Виктория Холт - A Favorite of the Queen - The Story of Lord Robert Dudley and Elizabeth 1

“You are prettier than any.”

“How can that be?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Do not ask me. I am not God. I did not make you all.”

That sent Amy into titters of shocked laughter. It sounded like blasphemy, but it was so amusing. Robert was always amusing. She deemed him as clever and handsome as he considered himself to be. She reflected his own pride in himself. He was sure in that moment that he could be happy at Siderstern for the rest of his life. He dazzled her; he dazzled them all; and he was determined to dazzle them more than ever before.

“Amy,” he said, “I love you.”

She was a little frightened. What did he mean by that? Surely not marriage! He was the son of the man who was shortly to become—so she had heard her father say—Protector of England. No, Amy could never hope for marriage with a man such as Robert Dudley, even though she was the heiress of her father’s considerable fortune. What then? Seduction? What else? And how could she say No? How could she resist his overpowering charm?

She stared at the crimson-tipped daisies because she dared not look at him, but all the same she was seeing his face—those bold eyes, the dark curling hair.

She had heard the servants talk of him; Anne and Frances whispered together concerning Robert. They had never seen any so handsome. As yet, they said, he did not know his power, but that would come.

Had it come? And was Amy to be its first victim?

“Why do you not answer me?” he said; and the answer she gave pleased him more than any could: “I … I dare not.”

He felt powerful. He was, after all, a Dudley. In him was the love of power which had raised his grandfather from a humble lawyer to be the extortioner-in-chief of King Henry VII, the same love of power which had induced his father to step along the road which had led from Tower Hill to the Council Chamber and would take him before long to the Protectorate. He felt very tender toward her; he took her trembling hand and kissed it.

“You are afraid, Amy. Afraid of me!”

“I … I think I should return to the house.”

“Nay,” he said firmly, “you shall not.”

He sensed the ready obedience in her and it delighted him. He wanted now to repay her for the pleasure she gave him. He said on impulse: “I will marry you, Amy.”

“Oh … but how could you! Your father would never allow it.”

She saw his lips tighten. “If I chose to marry I would do so,” he said sharply.

“My father is rich and important, but that is here in Norfolk. We have our house and our estates, and one day they are to be mine. But … what of your father in London? He visits the King himself, and they say that even the King must do as he wishes.”

“The King may do what my father wishes,” said Robert boastfully, “but I shall do what I wish.”

“But it could not be.” She was too innocent to know that her attitude was stiffening his determination to have his own way.

“If I will it, it shall come to pass,” he said.

Then suddenly he had taken both her hands, was drawing her toward him and kissing her.

“Robert …” she began.

“Your skin smells like buttermilk and your hair like hay,” he said.

“We shall be seen.”

“And do we care for that?”

“They will think you are a shepherd with your love.”

He released her. He did not care that Robert Dudley should be mistaken for a shepherd.

They walked slowly back to the house.

She said sadly: “It is like a dream that will never come to pass in reality.”

“We will make it come true.”

“But I know your father will never consent. It is wrong therefore to hope.”

“I tell you I will do as I please.”

“But you have forgotten who you are and the grand schemes your father will have for you. You have forgotten that although I am my father’s heiress and he is considered rich in these parts, you are Robert Dudley, the son of the most important man in England.”

“There is something you have forgotten. It is this: When I say I love, I love; and when I say I will marry, I will do so. No one shall stand between me and my desires.”

It was bold and it was what was expected of him.

He kissed her as they stepped into the house, and he kissed her as though he cared not who might see.

Amy told her maid Pinto what had happened. Amy could not keep anything from Pinto.

“Pinto,” she cried, “I am swooning. Bring a fan and fan me. I know not what is to become of me.”

Amy lay on her bed, half laughing, half crying, while Pinto tried to soothe her frivolous young mistress.

“Now, now, sweeting, now, now! What is it? You must not be so excited. It’s that young man, I’ll wager.”

“Clever Pinto!” said Amy with a smothered laugh.

“Oh, Mistress Amy, what has happened? What have you done? He is not for you.”

“You must not let him hear you say that, Pinto. He would be angry with you. He is for me, Pinto. He says it, and he will be very angry with any who gainsay it.”

Pinto felt sick with the horror of this. The family might think it great good fortune to have that young man as their guest. Pinto was a wise woman. She watched him often, and always with a fearful absorption. “What have you done?” she demanded. “Tell me … everything.”

“I was in the meadow with him … making a daisy chain.”

Pinto sighed and shook her head. “How many times has it begun thus?” she cried. “Making a daisy chain! There is some evil in daisy chains. So simple! So innocent! Thus was Eve when the serpent came along.”

“He says he will marry me, Pinto.”

“Never!”

“He is determined to do so.”

“They are always determined at first. It is only afterward that their determination wavers.”

“You misjudge him … and me.”

“Then you are still my little virgin?”

Amy nodded. “He swears he will marry me. Not even his father will stop him.”

“A man who could deal so swiftly with the Norfolk rising not stop his son making the wrong marriage!”

“But this is the right marriage, Pinto.”

“Nay, dearest.”

“He says so and he is always right.”

“I like this not, Mistress Amy.”

“I shall never allow you to leave me, Pinto, wherever I go.”

“I should think not!” said Pinto.

Pinto looked at the sixteen-year-old girl who had never been far from her country home. What did she know of the way of the world? And the young man had the air of knowing much.

Perhaps he would go away. He could not mean this talk of marriage. Pinto would know how to comfort Mistress Amy when he went. There was no fear that Robert Dudley would marry Amy Robsart. Fear of it? Yes, fear. For if innocent little Amy married Robert Dudley, how would it end?

Surprisingly the Earl of Warwick gave his consent to the marriage of his son with the daughter of John Robsart. Robert’s powers of persuasion were great, and his father recognized that determination which he knew so well because he himself possessed it. Robert was his fifth son, so his marriage was not the important matter of that of a first-born; the Robsarts were rich. Moreover at this time the Earl had great matters to which he must attend. Every day seemed to bring the fall of Somerset nearer and he, Warwick, was preparing himself to become Lord Protector. The matter of a fifth’s son’s marriage therefore seemed less important than it might have seemed at another time.

Jane Dudley, who could not accustom herself to her grand title, contemplated Robert’s marriage with happiness.

“It is a true love match,” she said, “and that is what I would have chosen for Robin. Amy is a pretty girl, a little simple because she has been bred in the country, but I like that. Robert will spend much time in the country, and the country life—away from the plotting and planning of the Court—is a good life.”