Виктория Холт - My Enemy the Queen

"They have their governesses and nurses."

"They need more than that. Particularly Penelope. It's her age ... and the boys are too young to be left. I have spoken to William Cecil. He will take Robert into his household before he goes to Cambridge, but he should not leave his home just yet. We cannot both abandon the children, Walter."

The children saved me. Walter was very depressed but he was fond of his family and he did not want them to suffer. I spent a good deal of time with him, listening to his account of the Irish question, and I made plans for the future when he would come home—which would not be long, I told him. He would then have good standing at Court as the Earl Marshal of Ireland, and perhaps if he went back later we could all go with him.

Finally he departed. He embraced me warmly before he left and begged my pardon for the slander which had been uttered against me. It would be as well, he told me, to take the children back to Chartley and as soon as he returned we would make our plans for the future. We would get the girls married and the boys educated.

I embraced him with real affection, for he looked so melancholy, and I felt, mingling with relief that he was going, pity for him and shame because of what I was doing.

I told him that we must endure this separation for the sake of the children, and although this may seem like the greatest hypocrisy, at that moment there were genuine tears in my eyes and I was glad that my obvious emotion seemed to give him some comfort.

In July he sailed for Ireland and I resumed my meetings with Robert Dudley. Robert told me that he had indeed advised the Queen that Walter's presence was needed in Ireland.

"You get what you want," I commented. "I see that."

"I get what I deserve," he retorted.

I pretended to be alarmed. "Then I fear for you, my Lord Leicester."

"Never fear, my Lady Leicester-to-be. If one would succeed, one must learn how to take what one wants boldly. It's the best way."

"And now?" I asked. "What next?"

"For that we must wait and see."

I waited only two months.

One of the servants from Chartley rode up to Durham House. I could see that the man was greatly disturbed.

"My lady," he said, when he was brought to me, "a terrible thing has happened. A black calf has been born and I thought you should know."

"You did well to come here," I answered. "But this is but a legend and we are all in good health."

"My lady, the country folk say that this has never failed. It has always meant death and disaster to the lord of the castle. My lord is in Ireland ... a lawless place."

"It is true that he is there on the Queen's business," I said.

"He must be warned, my lady. He must come back."

"I fear the Queen would not be willing to stake her policy on the birth of a black calf at Chartley."

"But if your ladyship went to her ... explained ..."

I replied that all I could do was to write to the Earl of Essex and tell him what had happened. "You shall be rewarded for bringing the news to me," I added.

When he had gone I was thoughtful. Could it really be true? How strange it was that the calf should be born as it must have been on that occasion when the death of the lord of the castle had originally given rise to the legend.

Before I could dispatch a letter to my husband I received the news that Walter had died of dysentery in Dublin Castle.

SO I was a widow. I cannot pretend to have been smitten by sorrow. I had never been in love with Walter, and since I had become Robert's mistress I had deeply regretted my marriage, but I had had some affection for him, I had borne his children, and I could not help feeling a certain melancholy at his death. I did not brood on this, for thoughts of what my freedom would mean filled me with an excitement which overwhelmed all other feelings.

I could hardly wait to see Robert. When he did come, he came in secret as before.

"We shall have to tread warily," he warned, and a cold fear gripped me. Is he trying to evade marriage now? I asked myself. And there was one question which kept coming into my mind: How was it Walter had died so fortuitously? Dysentery, it was said. Many had died of it and in such cases there were always suspicions. I lay awake asking myself if it really was an irony of fate or whether Robert had played some part in it. What would the outcome be? I was uneasy, but as eager for Robert as ever. No matter what he did, nothing could change that.

It was I who broke the news of their father's death to the children. I summoned them all to my apartments and, drawing young Rob to me, I said: "My son, you are the Earl of Essex now."

He looked at me with wide, bewildered eyes, and my love for him overwhelmed me. I held him close and said: "Robert, my dearest, your father is dead, and you are his heir because you are his eldest son."

Robert began to sob and I saw tears in Penelope's eyes. Dorothy was crying too and little Walter, seeing the distress of his brother and sisters, broke into loud lamentation.

I thought, in some amazement: So they truly loved him.

But why should they not? When had he ever been anything to them but a loving father?

"This will make a difference to us," I said.

"Shall we go back to Chartley?" asked Penelope.

"We cannot yet make any plans," I told her. "We must wait and see."

Robert looked at me apprehensively. "If I am the Earl now, what shall I have to do?"

"Nothing yet. For a time it will not be much different from what it would have been if your father were here. You have his title but you still have your education to complete. Don't be afraid, my darling. Everything will be all right."

"Everything will be all right!" The phrase kept ringing in my ears, mocking me. I might have known it would not be so.

The Queen sent for me. Always sympathetic to the grief of others, she received me warmly.

"My dear cousin," she said, embracing me, "this is a sad day for you. You have lost a good husband."

I kept my eyes lowered.

"And you have the welfare of your children to occupy you. So your young Robert is now the Earl of Essex. A charming little fellow. I hope he is not too miserable at this loss."

"He is heartbroken, Madam."

"Poor child! And Penelope and Dorothy and the young one?"

"They feel the loss of their father deeply."

"Doubtless you would wish to leave Court for a while."

"I am so uncertain, Madam. Sometimes I think I want the peace of the country in which to mourn and at others it seems unbearable. Everywhere I look there I am reminded of him."

She nodded sympathetically.

"Then it shall be left to you to do what suits you best."

It was she who sent Lord Burleigh to me.

There was something reassuring about William Cecil, now Lord Burleigh. He was a good man, by which I mean that he more often acted for the sake of what he considered right than out of hope of advancing himself—something which could be said of very few statesmen. Of medium height and somewhat thin, he gave the impression of being smaller than he was; he had a brown beard and rather large nose, but it was his eyes with their hint of kindliness which were reassuring.

"This is a very sad time for you, Lady Essex," he said, "and Her Majesty is much concerned for your welfare and that of your children. The Earl was very young to die and leave children who are still in need of his care. I know it was his wish and yours that his son Robert should come into my household, and, I shall be happy to receive him whenever you think it fitting to send him."

"Thank you. He will need a little time to recover from his father's death. Next May he is to go to Cambridge."

Lord Burleigh nodded approvingly. "I hear he is a clever boy."

"He is well versed in Latin and French and enjoys learning."

"Then he should do well."

So it was arranged, and I felt that this was best because I knew that even aside from his brilliance Lord Burleigh was a kind and indulgent father to his own children and—that rarity—a good and faithful husband.

I suppose it was inevitable that rumors would begin to circulate. Whoever had told Walter of my relationship with Robert would be rekindling that gossip now that my husband was dead.

Robert came to me in a state of some anxiety and insisted that we talk. He told me then that it was being suggested that Walter had been murdered.

"By whom?" I asked sharply.

"Need you ask?" replied Robert. "Whenever anyone dies unexpectedly and I am on terms of acquaintance with that person, I am suspected."

"So people are talking about us!" I whispered.

He nodded. "There are spies everywhere. It seems I can make no move without its being recorded. If this gets to the Queen's ears ..."

"But if we marry she would have to know," I pointed out.

"I shall break it to her gently, but I would not like her to hear it through anyone but myself."

"Perhaps," I said sharply, "you would rather we said goodbye."

He turned on me almost angrily. "Don't dare say such a thing! I am going to marry you. Nothing else will satisfy me. But just now we have to be careful. God knows what Elizabeth would do if she knew I were contemplating this. Lettice, they are going to open Essex's body to look for poison."