Chapter 36 #2
But Francis was distracted. “By God, I fear for Cecil. He is like a man possessed. He said to me twice that he would be better in Paradise than here. And then he said the strangest thing, warning me that it was in the strictest confidence. He said that they were thinking of destroying Lord Robert’s wife.
They had given out that she was ill, but Cecil insists she is not ill at all, she is very well and taking care not to be poisoned.
He said he trusted that God would never permit such a crime to be committed, or so wretched a conspiracy to prosper. ”
Kate had gone cold. “Who are they?”
“He did not say—and I was too stunned to ask. What shocked me more was that he said the only other person to whom he had confided this was that blabbermouth Bishop de Quadra.”
“Bishop de Quadra?” Kate could barely believe this. She told Francis what the Queen had said earlier. “Is Cecil stirring things up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is he deliberately planting in de Quadra’s mind the notion that the Queen and Lord Robert are plotting murder?
He must know full well that his words will be reported and then repeated throughout the courts of Christendom.
The Queen herself will soon hear of them.
Francis, if Cecil is so concerned about Elizabeth risking her reputation, he could not have done more to ruin it completely! ”
“He is distraught, darling, and so painfully aware of his peril, that I fear his usual caution has deserted him. I think he is trying to bring the Queen to her senses by whatever means he can. His career is at stake—and the very future of England and the Protestant settlement!”
He put an arm around Kate and steered her back toward the castle.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she said, greatly perplexed. “If Lady Dudley is not ill, why would the Queen lie about it?” She could not, would not, believe that Elizabeth would be a party to murder.
As they began walking up the Lower Ward, something momentous occurred to her.
Cecil must be aware that if Lady Dudley met her end by foul play, Lord Robert would be a free man, but the public outcry would be so great that he could never marry the Queen, since most people would believe he had killed his wife.
Undoubtedly, Cecil wished, above all else, to prevent Dudley marrying the Queen.
Was it possible that Master Secretary, their good friend and one of the most upright men Kate knew, was orchestrating some kind of plot? She did not want to believe it.
—
Kate’s head was spinning with questions. What was the truth about Lady Dudley? Was she really as ill as Elizabeth had said? Or was Cecil correct in asserting that she was well? One of them must be lying.
That evening, as she helped the Queen to prepare for bed, she braced herself to ask that which she was burning to know. “Bess, it may be that Lady Dudley is not ill at all, and that you have been misled.”
“What?” Elizabeth rounded sharply on her, red curls flying. “Who says so? I know for a fact that she is ill. Lord Robert himself has confided in me.”
“It was just gossip I heard in the court.” Kate was not going to mention Cecil’s name.
“By God, Kate, you are so silly!” Elizabeth erupted. “I thought you of all people were above listening to foolish gossip. Would you believe that above the word of your Queen? God’s Teeth, I thought you had brains in your head!”
Kate was stunned speechless by this outburst. “It was actually my husband who reported it to me,” she blurted out when she could speak. “He heard it in the council chamber. And I do not heed foolish gossip—you should know me better.”
“Should? I am your Queen. The word ‘should’ must not be used to me!”
“I am also your dearest cousin, as you have been pleased to call me—and more than that, if the truth be known.” She wished the words unsaid as soon as they had tumbled, almost unbidden, from her lips.
Elizabeth was flushed with fury. “More than that? What do you mean?”
“I think you know,” Kate said, trembling.
“I have not the faintest idea of what you mean,” Elizabeth snapped.
Her vehemence led Kate to believe that she was lying. “Why will you not acknowledge the bond between us?” she cried, goaded beyond bearing.
Elizabeth’s eyes were like glass. “I know of no bond other than our cousinhood. I think, Kate, that you should lie down. You have become a little crazed. It must be this unseasonable heat.”
“Yes, I will do that!” Kate flung back, and almost ran from the room, tears streaming down her face.
To be rejected so cruelly was torture to her.
She made her way out of the Queen’s apartments, down the privy stair, through the garden, and onto the terrace, crying uncontrollably.
And it was there, by a stroke of great good luck, that she came upon Francis chatting with a group of black-gowned councillors.
He broke away when he saw her and came hurrying over. “Whatever is the matter, my dearest?”
“Not here,” she sobbed, drawing him away. When they were out of earshot of the others, she told him what had transpired between her and the Queen. He held her close, and she could sense the anger in him.
“For all the outward love her Majesty bears you, she reduces you to tears too often,” he seethed. “And now I will probably make you weep more, for I am to be sent abroad very shortly. Diplomatic business.”
Kate sat down heavily on a stone bench, oblivious to the waiting councillors.
She was immersed in misery. Things could not go on like this.
She felt a sudden, overpowering need to get away, to ride like the wind to Greys Court and her children.
Baby Catherine would be a year old soon—and she was a stranger to her. She could not bear it.
“I am proud to live in this court,” Francis muttered, “but I resent the high price we have to pay for it.”
“And yet you will not leave it,” she chided him.
He shook his head. “I cannot. I am bound, as you are, by my oath of allegiance. Like you, I resent being held in bondage, yet I value the privilege of serving the Queen. I can humble myself shamelessly to afford our children an example to keep them on the path of righteousness.”
“They could not have a better pattern to follow,” she said, calmer now, yet still distressed. “I wish I had not pushed matters with the Queen. I am convinced now that she knows the true nature of our kinship but will not admit it.”
“She is insecure, darling. She sees threats to her position everywhere. That is why she hates her cousins on her father’s side.”
“But I am no threat! How can I be? They have claims to the throne, I don’t. All I want is her sisterly love.”
“You want the impossible,” he said sadly.
—
Two days later, Kate and the other ladies were sewing in a circle in the Queen’s chamber, while Elizabeth was playing chess with Lord Robert at a table by the open window, with much laughter and touching of hands. An usher appeared and announced the arrival of Dudley’s manservant, Master Bowes.
“Whatever can he want?” Lord Robert asked testily.
“Let him come in and we’ll find out!” Elizabeth grinned.
Bowes arrived, cap in hand. He was shaking. Kate began trembling herself, wondering what news he brought.
“Your Majesty, my lord, there has been a terrible calamity. My Lady Dudley is dead. She was found yesterday at Cumnor Place at the foot of a flight of stairs. Her neck was broken.”
Kate stared at Elizabeth, whose face had turned white and whose mouth gaped in a speechless “O.” Lord Robert looked stricken, genuinely bewildered. “I cannot believe it,” he kept saying.
“What a terrible shock,” Elizabeth croaked when she found her voice.
Lord Robert stood up. “Summon a courier,” he instructed Bowes. “Send him to Cumnor Place to find out more details. And bid him be quick.”
As Bowes sped away, Elizabeth sent for Cecil. He listened gravely as she told him what had happened. “Let the news be made public,” she said. “Make it clear that the death was accidental.”
“But we don’t know that!” Dudley rounded on her.
“She must have fallen down a staircase,” Elizabeth said firmly. He subsided under her panicked stare.
She turned back to Cecil. “I can well imagine how my subjects will react to the news. An inquest must be held, and quickly.”
“I will order it, Madam,” Cecil said, effortlessly in charge once more, and doubtless gratified that it was he to whom the Queen had turned in the wake of this tragedy. Kate doubted she would hear any more talk of retirement.
Elizabeth rose. “Robert, you must leave court. You will be suspected of foul play, and I cannot be seen to be associating with you until your name is cleared. You will go to your house at Kew and remain there until the coroner gives his verdict.”
Lord Robert looked devastated. Doubtless he was fearful for his future. “I am innocent of her death, I swear it!” he protested.
“I know that, Robert, but the world needs to know it, too.”
“She was dying,” he said helplessly. “If someone killed her, there was no need. By God, I will leave no stone unturned to uncover the truth. If need be, I will see justice done and clear myself of any complicity if such a foul crime was committed. I beg of you, Bess, to make the most rigorous inquiries. The only way to exonerate me lies in finding the real culprit.”
“If there is one,” Elizabeth said. “Now leave us.”
Her use of the royal plural made Dudley blench. It was obvious to everyone that she was distancing herself from him. He left, unwillingness in his posture and his manner. Kate thought she detected a gleam in Cecil’s eyes as he watched him go. Was it triumph?
—
A few days later the coroner delivered a verdict of accidental death.