Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her (15 page)

might be worth turning Moslem for that!

Well, there it was, the one lost to him now, the other still to be

had—and he
would
have her, by God, he’d have her if he had to take the

Council apart man by man to do it. He loved Elizabeth and had done

so for an uncomfortably long time, but there was a double edge to his

determination now. For if the little King should die—and he was a sickly

child—that would leave him married to the heir to the throne. If he had

his way, with all those men at his back, she would be Queen of England

and then—he would be King, and there would be nothing left for Ned

to protect.

So whatever happened now, he couldn’t lose. First secure the King’s

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person and make his demands from a position of real strength. He was

almost ready now to strike—almost ready—just a few more weeks would

see him in a position to force the Council’s hand—rabbits, the lot of

them. They would give their consent to his marriage and abandon Ned—

and if they didn’t, he would take the King and hold him to ransom. The

lad wouldn’t mind—it would be a fine adventure for the poor brat. A

nice lad—it could be a very satisfying partnership for them both. King

or Protector—he’d settle for what came easiest—no point in provoking

war. But if the boy died, he’d make damn sure Elizabeth was ready to

step into his place.

So the wild plans rioted in his mind and he ignored those tentative

warnings to put them aside. Again he approached Parry on the subject of

Elizabeth’s lands. They were inconveniently placed and he would prefer

them in the West Country, adjoining his own.

“Get her to make suit to the Duchess and have them changed,” he

told Parry, but when that blustering gentleman returned to London, he

dodged the issue until Tom lost his temper.

“Did you tell her what I want her to do?”

Parry looked uncomfortable and twisted his cap in his hands. “That

I did, my lord—and begging your pardon, sir—but she flatly refused to

do it.”

“I see.” The Admiral turned away curtly and poured himself some

wine. Why was she making difficulties? Was it true—was it really

possible—that she didn’t want him after all?

From that moment he became anxious and ill at ease; he had lost a

measure of self-confidence and, as a result, began to intrigue more clum-

sily than before, taking less care to cover his tracks. Things were getting

tense in London. Mrs. Ashley was brought up from Hatfield and rebuked

by the Duchess for lax conduct in her post; Parry was increasingly vague

about his mistress’s intentions.

“You God-damned hedger—are you keeping something back from

me? Don’t you know your own mistress?”

“No, sir, that I don’t.” Parry fingered his thick neck, which was tender

from the Admiral’s angry grip. “No one does. She’s so close, I’d swear she

doesn’t even know herself.”

“I don’t believe you’ve even tried to pin her down—she’s only a

girl—what are you afraid of, man?”

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“You don’t know her, sir, that’s obvious, if you can ask me that. And

you’re wrong, my lord—I asked her outright what she would do if the

Council gave consent to your marriage with her.”

“Well—what was her answer?” He saw Parry’s face and was suddenly

filled with fear.

“Did she refuse—did she?”

Parry looked at the floor.

“She said she would do what God puts into her mind.” He stole a

glance at the Admiral, fearing to see anger. “I don’t know what to make

of it, sir. What do you think it means?”

Tom strode to the window and thumped his hand on the thick glass

pane. After a while he said darkly, “I’m damned if I know.”

t t t

At Hatfield, the Christmas celebrations had ended with a wine-sodden

night in the Great Hall and Mrs. Ashley, having seen her young lady

to bed, returned on unsteady feet to find Mr. Parry sitting alone by the

hearth in a reasonably amicable stupor.

“Time for a night-cap,” he said and poured her a large tankard of

mulled wine.

Mrs. Ashley sank into the chair opposite and accepted the tankard with

an amenable grunt.

“Here’s to the New Year, Mr. Parry—let’s pray it brings about what

we all desire between my little lady and my lord.”

“Amen to that,” said Mr. Parry with feeling. This continual jogging

to and from London to meet the Admiral was no joke in winter weather.

Mrs. Ashley kicked off her tight shoes with a resentful movement.

“Always supposing I’m still here to see it, of course,” she said darkly.

He watched her carefully over the edge of his tankard. She had

returned from London extremely ruffled and he often wondered exactly

what the Duchess of Somerset had said to put her in such a temper.

“The Duchess, eh?” he prompted.

“Yes—Somerset’s cow!” Mrs. Ashley emptied her tankard and set it

down. “The things she said to me that afternoon—you wouldn’t believe

it, Mr. Parry. Only told me I wasn’t fit to have the governance of a

king’s daughter.”

“She never did!”

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“Oh, yes—and gave me to understand there’d be another in my place

before long. You should have seen Her Grace’s face when I told her—

well, you know how loyal she is to me—it took me a while to calm her

down, I can tell you.”

Parry nodded. “Stands to reason, she’s fond of you. You’ve been a

mother to her all these years.”

“That I have and I’m proud of it. Not that it’s been easy, mind. Such a

time she’s given me this last year, one way and another. I can tell you, Mr.

Parry, devotion like mine takes its toll on a woman. I’ve not had a quiet

night’s sleep since this whole sorry business with the Lord Admiral began.”

Parry nodded with understanding and the candlelight shone on the

chain of office as it hung suspended over his ample chest.

“Ah yes,” he murmured knowingly, “the Lord Admiral, eh? I must say

I’ve often noticed the goodwill between the two of them.”

Mrs. Ashley kicked him gently. “I’d put it a bit stronger than goodwill!

Oh, yes—I know the situation well enough and I’d wish her his wife

of all men living. And I dare say he’ll bring it to pass with the Council

soon enough, he’s the sort of man who always gets what he wants in the

end. Not that it’s best spoken of too freely, you understand—not with

the Duchess watching like a hawk. Indeed, she gave me such a charge

on the subject that even now I hardly dare speak of it. But of course I

know you can be trusted, Mr. Parry—just fill that tankard again, if you

wouldn’t mind.”

Parry leaned forward obligingly. This promised to be interesting.

“I must say,” he murmured with a discreet cough, “there’s a good deal

of bad rumour going about concerning the Admiral.”

“Pooh—there’ll always be rumour about a man like him and rumour’s

never anything but bad.”

“Well—it’s said he used the late Queen Katherine very badly. There’s

even talk of poison.”

Kat choked on her wine and the steward thumped her heartily on

the back.

“Talk!” she managed to exclaim at last. “That’s pure malicious gossip

spread by his enemies. And we know who
they
are. Mind you, he made

too much of Her Grace, there’s no denying that. Ah, Mr. Parry—“she

leaned back comfortably in her chair, wriggled her toes in the firelight

and gave him a knowledgeable wink—“the things I could tell you.”

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Legacy

The logs shifted in the hearth and the candles burnt low as that soft

reminiscing voice rambled on without a pause until what Mr. Parry did

not know about the banishment from Chelsea was not worth knowing.

“Well!” he breathed at last, fixing her with a sanctimonious stare.

“Who’d have thought there could be such familiarity between them!”

Something in his shocked voice filled Kat with the first glimmer

of unease. She glanced round at the empty hall and leaned towards

him urgently.

“Of course, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that all I’ve said

is in the strictest confidence. If it were known, Her Grace would be

dishonoured forever.”

Mr. Parry looked positively hurt.

“You can be sure of me, Mrs. Ashley.” He leaned forward and patted

her arm, gently confidential. “I’d rather be pulled with wild horses than

so much as breathe a word. You have the word of a gentleman on that.”

And at the time he really meant it.

t t t

The Lord Protector told his brother, the Lord Admiral, that if he so

much as went near the Princess Elizabeth again he would have to have

him clapped in the Tower. When the rumours of the Admiral’s “disloyal

practices” and the nagging of his own sharp-tongued wife became more

than he could bear, the Lord Protector summoned the Lord Admiral to

give an account of his activities in private. The Lord Admiral regretted

the time was not convenient; and the Lord Protector clenched his fist,

and laid the matter at last before the Council who after “divers confer-

ences had at sundry times” decided to “commit the said Admiral to prison

in the Tower of London.”

By now Tom realised the plan had miscarried, and staking everything

on one last desperate gamble, he went at dead of night to take the King.

Using a master key, which he had had cut for just such an emergency

as this, he opened the bedroom door to be greeted by the maddened

yapping of Edward’s little spaniel. In panic he fired at the dog and the

single gunshot roused the whole palace, leaving him with perhaps two

full minutes to make his escape. But he did not even attempt to
make

it. He was still standing there, watching the little King weep over the

bleeding bundle of fur at his feet, when the guards burst into the room.

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He threatened to dagger the first man who dared to lay hands on him, but

agreed to go peaceably to his own apartments.

It was daybreak when they came to arrest him. He was pale and

strained, but he went quietly enough, even humorously, observing over

his shoulder that “No poor knave was ever true to his prince.”

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Chapter 6

A
cross the wide sweep of hatfield park an arrow sang

through the cold January air and struck the target, narrowly

missing the bull’s eye.

“Well aimed, madam,” said a softly approving voice at her side, “but

if I might suggest the slightest alteration of Your Grace’s stance—may I

make so bold?”

He moved behind her, drawing back her long fingers to the heavy bow

so that his arms for a brief moment almost embraced her. She glanced up

at him quickly over her shoulder and the pale sunlight glinted on the

brilliant hair caught inside a silver snood.

“Try that now, madam.”

The arrow flew wide, missing the target completely this time and she

turned to him with a helpless smile which made him feel distinctly heated.

“I think,” she said innocently, “you will have to show me again.”

There was very little that Roger Ascham, that young and highly able

Cambridge scholar, had ever found it necessary to show his pupil more

than once. He had held his new position as tutor for several months now,

chosen, at her very particular insistence, in spite of the objections of her

former guardians, the Dowager Queen and the Lord Admiral. That fact

alone had flattered him even before he took up the post and since then

he had found every hour in her presence a fresh stimulus and challenge

to his elastic brain. He felt as though in all his life he had never truly

lived before this moment, that he would never want, never hope, for

anything more but to school the remarkable, retentive mind which was

Susan Kay

now in his sole charge, a mind which he knew would one day far outstrip

his own and conceivably every other mind around it. It was a curious,

vital, throbbing entity, the brain of a brilliant boy (he could never quite

accept it as a girl’s) trapped inside an entirely feminine shell. Body and

brain were an astonishing combination which alternately delighted and

disconcerted him. He was on fire with the desire to make her the most

accomplished royal lady in Europe, but sometimes he suspected the heat

originated from an entirely different source. Increasingly, beneath the

pleasure he found in her company, he was aware of an undercurrent of

shamed confusion. He was glad when the lesson was over and they began

to argue over the merits of mathematics. The subject vexed rather than

titillated his senses and he welcomed it, for really, he was beginning to

doubt the ethics of his position here. She encouraged him quite shame-

lessly to make a fool of himself. It would be easy to take advantage of her

youth and inexperience, but he was in a unique position of trust and the

last thing she could afford now was another scandal. Once or twice he

had considered resignation and put the thought from him hastily. Things