“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, frowning, “but my father’s affections ran blazingly hot for a good six years before he married my mother. Don’t underestimate William’s devotion to you.”
“I would never do that. But I also don’t underestimate his devotion to England. And even you must admit that making me queen would be an exceedingly bad idea for England.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It is true that the nobility is not prepared for the elevation of another minor Englishwoman to the throne, even if you come without the burden of an ambitious family, as my mother did. And William is wise enough to know he cannot make his intentions public without causing an outcry greater than any since my father’s break with Rome. He will be patient—we must also ensure he is discreet.”
“People are talking.” Minuette said it flatly.
“Only a little, but that will change if William continues to favour you so openly. As long as he was sleeping with Eleanor, no one thought twice about his friendship with you. But with no other woman to distract him—”
“Are you suggesting we arrange a mistress for William?” Minuette could not decide if she was outraged by Elizabeth’s practicality or respected it. And she could not begin to unravel how she felt about the thought of William in the bed of another woman like Eleanor.
“I am suggesting that it might be wise to remove ourselves from court whenever possible. If I am not here, neither can you be here. Perhaps we will visit Mary. My sister has been left in solitude long enough—no doubt she would welcome visitors from court. Or, at least, endure them.”
Minuette thought of facing Lady Mary after that last, disastrous stay at Framlingham. It didn’t excite her, but Elizabeth was right. It would be better for everyone if she and William were separated.
She tried not to dwell on the fact that leaving court behind meant leaving Dominic as well.
Once thought of, Elizabeth wasted no time in arranging to visit Mary. It worked out rather well for her, since her half sister was currently a reluctant “guest” at Syon House. Just ten miles west of London, Syon House belonged to the strongly Protestant Duke of Northumberland, and his eldest son John, the Earl of Warwick, was Mary’s court-appointed guardian. If Robert chose to visit his brother at Syon House while Elizabeth was also there, who would remark on it?
William had not been enthusiastic about the temporary separation from Minuette, but Dominic had backed Elizabeth up, and so her brother agreed to let her and Minuette travel to Syon House at the beginning of March. Richmond Palace was only a little farther west; William planned to catch up to them there after two weeks.
Elizabeth thought she had everything under control, up until the day before her departure. As she was sorting through the books she wished to take with her, Kat Ashley interrupted.
“Lord Northumberland and Lord Robert to see you, Your Highness,” Kat said warily. Kat was always wary where Robert was concerned. Alone among Elizabeth’s women—except possibly Minuette—Kat Ashley had the privilege of speaking her mind freely to the princess, whose governess she had been since Elizabeth was four years old.
Elizabeth looked up and marked the lines of disapproval on Kat’s round-cheeked face. “What does he want?” Robert she would always welcome, but the duke? Perhaps he wished her to convey a message to the Earl of Warwick, or perhaps he himself planned to visit Syon House while she was in residence there.
Kat sniffed, looking very maternal in her blue wool gown and the old-fashioned gabled hood covering her silver-streaked hair. “The duke asked for a private audience. Will you see them?”
“Very well.”
Elizabeth’s immediate impression was that Robert would have rather been anywhere else than her presence. He stood two paces behind his father, and his normally expressive face was shuttered as though he were trying to distance himself from whatever his father had to say.
Northumberland, shorter and rougher-edged than the elegant Robert, spoke with unusual diffidence. “Your Highness, thank you for seeing us. There’s a matter of some delicacy…obviously the king will have to know but I thought that you…perhaps you will speak to him for my son?”
Involuntarily, she looked to Robert, who met her eyes and gave a slight shake of his head.Not me.Well, that was something.
“Which son and why does he require my intervention with the king?” Elizabeth asked the duke.
“Guildford, Your Highness.”
She should have guessed—of Northumberland’s five living sons, Guildford was his favorite for no discernible reason. He was the youngest—two years younger than Robert—and his only talent appeared to be getting into scrapes.
“And what has Guildford done?” Fighting, drinking, gambling above his means…all were distinct possibilities with the Dudley sons.
“He has unexpectedly married.”
“Rather young,” Elizabeth remarked drily. “He’s just twenty, isn’t he?” She turned her steady gaze to Robert, who had once again dropped his eyes. “Though that is not the youngest age at which a son of yours has married. And is the young woman—I suppose someone of whom the king will not approve?”
“Lady Margaret Clifford.”
If she had been a man, Elizabeth would have whistled at that name, or sworn aloud. No, her brother would most certainly not approve. Margaret Clifford was their cousin, a granddaughter of Henry VIII’s favorite sister, and as such she held a place in the royal line of succession. Elizabeth did not mince words. “It is against the law for a member of the royal family to marry without the sovereign’s permission. The penalty is death.”
If anything could bring Northumberland to humility, it was love for his family. Ashen-faced, he became voluble. “They are young, Your Highness, as you said, and in love. I told Guildford to wait, that I would discuss the matter with the king, but youth is impatient. And the girl—”
“Already with child?”
He nodded.
