"I believe Elizabeth could be persuaded. If James were to swear to remain a Protestant, she would be ready to accept him as her heir."
"And you, my lord, as his good father, would rule the kingdom. And if he should fail to reach the throne there is always Arabella. Have a care, Robert."
"I display the utmost care."
"You are indeed like your father. Remember him. He tried to make your brother Guildford King through Lady Jane Grey. Again let me remind you that it cost him his head. It's dangerous to dabble with crowns."
"Life is a dangerous gamble, Lettice, so one might as well play for high stakes."
"Poor Robert. You have worked hard. You almost reached the crown through Elizabeth. That was a bitter blow and shameful was the manner in which she kept you dangling all those years.
Then it was: 'Robert, my Eyes, my Sweet Robin' and then just as you thought you had your hands on it, it was snatched away. At last you know how the game is played, but you don't give up, do you? You'll achieve your ambition secondhand, as it were. You'll place the power in your puppets' hands and you'll jerk the strings. Robert, you are the most outrageously ambitious man I have ever known."
"Would you have me otherwise?"
"You know full well I would not have you otherwise than you are, but at the same time I would say, Take Care. Elizabeth has received you back into favor, but she is unpredictable. You can be her Sweet Robin one day and That Traitor Leicester the next."
"But you see how she forgives me always. There could never have been a greater blow to her than our marriage, and if you could have seen her tenderness towards me when I was leaving for the Netherlands and on my return ..."
"I was mercifully spared that."
"You must not be jealous, Lettice. My relationship with her is not to be compared with mine and yours."
"No, because she has refused you! It would have been a different matter if she had taken you, would it not? All I say is Take Care. Do not think because she had patted you on the cheek and said you eat too much that you may take liberties with our gracious lady—or you will soon find that she is far from gracious."
"My dear Lettice, I think I know her better than anyone."
"You should. It has been a long acquaintance. But methinks the adulation you have received in the Netherlands may have made you see yourself a little more glorious than in truth you are. You are on dangerous ground, Robert, and I repeat that all I, as your humble wife, am doing is asking you to be careful."
He was not pleased. He had wanted me to applaud his schemes and to display a blind belief in his power to get what he wanted. He did not realize that I was changing towards him or how deeply I resented my expulsion from Court while he was received there with honors and seemed content that this should be so.
But even his new favor at Court did not save him from the Queen's wrath when she heard of his proposals. She sent for him and berated him soundly. I had his account of this—and that of others. She made it clear that both suggested marriages were anathema to her ... simply because both of the participants were my children.
"Think not," she had screamed, so that many could hear, "that I would allow that She-Wolf to glory in her cubs."
So it was clear that I was not to be forgiven. I was no nearer to being received at Court.
Robert was downcast for a while and then as optimistic as ever. "It will pass," he said. "I promise you that ere long she will receive you."
But I doubted this, as the very mention of my name could throw her into such a fury.
She kept Robert at her side as much as possible. She was determined to show me, I was sure, that although I had scored a temporary victory in marrying him, the ultimate triumph would be hers.
If I was not to be received at Court, I was determined that, throughout the country, I would make my presence known. I began by introducing such magnificence into all our houses that people began to say that the Court was poor in comparison. I set seamstresses to work on the most beautiful materials available, and my gowns were as grand as any in the Queen's extensive wardrobe. I dressed my footmen in black velvet with silver boars embroidered on them, and I rode through London in a coach drawn by four white horses. When I moved out I was accompanied by attendants numbering fifty or more; and there was always a company of gentlemen to ride ahead and clear the way for my coach. People used to run out of their houses to see the cavalcade, convinced that it must be the Queen who was passing by.
I would smile on them as graciously as though I were indeed the Queen, and they would gape at me in wonder.
Sometimes I would hear the awestruck whisper: "It is the Countess of Leicester."
I enjoyed these excursions. I had only one regret and that was that the Queen could not see me. But I consoled myself with the knowledge that news of me made its way very quickly to my rival.
The Queen had knighted Philip Sidney in January, which showed that the family was in favor again. Absurdly enough, I was the only member of it who must remain in the cold. And my resentment grew.
Robert told me that Sir Francis Walsingham wanted to marry his daughter to Philip. He thought it was an excellent idea, for it was time Philip married. He was still writing poems extolling Penelope's beauty and his hopeless passion for her, but as Robert pointed out to me—and I agreed with him in this—Philip was not a passionate man who needed physical fulfillment. He was a poet, a lover of the arts, and to him a love affair conducted in verses would be more satisfactory and romantic than one which came to a natural conclusion. Penelope naturally enjoyed being adored in verse, but at the same time she was living with Lord Rich, and although it could not be said to be a happy marriage, at least she was bearing him children.
So the families thought that a union between Frances Walsingham and Philip was a good thing. Frances was a beautiful girl, and if Philip was temporarily lukewarm, they were sure he would change when he married.
Rather to my surprise Philip allowed the arrangements to go on and settlements were drawn up.
When Dorothy had heard of Robert's suggestion that she should marry James of Scotland, she had been a little upset. She told me that nothing on earth would have induced her to, even if the Queen had agreed to it.
"I believe him to be a most unpleasant person," she said. "Dirty and overbearing. Your husband is a little too ambitious, my lady."
"There is no need to upset yourself," I retorted. "The marriage will certainly not take place. The Queen would have you, me, and your stepfather in the Tower if we got as far as that!"
She laughed. "She hates you, my lady. I understand why."
"So do I," I answered.
She looked at me with admiration. "You never grow old," she told me.
I was delighted, for to hear such words from a young and critical daughter was praise indeed.
"I suppose it's because you live excitingly."
"Is my life so exciting?" I pondered.
"Of course it is. You married my father and then you took Robert and he was supposed to be married to Douglass Sheffield, and now the Queen hates you and you just snap your fingers and ride out looking as royal as she does."
"Nobody could do that."
"Well, you look more beautiful anyway."
"Not many would agree with you."
"Everyone would agree with me ... though they might not admit it. I intend to live as you do. I shall snap my fingers at fate, and if your husband brings the King of France or Spain to marry me, I shall answer him by eloping with the man of my choice."
"As both these kings are married, and if they were not would certainly not marry you, that is a situation we need not worry about."
She kissed me and said life was exciting and how marvelous it must be to be Penelope—married to an ogre with the most beautiful young man at Court writing love odes to her, which everyone read and said were works of art and which would immortalize her. "I believe that the way to enjoy life is to make it merry."