This was one of those occasions when Elizabeth showed her wisdom. John Appleyard had been guilty of lying and trying to incriminate the Earl of Leicester; but she had no wish to pursue the matter. John Appleyard should be given a warning that it would go hard for him if he were ever caught in such conduct again. Now he must thank the Queen for her clemency and his God for his good fortune, for the matter was to be dropped, and no one was to hear more about the death of the Earl's wife.
This was certainly high favor. Robert was always at her side. He gave me a few helpless glances as though to say: I feel the same towards you as ever, but what can I do? The Queen keeps me with her.
The fact was that he had so much to lose now if he was discovered in a liaison, and he was not prepared to risk it. That was the difference in our natures. I was. I became fretful and dissatisfied, and I had many a slap from the Queen because, as she said, she would have no glowering creature about her.
She was worried. Robert's experiences had had their effect on his health, and, having caught a chill, he was confined to his bed.
How anxious we were—both of us. And how frustrated I was, for she could visit him and I could not. I schemed perpetually, trying to discover some way of reaching him—but it was no use.
She went to him, though, and came back complaining that his apartments were damp.
"We must select others," she said; and it struck me that there was something ominous in the manner in which she addressed her remarks to me.
Those she chose were next to her own.
It became clear that she had noticed something between Robert and me because when he recovered a little she sent for me.
"I am going to send you back to Chartley," she said.
I must have looked stricken and shown that I felt sick with frustration.
"I have kept you too long from your husband," she went on.
"But, Madam," I protested, "he is often away from home on your service."
"When he comes back to Chartley he must find a warm bed waiting for him. I dareswear he thinks it is time you gave him a bonny son."
The shrewd eyes were studying me intently.
"It is not good for lusty partners in marriage to be separated for too long," she continued. "There could be mischief such as I do not care to see in my Court. Come, cheer up. Think of your home and your children."
"I shall miss Your Majesty."
"Your family must make up for anything you miss at Court."
My mother was at Court and I went to tell her that I was to leave.
She nodded. "Yes, the Queen has spoken to me. She thinks you are of a nature to need marriage and that it is unwise for you to be kept from your husband for too long. She said that she had noticed lewd looks in the eyes of some people as they rested on you."
"Did she say whose eyes?"
My mother shook her head. "She mentioned no names."
So she knew something. She had seen, and she was dismissing me, for she would not tolerate a rival.
Sadly, angrily, I left for Chartley. Robert made no effort to say goodbye. He was clearly determined not to jeopardize his return to favor.
I began to wonder how far he had used me to arouse the Queen's jealousy. To a woman of my nature that was maddening. I was enraged that in so using me he had brought about my banishment from Court.
I should have hated him. I was nothing to him but a means of gratifying a temporary passion.
I had been a fool.
One day, I promised myself, I will make them both realize that I cannot be treated in this way.
So it was back to Chartley, and how depressed I was as I rode north! How I hated the sight of that stone fortress perched on the hill which was to be my home, for how long I could not say!
My parents had spoken to me before I left Court—and how I envied them for being able to stay there!—my father as Treasurer of the Royal Household and my mother as one of the bedchamber women.
"It is time you went back to Chartley, Lettice," said my father. "Too long a stay at Court is not good for young people if they are married."
"You must have missed Walter and the children," added my mother.
I retorted that I should not see a great deal of Walter at Chartley in any case.
"No, but he will be there whenever he can, and think of the joy of being with the little girls."
It was true that I should be glad to see the children, but they could not make up for the excitement of Court.
I was depressed for the first days thinking of Robert and wondering what was happening between him and the Queen. The recent estrangement had certainly not made her less fond, and I often wondered whether my deductions had been correct and her affections for him would, in the end, overcome her objections.
I began to ask myself whether she had mentioned me to him. I could picture his denial of anything between us and, if it should be proved against him, assuring her that it was nothing but a temporary diversion because she continually denied him his heart's desire. I vowed that one day I would make him pay for his treatment of me. I would make him realize that I was not to be taken up and thrown aside at his convenience. But when my anger cooled I had to accept its futility. There was nothing I could do ... at this time ... so I sought solace with my family, and strangely enough I found it.
Penelope was in her sixth year—a beautiful child, bright and willful. I could see myself in her very clearly. Dorothy, a year younger, was quieter, but nonetheless determined to have her own way. They, at least, were delighted to see me; and my parents had been right when they said they would bring me consolation.
Walter came to Chartley. He had served with Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, with whom he had become very friendly. I was interested to hear of Warwick because he was Robert's elder brother and had been under sentence of death with him in the Tower of London for involvement in the attempt to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne.
Walter was as loving as he had been in the early days of our marriage, and as for myself I was nonetheless attractive for having extended my experience. But how different he was from Robert, and how I railed against fate for marrying me to Walter Devereux when there was a man like Robert Dudley in the world.
However, my nature being what it was, I was able to derive some pleasure from my relationship with Walter, and at least he was devoted to me.
It was not long before I was pregnant.
"This time," said Walter, "it will be a boy."
We went to one of Walter's country houses—Netherwood in Herefordshire—which he thought would be more healthy for me, and there on a dark November day my child was born. I must confess to a great exultation when I learned it was a boy. Walter was delighted and ready to indulge me for giving him that which, like most men, he most desired—a son and heir.
The question arose of what we should call him. Walter suggested that he should be named Richard after his father, or possibly Walter, after himself. But I said I should like to get away from family names, and I had a fancy for the name of Robert; and as Walter was ready to please me that became the boy's name.
I was delighted with him, for from the start he was a most handsome child, bright and clearly intelligent. Oddly enough— and I surprised myself in this—I became absorbed by him; he helped to soothe my hurt and, wonder of wonders, I ceased to fret for the Court.
Eight years passed before I saw Robert Dudley again, and a great deal had happened in the world during that time.
The Years of Banishment
My Lord of Leicester is very much with her Majesty, and she shows him the same great good affection she was wont... . There are two sisters now in the Court, that are very far in love with him, so they long have been—my Lady Sheffield and Frances Howard; they, striving who shall love him best, are at great wars with each other, and the Queen thinketh not well of them and not the better of him. For this reason there are spies set over him.