Katherine moved to greet Parry with her own warm grace of manner.
“Thomas, it’s good to see you.”
“Your Majesty,” Parry wheezed, with another laborious bow, “I fear we shall put you out, with all she said we must bring with us.”
“Never!” Katherine said blithely. “This house is big enough to hold all of her household too. Go, see Sebastian, good Thomas. He will tell you where to put them. Only, first, get you to dinner, and rest you.”
“I thank Your Majesty, indeed,” Parry said fervently.
“I can see she has led you all a fine chase here,” Katherine observed, her eyes dancing.
“It takes a doing to keep up with her,” the long-suffering Parry grumbled.
Elizabeth tapped him smartly in the middle.
“Aye, for those with too much stomach! Eat you less, Parry, and ride you more, and you’ll fare better.”
All three of her elders opened their lips to rebuke this piece of impudence. But before any of them could speak, yet another figure was in the doorway. A long-limbed boy with a beardless face. Elizabeth rounded on him.
“Rob Dudley! I did not give you leave to follow me up here!"
I here was challenge in her tone, and laughter; and an inviting glint in her green eyes. Ashley saw it, and so did the stout cofferer; but Katherine was looking aghast at the young man.
“Saints help us, Robin! Does your father know you are here?”
“No, Your Majesty,” young Dudley answered.
“Well, for God’s pity, ride home before he finds out, or he’ll call me to account for stealing you.”
She spoke jestingly, but there was a warning in the jest. The days still lay ahead when this boy’s father, Lord Warwick, later to be Duke of Northumberland, should have the kingdom in chaotic uproar, wiping his feet on the Council, hounding Mary nearly to death, grasping in his fist that hapless, helpless little pawn, Lady Jane Grey. And in due course, going to the Tower and from the Tower to the block… But even now the looming despot and military colossus was someone to reckon with. And his young son must not for one moment be permitted to indulge in pranks which might bring his father’s displeasure sweeping down on the quietude of Chelsea manor.
“Aye, Your Majesty,” Robert Dudley said submissively. “But will you graciously grant me leave to dine first and to rest my horse?”
“Oh, your poor horse!” Elizabeth broke in pertly and mockingly. “Is she tired?”
“You knew she was, when you made me race you,” the boy said angrily, stepping forward and facing her.
“I made you! Oh, listen to him! ’Twas he suggested it.”
“God hear her!” ejaculated Ashley.
“My horse was in a lather already, and you knew it.” Robert Dudley fairly spluttered with rage.
“Well, I won,” Elizabeth said mockingly.
“If we start fresh someday, Til show you how to ride—”
Elizabeth’s eyes shot green sparks. “I’ll see the day when I need teaching from you, you ill-mannered whelp!” she stormed suddenly.
“Bess! ” Katherine’s voice was severe.
Elizabeth shrugged her thin, straight shoulders.
“He rides his horse to a lather, and he has very bad manners,” she persisted stubbornly.
“Content you, Robin!” Katherine smiled at the lad’s red face. “We know whose manners could be called to account here, if we cared any… Now, get you below and eat. Parry, look to him. And bid them care for his horse.”
With a helpless look toward the ceiling, Elizabeth said: “She cares more for Rob Dudley’s horse than she does for me!”
“I thank Your Majesty,” Robert Dudley said formally. He gave Elizabeth a glowering look and went out with Parry, whose “Come, boy,” in a mixture of benevolence and resignation, brought an involuntary smile to Katherine’s lips. She turned to Elizabeth reproachfully, but the girl’s darkened face lit up and she started toward the door. For the voice of Tom was heard in a roar: “Bess—where’s my Bess?” And in he came, nearly knocking down poor Parry in his haste.
“Tom, you old pirate!” Elizabeth shrieked joyously and
flew to him. Seymour swung her up in his arms and whirled her round, as she squealed and laughed.
"W hat mean you, coming in by the kitchens? I missed you, wench!”
"xWv lord, put her down,” clucked Ashley, scandalized. "Your Majesty—” she appealed to Katherine.
"Tom! Put her down—”
"Aye,” he assented, dumping the girl onto her feet, “where 1 can look at her all of a piece. Why, what have we here? The child’s a wench…”
"You’ll not be carrying her on your shoulders any more,” Katherine said.
"Aye, she’s a heftier lass to lift. Though as an armful — a better one.” Seymour lunged at her again, and wrapped her in his arms. “Kiss me, Bess! ”
Elizabeth dealt him a hearty, smacking kiss on the lips.
“Oh! Tom, Tom, it’s heaven to be here!”
"WThy, and you talk like a lady even!” he marveled, teas-ingly.
“A lady!” Ashley echoed with eloquence.
Seymour swung round.
“Ashley! I did not see you. And I’ll have a kiss of you, too!”
He bore down upon her and as Ashley half rose, in a fluster, pushed her back into the chair and kissed her cheek. The good dame twittered, pleased, but affecting to be affronted.
“Fie, my lord, fie!” She patted his cheek with the ease of the privileged nurse, whose position was unassailable. “Are there no manners in this house?” she added as she left the room.
“None!” said Seymour in a genial roar.
Elizabeth’s face was lit by a veritable will-o’-the-wisp of mischief. She had escaped a scolding from her loved Kate, thanks to Tom’s timely entry on the scene. Now, attention was veering from her a little; and that was a thing to which the young Elizabeth Tudor never took kindly. She apostrophized Seymour: “And you—you literary clown! Come! Tell me true. So — are we to be married, you and I?”
“What?” Katherine exclaimed incredulously. She looked in bewilderment from face to face. Elizabeth’s, twinkling with malice and amusement, Tom’s smiling but half uneasy.
“Nay, let him answer me himself. Are we to be married, my lord?”
“Now, Bess … now, Bess,” Thomas protested. He had put his hands to his face in a comic show of embarrassment, peering through his fingers and shaking his head.
“What foolery is this?” Katherine’s voice was helpless and amused—she could never keep up with their games!
“Aha!” Elizabeth giggled. “Then you were not a party to it, Kate?”
“Bess, of what do you speak?”
Katherine was smiling, her eyes wide with bewilderment.
“Why, of his letter to me, asking my hand in marriage.”
“Tom—” Katherine turned to look at him.
“He did, he did!” Elizabeth persisted impishly. “I’ve proof! I have the letter.”
Suddenly the dancing malice blew out in her like a taper. She darted to the Queen, threw her arms round her.
“Oh Kate, ’twas all a jest, and answered so. Think you I could not read between the lines? I knew you had refused his suit! Confess, now!”
Katherine’s lips parted, but no words came.
‘‘And so, he wrote in angry jest to me! Did I not guess well? I only spoke of it to make all sure. Tom, never scowl at me so! You need not now have cause to be so angered. ’Tis Her Majesty has led you a pretty dance—not me… Well, Kate? What say you? Answer me!”
Seymour burst forth, buoyantly.
“And if she won’t, I will! We’re to be wed, Bess. I have her promise.”
He towered above Katherine, his hands on her shoulders.
“I knew it!” Elizabeth exclaimed gleefully. “Oh Kate, I’m glad! I’m glad! When?”