Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her (53 page)

yet again, because he had no alternative. To see England fall to France

was just too high a price to pay for the removal of his eternal embarrass-

ment—the woman who had publicly rejected him.

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t t t

During the inquiry, Robin sweated a Kew in a fever of anxiety. He had

sent his servant, Thomas Blount, to Cumnor Palace with strict instruc-

tions to get to the bottom of the matter without “respect to any living

person.” It was the nearest he dared get to any open accusation.

Reports from Cumnor were complicated by descriptions of Amy’s

curious behaviour on the day of her death. She had sent her whole house-

hold to the fair—to their considerable annoyance for it was a Sunday and

only the lowest of the low attended the fair on the Sabbath—and had

grown quite hysterical when one of her companions had refused to comply

with her request. There had been something close to a quarrel and the

offended woman had stalked off to her own apartments. Robin puzzled

over that for many hours. Amy was terrified of solitude—why should she

suddenly wish to be left entirely alone? Had she been led to expect a secret

visit from a very influential man, a man offering to do all in his power to

keep her husband and the Queen apart? Was it a condition of that visit that

it must not be witnessed by gossiping servants, that the Queen must never

hear of it? What had happened during those last, lost hours of Amy’s life?

He would never know for sure. Amy’s maid, Pinto, described her as

being in “strange mind” and praying daily for deliverance from despair.

The implication of suicide was a straw that Robin clutched hopefully,

for Blount could find no evidence of foul play, though he sifted the

household from top to bottom. Cecil’s arrangements had been made with

his usual masterly care, a clockwork precision which left no trail.

Housed in luxury, surrounded by servants, Robin lived out his lonely

nightmare as the Queen’s prisoner, cut off from the world and all he held

dear. Every day he rose with new hope, expecting some message from

Elizabeth; and every night he went to bed, disappointed and despairing.

After all there had been between them, how could she abandon him like

this? Was it possible she did not care—had never cared? Did he mean

nothing to her? Hour after hour he combed his memory, seeking crumbs

of her affection, balancing the gifts with which he had been showered

since her accession—this Dairy House at Kew was one—against the

memory of her face that day at Windsor. She had looked and spoken as

though she hated him and whatever the verdict of the inquest, he feared

he had lost her. He tried to visualise a life without her; and ended most

nights by drinking himself into a stupor of forgetfulness.

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The great and the influential stayed clear of Kew as though it were

infested by plague, for disgrace is a highly infectious disease. He expected

no one and the day his nervous valet bobbed into his room to announce,

“Sir William Cecil, my lord,” he stood and stared at the door as though

he had been pole-axed.

It was Cecil at his most benign—mild mannered, courteous and

understanding, very apologetic for any inconvenience his unexpected visit

might have caused. And it was Cecil also at his most ostentatious, for this

was not a visit he intended to go unnoticed. The scandal was sufficient

now to finish Dudley’s hopes for good and Cecil felt he could safely afford

to give the lie to his own conversation with the Spanish Ambassador. He

could afford to show the world his belief in the young man’s innocence

and intimate at the same time that the way back to court could only be

opened up by his own unassailable influence with the Queen.

Cecil’s visit spelled out Robin’s position in no uncertain terms and

the unmistakable air of patronage was difficult for the angry young man

to bear. He wanted to take Cecil by the throat and shake him like the rat

he believed him to be, but Robin was no fool. He knew when he was

beaten, and when it paid to be humble.

He went to meet the grey-clad figure with guarded civility and

extended his hand coldly.

“I shall never forget your kindness in coming to see me, Sir William—

it’s all been like a bad dream.”

Cecil’s thin fingers, discoloured with years of paperwork, administered

a sympathetic squeeze to his companion’s arm.

“At such a time, Lord Robert, a man is fortunate when his friends

will stand up and be counted. The whole court is with you in your tragic

bereavement and we are in mourning at Her Majesty’s personal request.”

At the mention of the Queen, a desperate light shone in Robin’s eyes.

“I had hoped to have some message from her by now, but there’s been

nothing. Not a word, not a gesture, just a silence that—that I find very

hard to bear. She’s not ill, I hope.”

Cecil looked at him gravely.

“The Queen is not as well as I could wish to see her, my lord. This

sorry business has exposed her to considerable stress.”

Robin stiffened. “If she’s ill, then for Christ’s sake let me go to her.”

“I regret, my lord, that under the circumstances, that would be most

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inadvisable. I myself have often chosen to bear my personal anxieties

with patient silence sooner than overtax Her Majesty’s uncertain health.

I know you will be happy to do the same.”

Robin stared at him aghast.

“You have advised her not to receive me?”

“For the time being.” Cecil smiled slowly. “A little forbearance, if I

might counsel it, would be in order now, my lord. I shall of course be

very happy to speak on your behalf to Her Majesty—if I judge her to be

well enough to hear what I have to say.”

Robin met the Secretary’s steady gaze and knew very well what he

intended to convey:
You are in no position now to make demands
!

He took a deep breath and managed to say with impeccable restraint,

“I repeat, Sir William, I shall never be able to thank you enough for the

service you have done me.”

An hour later the distinguished visitor took his leave and Robin

watched the neat little figure ride slowly out of the courtyard on an

elderly nag with loathing in his heart. The audacity and cunning of the

man took his breath away, for he knew no shadow of suspicion would

ever touch that ruthless little worm, so quiet, so eminently
respectable
!

Robin turned from the window at last and took stock of his position.

It was patently obvious he could no longer afford the luxury of Cecil’s

enmity. If there was still any remote possibility of uniting himself with

the Queen it could now only be done through Cecil’s good offices—and

he would have to grovel for that friendship. Cecil’s cool gaze had made

that very clear.

A certain grim philosophy came to Robin as he reached for pen and

ink; if he had to grovel he might as well begin now.

“Sir, I thank you for your being here and the great friendship you have shown

towards me I shall not forget…I pray you let me hear from you what you think it

best for me to do…

Cecil, receiving that humble letter, folded it quietly and indulged in

a satisfied smile.

t t t

“The jury returned an open verdict, madam.”

Cecil watched, without appearing to do so, as the Queen’s hands

tensed on the arms of her chair.

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“An open verdict condemns no one,” she said cautiously.

“Nor does it clear any man’s good name, madam. It merely records the

fact that no one knows what happened and leaves the world to speculate

as it will.”

Cecil was well pleased with the verdict—in many ways it could not have

suited him better. Delighted as he had been with her behaviour in these last

difficult weeks, he was uncertain that he could have pushed to the extent of

persuading her to sign Dudley’s death warrant. It was better the way it was,

a sensible compromise of the kind he had built his life upon.

He admired the steely grip she had kept over her own emotions.

Whatever she felt, she gave no sign as she went about her daily business.

She was once more the heartless, dispassionate entity that he delighted

to serve and already in his heart he was offering himself excuses for her

unbecoming conduct. What was more natural than that, after years of

dancing on the whims of others, she should suddenly run wild with the

freedom to indulge whims of her own? All her youth had been stolen from

her, corroded by fear and suspicion. It was a great pity her heart didn’t

seem to match her brain, but he was certain that after this fiasco he would

have no more need to concern himself with her wayward affections.

Beneath heavy lids he stole a glance at her and was suddenly touched

with pity. She looked thin and pale, as though all the bright life had gone

out of her. Even her brilliant hair seemed muted to a dull copper. He felt

like a guilty father who has locked a dangerous toy away in a cupboard.

When
you are sensible enough to use it properly you shall have it back, but

not until…

His conscience gave him precious little trouble, for he was well satis-

fied that the end had justified the means. She would outride this stormy

scandal and allow him to lead her down that path which would end in

a foreign alliance and a wise marriage, to an heir with no traitor’s blood

flowing in his veins. Their spiritual reunion was complete, their dreams

once more in perfect harmony; together they would serve this land and

make it great. He was quite certain that no golden apple, however sweet

its promise, would ever turn her from her chosen path again.

Elizabeth sat in moody silence, twisting a ruby aglet on the bodice

of her gown; when it came away in her hand, she cursed and got up. A

mantle of silver-spangled lawn fell from her shoulders and trailed in the

rushes as she walked away to the empty hearth.

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“Now that the inquest is over,” she remarked casually, without

looking at him, “I shall recall him to court.”

“If you think it wise,” he said guardedly. His glance had flickered. She

turned to smile at him a trifle unpleasantly.

“Wise or not you have nothing to fear from him now, my friend—

have you?”

“Your Majesty?” He kept his gaze steady, but of a sudden all the

colour had drained out of his face and he was acutely aware of his

own heartbeat.

She ran her fingers caressingly across the chimney-piece and still he

saw that twisted little smile about her lips.

“It occurs to me, William Cecil, that you cannot be unduly displeased

by Lady Dudley’s timely demise.”

He had known some bad moments in his varied life, but never one

to equal this.

She knows
!

But that was impossible—inconceivable! There was nothing to link

his name with this, no careless mistake, no apparent motive. She could

not know—but if she did, would he walk from this room to a cell in

the Tower?

Panic touched him, throwing his ordered brain into chaos, but by

some remarkable effort of will he stood his ground and faced her calmly.

Whatever she suspected, she had no evidence—she could prove nothing

in any court of law.

And yet there were other ways for a monarch to dispense with the

services of a minister who exceeded his authority—he, like Amy Dudley,

could meet with a well-timed accident.

The evening light was failing rapidly and the pupils of her eyes had

grown enormous, obliterating al colour from the iris. Black eyes in the pale

face of a stranger—and yet not unfamiliar. Where had he seen them before?

Suddenly she held out her hand to him. As he took it and pressed it

fervently to his lips, he heard her soft voice and knew, without looking,

that she was still smiling.

“I don’t know who murdered Amy—I don’t think I want to know

now. But whoever it was I am grateful to him.”

“Madam,” he whispered.

“I won’t be held, Cecil, not by you or any other man. I won’t be

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harnessed by snaffle and bit. If you would ride an unbroken mare, you

must learn to do without a saddle.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m a poor horseman, Your Majesty.”

“I never promised you an easy journey—nor a safe one. Only a unique

destination. I am the only person in this world who can give you what

you crave. So come with me, Cecil—I need you.”

He released her hand and stood back from her; his face was pale.

“And Dudley? Do you need him too?”

“You must not be jealous,” she said slowly. “I give you my word,

now and for all time, that I shall not marry the man, nor take him to

my bed. I give you the word of a queen—and a virgin. Is it enough to

make you trust me—or would you prefer that I submit to the indignity

of medical examination?”