“Conditions?” Elizabeth’s voice sharpened, but only Jane Dormer, the dearest and closest of Mary’s ladies, would be tolerated giving Elizabeth conditions. “How interesting. Name them, and I will give my answer.”
Jane was not in the least intimidated. “First, that you pay the queen’s debts. She fears too many will be ruined if you do not.”
Elizabeth gave a nod. “That shall be done. And the other?”
Jane raised her head and dared meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “That you uphold the religion of the one true church. That you continue the work Mary has done.”
Elizabeth’s red-gold brows rose. “This is her stipulation?”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
Elizabeth laughed once, a derisive sound. “She need not have bothered with conditions. I will pay her debts—she can be assured of that. And I pray to God that the earth might open up and swallow me alive if I am not a true Roman Catholic.”
Jane peered at her in some amazement. I did as well, although I strove to hide my expression from Jane and her servants.
“I may tell this to the queen?” Jane asked. I could forgive her for sounding skeptical.
“You may,” Elizabeth answered. Her voice softened. “Also, that my prayers are with her, as well as my hope that she goes easily and quickly to God.”
Jane curtsied. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
Elizabeth smiled, and Jane departed for London.
Several days later, Jane Dormer’s betrothed, Count Feria, who was a Spanish ambassador to England, rode to Hatfield to dine with Elizabeth.
Very few sat down with Elizabeth at table these days. She supped like the heir to the throne she was, eating alone at her board, with highborn ladies waiting on her. She liked court etiquette and was well aware of where everyone fit into the vast chart in her head.
After Jane Dormer’s visit and revelations, Elizabeth carried herself even more like a queen. Her household rapidly expanded—prominent ladies and gentlemen deserted Mary in her last hours to seek a place with the new monarch.
I found it sad that more and more abandoned Mary each day but had to admit excitement about the coming change. No more leaky roofs and cold prisons.
Elizabeth had chosen gentlemen for prominent positions in the coming government, these men ready to slide into place as soon as word came of Mary’s death. Elizabeth had also brought some of the highest-born ladies in the land into her service, and she awaited the imminent return of several favorites who had fled into exile.
Gomez Suarez de Feria, Jane Dormer’s affianced, had become Philip’s eyes and ears, and Elizabeth received him as she would an ambassador from a far land. She treated him with the courtesy due his rank, at the same time realizing he would report everything she did or said to Philip.
Even so, I do not believe Feria was prepared for her.
He approved of Elizabeth, it was clear in the way he looked her over, as though sizing up an unfamiliar horse to determine its soundness.
“I congratulate you, Your Grace,” Feria said in pleasant tones. “You have survived dark times. And ever in these troubles was His Grace, Philip, reaching his hand out to steady you. Because of my master, you will be queen of England. A generous gift from Spain and the Empire.”
His words fell into cold silence. Elizabeth glanced up from her venison—game caught in her own parks—her knife balanced expertly in her hand.
“A gift from Spain?” she repeated.
“It was His Grace Philip who released you from your prison.” Feria, confident, trundled on. “He, who prevented your sister from doing you harm. And so, you come to your inheritance.”
Elizabeth laid down her knife. Candlelight touched her hair and the pale gown studded with pearls I’d finished only this afternoon. She studied Feria, her gaze as piercing as Mary’s ever had been.
“It is not Spain or the Empire who gives me my crown,” she said in a voice like winter ice. “It is the grace of God and the people of England who grant it to me. The rule is mine, by right of my succession as laid down by my father, King Henry. Not a gift from Spain.”
Feria flushed. I felt a bit sorry for him, but the absurd man had expected Elizabeth to clap her hands in glee and bestow hearty thanks upon him and Philip.
Elizabeth had more to say. “Your master, dear Philip, tried to induce me to marry the Duke of Savoy, as you doubtless will recall. My refusal stemmed from one thing only, and that is from witnessing how my sister the queen lost much affection from her people by marrying outside the realm. Therefore, I never will do as she has done.”
Feria swallowed. “I see, Your Grace.”
“It is clear that you do not,” Elizabeth said. “You have affection for my sister—you are to marry one of her most trusted ladies after all—as well as affection for your ruler. I find that commendable, Lord Feria. But do not expect me to share it.”
