I knew that she still mourned Leicester. I heard that she kept a miniature of him which she looked at often; and that she had the last letter he had written her in a box which was labeled: "His last letter."
Yes, it was like a strange joke of fate that now my husband was dead the man she should most care about should be my son.
Essex was complaining that his debts were many and that, although the Queen showed her favor by keeping him at her side, she had bestowed nothing of value on him—no titles, no lands, such as those she had given to his stepfather; and he was too proud to ask her for them.
He was restive and longed for adventure of a kind that would bring him money. War was the answer, for, if it were victorious, spoils went with it. Moreover he was growing more insistent—and others agreed with him—that war with the Spaniards should be pursued.
The Queen agreed at length that an expedition might be sent out. Don Antonio, the ex-King of Portugal, had been deposed a year after he had come to the throne on the death of King Henry, and had been living in England ever since that time. Now King Philip of Spain had sent the Duke of Alva to claim Portugal for Spain. As the Portuguese were resentful of the Spanish usurpation, Portugal appeared to be a good battlefield. Sir Francis Drake was to take care of the fleet operations and Sir John Norris those of the land.
When Essex hinted that he should go, the Queen flew into a rage and he knew that it was useless to say more to her, but, being Essex, he was not deterred, and planned to go without telling her.
He came to say goodbye to me a few days before he left, and I was flattered to be taken into his confidence on this very secret matter, especially when the Queen was excluded.
I said: "She will be furious with you. It may be that she will not take you back."
He laughed at that. He was so confident of knowing how to deal with her.
I warned him, but not too seriously. To tell the truth, I was rather pleased at the thought of her anger and frustration at losing him.
How he loved intrigue! He and Penelope planned together.
The night he left he was going to invite Penelope's husband, Lord Rich, to his chamber to sup with him, and after his guest had left he would make his way to the park where his groom would be waiting for him with fleet horses.
"Drake will never allow you to board his ship," I told him. "He knows full well it would be against the Queen's wishes, and he is a man who would not risk offending her." •
Essex laughed. "Drake will not see me. I have arranged with Roger Williams to have a ship waiting for me. We shall put to sea and conduct a campaign of our own if they won't let us join with them."
"You terrify me," I said; but I was proud of him, proud of that bold, reckless courage which I believed he had inherited from me, for it certainly had not come from his father.
He kissed me, all charm and concern. "Nay, dearest Mother, fear not. I promise you this: I shall come home so covered in glory and with so much Spanish gold that all men will marvel. I will give the Queen a part of it and make it clear to her that if she will keep me at her side she must accept my mother, too."
It all sounded very fine, and such was his enthusiasm that, temporarily at least, I could believe him.
He had written several letters to the Queen explaining what he was doing, and these he had locked in his desk.
He set out in the early morning for Plymouth and after riding ninety miles on his horse, he sent his groom back with the keys of his desk and instructions that these were to be given to Lord Rich, with the request that he should open the desk and take the letters to the Queen.
The fury of the Queen when she received those letters was so great that those at Court said it was the end of Essex. She swore about him, calling him all the unflattering names she could think of, and promising herself that she would show him what it meant to flout the Queen. I could not repress a certain gratification at her frustration and disappointment while at the same time I was apprehensive as to how deeply Essex had injured his chances.
She immediately wrote to him, commanding his return, but it was not until three months later that he came home and when he did he showed me the letters she had sent him. She must have been in a fine rage when she wrote them.
When the letters came into his hands after weeks of adventures —mostly disastrous—he did have enough wisdom to realize that immediate obedience was essential.
The expedition had been a failure, but Drake and Norris returned with cargoes of rich treasure stolen from the Spaniards, so it was not entirely a lost effort.
Essex presented himself to the Queen, who demanded an explanation of his actions, at which he fell onto his knees and told her how enchanted he was to see her. It was worth everything he had suffered to see her again. She might punish him for his folly. He did not care. He had come home and been allowed to kiss her hand.
He really meant that. He was delighted to be home; and she, in her glittering gown and her aura of regality, would have struck him afresh with her unique quality.
She made him sit beside her and tell her of his adventures, and she was clearly happy to have him with her, so that it was obvious that everything had been forgiven.
"It is as it was with Leicester," said everyone. "Essex can do no wrong."
It may be that Elizabeth, knowing that he had gone away to make his fortune, determined that he should learn to make it at home. She became generous to him and he began to grow rich. Most important of all she gave him the right to farm customs on the sweet wines which were imported into the country and thus presented him with an opportunity to reap a big income. This right had been one of her gifts to Leicester and I knew, through him, what an asset it had been.
My son was the Queen's first favorite and, oddly enough, he was in love with her in his own peculiar way. The question of marriage, which had occupied Leicester for so long, would never occur to him; but she fascinated him completely; he adored her. I saw some of the letters he wrote to her and they glowed with this extraordinary passion. This did not prevent his affairs with others and he was getting a reputation for philandering. He was, of course, irresistible—with his looks, his charming manners and court favor. I could see how he suited the Queen at this time of her life. She would never love him as deeply as she had loved Leicester, but this was different. This young man—who spoke his mind so freely, who detested subterfuge—had placed her on a pedestal to be adored and she was enchanted.
I watched his progress with delight, wonder and triumph because this was my son who, in spite of his maternal parent, had found his way into her heart. At the same time I was apprehensive. He was so rash. He did not seem to realize the danger all about him—or if he did, he did not care. His enemies were everywhere. I greatly feared Raleigh—clever, subtle, handsome Raleigh—beloved of the Queen, but never quite as she had loved my two—my husband and my son. Sometimes the irony of it all would present itself to me and I would be hysterical with laughter. It was like a quadrille. The four of us weaving our pattern to the tune which was not entirely of her making. One of the dancers had left the dance now, but the three of us remained.
Essex had no head for money. How different from Leicester! And Leicester had died deep in debt. I often wondered what would happen to my son. The richer he became—through the Queen's bounty—the more generous he was. All those who served him benefited. They declared they would follow him to the ends of the earth but sometimes I wondered if their loyalty would have been so firm if he ever lacked the means to pay for it.