Free Queen Elizabeth's Daughter by Anne Clinard Barnhill

queen’s words had frozen her and she shivered a little, though the sun overhead beat down on them. She could not imagine leaving England for a foreign court.
    “I meet with Master Secretary this afternoon, along with Leicester and a few other advisors. I would have you come with me to observe. Later, in private, give me your thoughts. If you are to marry a foreign noble, you must still serve England. You must learn what concerns us on our little isle. Then, you can use your high position to give us aid if need be,” said the queen.
    “As you wish,” said Mary, struggling to rise and follow the queen as she marched through the garden, a woman on a mission.
    *   *   *
    Before Mary was to join the queen and her advisors, she had time enough to take old Tom for a run. She had been too busy lately to attend to the dog, but she felt the need to see him, feel his welcoming licks and escape the pressures she felt at the court. She wanted time in the sun, in the cool shade of the nearby woods, so she could clear her head and digest all the queen had told her. And, though the day grew ever more warm, she hurried to the kennels, quickly soaking her undergarments. She’d made quick time from the castle, past the barns where the horses and ponies were kept, and was headed up the slight rise to the kennels. She could hear the dogs baying at her, welcoming her.
    She noticed a figure walking toward her, but the sun shone in her eyes, making it impossible to distinguish any features. She could tell by the silhouette it was a man and, by his brisk walk, she guessed him to be a young man.
    “Can the gods have smiled upon me? Can this be Mistress Mary Shelton, the beauty of Elizabeth’s wondrous court?” said a familiar voice.
    Mary shaded her eyes with her hand so she could see who addressed her.
    “Milord Oxford. What has brought you to the kennels on such a hot day?” said Mary. She could not hide her lack of enthusiasm at seeing him. Something about him put her on her guard. She would rather have run into the blustery Pakington, though neither man particularly appealed to her.
    “One of my bitches dropped a litter of eleven pups last week. I came to inspect them and leave instructions with the kennel boy. I am happy to say each is splendid and I shall train them for the hunt,” Oxford said, pausing in front of her, blocking the sunlight.
    “Oh, I should like to see them!” said Mary, gazing at him. He was barely taller than she and his body was wiry and quick.
    “Then, by all means, allow me to introduce you to the little darlings,” Oxford said, offering her his arm. She took it and they headed toward the kennels.
    As they entered a conclave of various-sized buildings, Mary looked to find Tom . There he was, in the small hut he shared with two other dogs of similar size. He had seen her and was barking and leaning his front paws against the wooden slats that fenced him in.
    “Just a minute, Tom . I want to see the puppies first,” she called to him. At the sound of her voice, he jumped, eager to escape his confines.
    “He cannot understand you, you know. He’s just a dumb animal,” said Oxford, leading her to a larger pen, one in which they could stand. The space was dark and Mary could make out four smaller cages, each roiling with squirmy pups.
    “ Tom is anything but dumb—God’s blood, you ought to see him chase a pheasant! Fast and very smart,” said Mary, her voice edgy.
    “I did not wish to offend—I simply see no reason to become sentimental over a cur. They are a halfpenny a dozen,” said Oxford.
    “I paid more than that for Tom —I paid with a year’s worth of Greek and Latin. He was my reward for good marks from Master Nowell,” said Mary as she leaned over the pen and gazed at the pups. “Oh, they are darling!”
    “I shall make you a gift of one if you like,” said Oxford, standing very close to her.
    “That is very kind but I fear Tom would be very jealous—I barely have time to