A Favorite of the Queen: The Story of Lord Robert Dudley and Elizabeth 1 (33 page)

“Your Majesty …” The girl had flung her arms about the Queen’s knees. “I beg of you, have pity on me. Do not blame him. It was not our fault …”

“So you were forced to marry against your wills, I suppose?”

“We acted so, Your Majesty, because we truly loved.”

“Take her away,” said Elizabeth. “I am covered with shame that this should happen in my Court. I do not believe there was a marriage. The girl’s a slut, and she talks thus to throw dust in our eyes. Take her away at once. She offends us.”

She gave Catharine a push with her foot, and the girl fell backward. Two ladies-in-waiting came and helped her to her feet; they led her away weeping.

“See that she is well guarded,” said Elizabeth.

And as she turned away, she was smiling. The Lady Catharine Grey had put herself into the Queen’s power, and Elizabeth was too shrewd a statesman to miss the opportunity which was offered.

Lord Robert came
to the apartment of the Lady Catharine Grey. He was uneasy, for there would be trouble if the Queen heard of this visit; yet he could not ignore such an appeal as he had received.

She had sent a note to him, imploring him to come and see her. Robert was ruthless; he was self-seeking; but, beneath the shell which had been made by ambition, he had a kind heart. He was generous by nature, and it was his pleasure to help those who begged favors of him. He did
not wish to bring trouble to any except those people who stood in his way or had slighted him. The Lady Catharine had never done him any harm; she was a beautiful young woman and he liked beautiful young women. Therefore, at the risk of Elizabeth’s displeasure, he could not ignore Catharine’s plea.

With great secrecy he was let into her apartment where he found her melancholy in her distress.

“My lord, it is good of you to come,” she cried.

“I am distressed on account of your plight.”

“Could you not speak for my husband with the Queen? It is for that reason I begged you to come. I so fear what will happen to him when he returns.”

Robert was silent. The young fool Hertford could lose his head for marrying a lady of royal blood without the sovereign’s consent, and he should have known it.

“The Queen is incensed that you should have married in secret.”

“I know, but what harm will it do her?”

What harm indeed! thought Robert. You who have a claim to the throne, some think, and about to produce an heir! Poor foolish girl! But so charming, so helpless, and looking to the powerful Lord Robert with such appealing and most beautiful eyes.

But he had not come to talk politics with the girl.

“You may rest assured that I will speak to the Queen on your behalf.”

She seized his hand and kissed it.

“But,” he went on, “this is a serious offense for a lady of your rank to have committed.”

“I ask nothing … only to live quietly with my husband and child. We will go away from the Court. We will live in the country. It is what we both wish.”

Poor innocent young woman! Would the Queen allow her to go from Court into the country where she might plot against the Crown, where she might ferment trouble? What an unfortunate family the Greys were! Would Catharine suffer as had her sister Jane?

“My dear sister,” said Robert, “I beg of you, do not hope for much
leniency. I will choose a propitious moment to speak with the Queen. I will ask her not to be too harsh with your husband.”

“Robert, my dear brother, I have been so frightened. I have dreamed of late … about Jane. Poor Jane! She did not wish to make trouble. Did Guildford, I wonder?
My
sister and
your
brother. They were so young, were they not? Perhaps they only wanted to be happy, as we do. Is it our fault that we were born near to the throne?”

Robert comforted her and as soon as possible took his leave. He dared not stay long. As he went away he thought how ironical life was. The Greys had been born royal, and two of them at least wished this had not been the case. Yet he, who had been born far from royalty, longed to share it.

He did speak
to Elizabeth about the Lady Catharine who, by that time, had become a prisoner in the Tower.

Kat was present at their interview, but he was accustomed to her being there and he spoke frankly before her.

“What will you do with that poor girl?” he asked.

“I am enraged,” said the Queen. “She … my own kinswoman … so to behave!”

He said boldly: “Your Majesty is envious of the child she will bear.”

“I … envious of a bastard!”

“Not a bastard. The marriage was lawful.”

“Without the Queen’s consent!”

“The marriage is lawful enough, Your Majesty. You would not be envious now if you were to bear a child.”

“How can you say such things to me!”

“Because from one who loves you as no other loves you, you must expect the truth. Elizabeth, we are wasting our time. Let us marry. Let us have children, as surely we were meant to.”

She put her hand in his and exultation leaped within him. “Would that it could be so,” she said.

“But why not?”

She shook her head but her eyes were brilliant.

“Dearest Elizabeth, do we not always see matters in the same light? We are one. We were meant for each other.”

“We see the world in the same light,” she said. “You are my eyes, dear Robin. Yes, you are right. I long for a child.”

“It is your duty. These perfections should not be allowed to pass away. They must be perpetuated.”

“I know of none who speaks to me so elegantly. What arts you have, Robert!”

“Nay! ’Tis love, not art, that puts these words into my mouth, the love inspired by the greatest lady in the world.”

She smiled and leaned against him.

Kat, watching, sighed. Why does she refuse him? wondered Kat. How can she refuse such a man? He does not lose his graces. He has murdered his wife for her. Dearest and most perverse, most strong and most frail Mistress, what more do you ask of a man?

But Elizabeth drew away from her lover. “Why should you plead for that girl? Is it because she has a fair face?”

“Is it fair? I had not noticed. I remember I have rarely seen her but in your presence.”

“She is pretty enough.”

“A pale moon compared with the blazing sun. When I plead for her, I think of you. That is why I say deal leniently with her. It is what the people would expect.”

“Robert, there are some who would make her Queen. My father would have chosen this moment to send her to the block.”

“But you have wisdom as well as beauty.”

“Was my father not a wise man, then?”

“Not always.”

“I think that could be called treason.”

“Nay, call it love … love for you, my dearest Queen. The people would not like to see you murder your rivals as your father did his. It is unworthy of you. You are stronger than that. A lioness does not slay mice.”

“What! Should I pardon her! Should I leave her and her husband to raise a brood of children to menace the throne!”

“Not so. Keep her prisoner and keep Hertford prisoner, but do not take their lives.”

She tapped his cheek in her affectionate way. “Did you think I should take their lives? Nay! I would not have her blood upon my hands. I shall keep her prisoner in the Tower, and Hertford shall be my prisoner. There I shall know that she is harmless. I would not hurt her silly head. Let her live … my prisoner.”

He kissed her hand fervently. “You are the wisest as well as the most beautiful of women.”

“Enough of Madam Catharine. Let us talk of more interesting matters.”

“Of Madam Elizabeth perhaps?”

“And Master Robert.”

“Then let us talk of the days when they met in the Tower, and of how he in his lonely cell dreamed of the future.”

“Well, that will make pleasant talk, I doubt not. I’ll send for a musician to charm us with his lute while we talk.”

He looked reproachful; but she felt too soft toward him to trust herself alone with him.

The Queen was
pleased that the Lady Catharine Grey should be her prisoner. Lord Hertford was now in the Tower on a charge of treason. They should spend the rest of their lives there, decided the Queen. None should accuse her of having their blood on her hands.

She thought continually of that other and greater menace to her peace of mind. The very mention of Mary Queen of Scots could send her into a black mood.

If she had the Queen of Scots—and the Lady Mary Grey—in prison, she would be a happier woman. But there was another who had
come to her notice; this was Margaret, Countess of Lennox. This lady was not very far removed from the throne, since she was the daughter of Margaret Tudor, Henry the Eighth’s sister. The Countess needed careful watching, for she had a son, Lord Henry Darnley; and women with sons could be very ambitious.

Prying into the affairs of the Countess of Lennox, the Queen’s spies soon discovered that she had been corresponding with Mary Queen of Scots.

Elizabeth laughed when the news was brought to her. “’Tis clear to me what she would wish. She would marry that boy of hers to the Queen of Scotland, and then plot to give him England as well.”

Robert agreed with her that this was doubtless in the lady’s mind.

“I wonder if Mary would take him,” mused Elizabeth. “But I doubt it. Madam Lennox sees him with a mother’s eyes. I see a beardless boy—more like a girl than a man.”

“Your Majesty’s Eyes sees him in the same way.”

She laughed at her “Eyes”—her new pet name for him. “What else do my Eyes see?” she asked tenderly.

“That the woman may well be a danger to my beloved one.”

“We’ll put her into the Tower. That’s where she should be.”

It was not difficult to find an excuse. The Countess’s apartments were searched, and some charts of the stars were found. Her servants, under torture, confessed that she had employed astrologers to discover how long Elizabeth would live, and they had foretold that she would die during the next year.

Here, beyond dispute, was high treason.

The Countess of Lennox became the Queen’s prisoner in the Tower.

Now she had two dangerous women behind bars; but her thoughts were still of Scotland.