"If this gets to Walter's ear ..." I began.
Robert put in wryly: "If it got to the Queen's we should then have good cause to worry."
"What can we do?"
"Leave it to me. You and I are going to marry. Rest assured of that. But there will be work to be done first."
I understood how hard he was working to bring this about when a summons came from the Queen for Walter to attend on her without delay. When he returned to Durham House I was eagerly awaiting him.
"Well, what happened?" I asked.
"It's madness," he retorted. "She does not understand. She has ordered me back to Ireland."
I tried not to show my relief. This was undoubtedly Robert's work.
"She is offering me the post of Earl Marshal of Ireland."
"That is a great honor, Walter."
"She expects me to think so. I tried to explain the position to her."
"And what did she say?"
"She waved me aside." He paused and looked at me searchingly. "Leicester was with her. He kept saying how important Ireland was, and how I was the man to become Earl Marshal. I think he has done a great deal to persuade the Queen."
I was silent, pretending to be perplexed.
"Oh yes. Leicester said what a great opportunity it was to retrieve my failure. They wouldn't listen to me when I tried to explain that they did not understand the Irish."
"And ... the outcome?"
"The Queen made it clear that she expects me to go. I don't think you will like it out there, Lettice."
I had to go carefully now so I said: "Oh well, Walter, we must make the best of it."
That satisfied him. He was still doubtful about Leicester, and although Walter's code made him accept the word of his wife, I could see that the suspicions were still there.
I pretended to make some preparations to go to Ireland, although, of course, I had no intention of going at all.
The following day, I said to him: "Walter, I'm very worried about Penelope."
"Why so?" he asked surprised.
"I know she is young, but she is mature for her age. I fancy that she is not very discreet in her friendships with the opposite sex. Dorothy worries me too and I found Walter in tears and young Robert looking very glum trying to comfort him. Robert said he was going to ask the Queen not to let me go to Ireland. I shall be so worried about them if I go away."
"They have their governesses and nurses."
"They need more than that. Particularly Penelope. It's her age ... and the boys are too young to be left. I have spoken to William Cecil. He will take Robert into his household before he goes to Cambridge, but he should not leave his home just yet. We cannot both abandon the children, Walter."
The children saved me. Walter was very depressed but he was fond of his family and he did not want them to suffer. I spent a good deal of time with him, listening to his account of the Irish question, and I made plans for the future when he would come home—which would not be long, I told him. He would then have good standing at Court as the Earl Marshal of Ireland, and perhaps if he went back later we could all go with him.
Finally he departed. He embraced me warmly before he left and begged my pardon for the slander which had been uttered against me. It would be as well, he told me, to take the children back to Chartley and as soon as he returned we would make our plans for the future. We would get the girls married and the boys educated.
I embraced him with real affection, for he looked so melancholy, and I felt, mingling with relief that he was going, pity for him and shame because of what I was doing.
I told him that we must endure this separation for the sake of the children, and although this may seem like the greatest hypocrisy, at that moment there were genuine tears in my eyes and I was glad that my obvious emotion seemed to give him some comfort.
In July he sailed for Ireland and I resumed my meetings with Robert Dudley. Robert told me that he had indeed advised the Queen that Walter's presence was needed in Ireland.
"You get what you want," I commented. "I see that."
"I get what I deserve," he retorted.
I pretended to be alarmed. "Then I fear for you, my Lord Leicester."
"Never fear, my Lady Leicester-to-be. If one would succeed, one must learn how to take what one wants boldly. It's the best way."
"And now?" I asked. "What next?"
"For that we must wait and see."
I waited only two months.
One of the servants from Chartley rode up to Durham House. I could see that the man was greatly disturbed.
"My lady," he said, when he was brought to me, "a terrible thing has happened. A black calf has been born and I thought you should know."
"You did well to come here," I answered. "But this is but a legend and we are all in good health."
"My lady, the country folk say that this has never failed. It has always meant death and disaster to the lord of the castle. My lord is in Ireland ... a lawless place."
"It is true that he is there on the Queen's business," I said.
"He must be warned, my lady. He must come back."
"I fear the Queen would not be willing to stake her policy on the birth of a black calf at Chartley."
"But if your ladyship went to her ... explained ..."
I replied that all I could do was to write to the Earl of Essex and tell him what had happened. "You shall be rewarded for bringing the news to me," I added.
When he had gone I was thoughtful. Could it really be true? How strange it was that the calf should be born as it must have been on that occasion when the death of the lord of the castle had originally given rise to the legend.
Before I could dispatch a letter to my husband I received the news that Walter had died of dysentery in Dublin Castle.
The Countess of Leicester
A gentleman of the Queen's bedchamber reminded her that the Earl of Leicester was still free to marry at which she angrily retorted that "It would be unlike herself and unmindful of her royal majesty to prefer her servant, whom she herself had raised, before the greatest Princes in Christendom.
SO I was a widow. I cannot pretend to have been smitten by sorrow. I had never been in love with Walter, and since I had become Robert's mistress I had deeply regretted my marriage, but I had had some affection for him, I had borne his children, and I could not help feeling a certain melancholy at his death. I did not brood on this, for thoughts of what my freedom would mean filled me with an excitement which overwhelmed all other feelings.
I could hardly wait to see Robert. When he did come, he came in secret as before.
"We shall have to tread warily," he warned, and a cold fear gripped me. Is he trying to evade marriage now? I asked myself. And there was one question which kept coming into my mind: How was it Walter had died so fortuitously? Dysentery, it was said. Many had died of it and in such cases there were always suspicions. I lay awake asking myself if it really was an irony of fate or whether Robert had played some part in it. What would the outcome be? I was uneasy, but as eager for Robert as ever. No matter what he did, nothing could change that.
It was I who broke the news of their father's death to the children. I summoned them all to my apartments and, drawing young Rob to me, I said: "My son, you are the Earl of Essex now."
He looked at me with wide, bewildered eyes, and my love for him overwhelmed me. I held him close and said: "Robert, my dearest, your father is dead, and you are his heir because you are his eldest son."
Robert began to sob and I saw tears in Penelope's eyes. Dorothy was crying too and little Walter, seeing the distress of his brother and sisters, broke into loud lamentation.
I thought, in some amazement: So they truly loved him.