was his sole heiress.

Heiress though she might be, she would not be considered a suitable match for a Dudley. John Dudley, although not at that time Duke of Northumberland and Protector of England, was a man of considerable importance. Robert was not much more than sixteen and he fell in love with Amy and she, naturally enough, with him.

Why John Dudley agreed to the marriage I cannot imagine, but he had several sons and Robert was the fifth; so he probably thought that the Robsarts were rich enough. Whatever the case, Robert was married. Amy was a quiet little country girl and I can imagine how quickly his infatuation for her began to fade, and when his father's power began to increase rapidly, he must have realized how hasty he had been.

With Edward Seymour beheaded, John Dudley assumed the title of Duke of Northumberland. His ambition was boundless. A crown for one of his sons. Poor Guildford! He was the only unmarried one left. Oh, how easily it could have been Robert! Often I thought of that and I have no doubt he did also.

Jane Grey's brief glory was over, Mary on the throne, Northumberland and Guildford beheaded and Robert in the Tower under sentence of death. Such a tragic sequence of events should have made Robert cautious but I saw little of caution in my bold admirer.

One of his sisters, Lady Mary Sidney, was now serving in my bedchamber. Robert had asked me to give her the post and of course I had agreed; and no sooner did I meet Mary than I liked her. They had great charm, those Dudleys. From Mary I learned a great deal about Robert. He was the most outstanding of all her brothers—alas all dead now except Ambrose. She did not like to talk of Guildford who had died so tragically. “Our father was too ambitious,” she said sadly, “and ambition can lead men into deadly traps.”

I agreed with her and in any case I did not want to talk of Guildford. My interest was all for Robert.

“No one could compare with Robert,” she told me. “He excelled at all games; he could ride faster than any. I have never seen anyone manage a horse as he does.”

“Very becoming in the Queen's horsemaster,” I said.

She looked at me wistfully. “I believe Your Majesty has as great a regard for him as I have.”

“Lord Robert is a fine man,” I said, and closed the conversation. I did not want to betray my feelings too strongly. But need I have worried? Didn't everyone know how I felt about Robert?

The whole Court was saying that there would be no need to look very far for the Queen's husband if Lord Robert had not already a wife.

But while he had a wife, marriage was impossible and this all-absorbing game of courtship could go on.

There were times when I wanted to show him how much I understood his frustration. I took a great delight in pleasing him. I wanted him to outshine every other man at Court, which he did naturally, but I wanted him to be the richest and the most powerful… under me, of course. When the lovely old Dairy House at Kew was available, I bestowed it on him; I gave him monastery lands and a much coveted license to export wool. I also invested him with the Order of the Garter.

Cecil asked me if I was not showing too obvious favor to Lord Robert Dudley, and I told him sharply that I would bestow favors where I wished.

He lifted his shoulders in some exasperation and I believed he was assuring himself that once I had been persuaded to take the sensible course and marry, Robert Dudley would fade into the background. As if Robert would ever allow that—or that I would, for that matter.

I was in love, I suppose. I could not stop myself talking about him. I arranged jousts so that he could excel and I would tensely watch his performance, knowing that as many eyes were turned toward me as to the jousters.

I heard it said that the Tudors formed fierce attachments, and thus my father had been when he was enamored of my mother.

Cecil was growing more and more restive. He said there were dangerous rumors abroad concerning my relationship with Lord Robert.

“There will always be rumors about monarchs, Master Cecil,” I said.

“Yes, Madam,” was the reply, “but these would appear to have some foundation in truth.”

“What do you imply?” I demanded. “By Your Grace's conduct and that of Lord Robert it might seem that a stronger relationship exists between you than is fitting for you both.”

“People are jealous of him, Cecil. When a man is gifted and handsome beyond all others, that is often the case.”

“And when the Queen takes no pains to hide her feelings for him, Madam, what can one expect? I would implore Your Majesty to take care.”

“Have no fear, my friend, I shall take care.”

It was from Kat that I heard most of the new rumors. Perhaps others were afraid to tell me, and when Kat began to be worried I, too, felt twinges of uneasiness. Kat was a great lover and purveyor of gossip; yet even she realized that the rumors were going too far.

“My dear lady,” she whispered, “I am afraid. They are saying dreadful things of you and Lord Robert.”

“What?” I demanded.

She turned away and did not want to tell me but I pinched her arm until she squealed with pain. “Tell me,” I insisted.

“I dursn't,” she replied. “Idiot!” I said. “Do you think I can't guess? They are saying he is my lover, are they not?”

She nodded.

“They will always say such things.”

“It is the rumors, my lady, wicked rumors… lies. There was old Anne Dowe of Brentwood. She walks the roads and learns much, she said, and she is believed to be a wise woman.”

“Well let us hear of this wisdom.”

“She has said that you and Lord Robert play legerdemain together.”

I burst out laughing. “And because an old tramp says these things, should I care?”

“You should care, my lady, for what old tramps say one day, merchants will say the next, and such tales spread like wildfire through the land. That is not all. Someone said that my Lord Robert gave you a very fine petticoat and she cried out in the company of several: ‘It is not a petticoat only that my Lord Robert gives the Queen. It is a child.' There were loud protests. ‘But the Queen has no child,' they said. And Mother Dowe answered: ‘If she has no child yet, Lord Robert has put one in the making.'”

I felt the blood rush to my face. Although I was ready to accept Robert's passionate devotion and did not care who knew it existed, the thought of childbearing was repulsive to me. The very idea sickened me and it angered me that this was being said about me.

Kat who perhaps knew me better than any understood this.

She said gently: “You remember, my love, what they said of you and Thomas Seymour.”

“Yes, wild stories of a midwife's being taken to a house in the dead of night… blindfold. What wicked lies people make up about me.”

“You are the Queen, my love. You should remember it. They are now talking of you and Lord Robert as they did of you and Thomas Seymour.”

“And he lost his head,” I mused. “What has happened to this woman Dowe?”

“She was taken into prison by the Sheriff of Donberry.”

“She shall be released,” I said. “I will show the people in what contempt I hold such stories by not treating them seriously.”

Kat nodded.

“And by acting in a way not to give rise to such,” she added. At which I gave her a push which sent her sprawling. She picked herself up, ruefully shrugging her shoulders.

“It is all such nonsense,” I said. “What opportunities would I have? I am watched night and day. Am I not surrounded by councilors … ladies of this and gentlemen of that? I have no chance of being other than I am— a chaste virgin. But, Kat Ashley, if ever I took it into my mind to change that state, I should be the one to decide, and no one in this realm would stop me.”

Kat sank to her knees sobbing.

“Oh, my dear Majesty,” she said, “take care, take care. Remember Thomas Seymour. I nearly died of fright then.”

“Because they took you to the Tower and you betrayed me.”

Her teeth were chattering. “Dearest, take care, take care. Men will be the death of you.”

“No, Kat, I will be the death of them, but I shall be in command. It is different now. Get up, you idiot, and stop sniveling. There is no need to cry for me. Everything is changed. I am the Queen now. It is for me to say what shall be.”

She got to her feet and fell into my arms still weeping. I laughed away her tears, but I did feel a twinge of uneasiness.

WE RODE OUT to the hunt, Robert beside me. I told him how I felt about the rumors.

He looked at me ardently and said: “It will not be much longer.”

“There is too much talk. Robert, we must be more discreet. You must not be with me so much.”

“Do you wish that?”

“No, certainly not.”

“Then surely the Queen's wishes should be obeyed.”

“We must be wise. The people will not like to think that you and I are lovers.”

“Should they not know the truth?”

“I mean lovers in another sense.”

He laughed. “Well, we are in thought if not in deed. Soon, I trust…”

I shook my head and galloped ahead but he was soon beside me.

“Elizabeth,” he said excitedly, “it is only Amy who stands in our way and she is a very sick woman. She has a malignant growth. My dearest lady, be patient… just a little longer.”

“I do not like this talk of death,” I said. “It is not right for a man to talk so of his wife to another woman.”

“It is right to speak the truth. Be patient a little longer.”

“Poor girl,” I said. “Does she hear rumors of her husband's falseness in that house… what is it?”

“Cumnor Place. She has always felt uneasy about our marriage … knowing that she lacks the social gifts to share in such a union.”

“You have a great opinion of yourselves, you Dudleys.”

“Not quite as great as the Tudors.”

“Indeed not, and how could it be so? But I do not wish to hear of your Amy. I grieve for the poor lonely soul whose husband rarely deigns to visit her.”

“I cannot live without the warmth of the sun.”

“I am the sun, am I? Well, Robert. I'm glad you enjoy the warmth in which you bask. But I think you should be a little kinder to your lawful wedded wife. You neglect her most shamefully. If you do not make a good husband to one, could you to another?”

This brought about one of those declarations of undying devotion and praise of my beauty and wit to which I so much liked to listen.

People were noticing us so I rode on and joined other members of the party.

I was in a strange mood that day. I was almost inclined to believe that I could have married Robert. I argued with myself that although the idea of marriage was not completely enticing, there was one man and one only with whom I would embark on it.

It was unfortunate—or so it turned out later—that I was in this mood when the Spanish Ambassador de Quadra approached me.

He was a very solemn gentleman and like all ambassadors more or less a spy for his master. Since the betrothal of Philip of Spain and Elisabeth of France our relations with Spain had been more difficult than ever. While Philip had been hoping for a marriage with me, the Ambassadors had been very affable. Now they were less so, but still urging their candidate—in this case the Archduke Charles.

I was in a frivolous mood and when de Quadra threw out his hints, I couldn't help bringing Robert's name into the conversation for it always amused me to see their panic when they contemplated a union between me and Robert. The fact that he had a wife made them feel safer about it—as it did me, but on this occasion I threw aside caution.

De Quadra remarked that Lord Robert had seemed somewhat unhappy during the hunt.

“He fears to lose Your Majesty's especial favor on the occasion of your marriage.”

“Lord Robert doubtless thinks of his wife. She is dead or nearly so.”

He looked at me in astonishment and immediately I realized I had been indiscreet.

“Pray, my lord,” I said, “say nothing of this.”

He bowed his head, but I knew he would write at once to Philip and tell him what I had said.

Cecil came to me that very day. He wanted to talk about the rumors regarding Robert and me.

“They are dangerous and I have to confess to Your Majesty a certain indiscretion.”

“You indiscreet! I cannot believe that.”

“De Quadra talked slyly, I thought, of Lord Robert's wife.”

“Why should he speak of her?”

“There are rumors that Lord Robert would like to be rid of her in order to marry you.”

“No doubt he would,” I said. “Any ambitious man would look to exchange a country girl for a queen.”

“He said there was a rumor that Lord Robert was planning to kill her himself and that it was being circulated that the lady was suffering from an incurable illness, to which I replied that I thought the lady was well and taking good care not to be poisoned.”

“That does not seem to me to be so very indiscreet.”

“I was sorry immediately I said it, but I had to confess to you. I wish that you would marry. Once you did and produced an heir, we should have an end to these damaging rumors.”

“I will think seriously of the matter,” I promised him, and I assured him that we were all indiscreet at moments and he had been honorable enough to tell me what had taken place. I did not tell him what I had said to the Ambassador.

A few days later the news broke.

On the previous Sunday, a day after I had told the Spanish Ambassador that Lady Dudley was dead or soon would be, she was indeed dead. She had been found at the bottom of a staircase in Cumnor Place with her neck broken.

I WAS NUMBED by the shock as the enormity of what had happened was brought forcibly home to me. The frivolous side of my nature retreated in shame and the sterner side took over. I had played my games too realistically. I was the first to know that in doing so I had placed myself in acute danger. When I thought of how carefully I had lived through those days when I had emerged from the Tower, how I had considered each step before I took it, I could not believe that I could have become so careless and foolish as to be involved in the death in suspicious circumstances of an unwanted wife.

I summoned Robert immediately. I must see him—and then send him away at once. It must not appear that I was in any way implicated. How could I say that? I was implicated. Mother Dowe and thousands of others were whispering scandal about me. What had I said to the Spanish Ambassador only the day before Amy Dudley died? What had Cecil said?

I knew that this scandal would go on reverberating round the world.

Robert must leave Court at once and I should have to put him under restraint. I must dissociate myself with all speed from this matter. It must be shown that however great a favorite a man was, if the charge of murder was brought against him, he must face it.

I arranged with Kat that he should come to me in secret, and when he entered the room he would have taken me into his arms, but I stood back, aloof, now the Queen.

Yet I knew that I loved him as I never had, nor ever would, love another person. Whatever he had done, I must still love him. I would always make excuses for him. Whatever he had done, he had done for my sake.

But more than Robert, I loved my royalty. I had to protect my future and my crown and at the moment my adored and adoring Robert was a threat to it.

“What happened at Cumnor Place?” I asked as coolly as I could.

“She fell from the top of a staircase and broke her neck. It was an accident.”

“At such a time?”

“There is no knowing when accidents will happen.”

“Who will believe it?” I asked.

“It matters not. You are the Queen. You will tell the people what they must believe.”

I shook my head. “That is beyond my power. The people will believe what they think to be the truth, and there have been rumors about us, Robert.”

He was a little impatient, even arrogant. Perhaps he saw himself already as King. Oh no, Robert, I thought. You shall not be King… not even you. This has shown me clearly which way I must go. But I did not say that to him. I wanted to know whether he had indeed murdered his wife.

“Robert,” I said, “did you…?”

“I was nowhere near the place,” he replied.

But a man like Robert would not need to be. Such distasteful tasks were carried out by servants. It was dangerous to employ servants to do such deeds. Servants, in certain circumstances, could be made to talk.

Oh, what a web I was caught up in. I should have known better. Had I not stepped into danger through Thomas Seymour? And now Robert. I should have learned my lesson.

“The people will never accept that she died by accident at such a time.”

“Does that matter?”

Oh Robert, I thought, you have a lot to learn of the people and me.

“I must be beyond reproach in such matters,” I said. “There must be no suspicion attached to me.”

“I will defend you.”

“Your main concern will be to defend yourself,” I said sharply. “You are the one who will stand on trial for this.”

“On trial?”

“Oh, we do not know what the outcome will be, but we must be prepared.”

“You are the Queen.”

“A queen might not survive through such a storm as this could raise.”

“Your father killed two of his wives and was still loved by the people.”

“The circumstances are different. They were accused of treason and the axeman killed them. This is the removal of a woman who, many will say, stood in your way.”

“Never fear. We shall come through this and then… there is no obstacle.”

He would have embraced me but I held him off. He did not see the change in me, but it had come. Never again would I risk my throne for the sake of a man. In future I should think first of the Queen.

“Lord Robert Dudley,” I said, “I am placing you under arrest.”

He stared at me incredulously.

“Yes, Robert,” I said. “There will be many questions to be answered and until they are satisfactorily dealt with, you cannot remain at Court. You must see that. Go to your house at Kew. Stay there. You will be confined to that house on the Queen's orders.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, “I see that, as always, you are right. I will go to Kew. I will stay there and I know that we can arrange this matter satisfactorily and when it is settled…”

No, Robert, I thought, it can never be now, for whatever the verdict you are able to bring about, suspicion will always be there and never must a finger be pointed at the Queen with the suggestion that she had a hand in the murder of her lover's wife.

First it must be seen that he was under house arrest.

So he left with the guards and I knew that in spite of my previous frivolity, I was now acting like a queen.

IN MOMENTS OF DANGER William Cecil showed himself as the cool, wise counselor he was. He was deeply disturbed by the death of Lady Dudley.

He talked to me very gravely and I was glad that he approved of my action in confining Robert to Kew.

He discussed at length the danger in which I had been placed.

“There will have to be an inquiry and the servants at Cumnor Place will all have to give evidence. Whether they will be in favor of Lord Robert who can say? But doubtless Lord Robert will know how to act.”

“Do you mean he will be able to force his servants to say what he expects them to?”

“They are his servants. It is his affair. Your Majesty, your crown could be at stake. A verdict of accidental death must be brought in.”

“Will the people believe it?”

“There will always be some who do not. But that is inevitable. If a jury brings in a verdict of accidental death that will have to be publicly accepted. There are certain to be those who will believe Lord Robert guilty of murder… and Your Majesty with him.”

“That is impossible. I knew nothing of the woman.”

“The people believe that you wish to marry Lord Robert and Lady Amy was in the way.”

“I am innocent,” I said. “I know nothing of her death. Is the end of one countrywoman so very important?”

“Of the utmost importance. The people will accept political killings— even those such as occurred in your sister's reign. There is usually an excuse for them which people understand…or some do. No one will tolerate the murder of a wife by her husband in order that he may marry another woman. We must at all costs stop a charge of murder. Anything is better than that, because if it were proved to be murder, Your Majesty would be implicated. You must face the fact that your hold on the crown is not as firm as we should like it to be. Until now the people have shown their love for you in no small way, but a scandal of such magnitude could alter that. There is Mary Queen of Scots across the water, with the French King—and now possibly with Spanish help—ready to put her on the throne. And even nearer home there is the Lady Katharine Grey whose sister was queen for nine days, and she, too, is the great-granddaughter of your grandfather Henry VII. Your Majesty must walk warily.”

“I know it well, and I know too, good Master Cecil, that I can rely on your wisdom.”

He nodded. “It is well that Lord Robert has been sent away from Court. We must ridicule all suggestions of murder. The verdict shall be accidental death; and Lord Robert must remain at Kew until we have the right verdict. In the meantime I will call on him there, which will show the people that I regard him as my good friend who cannot be anything but innocent, and show that his stay at Kew is by no means an arrest but merely undertaken in view of the delicacy of the situation. It will show that he himself feels it better to remain there until his name is completely cleared of this absurd suspicion.”

“I thank you, Cecil. We shall come through this, and then we shall tread with especial care.”

I LIVED IN a state of nervous tension awaiting the verdict of the coroner's jury. I knew that the country was aghast and that there was strong suspicion of Robert which included me. My enemies, of course, were making the most of the scandal. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, who was now my Ambassador in France, wrote to Cecil to tell him that the Queen of Scots had laughed aloud when she heard the story and said for all to hear: “So the Queen of England is going to marry her horsemaster who has killed his wife to make room for her.”

How dared she! The foolish pampered creature! I disliked her intensely, not only because she claimed my throne and was unquestionably legitimate but because the people at the Court of France were constantly singing of her exceptional beauty and grace, which, I told myself spitefully, was no doubt because now that Henri Deux had died so suddenly, she and her little Franois were Queen and King of France.

Our ambassadors reported from every country that it was the general opinion that Robert had murdered his wife in order to marry me. They sent strong advice that there should be no marriage with Robert.

They need not have worried. I, too, had made up my mind about that.

Robert, determined that at the coroner's court there should be a verdict of accidental death, had taken the precaution of sending a distant kinsman, Thomas Blount, down to Cumnor Place to brief the servants so that they should be aware of what their master expected of them. He knew Thomas Blount would do his utmost for, being a poor relation, he had everything to win through Robert. If Robert were to fail, he would fail with him. Such men make good servants.

Blount evidently did his work well and everyone who had been in the house on that fatal day was primed in what he or she must say. Most of them had been away from the house when the accident happened because the annual fair had come to the neighborhood and they had all wanted to attend it.

Lady Dudley had stayed behind. I thought of her in that house alone. Had she had any premonition? She could not have been ignorant of the rumors. They abounded. How would a lonely woman feel when her husband was paying court to another woman and there had been rumors that he was plotting her death?

Why had she allowed them all to go to the fair, leaving her alone in the house? That seemed to point to suicide. But would a woman who wished to kill herself choose such a method? How could she be certain of death? The same applied to murder—unless of course the victim was killed by some other means and thrown down the staircase to make it appear she had fallen down and, doing so, died.

There must be some explanation. I wished that I knew it. Or did I? Did I really want to know what had happened in that quiet house on that day when almost everybody had gone to the fair and Amy Robsart was alone?

I waited patiently for the jury's verdict. I guessed it would be what we wanted. How could it be otherwise? Accident? Suicide? Either would do, but accident was better. Murder it must never be called.

It was—as I had known it would be—a foregone conclusion. The jury would not want to offend a man as powerful as Robert was—nor did they wish to displease me. So there was only one verdict.

Amy Robsart's maid, Mistress Pinto, who had been with her for many years and who was devoted to her, did hint at her mistress's suffering. The theory of a growth in the breast was brought up. It could have been suicide. Suicide or accident, it did not greatly matter.

So the verdict was accidental death. Cecil was relieved; Robert was overjoyed; but I was sober. I did not think the matter could be so neatly dealt with as that.

ROBERT RETURNED TO COURT. No one dared mention the matter of Lady Dudley's death in his presence or mine, but that did not prevent its being frequently spoken of and I doubt whether many believed the coroner's verdict. Robert was watched even more attentively than before. He had acquired a new reputation—one which set men making sure they did not offend him. Clearly they thought he was a man who had the ability to remove those who stood in his way. I tried to behave as though nothing had happened. I wanted to give the impression that Robert was just a good subject who had rather special gifts and that was why I favored him.

He was constantly at my side and I talked to him of matters of State. He had a good grasp of these and he always looked at them with an eye to the advantage of the crown. During that time Robert was so certain that he would soon be sharing it that he could not stop himself behaving like a king.

I was tender toward him. I was sorry for all the suspicion which had been directed at him. If he were indeed innocent that would be galling for there is nothing so maddening as to be accused of something one has not done. And if he had murdered his wife… well then, he had done that for me. And I had led him on, tempting him perhaps too far.

I could not help my feelings, but I was more alive when I was in his company than that of anyone else. If he were absent, then I found the company dull. I liked his dark looks, his magnificent vital presence; I liked his arrogance; I liked his persistence and his ability to withdraw himself with an air of unconcern from an intolerable situation such as the one which had recently threatened to destroy him.

I was no less in love with Robert Dudley after his wife's death than I had been before.

Constantly he urged marriage.

“How could we,” I demanded, “while there are rumors in the air?”

“If you do not marry me people will say it is because you do not believe in my innocence.”

“But if I do, might they not believe in my guilt?” I went on: “Robin, this matter has caused grievous harm to us both.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, for there were times when he seemed to forget that I was the Queen, and I did not always reprove him. In fact I liked his insolence. It was all part of that overwhelming masculinity which so appealed to the feminine side of my nature. “It has done us great good. It has cleared the way for us.”

At such times I thought: Yes, he is guilty. He arranged for that poor woman to fall down the staircase.

I could easily believe that, and yet it made no difference.

Cecil continued to be concerned about my unmarried state.

Time was passing, he said. I must produce an heir. Was I going to put off marriage until it was too late for me to bear children?

“I have many years before me yet, I would remind you,” I retorted.

“Madam,” he replied, “the people look for it.”

I prevaricated and Cecil was too shrewd not to know what I was doing.

“I would agree to marriage with Robert Dudley, Madam,” he said, “for I truly believe that in your fondness for him you would quickly conceive.”

I was amazed.

“The scandal concerning his late wife is too recent,” I said.

“I know. I know. Perhaps a secret marriage. Once the heir was born, the people would be ready to love you again.”

“They will love me,” I said firmly. “Give me time.”

“Marriage is the answer and if it must be Robert Dudley, then so be it.”

Perhaps he had thought such a suggestion would make me wild with joy. It did not.

I said: “Not yet. Not yet. I will decide in my own time.”

I think I had already decided. Much as I loved Robert I knew his nature. He yearned to be King and once I married him he would be. He was too sure of himself. One would think he was there already. No! I wanted no man to stand beside me. I would be sovereign, and I alone.

Moreover, I had to win back the people's trust, and I would never do that if I married Robert Dudley.

When I came to think of it, the death of Robert's wife was the greatest lesson I was ever likely to learn and if I did not take advantage of that, I deserved to lose my crown.