“Your Highness,” she began, sinking into an elegant curtesy. “Thank you for seeing me at such a busy time.”
Elizabeth waited for her to rise, and pondered on how well Jane Dudley looked for a woman in her mid-forties who had borne thirteen children. She was still rather slender and her brown hair was richly coiled beneath the new-style French hood with the heart shape. The dip in the center of the hood accented her dark eyes, which were Robert’s down to the intelligent gleam. The duchess dressed well but without ostentation, trusting to expensive fabrics and impeccable lines rather than fripperies to denote her status.
“What can I do for you?” Elizabeth asked kindly.
She expected a plea for leniency, for both Jane’s husband and son, a request for Elizabeth to intervene with the king to bring an end to the matter.
Instead, the duchess answered mildly, “You can do my family the great honour of agreeing to visit our home at Dudley Castle later this year.”
There was a slight change in the air of the privy chamber, as though one of Elizabeth’s attendants had let out a quickly smothered gasp. She cast a forbidding look at the corner where her women sat with their needlework, to let them know she had noticed and would deal with it later. Like her mother before her, Elizabeth kept a tight rein on the women who attended her.
Elizabeth turned back to the duchess. She raised a single eyebrow, a trick she had long practiced. “I hardly think this is the most propitious time for a royal to be visiting your home.” But that was why the duchess was asking, surely—to mitigate the court’s displeasure in the eyes of the people. The petitioner might be Jane Dudley, but the petition had the Duke of Northumberland written all over it.
“The matter of Guildford’s apology and submission will be resolved this very evening.” The serenity of the duchess’s voice was belied by the tightness of her posture.
“He has finally deigned to answer the king’s summons?” Elizabeth asked drily.
“Of course he would not long leave his bride in the Tower. Guildford is a man of honour.”
“Not honourable enough to seek permission for this marriage. A daring that shows itself rather in the father, than the son.”
Jane Dudley’s face darkened briefly. But then, in a move Elizabeth could never have predicted, the duchess knelt. Proud, yes, but sincerity radiating from her very stiffness. This was not a woman to abase herself purely for show—it meant something to her, if only that she loved her husband enough to do as he’d asked. Elizabeth’s irritation lessened.
“Your Highness, my husband’s great sin is that he loves his family. His faults will only ever be those of a father. I swear that my family would never do anything to injure your brother’s throne or his dignity.”
It was impossible not to believe her. Which was perhaps why Northumberland had sent his wife.
“I will beg if you wish me to, Your Highness. I swear to you as a mother—as Robert’s mother—that I wish your presence in my home solely for the honour of it, and for such an honour I would be indebted to you all my life.”
The mention of Robert made Elizabeth purse her lips, for Jane Dudley—like her cunning husband—clearly had more than one purpose to every move. But did not she herself also? She could match the Dudleys for playing games of power, and the truth was that she liked them. No matter how vexed she might grow with Robert, she could not imagine removing him permanently from her life. Who would stand up to her if she did? He was the only man she’d ever met—save her brother—whose will was as strong as her own.
She offered her hand to the duchess, who kissed it. “When Guildford has made his amends and the summer is over, then I will consider coming to Dudley Castle. You have my word.”
Let William rage if he wanted—if he could determine to marry Minuette, then she could visit where she wished.
“He is here, Your Majesty.”
William looked up from the gaming table where he and three others played dice. “Guildford?” he asked his uncle.
Rochford inclined his head once. “Shall I send him away?”
That was one way to play it—make the boy sweat by appearing at court and then being sent away again. William could drag that out for days, making Guildford wonder every night if he would be arrested before he could even see the king. As tempting as that was, the French delegation would be here in two days and it would be better to have this matter contained before then.
“Wait ten minutes, then bring him to the throne room. Make sure word spreads so that as many as wish are present to watch.”
He sent a page for Dominic, rolled twice more and paid his losses amicably, then stood and stretched. He was unexpectedly tense about this encounter. It was good to see Dominic, who met him outside the presence chamber. Ignoring everyone else who walked around them, William motioned his friend to match his steps.
“Ready?” Dominic asked.
It was such a relief to communicate in brief phrases and be fully understood. “Royally ready.” Meaning his temper was under firm control and his measures today would not be impulsive.
That did not mean they would be lenient.
The throne room buzzed with more suppressed energy than normal as word leaked that Guildford Dudley had returned to court. William felt the jostling for position. Courtiers hardly waited for him to pass before they rose from their bows and curtsies. At his side he heard Dominic mutter, “Vultures,” and smiled inwardly. In some things Dominic was—not naïve, but idealistic. Of course people wanted to see someone else fall. It meant they themselves were safe. For today.
It took a few minutes with his moderate pace to circle the room and feed the tension, then William took his place beneath the canopy of estate, that decorative cloth that hung above his throne, and seated himself. He was wearing a coronet of beaten gold and a collar of rubies to emphasize his authority, and although he rested his arms negligently on the throne arms, his pose was anything but casual.
There was no announcement, no warning, just Rochford throwing the far door open, then stepping aside to let Guildford Dudley enter. Northumberland was a prudent few steps behind his son, and Robert Dudley was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t surprise William. Of all the Dudleys, Robert had the keenest sense of self-preservation.
