She’d said far more than I would ever have dared, but Aunt Kat knew she’d needed to say it. Or rather, she knew Elizabeth needed to hear it, bluntly and without diplomacy.
Elizabeth lowered her arm and stepped back, her breath coming fast. A muscle in her jaw moved as she strove to master herself.
“I know that you are devoted to me.” Elizabeth’s fire dispersed and the ice returned. “Because of that devotion, you see fit to speak to me of this. But I cannot simply take a husband because you wish it, or because you think it will be good for me. Such things need to be weighed carefully, because I must marry for the good of the realm and nothing more.”
“If ever you marry him,” Aunt Kat said, not daring to say Dudley’s name again. “I believe your realm will oppose it.”
Elizabeth’s smile was brittle and terrible. “How lucky for me then that Lord Robert is married. Your concern is noted. Now, go from my side, and never speak to me of this again.”
Aunt Kat firmed her mouth and made no move to rise. “I will take any punishment you choose to give me.”
Elizabeth scowled. “I do not wish to punish you. That is, unless you do not get out.”
Aunt Kat did not flinch at her command. “Help me to my feet, Eloise. It is difficult for me to rise these days.”
I sprang up and assisted Aunt Kat, and then, under Elizabeth’s incandescent glare, we took ourselves out of the room.
Cecil, still scribbling away in the outer chamber, pretended to have heard nothing through the door, but his quick glance at us revealed he had. He, too, disapproved of Elizabeth’s excessive flirtation with Dudley, and I noticed a small smile hovering about his rather pompous mouth.
Chapter 27
I’d hoped Aunt Kat’s cautionary words would sink into Elizabeth’s very sensible head, and that would be the end of the matter. But alas, it was not to be.
August merged into a blustery September, which gave way to winter, before spring came once more. My daughter grew plumper, and against the odds, became robust and strong, for which Colby and I fervently thanked God.
As Elizabeth expected us all to work with the same dedication as Cecil, I didn’t see as much of my husband and daughter as I could have wished, but I still managed to enjoy my domestic bliss.
Elizabeth, vivacious and a natural coquette, teased the gentlemen who pursued domestic bliss with her, and drove her council mad with her prevarications. Ambassadors and go-betweens continued to parade their masters before her, and English hopefuls flirted with her at court. Elizabeth pretended to consider each one, some a longer time than others, before saying either no or a provocative maybe.
And all the while, Dudley was at Elizabeth’s side, especially when she rode the hard-to-handle horses she favored, as spirited and reckless as the horses themselves. As Master of Horse, this was Robert’s job, of course, but few mentioned that when they criticized him.
Whenever Elizabeth invited me to ride with her, a coveted and much-sought-after position, she would gallop into the woods and bid me act as lookout while she and Robert kissed each other in the shadows.
When Cecil went north to Scotland with an army to help the Scots noblemen tame the French there, Robert stayed behind with the queen.
Colby stayed behind as well—now the captain of the queen’s personal guard, he was with Elizabeth at all times. My husband did not want to leave me or our child, either, but I could see he’d prefer a clean and simple confrontation with an angry French soldier to the complex intrigues of court.
Elizabeth’s dalliances with Robert, if anything, increased. The two were not often out of each other’s company. Robert was at her side when she received ambassadors, and he teased them along with her.
Robert lounged on barges she took down the river when in London or to sun herself in the country, and ran his fingers through the satin, velvet, bejeweled skirts I sewed for Elizabeth. He pulled ribbons from her gowns and tied them around his wrists and, some whispered, around more intimate parts.
In short, almost everyone at court muttered that Elizabeth was a wanton. Such was to be expected from a wanton’s daughter, they whispered, although no one dared mention the name Anne Boleyn.
Elizabeth never mentioned her mother, either, but I knew she wore a locket with her mother’s portrait inside it, and was rarely without it.
“I hear that your wife has sickened,” I said to Lord Robert one day when I’d ridden out with Elizabeth, Robert’s presence inevitable. Elizabeth had galloped a little ahead, her guards fanning out to keep watch over her, but Robert dropped back to spell his horse.
“Indeed, the poor lady,” Robert replied in earnestness. “A sickness in her breast that she has had for some time now. It makes her weak and wretched. I send her gifts and hope they cheer her.”
Charming, smiling, handsome Robert was playing the devoted husband. I restrained myself from making a skeptical comment. “Please convey to her my hope for her swift recovery, my lord.”
“I will. You are kind, Lady Colby. Your daughter does well?”
My immediate smile blossomed in spite of myself. “She grows by the day. We are most pleased with her.”
I was unable to keep the pride from my voice, and Robert laughed at me. “A fine hit by my friend, Sir James Colby,” he said, and sent me a bawdy wink. “My felicitations.”
I flushed, which only made Robert laugh the harder. “Thank you, my lord,” I said stiffly.
