The other queen

1569, SEPTEMBER, WINGFIELD MANOR: BESS

Ihave a letter from my son Henry, an astute observer who reports to me. The court is on summer progress, which seems to have become a nightmare journey of suspicion and entrapment. The summers used to be the high point of the court year when we were all young and happy and in love and went hunting every day and dancing every night. Our fears have spoiled everything: we have destroyed our own joys ourselves, our enemies need do nothing. Nobody from beyond our borders needs to threaten us with destruction, we are already terrified of our own shadows.

Titchfield Palace

Hampshire

Dear Mama,

The queen has long guessed of an agreement between Norfolk and the Queen of Scots and my lord Robert has just confessed it for them.

The duke, Thomas Howard, has denied his bride-to-be and the betrothal to the queen and now he has fled from the queen’s presence, without permission, and everything is in uproar. They all say that he has gone to raise an army to rescue the other queen from your keeping. Lord Robert says that an army raised by him and led by her would be unbeatable as no one would take arms against Queen Mary. He says that against Norfolk and the Papists of England Elizabeth could not prevail and we will be ruined.

Lord Robert bids me tell you to ask the Scots queen to write to her cousin, confess the betrothal, and ask for forgiveness. He says she must also write to the duke and order him back to court to face the queen. Her Majesty is furious—as we all knew she would be—but without Norfolk here there is no one to explain that this marriage is a good solution. He says that Norfolk must put a brave face on it to our queen, survive her anger, marry the Queen of Scots, and take her home to Scotland.

Mama, I have to say that everyone here is very afraid that this is the start of a general uprising in support of your guest. I pray you to have a care of your own safety. It sounds very likely that an army could come against you to rescue her. Gilbert and I request that we may come home to you and my lord Papa, and help in the defense.

I remain your obedient son,

Henry

In a hastily scrawled postscript Robert Dudley has added:

The queen is beside herself at what looks like a conspiracy of her own two cousins against her. Bess, you must persuade your queen to reassure Elizabeth before she is seriously distressed and we are all suspected of treason.

Yours aye

Dudley

And burn this, Bess. There are spies everywhere. Sometimes I am even fearful for my own safety.

I go to the queen’s apartments on the west side of the palace and find her listening to music. She has hired a new lute player who has recently joined the household at extra cost to me, and he is playing and singing for her. The music is very fine, which should give me some comfort for the bed, board, and wages that I have to provide for him, his two servants and two horses.

When she sees my face she nods to him to be silent.

“Lady Shrewsbury?”

“Bad news from court,” I say baldly. And there! I see it! A flash across her face, instantly hidden, like a flare of torchlight in a shadowy room. She expects something; she is waiting for something to happen. There is a conspiracy indeed, and Dudley is wrong to think her innocent, and Cecil is right to alert the queen. Dear God, what if she is plotting war against us?

The smile she turns on me is utterly serene. “Indeed, I am sorry to hear it. Tell me, is Her Grace the queen well?”

“She has learned of your proposed betrothal to the Duke of Norfolk,” I say flatly. “And she is much distressed that he should have engaged himself without consulting her.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Has he not done so yet?” she wonders.

“No,” I say shortly. “And when she asked him for an explanation, he left court without permission.”

She turns her eyes down as if in regret and then looks up again. “He has gone away? Far?”

I nip my lip in irritation at this mummery, which may amuse her but does not entertain me. “Robert Dudley suggests that you write to the queen and explain the betrothal, and that you write to the duke and persuade him to go back to court and reassure his queen and kinswoman.”

She lifts her face and smiles at me. “I will certainly take Robert Dudley’s advice,” she says sweetly. “But my lord duke, Thomas Howard, will do as he thinks best. I cannot command him. I am his betrothed, his wife-to-be, not his master. I am not a wife who believes in ruling the roost. His own queen must command him; I cannot. Does she not order him back to court?”

“She orders him but he doesn’t go,” I say curtly. “And his staying away from court looks like a confession of guilt. Next thing they will be saying that he has run off to raise an army.”

Again, I see it, though her eyelashes flicker down to hide that flash of hope. So that is what she wants. She wants war, in the very heart of our court, in the very heart of our country. Dudley is mistaken, and Cecil is very right to fear her. Dear God, I am housing and humoring an enemy who will destroy us all. She hopes that Norfolk will lead an uprising. God damn her, she would see the peace of England broken to get her a husband and a throne.

“Don’t even think it,” I warn her flatly. “Thomas Howard would never raise an army against Elizabeth. Whatever he has written to you, whatever anyone has said to you, whatever you dream: don’t think it. He would never lead out an army against the queen, and no one would follow him against her.”

I speak very stoutly but I think she can hear the fear in my voice. The truth is that all of Norfolk and most of the east of England would turn out for the duke, whatever his cause, and all the north is solidly Papist and devoted to the Papist queen. But her beauty is impenetrable. I cannot tell what she is thinking as she smiles at me. “God forbid,” she murmurs devoutly.

“And Your Grace,” I say more gently, as if she were my daughter, without good advice, and misunderstanding the powers that are ranged against her. “You have to rely on the queen to restore you. If all goes well, the queen will overcome the Scots’ objections and return you to your throne. The agreement is all but made. You can marry the duke then. Why not reassure the queen of your loyalty now, and wait for her to send you back to Scotland? You are close to your restoration. Don’t put yourself at risk.”

She widens her eyes. “Do you really think she will send me back in safety?”

“I am sure of it,” I lie. Then I check myself. There is something about her dark, trusting gaze that makes me hesitate to lie. “I think so, and in any case, the nobles will demand it.”

“Even if I marry her cousin and make him king?”

“I believe so.”

“I can trust her?”

Of course not. “You can.”

“Despite my half brother’s treachery?”

I did not know she was getting news from Scotland, but I am not surprised.

“If the queen supports you, he cannot stand against you,” I say. “So you should write to her and promise your loyal friendship.”

“And does Secretary Cecil now want me returned to my throne in Scotland?” she pursues sweetly.

I feel awkward, and I know I look awkward. “The queen will decide,” I say weakly.

“I hope so,” she says. “For my sake, for all our sakes. Because, Bess, don’t you think, like your friend Robert Dudley, that she should have provided me with an army and sent me back to Scotland as soon as I arrived? Don’t you think she should have honored her promise to me at once? Don’t you think she should have defended a fellow monarch at once? A fellow queen?”

In my discomfort, I say nothing. I am torn. She has a right to be returned to Scotland. God knows she has a right to be named as heir to the throne of England. She is a young woman with few friends and I cannot help but feel for her. But she is planning something, I know it. She has Norfolk dancing to her tune and what dance has she taught him? She has Robert Dudley in her set and most of the queen’s court are tapping their feet to her song. How many dancers are learning her steps? What is the next movement she has choreographed for us all? Good God, she has me so frightened for myself and for my goods. God alone knows what men see in her.