To Shield the Queen (9 page)

“Yes, of course, Lady Dudley.”

Amy gave me a smile. “Put off your mourning. Just a little.”

• • •

I took Amy’s advice. After all, to exchange a black dress for a cream one was nothing much. Many a young widow would have remarried by now, and in my straitened circumstances nine young women out of ten would have been energetically trying to lure Matthew to the altar, no matter how much Kat Ashley and Lady Katherine Knollys advised caution.

Gerald and I had broken the pattern and married for love. I knew what that was like. If I married again, then I wished it once more to be for the man’s own sake, and not simply for the shelter he could offer me.

I was not sure if that man could be Matthew. I was older now than when I had run off with Gerald. Then, I hadn’t understood what a gamble I was taking, but I realised it now. I was lucky: Gerald was all I believed he was. I might not be so fortunate a second time. Much as I liked Matthew, there were things about him which made me uneasy. Kat Ashley and Lady Katherine Knollys had hardly needed to point them out, for I already knew.

Still, there could be no harm in asking Dale to look out, for once, a dress that wasn’t wholly or partly black. It had crossed my mind before I set out that perhaps I would soon want to relax my mourning, and in my luggage I had a cream satin gown with a pale gold latticework of embroidery on the sleeves. It wasn’t too showy; indeed, like most of my clothes, it was somewhat out of date. It had no ruff, just a V-shaped neckline and a turned-back collar with a little embroidery to match the sleeves.

Amy’s dining chamber adjoined her parlour. Because I must see that Amy herself was dressed before I could attend to myself, I arrived late and everyone else was already assembled. There was a sense of occasion, and for once, the atmosphere of shadow and fear which so persistently hung about in Amy’s rooms was dispelled. Everybody had exploded into slashed satins and gold chains and freshly laundered linen and I knew that the reason was Matthew.

Matthew, very splendid in plum-crimson and tawny, dominated the room, and when all eyes turned to me as I entered, I knew that he had told them all he was here to court me. Amy, who had chosen a most exquisite gown—even though white was not the best choice for someone who already looked like a ghost—at once began half-deferring to me, as though I were somehow on show.

There was no doubt about it. I was in the presence of matchmakers.

I felt momentarily irritated, but the admiration in all the male faces was warming, and so was Matthew’s evident gladness at being with me again. I was amused, too, when Arthur Robsart said, “My faith, Mistress Blanchard. I thought you were a quiet cygnet but now you are a swan. What an elegant dress!”

Most of the time, life with Amy was very bleak. Arthur’s visits had brought a little lightness, but they were always so short. There had been nothing like this and I was giddy, almost effervescent with the relief of it.

After the meal, Amy declared that we must have some music. Forster was skilled with several musical instruments, she said, but he had not joined us, so we must do without him. However, there was a lute in the parlour and Ursula must play. “She plays so well, Mr. de la Roche. Have you ever heard her?”

“I think not, Lady Dudley.”

“Then come!” cried Amy and made us all repair to the parlour, where she put the lute into my hands, insisting that I should play some popular songs which they could all join in singing.

Amid the laughter and the wine, I had let myself forget about the matchmaking. I had responded unthinkingly to the admiration of the men, to the fact that one of them had pursued me from Richmond to Oxfordshire. Now I realised with renewed force and considerable embarrassment that I was being displayed to Matthew like a horse being trotted up and down to show its paces, and that everyone was assuming I wanted this. And then I saw the lines of pain round Amy’s eyes, and realised too that her seeming merriment was all a pretence.

I was beginning to wonder, by this time, what would happen next. Matthew had not come all this way to leave without talking to me privately. But when that moment came, what would he say?

I became nervous, played several wrong notes, and said apologetically that I was tired. The party began to rise to its feet and bow over Amy’s hand.

Amy said, “Mr. de la Roche has ridden all the way from Richmond to see Mrs. Blanchard and no doubt there are things they wish to discuss. I have had my writing room opened for you, Mrs. Blanchard.”

I had never been in the writing room before. It was rarely used and was usually locked. It looked as if it had once been the abbot’s study. There was a scarred oak desk and matching chair which might well date back to the monastic days, a silver writing set, some shelves, and a modern settle which looked out of place. The place had been dusted but it smelt airless, and I opened one of the slender windows. Then I stood with my back to it and my hands folded at my waist, and said, “It was very kind of you to come so far to see me, Master de la Roche. I appreciate it.”

“My name is Matthew, and I’m not here out of kindness, but because I wanted to see you. I came back from Sussex early, on purpose to see you, and found your letter. How could you go off like that—without even saying when you would come back? How
could
you?”

“I had no choice, Matthew. Someone was needed here, to help Lady Dudley, and I was chosen—by the queen and by Dudley. Besides, I’m being well paid. I need the money,” I said candidly.

He was so very attractive, and so concerned for me. Yet here in this room, face to face with him, I felt hounded by him. I wanted Gerald. Matthew was a comparative stranger and Gerald had been the other half of myself. “Matthew!” I pleaded. “Don’t!”

He looked astonished and no wonder. “I’m sorry,” I said miserably. “Over dinner I suppose it seemed as though I were flirting with you, leading you on, but I was just enjoying myself. I think I took too much wine. It’s so sad here, as a rule.”

I did not add the word “frightening.” I still did not know if Amy’s fears were real or imaginary, but Matthew heard what I did not say.

“Yes, that I can believe. I know the court gossip. For all the merry talk at dinner, this place is full of shadows and you should not be here, Ursula. You’re young and alive, and for you, this is entombment. I want to take you away from it. Tomorrow if you wish!”

I shook my head. “No. Please try to understand. It’s too soon. I don’t know enough about you and you don’t know enough about me. I can’t just marry you to . . . to take shelter from the rain!”

“Why not? You’d soon find out,” said Matthew with assurance, “that I had more to offer you than that!”

“Matthew, I’m engaged to remain here as long as I’m needed. When I’m not . . . not needed any more . . . ”

He stepped forward suddenly, and taking my shoulders, he studied me searchingly. “When do you expect that to be?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”

“Matthew, please don’t . . . ”

“Listen, Ursula, my very dear Ursula. I must in any case go away again tomorrow. I have many things to attend to. My steward, Malton, is in a great fuss because I am having part of my house rebuilt, and the workmen are not doing what they were told to do and the wrong building materials have been delivered—and I have other matters on my mind, as well. I went back to Richmond only because I wanted to see you, because I found, as soon as I had left the place, that I needed to tell you what I felt for you. Now, I must return to Sussex. I didn’t expect an answer from you immediately, to tell you the truth, but I needed you to know. My name, my house, and every ounce of gold I own. They are all yours if you choose. By the time we meet again, you will have had time to think. Will you undertake, at least, to think about Matthew de la Roche?”

It was hardly an onerous demand, yet I was silent. He waited, and when I did not answer, he said, “What is the difficulty? Your husband? Ursula, you are young. Healing will come. Then you’ll want to make a new start.”

“Yes, I know. But . . . ”

I did know. That first stirring of desire, on the day of the hawking party, had told me. One day, Gerald would slip away from me, into the past. It was not so much that I would say goodbye to him; more that he would say it to me. But it wasn’t only Gerald.

“She has doubts, yes, but I can marry without her consent. Only, you see, I . . .”

“You share her doubts? Is that it?”

“I’ve nothing to bring you,” I said. “I’ve no dowry. And also—you are Catholic.”

“The dowry is of no importance. As for the other . . . yes, I recall that you fell very quiet when I first spoke of it. This is the real hindrance, I take it. Does it matter so much? I would not interfere with your wishes in the matter of your own worship, or that of your daughter.”

It was best to be frank. “You were in France, were you not, when the queen’s elder sister, Queen Mary, was on the throne?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Then perhaps you don’t know how it was here, but there were things done in her day, in the name of religion, which I can’t forgive,” I said. I began calmly, but then anger burst out of me. “There was a man from Faldene who was burned for heresy. The great campaign against heresy started the following year, but Queen Mary was about to marry Philip of Spain and this man had made a speech against the marriage as well as against the Church . . . ” I swallowed. “I didn’t see it. It was done in Chichester and I wouldn’t go, but Uncle Herbert and Aunt Tabitha went. I was still living with them then; it was just before I ran away with Gerald. They wanted me to go with them. They said my mother had served Queen Anne, who had driven the land away from Rome. They said my mother had been tainted by heresy and that I should see what came of it. But I
wouldn’t
go, I
wouldn’t
. Can you imagine what it would be like to be . . . ?” I shuddered.

“Ursula, we’re not all like that. If the true faith were one day restored here in England . . . ”

“Such things would happen again.”

“Not necessarily. And could you prevent them by refusing me? If they did happen, you would be safer with me. Ursula, I am offering you love and care, and a home. I leave, of necessity, tomorrow, but I will come back to find you and ask for your answer. Will you promise to think?”

“I don’t know. I . . . ”

“For the love of God! I’m only asking you to
think!”

“Very well.” After all, he had paid me the compliment of riding all the way here to see me. “I promise.”

He kissed me, a long but careful kiss, intended to begin arousal but not as yet to set it blazing. When he let me go, I did not know if I were glad or sorry.

• • •