“She’s not easily dissuaded once she sets her mind to something, and Northumberland has been thorough. Edward’s absence last night roused her deepest suspicions and her anger, as he no doubt hoped it would. She is a devoted sister. Too devoted, some might say. She will never stop until she finds out the truth. And that is what I fear: You see, though we may seek it, the truth is rarely what we hope for.”
I found myself perched on the edge of my chair. “You think the duke has…?” I couldn’t say the rest aloud. I saw in my mind the inscrutable look in Northumberland’s eyes and heard his strange murmur, which suddenly adopted a more sinister overtone.
We won’t forget those who betray us.
“I wish I knew,” said Cecil. “When Edward suffered a relapse, the duke ordered him sequestered, with all access to his person denied. Who can say what has happened? At the very least, I do suspect he is far more ill than any of us know. Why else would Northumberland have taken such pains to announce his recovery, even as he sent Lord Robert to oversee the munitions in the Tower and the manning of every gate in and out of London? Even if Her Grace could be persuaded to return to Hatfield, she’d find her way barred. Not that she will. She believes the duke is holding her brother against his will. If that is true, there is, I fear, very little we can do for the king. My main concern is that she not be lured into the same trap.”
It was the first time since Mistress Alice’s death that someone had spoken to me as an equal, and the trust it implied went a long way to easing my doubts. I had to remind myself that duplicity at court was endemic. Not even Cecil could be immune.
“Have you told her of your concerns?” I asked, and as I spoke I recalled her stinging admonishments last night. Clearly, Elizabeth wasn’t one to take his caution to heart.
He sighed. “Repeatedly, to no avail. She must see Edward, she says, if it’s the last thing she does. That’s why I need you. I must have irrefutable proof the Dudleys work against her.”
My hands tightened in my lap. All of a sudden I didn’t want to hear anymore. I didn’t want to be forced across a threshold that only last night, in her presence, I’d willingly have crossed. The danger he described was beyond anything I felt I could contend with. To risk myself like this would be to ensure my own death.
Yet even as I prepared my defense and refusal, a part of me could no longer be denied. I felt a transformation taking place, quite against my better nature. I was no longer an anonymous squire, determined to better my lot. I wanted more, to be a part of something bigger than my own self. It was inexplicable, disconcerting, even terrifying, but there was no escaping it.
“Her Grace means everything to me,” Cecil added, and I heard in his voice that he, too, had felt her power. “But more importantly, she means everything to England. She is our last hope. Edward became a king too young and has been under the thrall of his so-called protectors ever since. Now, he might be dying. Should Her Grace fall into the duke’s hands, it will destroy what those of us who love England have strived for—a united nation, invincible against the depredations of France and Spain. The duke knows this; he knows how important she is. And if he is to survive, he must have her under his control. But what can he offer her that will guarantee her participation in whatever he plans?”
He paused, his pale blue eyes focused on me.
I had to stop my hand from moving to my doublet. The ring. Robert had given me his ring. He said he would have what he’d been promised.
“It’s … it is not possible,” I said in a whisper. “Lord Robert already has a wife.”
Cecil smiled. “My dear boy, one need only look to Henry the Eighth to see how easily wives can be disposed of. Robert’s marriage to Amy Robsart was a mistake he must have come to regret almost as much as his father
I found myself perched on the edge of my chair. “You think the duke has…?” I couldn’t say the rest aloud. I saw in my mind the inscrutable look in Northumberland’s eyes and heard his strange murmur, which suddenly adopted a more sinister overtone.
We won’t forget those who betray us.
“I wish I knew,” said Cecil. “When Edward suffered a relapse, the duke ordered him sequestered, with all access to his person denied. Who can say what has happened? At the very least, I do suspect he is far more ill than any of us know. Why else would Northumberland have taken such pains to announce his recovery, even as he sent Lord Robert to oversee the munitions in the Tower and the manning of every gate in and out of London? Even if Her Grace could be persuaded to return to Hatfield, she’d find her way barred. Not that she will. She believes the duke is holding her brother against his will. If that is true, there is, I fear, very little we can do for the king. My main concern is that she not be lured into the same trap.”
It was the first time since Mistress Alice’s death that someone had spoken to me as an equal, and the trust it implied went a long way to easing my doubts. I had to remind myself that duplicity at court was endemic. Not even Cecil could be immune.
“Have you told her of your concerns?” I asked, and as I spoke I recalled her stinging admonishments last night. Clearly, Elizabeth wasn’t one to take his caution to heart.
He sighed. “Repeatedly, to no avail. She must see Edward, she says, if it’s the last thing she does. That’s why I need you. I must have irrefutable proof the Dudleys work against her.”
My hands tightened in my lap. All of a sudden I didn’t want to hear anymore. I didn’t want to be forced across a threshold that only last night, in her presence, I’d willingly have crossed. The danger he described was beyond anything I felt I could contend with. To risk myself like this would be to ensure my own death.
Yet even as I prepared my defense and refusal, a part of me could no longer be denied. I felt a transformation taking place, quite against my better nature. I was no longer an anonymous squire, determined to better my lot. I wanted more, to be a part of something bigger than my own self. It was inexplicable, disconcerting, even terrifying, but there was no escaping it.
“Her Grace means everything to me,” Cecil added, and I heard in his voice that he, too, had felt her power. “But more importantly, she means everything to England. She is our last hope. Edward became a king too young and has been under the thrall of his so-called protectors ever since. Now, he might be dying. Should Her Grace fall into the duke’s hands, it will destroy what those of us who love England have strived for—a united nation, invincible against the depredations of France and Spain. The duke knows this; he knows how important she is. And if he is to survive, he must have her under his control. But what can he offer her that will guarantee her participation in whatever he plans?”
He paused, his pale blue eyes focused on me.
I had to stop my hand from moving to my doublet. The ring. Robert had given me his ring. He said he would have what he’d been promised.
“It’s … it is not possible,” I said in a whisper. “Lord Robert already has a wife.”
Cecil smiled. “My dear boy, one need only look to Henry the Eighth to see how easily wives can be disposed of. Robert’s marriage to Amy Robsart was a mistake he must have come to regret almost as much as his father
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