Free Queen Elizabeth's Daughter by Anne Clinard Barnhill Page B

young man, who seemed to be smothering a smile.
    The queen stood, silent as a stone. No one moved.
    “While I am assured of your love for us, Sir James, you abuse that love we have for you! Gentlemen, He who placed me in this seat will keep me here. That is what you must believe. Let me comfort you—I will marry when God leads me to it, for I know full well the needs of my people and I do not wish bring war upon us,” said the queen.
    With that, she arose, nodded to Mary to accompany her, and left the men standing, their caps in their hands.
    *   *   *
    Later that night, Mary sat on the queen’s bed, rubbing Her Majesty’s feet with almond oil. The queen had cleared her bedchamber of all but Mary and Mistress Blanche, who was busy emptying the night stool.
    “What think you of my advisors, Fawn?” said the queen, her long red curls spread out on the pillow and her pale face gaunt.
    “Master Cecil is quite forceful in voicing his thoughts, ma’am. I found Sir James Crofts a handsome old fellow, kindly. Does he sing?” said Mary.
    “God’s teeth, girl! What has singing to do with anything?” said the queen.
    “Majesty, calm yourself. His voice was so sonorous—I should like to hear him sing,” said Mary.
    The queen laughed. Mary joined in.
    “What has the two of you cackling like geese?” said Mistress Blanche.
    “Oh Parry, I wanted to see how astute our Fawn is with matters of state. But all she can think about is Sir James’s baritone! If I had only such worries,” said the queen.
    “I have no head for state matters, ma’am,” said Mary, her face flaming.
    “Your head is as good as any, better than most. But the night grows dark. Let us to bed,” said the queen.
    Mary put away the almond oil and crawled into the trundle bed beside the queen’s imposing bedstead. She still wondered about the handsome young man she had seen earlier. She decided to ask the queen about him and hoped she would be able to conceal the level of her interest.
    “Majesty, who was that young man standing behind Sir James?” Mary said.
    “Oh, that was his son-in-law, Sir John Skydemore. A handsome devil, is he not? I do not wonder why you ask about him,” said the queen, laughing.
    “I … did not notice how he looked—it’s just that I had not seen him before and was curious as to how he arrived in the Privy Council,” said Mary.
    “God’s blood! You cannot hide your girlish interest from me, mistress. One would have to be dead not to notice his beauty—he rivals Adonis. He is at the Inns of Court, studying law. Sir James asked if the young fellow could sit in on our meeting and I agreed. Fear not, dear Fawn—he is not for you, though you are free to gaze upon him all you like. Just do not become a fool for him!” said the queen.
    Mary said nothing. She was disappointed to discover he was married and safe in the family fold, using his father-in-law’s position to wheedle a place at court, no doubt. But he was handsome and Mary fell asleep thinking of him.

 
    Eleven
    November 1569
    The heat of August had passed, and as winter reared its icy head, fires roared in the hearths of Richmond, where the queen had come for several weeks, to enjoy her “warm box.” The colder air was a relief to those at court, for the foul smells, which seemed to grow even more foul in hot weather, were not so bad once the season turned. Mary looked out from the queen’s apartments to the fields below. The sun was shining and the leaves had gone from green to yellow, russet, and brown. Mary especially liked the deep purples she spied in the nearby woods.
    Though autumn was her favorite time of year, this particular fall had been difficult. The entire court was worried about the restless north, whether the northern lords would rebel, as the rumors predicted, or whether reason would win out. The tension was palpable and discord rampant. Mary did not enjoy meeting with the queen and her advisors, for, no matter what point of view