Gardiner, once he’d knelt at Mary’s feet and accepted his new position of Lord Chancellor, had plunged himself into restoring the church to its old glory. As far as I could tell, this meant rich robes on his back, money in his coffers, and the permission to cuff those against whom he held a personal grudge.
Today he’d decided to cuff Elizabeth. Elizabeth represented all Gardiner disliked, and he’d apparently decided to relieve his pique by lecturing her.
“It distresses the queen,” Gardiner went on, “to have a sister who leans dangerously toward heresy. Her Majesty is in fear for your soul.”
“I have no doubt.” Elizabeth swept him and the nobles who’d accompanied him an imperious gaze. “I have been ill. My headaches are frequent, and my ladies remain to attend me.”
“I am unhappy to hear of your poor health,” Gardiner returned, though he looked not the least bit concerned. “The queen will send a priest to your chamber in the event you are too ill to attend chapel.”
Elizabeth sat up straighter, her pale face more icy than usual. She was not going to win, and the flash in her eyes told me she knew this.
However, she would not give Gardiner the satisfaction of witnessing her hanging her head, mumbling an apology, or begging him to intercede with Mary for her.
Elizabeth rose from her chair, indicating the audience over as far as she was concerned.
“I will give some thought to what you say.” She nodded to the gentlemen of the council, who bowed as she swept from the chamber.
Gardiner’s eyes sparkled in fury as he watched her go, which worried me not a little.
Mary had not spoken much to Elizabeth in private since we’d arrived at Richmond, which I took to be an ominous sign. We did attend the queen’s entertainments—which involved dancing, card games, or little theatricals put together for her.
Elizabeth loved to dance and would rise from her ostensible sickbed for that. I also knew she left it for the opportunity to chat and flirt with Edward Courtenay, who had swiftly become a popular gentleman.
Courtenay had spent most of his youth in the Tower, and now, at age twenty-seven, he found himself a member of Parliament, restored to his estates as Earl of Devon, and having a favored position in the queen’s court.
I considered him rather pallid and foppish, but rumor had it that the queen’s council hoped Mary would wed him. Courtenay was of the correct blood, being descended from Edward IV through his father, making him a second cousin to Mary and Elizabeth. He was of a good age to sire a son, and most importantly, native to this land.
I could not decide what Mary thought of him. She treated him with courtesy but one that came more from pity than fascination.
Courtenay made it a point to smile at Mary and flatter her, but I heard scurrilous gossip that he enjoyed walking about London of nights and seeking the company of street courtesans. I supposed being locked away for so long had deprived him of the ordinary pleasures of gentlemen, but from what others whispered, he was now rather overdoing it.
He and Elizabeth made a good pair, I thought as I watched them dance, despite the vagaries in Courtenay’s character. Both were young, energetic, and graceful. Courtenay knew he had the attention of both Mary and Elizabeth and preened under their interest.
“The queen considers him a match for Elizabeth,” a voice said in my ear. I did not jump, because Colby had the habit of popping out of nowhere and beginning conversations in the middle of them.
“I would hope for someone rather better for her,” I answered without turning to him.
“Are you a snob, Mistress Rousell?”
I heard amusement in Colby’s voice. I glanced at him, taking in his slight smile as he fixed his gaze on the dancers in the middle of the warm room.
“Not usually,” I said. “’Tis just that I do not think much of Courtenay. I’ve also heard rumors of a Continental marriage for Elizabeth, and that sending her from the country entirely would be best for Mary.”
Colby’s nod told me I’d heard aright. “They debate it in Parliament. But after Elizabeth, the heir is Mary Stuart of Scotland, with her very French ties. Mary prefers Elizabeth to a French-Scottish queen, no matter that Mary Stuart is so very Catholic.”
“Then Elizabeth had better stay,” I said decidedly. “But I still don’t like Courtenay as a suitor for her.” I studied Courtenay and his too-ready smile as he turned Elizabeth in the dance. “’Tis a pity Lord Robert is already married and that he so obediently raised an army in favor of poor Jane.”
“Dudley is too ambitious and flies too high,” Colby replied. “He will bring himself to grief.”
I turned to him in surprise. “I thought Lord Robert your great friend.”
“He is.” Colby flashed me one of his rare grins. “Which is why I know he overreaches himself. He and the princess are matched in spirit, but that may not be a good thing.”
I had to agree. “It is a bit worrying. What will become of Elizabeth, I mean.”
“More than a bit.”
The music had ended, the musicians stretching their fingers in fatigue, but Mary clapped her hands. “Another. A pavane. It is most diverting.”
