Philippa Gregory - The Virgin's Lover

In the morning the queen declared that she was ill and could see no one. When Cecil came to her door she sent out word that she could see him very briefly, and only if it was a matter of urgency.

“I am afraid so,” he said solemnly, gesturing at the document in his hand. The sentries stood to one side and let him into her bedchamber.

“I told them I needed you to sign for the return of French prisoners,” Cecil said, coming in and bowing. “Your note said to come at once with an excuse to see you.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Because of Sir Robert?”

“Yes.”

“This is ridiculous,” he said baldly.

“I know it.”

Something in the flatness of her voice alerted him. “What has he done?”

“He has made …a demand of me.”

Cecil waited.

Elizabeth glanced at the faithful Mrs. Ashley. “Kat, go and stand outside the door and see that there is no one listening.”

The woman left the room.

“What demand?”

“One I cannot meet.”

He waited.

“He wants us to declare our betrothal, for me to grant him and that woman a divorce, and for him to be called king.”

“King?”

Her head bowed down, she nodded, not meeting his eyes.

“King-consort was good enough for the Emperor of Spain.”

“I know. I said. But it is what he wants.”

“You have to refuse.”

“Spirit, I cannot refuse him. I cannot let him think me false to him. I have no words of refusal for him.”

“Elizabeth, this madness will cost you the throne of England, and all the danger and all the waiting, and the peace of Edinburgh, will be for nothing. They will push you from the throne and put in your cousin as queen. Or worse. I cannot save you from this; you are finished if you put him on the throne.”

“Have you thought of nothing?” she demanded. “You always know what to do. Spirit, you must help me. I have to break with him and before God, I cannot.”

Cecil looked at her suspiciously. “Is that all? That he wants a divorce and to be called king? He has not hurt you, or threatened you? You remember that would be treason, even if done in love? Even if done by a betrothed lover?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, he is always…” She broke off, thinking what intense pleasure he gave her. “He is always …But what if I have a child?”

His look of horror was as dark as her own. “Are you with child?”

She shook her head. “No. Well, I don’t know…”

“I assumed that he took care…”

“Until last night.”

“You should have refused.”

“I cannot!” she suddenly shouted. “Do you not hear me, Cecil, though I tell you over and over again? I cannot refuse him. I cannot help but love him. I cannot say no to him. You have to find a way for me to marry him, or you have to find a way for me to escape his demands, because I cannot say no to him. You have to protect me from my desire for him, from his demands; it is your duty. I cannot protect myself. You have to save me from him.”

“Banish him!”

“No. You have to save me from him without him ever knowing that I have said one word against him.”

Cecil was silent for a long moment, then he remembered that they had only a short time together: the queen and her own Secretary of State were forced to meet in secret, in snatched moments, because of her folly. “There is a way,” he said slowly. “But it is a very dark path.”

“Would it teach him his place?” she demanded. “That his place is not mine?”

“It would put him in fear of his life and humble him to dust.”

Elizabeth flared up at that. “He never fears,” she blazed. “And his spirit did not break even when his whole family was brought low.”

“I am sure he is indefatigable,” Cecil said acidly. “But this would shake him so low that he would give up all thought of the throne.”

“And he would never know that I had ordered it,” she whispered.

“No.”

She paused. “And it would not fail.”

“I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “It requires the death of an innocent person.”

“Just one?”

He nodded. “Just one.”

“No one that I love?”

“No.”

She did not pause for a moment. “Do it then.”

Cecil allowed himself a smile. So often when he thought Elizabeth the weakest of women he saw that she was the most powerful of queens.

“I will need a token of his,” he said. “Do you have anything with his seal?”

Almost she said “no.” He saw the thought of the lie go through her mind.

“You do?”

Slowly, from the neck of her gown she drew out a gold chain bearing Dudley’s signet ring that he had given her when they had plighted their troth. “His own ring,” she whispered. “He put it on my finger when we were betrothed.”

Cecil hesitated. “Will you give it to me for his undoing? His token of love to you? His own signet ring?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Since it is him, or me.” Slowly, she unclipped the chain and held it up so that the ring fell down into her palm. She kissed it, as if it were a sacred relic, and then reluctantly handed it to him.

“I must have it back,” she said.

He nodded.

“And he must never see it in your hands,” she said. “He would know at once that it had come from me.”

Cecil nodded again.

“When will you do it?” she asked.

“At once,” he replied.

“Not on my birthday,” she specified like a child. “Let me be happy with him on my birthday. He has planned a lovely day for me; don’t spoil it.”

“The day after then,” Cecil said.

“Sunday?”

He nodded. “But you must not risk conceiving a child.”

“I will make an excuse.”

“I will need you to play a part,” Cecil warned her.

“He knows me too well; he sees through me in a moment.”

“Not play a part to him. You will have to make some remarks to others. You have to set a hare running. I will tell you what to say.”

She wrung her hands. “It will not hurt him?”

“He has to learn,” Cecil said. “You want this done?”

“It must be done.”

Would to God I could just have him murdered and be done with it, Cecil thought as he bowed and left the room. Kat Ashley was waiting outside the queen’s chamber as Cecil came out and they exchanged one brief, appalled glance at the mess in which this new queen was entrapped in only the second year of her reign.

But though not dead I shall bring him down so low that he knows he can never be king, Cecil thought. Another Dudley generation and an other disgrace. Will they ever learn? He stalked along the gallery past the queen’s forebears, her handsome father, the gaunt portrait of her grandfather. A woman cannot rule, Cecil thought, looking at the kings. A woman, even a very clever woman like this one, has no temperament for rule. She seeks a master and God help us, she chose a Dudley. Well, once he is cut down like a weed and the path is clear she can seek a proper master for England.

The page, reporting that the doctor would not attend Lady Dudley, was summoned before Mrs. Forster.

“Did you tell him she was ill? Did you say Lady Dudley needed his help?”

The lad, wide-eyed with anxiety, nodded his head. “He knew,” he said. “It was because she is who she is that he wouldn’t come.”

Mrs. Forster shook her head and went to find Mrs. Oddingsell.

“Our own physician will not attend her, for fear of being unable to cure her,” she said, putting the best appearance on the matter as she could.

Mrs. Oddingsell paused at this fresh bad news. “Did he know who his patient would be?”

“Yes.”

“He refused to come in order to avoid her?”