It spoke much of my trusted position with the queen, as well as Colby’s character, that Elizabeth agreed to speak with us alone. She dismissed Cecil and her other ladies and led us to a smaller chamber where we were by ourselves.
She glanced about the little room with a pointed look, as though to invite us to see that no screens were positioned for the convenience of eavesdroppers, no doors behind which conspirators could hide. I recalled how Philip had whispered instructions to Mary. Elizabeth would allow herself no such trickery.
Elizabeth positioned herself in the exact center of the chamber, and Colby and I stood in before her, me right next to my husband. After we had exchanged the requisite greetings and inquiries into the health of our daughter, Colby began.
“Your Grace, you will not marry Lord Robert Dudley and make him king.”
Elizabeth’s eyes, already hard—because she must have known what this requested interview was about—grew still more granite-like. “This is your command, is it, Sir James?”
“Mary made a husband of Philip, against all opposition,” Colby went on firmly. “She decided that she knew, better than her council, better than her government, better than the English people themselves, which man would be good for the nation. Her choice divided England and created rebellions against her. You know this—you were at the heart of those rebellions. I recall how you remarked upon her obtuseness, how you declared her arrogance in the matter was her downfall. And now you hurry to repeat the terrible mistake she made.”
Elizabeth listened in absolute silence, her face like chiseled marble. When Colby had finished, she turned and walked a few steps toward the window.
The lovely gown she wore today, silver fleur-de-lis embroidered on a black surcoat over a gold skirt, shimmered in the sunlight. I made certain her clothes always caught the light, to ensure that she was brighter than anyone else in the room.
“And will you begin this rebelling?” she asked in a quiet voice, her gaze on the passageway below the window. Not far from there, Wyatt’s army had battered on the palace gates. “Will you recruit your adventurers and rise against me?”
Colby said nothing, wise never to admit anything to a Tudor.
“You will not.” Elizabeth swung back to us. “You are mine, James Colby, and you always have been.”
Colby gave her a bow. “I’ve never made any pretense otherwise. I work for you, Your Majesty, which is why I advise you thus. Though you do not like to hear it.”
I relaxed a little, but I knew that our mission had been for naught. Elizabeth would not listen to Aunt Kat, she would not listen to her trusted Cecil, and she’d not listen to James.
“I am more careful than my sister,” Elizabeth said briskly. “There is no one to take my place, no second person in the realm to rally around. Who is left to take the crown? Jane Grey’s sisters? They are a pathetic pair, and all of England preferred Mary to Jane. No, the Greys will never do. There are a few more of the blood, but much removed. My father did his best to rid us of all our relatives and rivals. Courtenay, the last of the Yorkists, died in Padua a few years ago. Mary of Scotland? Would anyone dare bring about such an obvious tie with France?” She lifted her chin. “You have no one, Sir James, and the people of England would quickly see through a pretender.”
Colby moved a step closer to her. Elizabeth had to look up at him—she was tall, but Colby was taller.
“There is someone,” he said in his rumbling baritone. “One other person who would—reluctantly—step into your shoes.”
“Who?” Elizabeth scoffed.
Colby said nothing. He simply looked at her.
“James,” I said in alarm.
Elizabeth gazed steadily at Colby, then her eyes, which were so like his, flickered. “I see,” she said at last.
I held my breath, expecting her to call for her guards, to command that Colby be arrested and dragged to a prison. He’d be tried and condemned for treason, because he bore her blood.
Henry would have done so without hesitation. Mary might have done so, perhaps hesitating a little. With Elizabeth, I could only watch and wait for her choice.
“Would the English people rally around a bastard?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Colby did not relent. “I mean no offense, but there were those who said the same about you.”
Elizabeth’s indignation rose. “My mother was a queen and a noble lady.”
“So many claimed otherwise,” Colby reminded her. “And yet, they adore you.”
Rage poured into Elizabeth’s eyes, fury so strong that I knew we were both doomed. Colby’s head and mine would adorn pikes on London Bridge, and my poor child would be left all alone.
“You are a bold and brave man, James Colby.” Elizabeth emphasized his name.
“I want what is best for England, as do you,” Colby returned. “It is in my blood to wish our land to be great. You will make it great. I know this.” He paused to draw a breath. “But if Dudley is your husband, all will come tumbling down.”
Elizabeth faced him in silence, carefully masking the thoughts that raced through her head.
