Chapter 39 #2
The plague came to London that summer, as it often did when the weather was hot.
When a case was reported in the Tower, the Queen left the capital and sent Katherine Grey and Lord Hertford into the country, there to be kept separately under house arrest until she decided what was to be done with them.
Meanwhile, with Warwick at the limits of his endurance, Elizabeth sanctioned the surrender of Le Havre.
Early in July, Francis was again sent to Portsmouth with orders for victuals and other provisions for the army.
And there he remained throughout that month and for the greater part of August, much to Kate’s annoyance.
She felt even angrier when he wrote describing the difficulties he was having in sending supplies for the stranded troops.
It sounded as if he was facing an impossible task.
In his next letter, he informed her that he was shortly to cross to Le Havre again to convey the Queen’s instructions for the withdrawal of her troops.
After that, his duties would take him to the Channel Islands and the Isle of Wight.
Kate wondered when she would see him again.
She had to wait until September, when they managed three days together at Syon House. It was like being newlyweds again.
—
At New Year 1564, Kate received a gift of silk stockings from Katherine Grey, who had never given her anything before. She took them straight to the Queen.
“Hah!” Elizabeth said, fingering the fine silk.
“She is hoping to persuade you to intercede for her. In case you are contemplating it, Kate, it will be a waste of breath. She does not deserve your sympathy.” She went on gleefully opening her own presents, unwrapping plate, gloves, items of clothing, and jewels.
Kate wished she could take similar pleasure in the exchange of gifts, but she was missing her children, not having been allowed to go home for Christmas. At least Beth was with her, she thought, as she watched her daughter setting out the Queen’s gifts on trestle tables.
Life at court resumed its normal course. She found the routine stifling, day after day, and there was little that interested her. She seemed to spend a lot of her time wishing that she was somewhere else.
In March, she and Francis managed to get away to Greys Court to celebrate her fortieth birthday together.
“You look just like the sixteen-year-old maid I married,” he complimented her, as they sat in the great hall toasting the occasion, with their children around them.
“Go on with you,” she ribbed him, but her heart swelled with joy to know that he saw her that way.
And as they went indoors, hand in hand, she understood it, because although his hair was graying and receding, and his face was worn by cares, she could still see in him the young man with whom she had fallen in love.
—
In April, Queen Mary sent an envoy, Sir James Melville, to the English court to discuss the mooted marriage with Lord Robert.
Elizabeth had not given up the idea, but had persisted in pushing it, like a dog with a rag, much to Robert’s evident fury.
But Kate did not believe she would ever let him go.
She kept him as close to her as ever and acted like a woman in love.
Mary, in turn, was playing Cupid.
“She has sent with Sir James a proposal of marriage from Count John Casimir, the son of the Elector Palatine, with his portrait,” Elizabeth told Kate one evening, when they were alone.
“By God, have you seen him?” She held up the miniature.
“He has a face like a squashed turnip. Kate, I need you to speak in confidence to Sir James. Tell him that I will never marry because I know myself incapable of bearing children, and because I will never render myself subject to a man.” That rang true, of course, but…
Kate had to ask. “Do you know for certain that you cannot bear a child?”
“It would seem so,” Elizabeth replied. She was being evasive, as only she knew how to be.
“Then I will tell him.”
Kate approached the envoy at a court banquet as they mingled among the guests. Bending to his ear, she gave him the Queen’s message. He looked surprised.
“I am sorry to hear it. May I tell my mistress that, failing any issue of her body, she will be named her Majesty’s successor?”
“I know nothing of that,” Kate said quickly, knowing that to say more would be to venture into perilous waters. Fortunately, Melville did not press her.
—
That summer, Kate was delighted to hear that Lettice had borne a second daughter, whom she had named Dorothy.
The promised visit had never happened, so she vowed to herself that she would go to Chartley as soon as she could.
But when she approached Elizabeth to ask for leave, she was informed, yet again, that she could not be spared.
She could not even get away to Greys Court to bid farewell and good luck to Richard and Frank when they went up to Oxford in September, or to Hal, when he entered Gray’s Inn to start his training as a lawyer.
But at least Francis and Beth were at court.
Thankfully, Francis had not been sent abroad again.
At the end of September, Elizabeth created Dudley Earl of Leicester in a splendid ceremony in the presence chamber at St. James’s Palace.
She told her ladies that she was raising him to the peerage in order to make him a more fitting husband for Queen Mary.
Kate was among the glittering throng of courtiers who witnessed the solemn occasion.
The new Earl conducted himself with the utmost gravity and dignity, so Kate was shocked—and she could see that others were, too—when she saw Elizabeth smilingly tickle his neck as she invested him with the collar of his earldom and his ermine-lined mantle.
So much for her repeated assertions that she looked upon him as merely a brother and best friend, as she’d been calling him ever since she had suggested him as a husband for the Queen of Scots.
After the ceremony was over, Kate was standing near the Queen when she spoke with Melville.
“How do you like my new creation?” she asked him.
Melville bowed his head in assent. It was no secret that the Dudley marriage was unpopular in Scotland.
Elizabeth laughed and pointed to a tall, beautiful young man who was acting as her sword-bearer. It was Lord Darnley, the son of her cousin Margaret Douglas and the Earl of Lennox. “I think you prefer yonder long lad!”
Melville gazed distastefully at the effeminate-looking youth. “No woman of spirit would choose such a man. He is more like a woman, for he is beardless and lady-faced.”
“Ah, but he is lusty,” Elizabeth countered, “and he has a claim to my throne. I do believe that, given the slightest encouragement, he would marry your Queen.”
Melville was looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“There is no need to look so worried,” Elizabeth trilled. “I will never let Darnley go north to Scotland while my newly created Earl of Leicester is finding favor with Queen Mary. I do assure you that I am sincere in my desire for their marriage.”
Was she? Kate asked herself. It was hard to believe, but although Elizabeth often changed her mind on a daily basis, much to the exasperation of Francis, Cecil, and her other councillors, in this matter she had stood constant for months.
—
In early December, the court moved to Whitehall for Christmas.
The weather was bitter and the Thames froze over.
Francis and Kate were among the courtiers who played bowls and skittles on the ice, laughing as they skidded all over the place.
But then Elizabeth fell ill with a flux, and became so poorly that her ladies were terrified that she might die.
There was no more playtime for Kate, who had to take her turn to sit with her mistress.
It was a relief when the Queen raised herself in the bed and said that she felt better.
Even so, it was a quiet Christmas because she was still unwell with bad catarrh and a slight fever.
She complained of pains in the stomach and all over her body, and spent the long hours reading in her dark, stuffy bedchamber.
Kate and the others were obliged to attend her.
Kate thought she would go mad at being confined for so long.
She barely had a chance to see Francis because Elizabeth was peevish and would not excuse her, even for an hour.
The only time she had to herself was in bed at night.