He kissed me, all charm and concern. "Nay, dearest Mother, fear not. I promise you this: I shall come home so covered in glory and with so much Spanish gold that all men will marvel. I will give the Queen a part of it and make it clear to her that if she will keep me at her side she must accept my mother, too."

It all sounded very fine, and such was his enthusiasm that, temporarily at least, I could believe him.

He had written several letters to the Queen explaining what he was doing, and these he had locked in his desk.

He set out in the early morning for Plymouth and after riding ninety miles on his horse, he sent his groom back with the keys of his desk and instructions that these were to be given to Lord Rich, with the request that he should open the desk and take the letters to the Queen.

The fury of the Queen when she received those letters was so great that those at Court said it was the end of Essex. She swore about him, calling him all the unflattering names she could think of, and promising herself that she would show him what it meant to flout the Queen. I could not repress a certain gratification at her frustration and disappointment while at the same time I was apprehensive as to how deeply Essex had injured his chances.

She immediately wrote to him, commanding his return, but it was not until three months later that he came home and when he did he showed me the letters she had sent him. She must have been in a fine rage when she wrote them.

When the letters came into his hands after weeks of adventures —mostly disastrous—he did have enough wisdom to realize that immediate obedience was essential.

The expedition had been a failure, but Drake and Norris returned with cargoes of rich treasure stolen from the Spaniards, so it was not entirely a lost effort.

Essex presented himself to the Queen, who demanded an explanation of his actions, at which he fell onto his knees and told her how enchanted he was to see her. It was worth everything he had suffered to see her again. She might punish him for his folly. He did not care. He had come home and been allowed to kiss her hand.

He really meant that. He was delighted to be home; and she, in her glittering gown and her aura of regality, would have struck him afresh with her unique quality.

She made him sit beside her and tell her of his adventures, and she was clearly happy to have him with her, so that it was obvious that everything had been forgiven.

"It is as it was with Leicester," said everyone. "Essex can do no wrong."

It may be that Elizabeth, knowing that he had gone away to make his fortune, determined that he should learn to make it at home. She became generous to him and he began to grow rich. Most important of all she gave him the right to farm customs on the sweet wines which were imported into the country and thus presented him with an opportunity to reap a big income. This right had been one of her gifts to Leicester and I knew, through him, what an asset it had been.

My son was the Queen's first favorite and, oddly enough, he was in love with her in his own peculiar way. The question of marriage, which had occupied Leicester for so long, would never occur to him; but she fascinated him completely; he adored her. I saw some of the letters he wrote to her and they glowed with this extraordinary passion. This did not prevent his affairs with others and he was getting a reputation for philandering. He was, of course, irresistible—with his looks, his charming manners and court favor. I could see how he suited the Queen at this time of her life. She would never love him as deeply as she had loved Leicester, but this was different. This young man—who spoke his mind so freely, who detested subterfuge—had placed her on a pedestal to be adored and she was enchanted.

I watched his progress with delight, wonder and triumph because this was my son who, in spite of his maternal parent, had found his way into her heart. At the same time I was apprehensive. He was so rash. He did not seem to realize the danger all about him—or if he did, he did not care. His enemies were everywhere. I greatly feared Raleigh—clever, subtle, handsome Raleigh—beloved of the Queen, but never quite as she had loved my two—my husband and my son. Sometimes the irony of it all would present itself to me and I would be hysterical with laughter. It was like a quadrille. The four of us weaving our pattern to the tune which was not entirely of her making. One of the dancers had left the dance now, but the three of us remained.

Essex had no head for money. How different from Leicester! And Leicester had died deep in debt. I often wondered what would happen to my son. The richer he became—through the Queen's bounty—the more generous he was. All those who served him benefited. They declared they would follow him to the ends of the earth but sometimes I wondered if their loyalty would have been so firm if he ever lacked the means to pay for it.

My darling Essex! How I loved him! How proud I was of him! And how I feared for him!

It was Penelope who drew my attention to his increasing devotion to Frances Sidney. Frances was a very beautiful girl; her darkness inherited from her father, whom the Queen had called her Moor, was arresting; but because she was quiet she always seemed a little apart from the rest of the young who congregated around my table.

Penelope said that Frances appealed to Essex because she was so different from him.

"Do you think he intends to marry her?" I asked.

"It would not surprise me."

"She is older than he is—a widow with a daughter."

"He has always felt protective towards her since Philip died. She is calm and unobtrusive. She would not attempt to interfere with what he planned. I think he would like that."

"My dear Penelope, there is not a man in England who can have a brighter future than your brother. He could marry into one of the greatest and richest families in the land. He cannot choose Walsingham's daughter."

"My dear Mother," retorted Penelope, "it is not our choice but his."

She was right, but I could not believe it. Sir Francis Walsingham wielded a great deal of power in the country; he was one of the Queen's most able ministers, but she had never made him one of her real favorites; he was in the category which was acceptable for talent. The Queen would have been the first to admit that he had served her well. He had set up one of the finest spy systems in the world, and a great deal of this he had paid for out of his own resources. He it was who had been the prime mover in bringing the members of the Babington conspiracy to justice, which had resulted in the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. He was a man of great honesty and integrity, but he had certainly not amassed a fortune, nor had he gained great honors. But this Essex swept aside. He had decided to marry Frances Sidney.

Penelope and I with Christopher and Charles Blount talked to him, and Charles asked what he thought the Queen would say.

"I know not," cried Essex. "Neither would her disapproval deter me."

"It could result in your banishment from Court," Christopher reminded him.

"Good Christopher," boasted Essex, "do you think I do not know how to manage the Queen?"

"Pray do not even mention such a thing," begged Charles. "If such words were carried to the Queen ..."

"We are all friends here," retorted Essex. "Leicester married, and she forgave him."

"But not his wife," I reminded him bitterly.

"Had I been Leicester I should have refused to go to Court without my wife."

"Had you been Leicester, my son, he would never have retained the Queen's favor throughout his life. I do beg of you, take care. Leicester was to her what no man ever was or will be, yet he knew he had to walk with care."

"I am to her what no man ever was or shall be. You will see."

Of course he was young and arrogant, and she had made much of him. I wondered whether he would ever begin to learn.

The young people admired him. They lacked my experience and approved of his boldness, and once again I did not wish to seem old and unadventurous, so I was silent.

Perhaps our opposition to the match made Essex all the more determined.

He came to see me on his return from Seething Lane, where Sir Francis was living, and told me that he had won his approval for the match.

"The old man is very ill," said Essex, "and I think he cannot last long. He told me that he has little to leave Frances for his debts are many. He said he doubted there would be enough money to bury him with dignity, so much had he spent in the service of the Queen."

I knew Walsingham was right and I thought him a fool for doing so. Leicester had served the Queen and made a very profitable affair of it—yet he also had died in debt, and at this very time I was bemoaning the loss of certain treasures which had had to be sold to pay them.

The outcome was that my son and Walsingham's daughter— who was Philip Sidney's widow—were married secretly.

I was shocked when I called on Sir Francis to see how ill he was. He was delighted, though, by his daughter's marriage. He told me that he had been anxious about her future. Philip Sidney had left little and he had little to leave either. "To live in the Queen's service is a costly matter," he said.

Indeed he was right. When I think of what Leicester had spent on New Year's gifts to the Queen—the diamonds, the emeralds, the necklaces of lovers' knots—I thought it was small wonder that my treasures had to go to pay for them.

Poor Sir Francis died soon after that and he was buried secretly at midnight because a proper funeral would have been too expensive.