Well, there we were on this occasion—she in one of her magnificent dresses from her overfull wardrobe, white and crimson satin sewn all over with pearls the size of birds' eggs, and a ruff in which tiny diamonds glittered like dewdrops.

She was dancing with Thomas Heneage, a very handsome man to whom she was beginning to show a great deal of favor, when William Cecil entered. There was that about his demeanor which suggested that he had important news to impart, and the Queen signed to him to come to her at once. He whispered to her and I saw her turn pale. I was near her, dancing with Christopher Hatton, one of the finest dancers at Court.

"Your Majesty is unwell?" I whispered.

Several of her women gathered round, and she looked at us mournfully saying: "The Queen of Scots is lighter of a fair son and I am but a barren stock."

Her mouth was drawn down and she looked sad and pale. Cecil whispered something to her and she nodded.

"Send Melville to me," she said, "that I may tell him of my pleasure."

When the Scottish Ambassador was brought to her all vestige of sadness left her. She gaily told him that she had heard the news and rejoiced in it. "My sister of Scotland is indeed blessed," she said.

"It is a miracle of God that the child has been safely delivered," replied Melville.

"Ah yes. Such strife there has been in Scotland, but this fine boy will be her comfort."

When Melville asked if she would be godmother to the Prince she replied: "Right gladly."

Later I saw her eyes follow Robert, and I thought: She can't go on like this. A son born to the Queen of Scots has brought home to her so clearly her need to give an heir to England. She'll take Robert Dudley now, for surely she always intended to have him in the end.

I was in such high favor with the Queen that New Year that she gave me thirteen yards of black velvet to be made into a gown, which was a costly present.

We were at Greenwich for the Twelfth Night festivities. I was in a mood of excitement because I believed that during the last few weeks Robert Dudley had become aware of me. Often in a crowded room I would look up suddenly and find his eyes on me. A look would pass between us and we would smile.

There was no doubt that Robert was not only the most handsome but the richest and most powerful man at Court. There was a virility about him which was immediately recognizable. I was never quite sure whether he attracted me so forcibly originally because of these qualities or because the Queen was so enamored of him, and to become too friendly with him would mean incurring her wrath. Any meeting between us would have to be conducted with the utmost secrecy, and if it ever came to the Queen's ears there would be a violent storm which could be the end of both Robert's favor and my own. Therefore the prospect was one of intense excitement. I had always enjoyed taking risks.

I was not so foolish as not to know that if the Queen had summoned him he would immediately forget me. Robert's first love was the crown and he was a single-minded man. What he wanted he wanted fiercely and he did all in his power to get. Unfortunately for him there was only one way of sharing that crown. Elizabeth alone could give it to him, and as each day passed she was showing herself more reluctant to give him what he wanted.

He was growing visibly angry now. One could observe the change in him. So many times she had raised his hopes and procrastination followed. He must be realizing at last that there was a great possibility of her never marrying him at all. He had taken to staying away from the Court for a few days, and this always angered her. Whenever she went into a room where people were gathered together, she always looked round for him and if he were absent she would be irritable and when she retired one of us would most certainly receive a blow for our incompetence, which was really due to Robert's absence.

Sometimes she sent for him and demanded to know why he had dared absent himself. Then he would reply that it seemed to him that his presence was no longer necessary to her. They would quarrel; we used to listen to them as they shouted at each other and we marveled at Robert's temerity. Sometimes he would stalk out of the apartments and she would shout after him that she was glad to be rid of him. But then she would send for him and there would be reconciliations and he would be her Sweet Robin for a while. But never would she give way on the all-important question.

I guessed, though, that he was beginning to lose hope and to realize that she had no intention of marrying him. I saw her pat him, caress him, stroke his hair and kiss him—but it stopped at that. She would never allow lovemaking to reach a natural climax. I was beginning to think there was something abnormal about her in this respect.

Then came the occasion for which it seemed to me at the time I had been waiting all my life. There was no doubt that I had become obsessed by Robert. Perhaps it was seeing them together so much that made me more and more impatient with them because they played at being lovers—or at least she did—in a manner which I thought foolish. Perhaps I wanted revenge for those painful nips and slaps I had suffered. Perhaps I wanted to show her that in a certain field I could compete even with a queen and be the victor. It was irksome to a nature like mine continually to appear humble and grateful for her favor.

This occasion stands out clearly in my memory.

I was present with her tiring women while we prepared her for the evening. She was seated before her mirror in her chemise and linen petticoat looking at her reflection. A smiled played about her lips, and she was obviously contemplating something which amused her. I imagined she was thinking of bestowing the title of King of the Bean on Robert. This was part of the Twelfth Night revelries and the chosen man was allowed to act as he liked throughout the evening. He could ask anyone present to do what he asked and they must obey.

She was almost certain to bestow this honor on Robert as she had in the past, and I imagined she was thinking of this while we dressed her. She looked at the Nuremberg egg watch in its crystal case and said: "Come, you are slow. What are we waiting for?"

One of the tiring women came to her with a tray on which were pieces of false hair. She selected one and her hair was eventually dressed to her satisfaction.

The next operation was to get her into her privy coat of bone and buckram. Nobody wanted to do this, for she had to be tight-laced and was apt to be irritable if she was too tightly laced and equally so if her waist did not appear as small as she liked it. But this night she was absentminded and we went through the procedure with no comment from her.

I helped to fix the whalebone hips and we put on her petticoats. Then she sat down while a selection of ruffs was brought to her. She chose one of the new picadillie style with elaborate folds of pointed lace, but before it was put on her overgown was donned. It was very elaborate on this night, and she glittered and sparkled in the light of the cressets and candles.

I brought her girdle to her and fixed it about her waist. She watched me attentively while I made sure that her fan, pomander and looking glass were attached to it.

I tried to read the meaning behind her penetrating gaze. I knew that I was especially attractive that night and that my dress-conspicuous by its very simplicity—was more becoming to me than hers, for all its brilliance, was to her. The color of my undergown was a deep midnight blue and the seamstress had had the clever idea of decorating it with stars worked in silver thread. My upper gown was of a lighter shade of blue and toned exquisitely, while my puffed sleeves were the same color as the undergown. The material was cut away at the neck and I wore a solitary diamond on a golden chain; above this was my ruff of the most delicate lace which, like my undergown, was lightened by starry silver knots.

The Queen's eyes narrowed a little. I looked too attractive to please her. Inwardly I laughed with triumph. She could not scold me for overdressing as she did some of her ladies.

She said: "I see you wear the new virago sleeves, Cousin. I find they add little to a gown."

I lowered my eyes that she might not see the mischief in them. "Yes, Your Majesty," I said demurely.

"Come, then. Let us be on."

I was with her when she joined the company, I walking discreetly several paces behind her. Such occasions always impressed me deeply, for I was still new enough to Court life to be overawed by them. There was immediate silence when she appeared and people parted to make a path for her, which, I had once said to Walter, reminded me of Moses when he parted the Red Sea. If she glanced at a man he fell to his knees, and of course a woman would curtsy to the floor, her eyes lowered until the Queen passed on or bade her rise if she wished to speak to her.

I saw Robert at once and that look passed between us. I knew that I was exceptionally beautiful that night. I was twenty-four, not exactly unhappily married, but dissatisfied; and this dissatisfaction was something the Earl of Leicester shared with me. I was eager for an adventure which would enliven the monotony of my days. I was weary of domesticity in the country. I was not meant to be a faithful wife, I was beginning to fear, and I was obsessed by Robert.

He was about ten years older than I, in his prime at this time. But Robert seemed to be the sort of man whose prime would last throughout his life—or almost. At least he would always be attractive to women.

There were two men on whom the Queen had begun to bestow her smiles; one of them was Thomas Heneage and the other Christopher Hatton. Both of them were extremely handsome. One could pick out those who would find this special favor with the Queen. They were always good-looking and had some particular social grace and they must all dance well. This may imply that she was a lighthearted coquette, for she flirted with these gallants in a manner which was most unqueenly; but she had other favorites in a different category. She relied on men like Cecil and Bacon; she recognized their worth and was a loyal and devoted friend to them. Their positions were in fact more firm than those of the good-looking favorites who could be displaced by an equally good-looking newcomer. Robert was the leading favorite in this field and I often thought that she encouraged the others primarily to discountenance him.