“No,” I answered. “But when Elizabeth becomes impetuous and imprudent, she endangers herself. We must stop her.”
James opened his eyes, his red brows rising. “We must, must we? Elizabeth is queen, twenty-six years old, and has ceased listening to the likes of us. She is no longer the little princess so careful of how she comports herself. Remember that she can now send you to the Tower for twitting her about her behavior.”
I pursed my lips, refusing to see this in an amusing light. “Perhaps she would not listen to you or me,” I said. “But I know someone she might.”
James caught my thoughts as he so often did and nodded. “I believe you are right. Shall you ask her?”
“Indeed.” I yawned again. “But in the morning.”
Colby grinned at me and pulled me close, erasing my worries with his tenderness.
The next day, after a much-needed sleep, and leaving my daughter safely in the arms of my husband, I went in search of Aunt Kat.
Elizabeth and William Cecil had their heads together, speaking softly and rapidly, but these days this was a usual sight. Cecil had begun working not an hour after Elizabeth had received word of Mary’s death, and since then he’d labored almost ceaselessly.
Together they would face Parliament to revoke Mary’s return of the Church to Rome and end the persecution of heretics. Elizabeth and Cecil had already had to fight against the bishops in the House of Lords, many of whom had prospered under Mary and were reluctant to return church supremacy to the monarch.
The Lords tried to dance around her demands, but Elizabeth was firm—she was of the reformed religion, and that was that. No more answering to the Pope and no more persecution of heretics.
I wish I could say that the instant Elizabeth put the crown on her head England became a smoothly running kingdom of peace and prosperity, but of course I cannot.
At the time of Mary’s death, influenza had run rampant. I’d come down with it myself soon after reveling at Elizabeth’s coronation, one reason my babe came early, or so the midwife claimed. I suppose my illness had made the child ill too, though at the time I’d had no idea she was inside me.
So, with half her kingdom sick, Philip’s war in France continuing, and the bevy of eager suitors constantly besieging her, Elizabeth spent most of her time at the business of ruling.
Not all of it, however. Aunt Kat and I had come today to confront her about her private life.
Cecil gave us a courtly, if preoccupied, bow when we entered. He only nodded when Elizabeth said she would withdraw to speak to us, clearly wishing to return to the task at hand. Cecil ever enjoyed his labors.
“You look well, Eloise,” Elizabeth said after we’d made obeisance to her, and she had kissed our cheeks. “Motherhood agrees with you.”
“I have become fond of its state,” I answered neutrally. In truth I adored my little daughter, but I knew Elizabeth did not like mothers gushing about babies.
“One day, I too may sample it,” Elizabeth said briskly, as though she did not care one way or the other. “What is this important matter, Kat?”
Aunt Kat creaked to her knees, and I knelt beside her. “Lord Robert Dudley,” Aunt Kat said without preamble. “You must leave off.”
Elizabeth stilled, the silk of her dress rippling like silent water. Her mind had obviously been elsewhere, and she’d only indulged us with this private audience because she was fond of Aunt Kat. Now she focused on her, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, must I?” Imperious frost entered her voice. “Who are you to tell me I must?”
“Your old governess,” Aunt Kat returned. “I have looked after you these twenty years and longer. And never more than now have you needed me to chide you about your behavior.”
“Chide me?” Elizabeth laughed, the sound cold and shrill. “There is no need for your chiding, Katherine Ashley. I have been friends with his lordship nearly the twenty years you have been looking after me, as you well recall. We were children together, as close as—nay, closer than—brother and sister.”
Aunt Kat fixed her with a disapproving frown. “Your flirting, dancing, laughing, and kissing have nothing to do with being brother and sister.”
Elizabeth reddened, the daughter of Henry working herself into a fine rage. “And you, Eloise Colby.” She turned her hard stare on me. “Do you agree with my aging governess?”
I nodded, bravely meeting that unforgiving gaze. “I am afraid I do. It was I who persuaded Aunt Kat to seek you today. I, who insisted she speak.”
Aunt Kat sent me an offended glance. “I certainly know my own mind, Eloise. I speak as I please.”
Elizabeth regarded us for a moment longer, then she balled her fists in fury. “My friendship with Lord Robert is none of your concern,” she snapped. “It is friendship only—mind that.”
Aunt Kat barely winced at her temper. “Rumor says otherwise. They say you enter his chamber as you please, day and night, and that you might well be carrying his child. These things are discussed at the courts of Paris and Spain. I’d not be surprised, at this rate, if it has reached the Saracen lands. Take a husband quickly, Your Grace, I implore you, and stifle these stories.”
Elizabeth stormed to Aunt Kat and slapped her. The red imprint of her hand was stark on Aunt Kat’s face, but Aunt Kat set her mouth in stubborn lines.
