But why should they not? When had he ever been anything to them but a loving father?
"This will make a difference to us," I said.
"Shall we go back to Chartley?" asked Penelope.
"We cannot yet make any plans," I told her. "We must wait and see."
Robert looked at me apprehensively. "If I am the Earl now, what shall I have to do?"
"Nothing yet. For a time it will not be much different from what it would have been if your father were here. You have his title but you still have your education to complete. Don't be afraid, my darling. Everything will be all right."
"Everything will be all right!" The phrase kept ringing in my ears, mocking me. I might have known it would not be so.
The Queen sent for me. Always sympathetic to the grief of others, she received me warmly.
"My dear cousin," she said, embracing me, "this is a sad day for you. You have lost a good husband."
I kept my eyes lowered.
"And you have the welfare of your children to occupy you. So your young Robert is now the Earl of Essex. A charming little fellow. I hope he is not too miserable at this loss."
"He is heartbroken, Madam."
"Poor child! And Penelope and Dorothy and the young one?"
"They feel the loss of their father deeply."
"Doubtless you would wish to leave Court for a while."
"I am so uncertain, Madam. Sometimes I think I want the peace of the country in which to mourn and at others it seems unbearable. Everywhere I look there I am reminded of him."
She nodded sympathetically.
"Then it shall be left to you to do what suits you best."
It was she who sent Lord Burleigh to me.
There was something reassuring about William Cecil, now Lord Burleigh. He was a good man, by which I mean that he more often acted for the sake of what he considered right than out of hope of advancing himself—something which could be said of very few statesmen. Of medium height and somewhat thin, he gave the impression of being smaller than he was; he had a brown beard and rather large nose, but it was his eyes with their hint of kindliness which were reassuring.
"This is a very sad time for you, Lady Essex," he said, "and Her Majesty is much concerned for your welfare and that of your children. The Earl was very young to die and leave children who are still in need of his care. I know it was his wish and yours that his son Robert should come into my household, and, I shall be happy to receive him whenever you think it fitting to send him."
"Thank you. He will need a little time to recover from his father's death. Next May he is to go to Cambridge."
Lord Burleigh nodded approvingly. "I hear he is a clever boy."
"He is well versed in Latin and French and enjoys learning."
"Then he should do well."
So it was arranged, and I felt that this was best because I knew that even aside from his brilliance Lord Burleigh was a kind and indulgent father to his own children and—that rarity—a good and faithful husband.
I suppose it was inevitable that rumors would begin to circulate. Whoever had told Walter of my relationship with Robert would be rekindling that gossip now that my husband was dead.
Robert came to me in a state of some anxiety and insisted that we talk. He told me then that it was being suggested that Walter had been murdered.
"By whom?" I asked sharply.
"Need you ask?" replied Robert. "Whenever anyone dies unexpectedly and I am on terms of acquaintance with that person, I am suspected."
"So people are talking about us!" I whispered.
He nodded. "There are spies everywhere. It seems I can make no move without its being recorded. If this gets to the Queen's ears ..."
"But if we marry she would have to know," I pointed out.
"I shall break it to her gently, but I would not like her to hear it through anyone but myself."
"Perhaps," I said sharply, "you would rather we said goodbye."
He turned on me almost angrily. "Don't dare say such a thing! I am going to marry you. Nothing else will satisfy me. But just now we have to be careful. God knows what Elizabeth would do if she knew I were contemplating this. Lettice, they are going to open Essex's body to look for poison."
I dared not look at him. I did not want to know the truth if it implicated Robert. I kept thinking of Amy Robsart at the bottom of that staircase in Cumnor Place and Douglass Sheffield's husband, who died just as he was about to divorce his wife. And now ... Walter.
"Oh God," I said, and I was praying, "I trust nothing will be found in him."
"Nay," said Robert comfortingly, "nothing will be found. He died a natural death ... of dysentery. Essex was never a strong man and Ireland did not suit him. However, I think it would be a good plan if you went back to Chartley for a while, Lettice. It might help to stop the gossip."
I could see that he was right and, after having received the Queen's permission, I left Court.
It was a great relief when I received the news that nothing had been found in Walter's body to suggest that he had been hastened to his death.
He was brought to England, and the funeral took place at the end of November at Carmarthen. I would not allow young Robert to make the long journey, for he was suffering from a cold at the time and he was in such low spirits that I feared for his health.
Lord Burleigh wrote to him assuring him that he was now his guardian and would welcome the time when he could receive him into his household, where he would be prepared for Cambridge.
I said that he should go after the Christmas holidays and that seemed agreeable to him.
I was in a state of expectancy. Obviously I could not marry Robert until a certain time had elapsed, for to hurry into marriage would set the tongues wagging again, which was the last thing we wanted. It would be necessary for us to wait for a year, I supposed. But we could accept that, for we should see each other in the meantime, and as soon as my son had left for Lord Burleigh's establishment I intended to take up my position at Court.
How long and dreary those winter days seemed! All the time I was wondering about Robert and what was happening at Court; and immediately after the Christmas holidays were over, I and my family—with the exception of young Robert—set out for Durham House.
A few days after my arrival I received a call from a lady I should have preferred not to see. This was Douglass Sheffield, and the story she had to tell gave me great misgivings.
She had asked that she might speak to me in secret, as she had something of moment to tell me.
There was no doubt that she was a very attractive woman and this fact made her story alarmingly plausible.
"I felt I must speak to you, Lady Essex," she said, "because I think you are in urgent need of advice. So I have come to tell you what happened to me in the hope that, when you have heard, you will realize the need to be cautious in your dealings with a certain gentleman of the Court."
"No one can overhear us, Lady Sheffield," I said coldly, "so there is no need for you to speak anything but openly. To whom do you refer?"
"To Robert Dudley."
"Why should you wish to warn me against him?"
"Because I have heard rumors."
"What rumors?" I tried—I fear not very successfully—to look surprised.
"That you and he are intimate friends. It is impossible for such a man to have friendships without its being talked of ... in view of his relationship with the Queen."
"Yes, yes," I said somewhat impatiently, "but why should I be warned?"
"Any lady should be warned whose name is coupled with his, and I should feel it my duty to tell her of what happened to me."
"You have already spoken of this to me."
"Yes, but I have not told you everything. The Earl of Leicester and I were contracted in '71 in a house in Cannon Row in Westminster, but he was reluctant to go through with the marriage for fear of the Queen's displeasure. When I became pregnant I urged him to marry me and he did at Esher at the end of '73."