Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her (24 page)

Robin would have signed it, in terror that she might prove obtuse.

No, it was Cecil. She knew it as surely as if she had seen him write it.

She also knew that if she failed to use this warning to advantage she would

hear no more from him. If the Duke won, Cecil would be at his side to

serve him. She attached no censure to the knowledge, for he had a family;

and a man had to live—

Avoid the court
!
That suggested she would shortly be summoned to her

brother’s deathbed. But when the Duke’s messenger arrived he would

find her in bed, too ill to move from the house, certainly too ill to declare

her partisanship for either side. Do nothing, say nothing, for as long as

possible, and pray that Northumberland would be unable to spare suffi-

cient men from his desperate venture to take her by force of arms.

A sudden flash of lightning threw the shadowy furniture into sharp

relief against the dark walls. She held the slip of paper to a candle, let it

shrivel to her fingers, and then dropped the smouldering remnant into

the empty hearth. Across the empty miles of rain-lashed countryside her

gratitude stretched out towards a silent, clerkly man whose true stature

was a closed book waiting for her opening hand.

“My Spirit,” she said softly to the wild night beyond her window.

And on the streaming latticed pane she traced an inverted cross.

t t t

In the dark hollow of the courtyard an armed body of men mounted on

restless horses waited the appearance of the young man who was to lead

133

Susan Kay

them on their mission. They knew precisely why they were gathered

here and one or two muttered among themselves that it began to look as

though the great Duke of Northumberland might have bitten off more

than he could chew this time.

“Bit of a bad job when it’s left to a young fellow-me-lad to salvage the

game,” someone muttered, and a little furtive, nervous laughter travelled

along the ranks.

In the torchlit corridor beyond the courtyard, Robin Dudley paused

with his feathered hat in his hand and glanced uneasily at his father. All

the Duke’s composure did not disguise the anxiety at the back of his

dark eyes, for by now they were certain there was a traitor in their camp

and that their intended coup had been betrayed to their two enemies.

The Princess Mary and the Princess Elizabeth had both received urgent

messages summoning them to their brother’s deathbed. Mary had set out

for London immediately, having apparently swallowed the bait as everyone

had anticipated. They had traced her progress as far as Hoddesdon, but

there all information of her activity abruptly ceased. And while Mary had

failed to arrive, the Lady Elizabeth, conveniently struck with another of

her mortal illnesses, had not even set out.

Evidently someone had talked and Robin strongly suspected that

ingratiating lawyer, William Cecil. But there was no time to waste now

in idle accusations. The entire design depended on Robin’s ability to

ride out and capture the Princess Mary before she got the chance to do

any serious harm to their cause. And when he returned her to London,

he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he would be returning her to

her death. That much did not trouble him. It was inevitable and he had

neither attachment nor loyalty to that dull old maid. But something else

had been weighing heavily on his mind in the tense atmosphere for the

past week or more. He had not dared to mention it to his father, whose

brooding temper had become increasingly uncertain these last few days;

but now he knew he could remain silent no longer. He had to know.

Twisting his hat in his hand, he averted his eyes from his father’s fine-

drawn face and stared out into the noisy courtyard.

“Father—” He hesitated a moment and took a quick breath. “What

will become of the Lady Elizabeth?”

Northumberland’s restless eyes narrowed on the younger man’s with

an inscrutable lack of expression; knowing his son as he did, he was not

134

Legacy

unprepared for this awkward question. He was also acutely aware that he

could not afford any more wavering loyalties at this critical stage in their

venture. It was largely for that very reason that he was packing the young

man off on this desperate gamble when he would have much preferred to

send one of his older and more experienced sons. It would be a great deal

safer to get Robin actively involved as far away from Hatfield as possible; by

the time he returned, Elizabeth would no longer be complicating the issue.

He said in his calm, precise courtier’s voice, “I will settle with the

Lady Elizabeth.”

“But you wouldn’t—” Robin’s voice faded out and the Duke shook

his head quickly.

“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that. I have a certain proposition

to make which I’m quite sure the young lady will accept. But let’s not

take chivalry too far, Robin. I want the other one and I want her damned

quick—you understand that, don’t you?”

“You’ll have her, sir. I swear it.”

Robin saluted his father, marched down the steps two at a time,

vaulted effortlessly into the saddle of his favourite mare and galloped out

of the courtyard at the head of the troop.

The Duke watched him go with a frown. The moment he had Jane

safe on the throne, he would invite the Lady Elizabeth to attend the

Coronation festivities, where, at some convenient point in the entertain-

ment, she would be taken violently ill. A fatal recurrence of that earlier

malady, which only a few weeks earlier had prevented her travelling

to her brother’s deathbed. Very sad, but hardly surprising with such

precarious health!

As for Robin—well—he was young and he had a wife; he would get

over it eventually.

But in the meantime, as a representative of the family’s grief, he would

make an extraordinarily convincing chief mourner at the funeral.

t t t

Mrs. Ashley stirred three heaped tablespoons of salt into a small goblet

of water, hid the container beneath the curtained bed, and looked at her

mistress doubtfully.

“Is it really necessary to go this far, madam?”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth curtly. She took the goblet and frowned.

135

Susan Kay

“Are the Duke’s emissaries in the anteroom?”

Ashley nodded.

“Give me time to stuff this goblet under my pillow and show them

in immediately.”

The salt water was spectacularly effective. The Duke’s messengers,

openly suspicious in the anteroom, hovered in the doorway, horrified,

embarrassed and suddenly uncertain, bumping into each other in their

haste to back themselves out again.

They were readmitted a few minutes later and Elizabeth watched

them arrange themselves around her bed like a flock of nervous vultures.

She coughed and was amused to see two of them start and step back

warily. How oddly squeamish in men who would cheerfully stand around

a scaffold to see her head fall.

“Your business, gentlemen,” she said at last in an extinct whisper and

lay back on her pillows.

Their business, suitably bolstered by a welter of legal jargon, was to

inform her that on the tenth day of July, in accordance with the will and

testament of the late, lamented King Edward, the Lady Jane Grey had

been proclaimed Queen of England.

They waited for her to speak. And waited. The moment lengthened

intolerably, forcing their spokesman to abandon ceremony and explain

the Duke’s proposition in blunt layman’s terms.

“…and that, madam, is the proposition as it stands. The Duke—” He

amended himself hastily, “
The Privy Council
, is prepared to be magnani-

mous to the—the natural daughter of the great King Henry. Withdraw

all claim to the throne, madam, acknowledge the lawful succession of

Queen Jane, and you will be handsomely provided for.”

With a coffin, thought Elizabeth and closed her eyes against their steely

gaze. So that was the bait! Make it easy for us, you wil not find us ungrateful.

Dudley was sharp, she gave him that. To buy her acquiescence, keep

her at court just long enough to parade her approval of his coup, and then

quietly remove her from the scene—it was a master stroke; one could

only admire the man’s nerve! And he had placed her on a razor’s edge

of insecurity. One wrong word now to his minions and she would be

arrested and hauled off to the Tower anyway. But cornered like this by

the Duke’s henchmen, how could she neither accept nor reject this offer?

She opened her eyes; she said coolly, “My sister is the only one

136

Legacy

concerned with the Duke’s proposal. As long as she lives I have no claim

whatsoever to assign.”

They stared at her amazed. The quick, clever twist of logic had thrown

them momentarily off guard and she gave them no chance to recover

their wits.

“Ashley, show the gentlemen out.”

Swept out of the room by the belligerent governess, they rode back

to the Duke, who swore. Damn the bitch, damn her to the deepest pit

in hell, and damn these spineless fools who had allowed her to slip out

of his net. Must he see to everything in person, was there no one on the

Council with an ounce of courage or common sense? But rage was useless,

self-defeating; he had no more time to waste on her at present, more

urgent matters pressed. No news of Robin for days, and Mary still at large,

safely installed at Framlingham Castle, rallying large numbers to her cause.

Of course he should have sent Jack, older, more experienced; and had it

not been for Elizabeth he would have done so. Elizabeth, Elizabeth—that

crooked little white-faced whore had put a spoke in all his wheels; nothing

for it now but to take the field against Mary Tudor himself.

On the 14th of July, Northumberland rode out from the Tower with

a vast escort of horse and artillery to settle with this stupid, middle-aged

woman for good. What did she know of men and battle tactics, what did

she know about anything for that matter, this semi-cloistered near-nun?

He’d smash her forces without mercy and when they trotted her into his

camp he’d make her sorry for this undignified scramble to arms. All the

way through Shoreditch he sat his horse in grim silence and thought of

ways to teach a sheltered old maid the folly of playing fast and loose with

soldiers. The crowd along his way stood mute and at last their ominous

silence penetrated the armour of his rage.

He turned in his saddle and looked back in surprise towards the city.

“The people press to see us,” he remarked bitterly, “but I see not one

of them cries ‘God speed.’”

t t t

Northumberland’s desperate coup took exactly nine days to crumble into

ignominious defeat, foundering on the treachery of the Council and that

most unpredictable of all factors, the mood of the people. Behind his

back, unwilling and cowardly associates began to waver and when they

137

Susan Kay

heard that the crews of the royal ships at Yarmouth had gone over to

Mary’s side to a man, it was inevitable that they too would do the same.

On the 18th of July Mary Tudor was proclaimed the rightful Queen of

England and the city of London erupted into a sea of waving caps and

blazing bonfires, as the people came out to dance in the streets, singing

and cheering while the bells rang furiously.

There was no accounting for the people, that moody, headstrong,

fickle race. It was against all rational supposition that Protestant England

should now rise in support of a Catholic Queen, but it happened, and no

one was more astonished than Mary Tudor to find herself at the heart of

a resounding victory over the most powerful man in the land.

The news of Mary’s unlooked-for triumph was swiftly carried to

Hatfield, stunning the entire household, but not its mistress.

“Nothing surprises
you
, does it?” said the governess tartly, sweeping an

assorted jumble of books and sweets off the bed. “I suppose you’re about

to say you expected this all along?”

“Had I expected it,” said Elizabeth with an infuriating smile, “you and

I, my dear Kat, would now be sunning ourselves at Framlingham in the

royal favour. But nothing about Mary would ever surprise me—she’s a

tangled mass of contradictions.”

“It must be in the family,” sniffed Kat and ducked the pillow which

immediately flew at her head. After a moment, Elizabeth followed

the pillow, running barefoot across the room like some wild creature

suddenly let out of a cage.

“If you get up now,” said Kat severely, “everyone will say your illness

was feigned.”

Elizabeth mocked a deep curtsey.

“It was a highly contagious affliction, Your Majesty. I understand

there’s been a lot of it about.”

Kat stared down at her in alarm. In her present mood she looked quite