“At night! It is most dangerous.”
“So you think
“I know you are the bravest, the strongest…”
“Yes,” he said. “I shall come. For I cannot wait till May.”
“No, no.”
“But yes!” he cried; he laughed and she could not help but laugh with him.
There had never been happiness like this in the whole of her life. Her widow’s hood lay on the floor—a symbol of her freedom. She knew that she would deny him nothing, for there was no happiness for her apart from him.
And when Thomas rode away from the Dormer Palace he was affianced—though as yet in secret—to the widow of a King not four weeks dead.
From one of the windows, the Princess Elizabeth watched him ride away. She tossed back her hair and smiled secretly.
He had called at the Palace in the hope of catching a glimpse of her, she was sure; he was pretending to be piqued because she had not accepted his proposal.
She danced round her room, pausing to admire herself in a mirror. She thought how enchanting she looked and of the months ahead when the Lord High Admiral would continue to woo her.
THE SPRING HAD COME to England. Daisies starred the fields, and the marsh marigolds, with the celandines, made a gold pattern along the banks of the river. Then came April, and the wild violets bloomed beneath the trees in Chelsea village.
Elizabeth was waiting for Thomas to act. There were occasions when she felt that she cared for nothing but to be with him and listen to his wooing.
Kat Ashley watched her.
“It is the coming of the spring, my lady,” she said. “Guard yourself, for in the spring fancy runs riot.”
“Mine never would,” declared Elizabeth.
The days were fully occupied. There were regular lessons of many hours’ duration. Elizabeth was studying now under the very distinguished and learned William Grindal who confessed himself astonished at her scholarship. Katharine conferred with William Grindal on her stepdaughter’s studies; but there was a remoteness about the Dowager Queen which Elizabeth did not understand. She was less important as the King’s widow than she had been as his wife; yet never had she looked so contented with life as she did now.
Elizabeth had seen Thomas now and then, although he made no special effort to meet her. It seemed as if he no longer thought of her as anyone but the late King’s daughter, and sister to the present one. But she fancied she caught a reminder of the old gleam in his eyes, and she guessed that he still wanted her. He was chagrined by her refusal. Arrogant Thomas! He thought any woman ready to submit to him. He had to learn that a Princess—who might one day be Queen—was no ordinary woman.
Avidly she learned all she could learn of the histories of England, France and Spain; and she imagined herself in a place of high state, governing countries. Two pictures dominated her dreams; one was of herself in the jeweled raiment of a Queen with her ministers about her, accepting her merest word as law; in the other she was lying under a hedge, as a serving woman might, and Thomas was beside her.
So passed the weeks with her stepmother at Chelsea.
Occasionally she went to court and saw her little brother. Edward seemed weighed down by his state duties. Whenever she saw him she thought: Kingship is too much for Edward. That which should adorn his head like a saint’s halo is but a weight he is not strong enough to carry.
What did her sister Mary think of all that was happening? Mary too, one step ahead of Elizabeth, must have her dreams. Hers were not of power and glory, of adulation, of wisdom to make her country great; her one thought was of turning England back to Rome. The clever girl who was not yet fourteen felt an inner exultation when she thought of Mary, since to force the people to what they loved not, was no way to rule, no way to keep the scepter in the hands and win the love and adulation of one’s subjects. She called to mind her father’s rule. His policy had been to destroy the dangerous men at the top and placate the mob. Already she was smiling at the people—the cottagers, the merchants and apprentices—when she went abroad. Already they were returning her smiles, liking her youthful beauty and her friendliness. “God bless the Princess Elizabeth!” they cried when they saw her. She was astute enough to know that this sign of her growing popularity must not show itself too often. It must not be known that already she was wooing the people, the common people who, those foolish ones did not fully understand, ultimately decided whether their monarchs should rule.
It was during the month of May when she made a discovery. She was lying drowsily on her bed in her apartment at the Dormer Palace; it was just on midnight, and through the slight opening where the curtains about her bed had not been pulled together, she caught a glimpse of the moonlight which flooded her room.
Suddenly she heard a sound in the grounds below. It might have been the snapping of twigs or the sound of a footfall—she was not sure; but she felt certain that someone was down there creeping stealthily about the gardens.
She remembered gossip she had heard among her women.
“They say he comes at night.”
“They say she meets him at the postern gate… and lets him into her chamber….”
Elizabeth had taken little notice. It was not unusual for a woman to have a lover, to bring him into the palace at night. She wondered now who the man was. If she discovered, she would tease the woman in the morning. She got out of bed and went to the window, creeping that she might not disturb her attendants who were sleeping in the room beyond, with the connecting door open.
She knelt on the windowseat.
Moonlight lay across the grass, and there…coming across it, was a man.
She had not been mistaken then….
