“You know not what?” I interrupted. “My lord Norfolk, for such a lover as yourself there must be one thought uppermost in your mind and that is your inamorata—the Queen of Scotland. I know, Norfolk, that you plan to change your title of Duke for that of King.”
I was amused to see the terror in his face. I believe he thought that I had guards waiting to arrest him.
“Nay, Your Majesty,” he said, “I would not seek to marry such a woman… one who is known to be an adulteress… and some say murderess. I want to sleep on a safe pillow.”
“A crown might be worth taking a risk for, Sir Norfolk, eh?”
Norfolk had always prided himself on his rank as the leading peer. I had heard that the family had hinted that they were more royal than the Tudors. He said rather haughtily: “Your Majesty, I count myself as much a prince in my bowling alley in Norfolk as she is in the heart of Scotland. Moreover how could I marry one who pretends a title to the present possession of Your Majesty's crown? If I were to do so, Your Majesty might charge me with seeking the crown of England.”
“Remember it, Norfolk,” I said grimly. “I might well do that.”
When he left me I was sure he was well aware of my sentiments regarding the plan to marry him to Mary. She was a menace. Although I had been exultant when fate had delivered her into my hands I was realizing that she was more disturbing to my peace of mind in England than she had been when she was on her throne in Scotland.
What infuriated me was that she seemed to have the power to win peo- ple to her side. Bereft as she was, her throne lost, relying on my bounty, her reputation become very shady, still she attracted men to her cause. It must have been some essential femininity in her which aroused their protective instincts. I was sure I lacked that quality. I gave the impression that I was able to look after myself—which I was—but why it should be an asset not to possess this gift, I could not see. And yet I could. Men wanted to dominate. It was the very essence of their sex; and there were some women who sought to be dominated and this quality was that which attracted men so strongly. Mary had it to excess. As for myself, I did not possess it at all. My object was to prevent domination. Men professed to love me; they talked of my beauty, my many excellencies; but in my secret heart I knew that it was the crown which dazzled them, not the charms of Elizabeth. They loved me through fear of what might become of them if they didn't; they loved what good I could bring them in power, honors and wealth. But they loved Mary for herself. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why the thought of her so infuriated me, and not because of her pathetic claims to my throne.
Even men like Sir Francis Knollys were not immune to her charms. Sir Francis—my own kinsman and father of the saucy Lettice—had been uneasy with her and in time sorry for her. I trusted Knollys and it seemed to me that he was one of the best men I could have chosen as her jailer, yet I knew she pleaded with him to take her to me and that he pitied her when he gave her the answer he had been ordered to which was that I could not receive her for the sake of my own reputation until she was clear of the charge of murder. Knollys had begged to be released from the duty. But not yet, I thought, not yet.
He was a strict Protestant and when he took her to Bolton he tried to convert her to his views, and although I continued to trust him I began to feel that it might be unwise to leave one man too long in her company, and I had her transferred to Tutbury where the Earl of Shrewsbury could look after her. Not that I felt Shrewsbury would be aloof from her charms but he did have a very forceful wife who had already been much married and I guessed that she would know how to deal with Mary and be quite unmoved by that excessive femininity. I had the excuse for recalling Knollys when his wife died.
This was a great blow to me. Katharine Knollys had been born Carey and her mother had been Mary Boleyn, sister to my mother, so there was a strong blood connection. Katharine was a charming, gentle woman. I had often wondered how she came to have a girl like Lettice.
The whole Court knew how grieved I was by the death of my cousin, and I had her buried in St Edmund's Chapel at my expense. So I took the chance to recall Sir Francis and leave the troublesome Mary in the hands of Shrewsbury.
Robert was constantly in my company, as devoted and adoring as ever. He was persistent in his efforts to make me agree to a marriage, and I liked persistence in men. One would have thought that as the time passed and we were growing older, he would give up hope, but he did not appear to do so. I think his eyes strayed often to other women. I did not mind that as long as I did not know about them. I was prepared for him to have his light love affairs, providing they remained light, and that any engagements he might have with others could be dropped at a moment's notice when I beckoned.
I did notice that the two Howard girls were pursuing him. It amused me—two sisters fighting over one man—and my man at that. I thought Douglass Howard was the more likely to attract him. She was Lady Sheffield now but her marriage could not be very satisfactory as she cast such longing eyes on Robert—though I supposed no warm-natured woman of Lady Sheffield's type could fail to be affected by Robert's superb masculinity.
Douglass must have been rather like Mary Boleyn, the type who found it hard to say no to an attractive man, because they were not only of a giving nature but had fleshly desires of their own. I knew these women. One of my stepmothers had been like that. Katharine Howard. Another Howard. Was it something in the Howard breed? I must ask my Lord Norfolk!
Robert gave no sign in my presence that he even noticed Douglass Sheffield but he was a little piqued because I had given Christopher Hatton part of Bishop Ely's garden—a piece of fertile land between Holborn Hill and Ely Place. I reminded him that I had given him so much more and that all I asked in return was his love and devotion.
“You have that,” he told me soberly, “and it does not need gifts or favors of any sort to maintain it.”
There was a great tenderness between us at this time. I noticed a little white in his dark hair and that endeared him to me. Oh, it was true love I felt for Robert.
In spite of Norfolk's protestations to me I knew that his scheme to marry Mary was still being considered and that there were certain people whom I had thought to be my friends, who supported it. I was afraid of trouble in the North and I did not trust the Catholic peers, therefore I thought I had better put an end to the plotting.
One day when at table I told Norfolk that I wished him to sit beside me. He was a little nervous and I guessed this was because the idea of that marriage was still very strongly on his mind and he was wondering how much I knew.
I could not resist taking his ear between my fingers and nipping it so hard that he winced and referring back to his previous remark I said: “Methinks you should take heed of your pillow, Norfolk.”
Everyone who heard that knew I was aware of the plotting and that I did not like it. Norfolk was very subdued, and a few days later I heard that he had left Court.
He wrote to me from Kenninghall assuring me that he had no intention of doing anything which should not have my favor.
It struck me that this plot had gone further than I had thought and I suspected that Norfolk might be a guilty man, so I ordered him to return to Court without delay. He pleaded illness and I could not prevent myself smiling as I thought of the days of my own danger when illness had been a frequent plea on my lips. I sent word to him that he must consider himself a prisoner, and within a short time he was in the Tower while inquiries were being made concerning the proposed marriage.
Then I had disquieting news which drove all thought of everything else out of my mind. Robert was ill… gravely ill… and begging me to come to him.