The Last Tudor Read online

  He does not ask her why. That he does not challenge her tells me that he knows what is wrong with Elizabeth, that he shares her guilt. He merely bows and sends a message to the stables. As he turns his head to tell his groom, I see his glance go past the groom and past me to a man who stands waiting in the doorway. It is one of Robert Dudley’s servants, and he comes forward, his face very grave, and kneels before Dudley.

  I am trembling as I stand behind the queen, as if I too am expecting bad news. The queen and Sir Robert face the man together. Their hands are close, and I think she would like to cling to him. The man hands over a letter and tells Robert Dudley, so quietly that no one but Dudley and the queen and I can hear, that he is sorry to bring bad news: Lady Dudley is dead.

  The queen goes so pale that she is almost yellow. I think she is going to faint. She stands as stiff as the giant sergeant porter at the palace gates. She is speechless. I find myself reeling too—I did not think that she could do such a thing. I would never have thought it of Robert Dudley.

  She staggers as if her knees have gone from under her. I step forward and take her arm. “Your Majesty?” I whisper. “Shall I get you a glass of small ale?”

  She looks at me unseeing, and I flinch from the blankness of her suspicious glare. I think perhaps this is the face of a murderer. God spare me from her black look. I glance across the room and notice that Ned, who came in behind Dudley’s servant, is watching the two of them as well. He smiles tentatively at me, his handsome face a little puzzled, and I look away. I cannot tell him what I know. At this, of all moments, he has failed me.

  Robert puts his mouth to the queen’s ear and whispers to her. She nods and turns stiffly, goes out to the presence chamber and stands, one hand on her throne for support. I wait for Robert to bow to her and then turn to the court and announce the death of his wife, but he says nothing. The queen says nothing either. They look at each other, a long gaze of terrible complicity as William Cecil watches quietly from the back of the room. I have a horrible sense that there is a script to this play, but I don’t know it.

  I hardly know how we get through the day. Still the death of Lady Dudley is not announced. They serve breakfast and dinner; the court plays games and listens to music. In the evening there is some clowning and everyone who does not know the terrible secret laughs heartily and applauds. Elizabeth walks through it all like a little doll driven only by will. Her face is expressionless; she says nothing. I follow behind her. I feel as if the world is ending all around me and I have lost the only man I could trust.

  It is not until the next day, three full days since Elizabeth first told the Spanish ambassador that Amy Dudley was dead of a canker, that the news is released. Elizabeth sits on her throne in the chapel posed in that sacred space with the honored banners of the knights of the garter hanging from the walls, and announces, loud enough for everyone to hear, that sadly, Amy Dudley has died. Those few people who had heard only that she was heartbroken at being abandoned by her husband, or complaining of ill health, gasp at the news of her death. Only Mary and I, and presumably William Cecil and the Spanish ambassador, must wonder why it has taken them so long to make the announcement.

  Elizabeth exchanges a glance with Cecil that shows, in their carefully expressionless faces, that they are fully prepared for this. She inclines her head to listen to her lover. Her face is like stone. Dudley finishes speaking, bows, and steps backwards, away from the queen, his head down, as if he is grieving for his abandoned wife.

  “We are very sorry for your loss,” Elizabeth says regally. “The court will go into mourning for Lady Dudley.”

  A little gesture of her ringed hand tells everyone that they may talk, and there is a buzz of chatter, far more excitement than sorrow. Few people knew Amy Dudley: Robert, like other favored husbands, always made sure that his wife was kept from court. Now he is free, suddenly, amazingly free. People approach Robert, offering their condolences but really congratulating him on his extraordinary good luck. That an unloved wife should die at such a moment! No one doubts that he is the new king consort. Everyone assumes that they will marry at once. Ned comes towards me. Behind him, I see Cecil and Dudley and Elizabeth, heads together, like plotters. Robert Dudley looks sick, the other two blankly determined.

  “What luck for Dudley!” Ned says. “They are certain to marry now.”

  “They are,” I say, but he does not hear the emphasis.

  “How strange that the queen said that she was dead before Robert announced it to the court,” Janey says, joining us. “You heard her, didn’t you, Katherine? She said that she was sick of a canker, but then the poor woman goes and falls downstairs.”

  “Did she?” Ned asks.

  “I heard Cecil say something very different.” Mary joins us and speaks so quietly that we all have to bend to hear her.

  “What did Cecil say?” Janey asks Ned.

  “Ned didn’t hear, for he was walking with Frances Mewtas and not with us. He had eyes only for her,” I say sharply. “I was walking with Mary. Ned did not choose to be with me.”

  Janey looks from my pale face to his. “Katherine, we have been friends with the Mewtas family for ages. Frances’s mother served our kinswoman Queen Jane Seymour. She’s a good friend to us both.”

  I hunch my shoulder. “Oh, I am sure. But why would Ned dance with her, and walk with her, and disappear all evening with her when I needed him? When I needed him so badly.”

  “I did not!” he says indignantly. “I danced with her as the dance master commanded me to do. You did the same with your partner.”

  “I didn’t walk with him after, and give him small ale, and spend the next evening hidden away somewhere with him. I didn’t run after him and make a fool of myself, and of me,” I say, getting confused in my indignation. “God knows what is happening here. I think the court has gone mad, and you were nowhere to be found. I didn’t forget all the promises I made. I was not dishonorable.”

  The color drains from his face and his eyes go dark with rage. “Neither was I. You do me wrong, madam.”

  It is him calling me “madam” as if we were old and heartless that makes me turn on him. “How could you, Ned? After all you have said to me! After all you have promised. And I was trapped on the dais beside the queen, and I looked and looked for you . . . I couldn’t see you, and I couldn’t find you, and I was stuck there and didn’t even see you before we had to withdraw.” To my own embarrassment I can hear my voice quavering and then I openly cry, in the middle of the court, where anyone can see me.

  Mary comes to my side at once, puts her hand around my waist, and the two of us face the Seymours as if they are our enemies.

  “Accuse me!” He is white and furious. “Accuse me as you will. I have done nothing, and you should trust a man who is ready to risk everything for you.”

  “You risk nothing!” I cry at him. “It is I who have turned down the Spanish, and turned down the Scots, so I am trapped here with the queen, swearing that I will marry no one! God knows what she can do, what she is capable of, God knows what she has done to a rival. And I’ve done all this for you; you’ve done nothing for me. You’re such a liar!”

  “He’s not a liar,” Janey says quickly. “Unsay it, Katherine.”

  “He is, if she says so!” Mary says with instant loyalty.

  “Ask Frances what he has said to her!” I spit at Janey. “Frances Mewtas, your great friend. Ask her what lies he tells her—if she is to be your sister-in-law! For I will never be.”

  I fling myself away from the two of them and run to the ladies’ rooms, dropping a curtsey to the throne as I go. I will have to say I am ill and that is why I left without permission. I will have to go to bed. I long to go to my bed and cry all day.

  My little sister, Mary, tells everyone that I am sick from eating undercooked apples and that the best thing for me is to be left alone. She comes to me in my private room off the ladies’ chambers, and behind her comes a servant with a plate of meat from the