We would sit quietly with Lady Mary and talk of the future. I was pregnant and so longed for a son that I could let this storm pass over me. I was well aware that I should never again be welcome at Court and that the Queen was my enemy for life, for whatever she did—even if she married the Duc d'Anjou, which secretly I knew she never would—she would not forget that I had taken the man she loved, and would never forgive me for having made him so much in love with me that he had risked his future by marrying me. In spite of her self-deception over her charms, she knew very well that had it been a choice between two women, I would have been the chosen one. That knowledge would always be between us and she would hate me for it.
But I had married Robert; I was to bear his child; and just now I could snap my fingers at the Queen.
Lady Mary thought that this would be the end of the family's favor at Court, and it seemed very likely that the Queen would marry the Duc d'Anjou out of pique.
I did not agree with this. I knew her well, and I think that this rivalry between us had given me a rather special understanding of her. In so many superficial ways she was a hysterical, illogical woman, but beneath this she was as strong as steel. I did not think she would ever commit an act which did not seem to her politically wise. It was true she had given the passport which would bring Anjou to England. But the people were against an alliance with the French; the only reason for marriage could be to get an heir, and her age made that very uncertain; moreover, she would make herself ridiculous if she married this young boy. Yet, because she wanted the fun of courtship, because she wanted to create the illusion that she was nubile, and perhaps, too, because she was deeply hurt that Robert had married me she would continue with this farce.
Was this the act of a sensible, reasonable woman? Hardly. And yet, beneath it all was the iron hand of the shrewd ruler, the woman who knew how to make the cleverest men of her realm bow down before her and give the best of their talents in her service.
Never to be close to the Court again would create an emptiness in my life; but as long as we lived there would be a tie between us —the Queen and myself. It might even be strengthened by hatred. I had at last proved my own importance to her. I had scored the greatest victory of our campaign when I had so enslaved Leicester that he was prepared to flout her in order to marry me. There could have been nothing more revealing in the relationship between the three of us than that. And she would be fully aware of it. I had proved without question that I was by no means the insignificant third in our triangle.
Mary left for Penshurst, and soon after she had gone Robert received a summons from the Queen. He was to present himself.
Full of foreboding, he departed and in due course came back to Wanstead with mixed emotions.
She had belabored him, called him traitor and ungrateful man; she had enumerated all she had done for him, reminding him that she had raised him up and could as easily cast him down.
He had protested that she had made it clear over many years that she had no intention of marrying him and that he believed he had a right to family life and sons to follow him. He was ready to serve his Queen with his life, he had told her, but he had believed that he might enjoy the comforts of family life without impairing his service to his Queen and country.
She had listened grimly and then she had told him to beware. "I'll tell you this, Robert Dudley," she had shouted, "you have married a she-wolf and you will discover this to your cost."
So I became the She-Wolf. It was a habit of hers to bestow nicknames on those about her. Robert had always been her Eyes, Burleigh her Spirit, and Hatton her Mutton. I could see that forever after I should be the She-Wolf—the picture of me in her mind being that of a wild animal, seeking victims to satisfy my violent passions.
"She seems determined to have Anjou," said Robert.
"I'll swear she won't."
"In her present mood she is capable of anything. She was shouting and swearing at me in a voice which could have been heard throughout the palace."
"Nevertheless," I said, "I doubt she will take Anjou."
The Frog Prince
How the hearts of your people will be galled, if not aliened, when they shall see you take a husband, a Frenchman and a papist, in whom the very common people know this, that he is the son of the Jezabel of our age—that his brother made oblation of his own sister's marriage, the easier to make massacre of our brethren in religion. As long as he is Monsieur in might, and a papist in profession, he neither can nor will greatly shield you, and if he grow to be a king, his defence will be like Ajaz's shield, which rather weighed down than defended, those that bare it.
... England is like to be Swallowed by another French marriage, if the Lord forbid not the Banes by letting Her Majestie see the sin and punishment thereof.
Another crisis had arisen in my family. There had been a tacit understanding between Penelope and Philip Sidney that they would marry. Walter had dearly wished that this marriage should take place and he had mentioned it on his deathbed in Dublin.
Philip Sidney was an unusual man. He seemed almost ethereal and by no means eager for marriage and it might have been for this reason that the engagement drifted on.
I received a call from Francis Hastings, the Earl of Huntingdon, who had been appointed the guardian of my daughters.
Huntingdon was a man of great importance, largely because, on his mother's side, he was of royal descent, her ancestor being Edward's IV's brother, the Duke of Clarence; and because of this he had a claim to the throne and maintained he came before the Queen of Scots and Catharine Grey.
He was forceful and a strong Protestant, and there was a possibility that since Elizabeth seemed unlikely to provide the country with heirs, he could one day take the crown.
His wife, Catharine, was Robert's sister; they had been married at that time when Robert's father had been eagerly marrying his children into the most influential families in the land.
Now he came to see me and tell me that he considered it was time husbands were found for my daughters and he had an offer for Penelope. I pointed out that she had an understanding with Philip Sidney, but at this he shook his head.
"Leicester is out of favor and likely to remain so. An alliance with a member of the family is not the best for Penelope. Robert Rich has become enamored of her and offers for her."
"His father has just died, has he not?"
"Yes, and Robert has inherited the title and a very considerable estate. His name describes him well."
"I will test her feelings in the matter."
Huntingdon looked impatient. "My dear lady, this is a brilliant match. Your daughter should seize it gratefully."
"I doubt she will do that."
"She will, for she shall be made to. Let us be frank. She is your daughter and you do not stand high with the Queen. Whether Leicester will come back into favor we do not know, but the Queen has vowed she will never receive you. In these circumstances it would be well for your daughters to be safely married."
I saw the point of this and said I would broach the matter to Penelope.