When I arrived at Wanstead he was waiting for me in a state of anger. He told me that in spite of his advice the Queen had granted Simier the passport he had been clamoring for.

"This means that Anjou will now come here," he said.

"But she has never seen any of her suitors before ... except Philip of Spain, if he could be called one, and he never came wooing her."

"I cannot understand it. All I know is that she is deliberately flouting me. I have told her again and again what folly it is to bring him here. When she sends him back it will create bad feeling in France. While she pretends to consider and coquettes by letter, it is a different matter—though dangerous as I have repeatedly told her. But to bring him here ... that's madness."

"What has made her do this?"

"She seems to have lost her senses. The thought of marriage has had this effect on her before, but she has never yet gone so far."

I knew what Robert was thinking, and he may have been right. He was the man she loved, and if she had an inkling that he had married someone else she would indeed be furious. That outburst of hers about not demeaning herself by marrying a servant whom she had raised up could well have been the outward sign of an inner wound. She wanted Robert to herself exclusively. She herself could flirt and frolic, but he should know that it was never serious. He was the one. Now Robert was wondering whether she had heard rumors concerning us, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep our secret.

"When I heard what she had done," he told me, "I went to her and before some of her attendants she demanded to know how I dared come without first asking permission to do so. I reminded her that I had done it frequently without reproof, and she told me to take care. She was in a strange mood. I said I would remove myself from Court as she seemed to wish that, to which she replied that if she wished it she would not have hesitated to say so, but now I had suggested it, she thought it a good idea. So I bowed and was about to leave when she asked why had I come bursting thus unceremoniously into her apartments. I indicated that I did not wish to speak before her attendants and she dismissed them.

"Then I said: 'Madam, I think it is a mistake to bring the Frenchman here.'

" 'Why so?' she cried. 'Do you expect me to marry a man I have never seen?'

"I replied: 'No, Madam, I do earnestly hope and pray that you will not marry outside this country.'

"Then she laughed and let out a stream of oaths. She said she understood that well for I had always had high pretensions. I had allowed myself to believe that because she had shown me some favor I might share the crown with her.

"I kept my temper and answered that no one would be so foolish as to hope to share her crown. All he could wish for was to serve her and if there was a chance of his doing so in an intimate capacity he would be fortunate.

"She then accused me of doing everything I could to impede Simier, who himself had complained to her of my lack of friendship towards him. I gave myself airs. I seemed to think I was of especial importance to her. I would have to lower my fancies, for when she married she doubted her husband would tolerate that. At which I asked her leave to retire from Court.

"She shouted at me: 'It is granted. Go, and stay away. There has been a little too much of the pride and glory of my Lord Leicester at our Court of late.'

"So I came to Wanstead and here I am."

"Do you really think this French marriage will take place?"

"I cannot believe it. It's monstrous. She will never get an heir, and what other reason could there be? He is twenty-three and she is forty-six. She is not serious. She cannot be."

"I'll swear she feels this is the last chance to play her little courtship game. That's the answer."

He shook his head, and I went on: "Perhaps now that you are out of favor it would be a good time to make our marriage publicly known. After all, she has rejected you, why should you not seek consolation elsewhere?"

"In her present mood it could be disastrous. No, Lettice. God help us, we must still wait a while."

He was in such a state of anger against the Queen that I decided not to pursue the matter. He talked a great deal about what the withdrawal of the Queen's favor could mean to us, as though it had to be explained to me how disastrous that could be. A man who had enjoyed such favors had naturally incurred a great deal of rancor. Envy was the prevailing passion in the world and Elizabeth's Court was no exception. Robert was one of the richest and most powerful men in the country— made so by the Queen's gifts. He had the magnificent Leicester House in the Strand, the incomparable Kenilworth, Wanstead, lands in the North, South and Midlands, all of which brought in considerable revenues. Men came to him when they sought the Queen's favor, for it was well known that there had been times when she could deny him nothing he asked; moreover, in the wholeheartedness of her affection she wanted all to know how she regarded him.

But she was a despot; her resemblance to her royal father was apparent in so many of her actions. How often had he warned a subject: "I have raised you up. I can as easily cast you down." Her vanity was great and an assault on it would never be forgiven.

Yes, Robert was right when he said we must tread warily.

All that day and far into the night we talked of our future, and although Robert could not believe she would marry the Duc d'Anjou even if she brought him to England, he was very uneasy.

The next day a summons came from the Queen. Robert was to return to Court without delay.

We discussed it together.

"I don't like it," said Robert. "I fear that when I come humbly back, she will want to show me how much I depend on her. I shall not go."

"Disobey the Queen!"

"I'll use the tactics she so successfully used in her youth. I'll pretend to be ill."

So Robert made a feint of preparing to leave but before he had time to do so he complained of the pain in his legs and he said the swelling was great. His doctors' remedy was to retire to bed at such times, so to bed he went and sent a message to the Queen acknowledging her summons but craving her indulgence for a few weeks as he was too ill to travel and must take to his bed at Wanstead.

It seemed advisable for him to stay in his apartments because we had to be careful that those who wished us ill did not carry tales to the Court; and how could we be sure who our friends were?

I was, thankfully, in the house when a party was seen approaching. The royal standard fluttered in the breeze heralding one of the Queen's journeys. In horror I realized that she was on her way to the invalid at Wanstead.

There was just time to make sure that Robert was looking wan in bed and to remove from the bedchamber all signs which might indicate that a woman shared it with him.

Then the trumpets sounded. The Queen had arrived at Wanstead.

I heard her voice; she was demanding to be taken to the Earl without delay. She wanted to assure herself of his condition, for she had suffered much anxiety on his account.

I had shut myself in one of the smaller rooms, listening intently to what was happening, feeling alarmed at what this visit could mean, and angry because I, the mistress of the house, dared not show myself.

I did have some servants whom I believed I could trust, and one of these brought me news of what was happening.

The Queen was with the Earl of Leicester, expressing great concern about his illness. She was not going to trust any of the nursing of her dear friend to anyone. She would remain in the sickroom, and the chamber which was kept for her at Wanstead must be made ready for her when she should need it.

I was dismayed. So it was not to be a brief visit!

What a situation! There was I, in my own house, with, it seemed, no right to be there.

Servants were scurrying up and down to the sickroom. I could hear the Queen as she shouted orders. Robert would not have to feign sickness; he would be ill with anxiety wondering what was happening to me and whether my presence was going to be discovered.

I thanked God for Robert's power and the fear in which many went of him, for just as the Queen could cast him down, so he could wreak vengeance on any who displeased him. Moreover, he had a reputation for dark deeds. People still remembered Amy Robsart and the Earls of Sheffield and Essex. It was whispered that those who were enemies of the Earl of Leicester should take care not to dine at his table.

So I was not unduly afraid of betrayal.

Yet I was faced with a problem. If I left and were seen leaving, there would indeed be a storm. And yet was it safe for me to stay hidden in the house?

I decided on the latter course and prayed that Elizabeth's sojourn would be a brief one. I often laugh now to think of that time, although then it was far from a laughing matter. Food was smuggled up to me. I could not go out. I had to keep my faithful maid continually on the watch.

Elizabeth remained at Wanstead for two days and nights and it was not until—from the window of a small top room—I had seen the cavalcade disappear that I dared to emerge.

Robert was still in bed and in excellent spirits. The Queen had been attentive; she had insisted on nursing him herself, had scolded him for not taking better care of his health and had implied that she was as fond of him as ever.

He was certain that she would not make the French marriage and that his position at Court would be as firm as it ever had been.