TUDOR SECRETS AND MYTHS are extremely honoured to have permission to print this amazing excerpt of an very intriguing historical novel by Adrienne Dillard for our event, Becoming the Tudor Golden Age: Elizabeth I.
In this event we get to know important events within Elizabeth Tudor’s life, events that helped her become the famous Tudor monarch of a Golden Age. In the many interesting and important events that there were, it can be easy to let this moment pass, the moment Robert Dudley’s wife’s death was first discovered. We will never know what was said and by whom but the author Adrienne Dillard helps us wonderfully, to imagine…
The morning was like any other that early autumn. Lettice and I sat near the fire in Elizabeth’s privy chamber, busily embroidering a counterpane for her impending wedding. My fingers were stiff from working the W and L patterns through the heavy fabric and I had to stop momentarily to flex and straighten them. Lettice hummed quietly while she worked – a hymn I had taught her as a child.
Elizabeth laughed heartily at some joke Dudley told her. I could not hear what was said, but they had been conversing in quiet lovers’ sighs for hours while they played cards. A short rap at the door brought us all to attention. Elizabeth did not like to be disturbed in her private time with Robert Dudley, so we knew whoever was waiting on the other side of the door was either brave or stupid.
Lady Jane Howard sprinted from her cushion towards the door. She propped it open slightly, speaking to the yeoman guards in hushed tones. After a moment, she nodded and stepped back to let the visitor inside. Dudley nearly fell off his seat. “Bowes! What are you doing here?”
The man bobbed a low bow, training his eyes on the ground. “Please forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean to intrude, but I have word regarding Sir Robert’s wife,” he stuttered, ignoring Dudley, and addressing Elizabeth.
She kept her seat and threw her arms out towards him. “Well? What was so important you had to disturb us?” she asked irritably.
Bowes finally raised his head. He glanced at Dudley. “There has been an accident. Lady Dudley sent her servants to the fayre yesterday and when they returned, they found her lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck was broken.”
Dudley puzzled over this revelation as the colour drained from Elizabeth’s face. She stood up quickly, drawing herself to her full height. “Tell us man! Is she alive or dead?”
Bowes’ hands started to tremble. “I do not know, Your Grace. I left Abingdon as soon as we found her. By the looks of it, I do not believe she survived the fall.”
Dudley found his voice. “You left her unattended?” he roared, throwing his hands in the air. He started towards Bowes, fists clenched, but thought better of it, turning away at the last moment. The man’s hands were shaking so violently I worried he would fall over from fright.
Elizabeth stepped in. “Go back to Cumnor and await further instructions. You are dismissed.”
Bowes nodded, making haste for the door. A deep silence filled the room. My eyes darted around the other ladies in attendance, and like Lettice, they all stared at the floor making no sound. The silence was broken by a guttural groan from Dudley. “I will be the one to blame for this! My reputation will be destroyed.”
Elizabeth stared at him with steely eyes, as if she were witnessing his vanity and ego for the first time. His only thought upon hearing of his wife’s demise was of self-preservation. “Robin, you must write to your cousin, Thomas Blount, at once. As your chief officer, he will need to take charge. You are dismissed to your home at Kew. Arrange your affairs. Do not return to court until I summon you.” Dudley stared at her, his mouth agape. When she turned away, he clenched his jaw shut, made an overly exaggerated bow, and backed out of the room. “Lettice,” Elizabeth called over her shoulder. “Get me Cecil. Now.”
The ladies who served Elizabeth in her bedchamber took turns spending the night on a small pallet beside her bed. Much as we loved her, we all looked upon our nights in her bedchamber as an exhausting duty. If she did not sleep, neither did we. And it was many an evening she had far too much on her mind to find any rest. Tonight would be no exception.
It was to be Lady Carew’s turn on the pallet, but Elizabeth chose Kat Ashley for the job. I was not surprised by this. Mistress Ashley had been a confidante of Elizabeth’s during her childhood at Hatfield, and more than once, had risked her life to come to the princess’ aid when she overstepped her bounds during Edward’s short reign. The two had been inseparable for most of Elizabeth’s life and, inwardly, I felt relieved Kat would be there to comfort Elizabeth. I was taken aback, then, when she turned her eyes to me and said, “No … Catherine will serve me tonight instead.”
Kat, Blanche Perry, and I helped Elizabeth out of the layers of damask and linen she wore. Then Kat stood behind her, plaiting her long carmine locks, as Elizabeth stared off into the void. Once the evening ritual was over and Kat and Blanche had been excused, she bid me goodnight. She crawled silently into her bed, drawing the black silk hangings shut. I wriggled down into my quilt and waited. Sure enough, an hour later the silken curtains began to sway back and forth with her agitated tossing and turning. Finally, they burst open, and Elizabeth launched herself out of bed, already chewing her fingernail.
I scrambled to my feet, but she held out her palm, “No, please do not get up on my account, my lady. I will be all right in a moment.” I let her pace until she tired herself out, throwing her body back onto the bed. Her long, delicate fingers looked a ragged, bloody mess.
I pulled my knees to my chest. “Please, Your Grace, is there anything I can do for you?”
She waved her hand dismissively and drew herself up to a sitting position. She gazed at me sadly. After a moment she said, “Yes, actually. Tell me what to do.”
I made light of her request. “Your Grace, I could never presume to give you advice. You are God’s anointed – what could I possibly have to offer you?”
She shifted. “What would you tell your children? What would you tell Lettice if she were in love with a man like Dudley? If she adored a man who could tear her world apart?”
Her question aimed too close to the truth. Lettice was in love with a man like Dudley. In fact, she was in love with Dudley. Should he choose her over Elizabeth, Lettice’s world would crumble. She would be banished from court, her prospects dried up. My only words of advice to Lettice had been to stay away. I couldn’t very well tell Elizabeth to stay away from her favourite courtier and master of the horse. It would be impossible for her to do. I had to tread lightly in my answer.
“The world is full of men who are vain, egotistical and scheming. But those same men can be quite endearing, full of love and tenderness. Your father was that way. He had no hesitation or reservation about setting Queen Catherine aside, banishing her to the most remote fortresses the crown owned. But … he did it out of his deep and sincere love for your mother.
Does his heartlessness towards one woman negate the devotion he had to the other? No. Is he dangerous? Possibly … your father adored your mother above all others. He tore apart his own way of life to satisfy her. He broke with the church, put his close councillors to death and angered most of Christendom in his pursuit of her. But in the end, she too lost it all … on the scaffold.” I paused, checking Elizabeth’s reaction. She was still, her face passive, but listening.
“If your mother were here now, and we asked her if she would do it all over again. If she knew that the outcome was her death, would she still have aspired to be the king’s wife? I know her answer would be yes, because seeing you on the throne would have been worth it. The fact that you now rule England has made every sacrifice worth her blood. You can have Robert Dudley, but is it worth the possible sacrifice of your crown?”
Her eyes were bright. She blinked the tears back hard, refusing to shed even one. “Why must it be one or the other? Why can I not choose whom I marry? My father chose his wives. My sister chose that insufferable Philip.”
I sighed. “You are right, but both suffered the consequences. You must find a new way if you want to have Dudley and secure your throne.” I paused while she considered this. Then I had a bolt of inspiration. “If there is one lesson you could learn from your mother, that lesson would be to never expose your true mind. You do not have to make your intentions known, now or ever. Have Dudley. Keep him close as your favourite, but do not ever let him know where he stands. You are the queen. You do not have to justify your intentions to anyone. This may be the only way you can have both.”
Elizabeth’s face finally relaxed. She even ventured a tremulous smile. “My mother would do that wouldn’t she?”
“Your mother had her fair share of emotional displays, but I don’t think any of us ever truly knew her intentions. She knew the power of mystery and played it well.”
Face drawn into a frown, she nodded. “I wish she were here to guide me. I would give anything to know what she was like or even just to remember the sound of her voice. After seeing my father execute two of his wives and almost arrest a third and watching Philip abandon my sister, I do not know that I shall ever marry. Marriage does not seem to be an enviable state.”
I thought of Francis and my heart longed for him. “Oh, but it can be, Your Grace. It can be wonderful.”
About the Author
Adrienne Dillard is a BA graduate in Liberal Studies with emphasis in History, Poli-Sci, and Economics from Montana State University-Northern. Her previous works include best-selling novels, Cor Rotto: A Novel of Catherine Carey and The Raven’s Widow: A Novel of Jane Boleyn. Keeper of the Queen’s Jewels: A Novel of Jane Seymour will be released in autumn 2022. When she isn’t writing, Adrienne works as an administrative assistant in the financial services industry and enjoys spending time with her son, Logan, at their home in the Pacific Northwest.
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