The Virgin Queen's Daughter - Ella March Chase (7 page)

“I have never been good at fighting, as you well know. Your mother is the strong one. I know you would deny it, but you have always been more her daughter than mine.”

“No. You cannot mean that.”

“It is the truth. I have no time left to waste on lies. You are alike, Thomasin and you. Intrepid spirits who march right over those too cowardly to keep pace. I have often wondered why she chose to marry me. She was the loveliest sight I had ever seen; with her quick wit and lively tongue she could have had her pick. . . .” His words faded.

“You are tired, Father. You must rest.”

“So I can be wide awake for my dying? I have important things to say to you and little time to say them. I am leaving Calverley. But you must leave it, too, Nell. Not long after I do.”

I did not care what happened to me in the future. I only wanted to stop time where it was.

“Nell, when I am gone, you must do something for me. You must look behind the loose brick in your chamber. Tucked away in that space you will find a letter to the queen. Jem helped me write it. We hid it when you and your mother were gone. I did not send it. But the money is there for you to hire a messenger to take it to court when I am gone. You are a high-strung filly, Nell. Your wit is too sharp for your own good and your temper . . .” He fretted the fur edge of his coverlet. “You will not send the letter until I am gone, will you, Nell? I could not bear to give up my last ray of light.”

“I will stay with you until the end.”

“And when death comes where will I be, Little Bird? Unraveling all the mysteries of the heavens?”

“You will know all the secrets of the stars before Dr. Dee does. He will be most jealous of your discoveries.”

“Besting the other scholars does not matter so much now. But losing contact with you, Nell,
that
is something I fear. Which is why . . .” He reached beneath his pillow. Something small and gold shone in his hand. “Do you recognize this?”

“It is an astrolabe,” I breathed. “Like the one Dr. Dee made for you. But this is so much smaller.”

“I had it made specially, when I knew I had to leave you. I asked the goldsmith to string it upon a chain so you can wear it next to your heart. Put it on.”

I grasped the necklace, my hands awkward with emotion, knowing that this was Father’s way of saying good-bye. I fumbled, then fastened the clasp about my neck.

He touched the chain, his fingers cold against my throat. “There,” he said, with a sigh of satisfaction. “Now you will be able to reach me, even in heaven. You must tell me all about the wonderful things you will learn. Tell me you are happy.”

Chapter Five

April 1564

P
ATIENCE IS A VIRTUE I KNOW NOT. EVEN MY STUDIES
provided no release from the anguish of losing Father, the finality of his death. I spent my days missing his ready wit, my nights weeping silent tears, racked with grief and uncertainty as I counted the days since I pressed Father’s letter into a messenger’s hand. I prayed Her Majesty would remember me.

If she did not remember? Then four months after my father’s death I would be entombed as well, for my mother insisted on arranging a marriage for me the moment our mourning was done. Without my father to teach me and cherish me, I loathed the home I once loved. The servants hastened about, caught up in my mother’s whirlwind of duties, never allowed to falter though my father lay in the chapel crypt.

“The Lenten season is almost here, Nell,” Mother warned. “It is time to learn how I keep the wet larder stocked with fish.”

“I do not care for fish.” My stomach rebelled at the stench of saltwater catch that the peddlers delivered wrapped up in seaweed.The freshwater fish from the holding pond in the garden always tasted foul to me as well. I sated my hunger on Fridays with chunks of white flour manchet and pungent wedges carved from moons of ripe cheese.

“The mistress of a household is responsible to God for both bodies and souls,” Mother said. “She must see that her entire manor observes the weeks of fasting. If you will not learn the keeping of fish let us go to the bake house. You cannot make the excuse that you do not eat bread. Not that you eat much of anything at all anymore.” She cast a worried glance at my wrist, its bones birdlike. I had nearly starved myself during the weary months of Father’s final illness. Mother’s voice gentled. “If you would just settle yourself to something useful, daughter, you would feel much better.”

“I do not want to feel better!” I snapped. “I want—”

I wanted to be five again, clambering up on my father’s knees. I wanted to cry out my grief. I wanted this agony of uncertainty to be over.

Mother stilled for a moment, stared down at the fresh rushes strewn on the floor. Dried rosemary sprinkled amid them released its scent, crushed beneath our feet. Rosemary for remembrance. “I miss him, too, Elinor,” she said softly.

You never loved him as I did.
I bit back the spiteful words.

Mother sighed and straightened the cluster of keys that dangled from her girdle. Keys to the wine cellar, keys to the coffer where she kept the household coin, keys to the life she wished to lock me into just as tightly.

“Perhaps you could go to the library and organize it,” she suggested. “At least then you will not be wandering about the house like a ghost yourself. I will send Moll to light a fire for you.”

Without a word I climbed the stairs. I passed through Father’s privy chamber, where he had once entertained friends like Roger Ascham and John Dee, through the bedchamber where he died, then to the heart of his world, the library where we spent so many precious hours. Cold struck me, borne of spring winds and the weight in my heart. I had tried to cross the threshold since his death, but the air itself scraped sharp nails across my spirit.

I trailed my fingers along the bindings, then stopped at one that seemed less worn than the others. I drew it out, surprised.
The Three Virtues
. I was certain my mother had gotten rid of it. Or had she forgotten it in the uproar when she turned Eppie away? Had a servant thought it one more in the endless piles of books and tucked it away on the shelf?

Eppie. The reminder of that terrible injustice shored up my bitterness and for an ugly moment I was glad I might have the power to wound my mother back if the scheme Father and I had hatched came to fruition. Volume in hand, I crossed to Father’s chair. As Moll lit the fire, I curled up to read about the courtier’s world I longed for. It was there Mother found me hours later, a missive crushed in her hand.

“Her Majesty is eager to meet her newest maid of honor.” Mother’s voice shook. “How did this come about?” she demanded, her expression a mixture of fury and fear.

“Father felt—”

“Father
felt
? What of things I
know
? You are a child with no more knowledge of the world than the lambs out in that meadow! Are none of the lessons life taught me so harshly of any value to you?”

I dug my fingers into my skirts. “You do not understand me as Father did.”

“And neither of you have ever let me forget it, have you? I have always been beneath you and your precious father in wit. Barred from your philosophizing, your debates while I made certain you were fed and warm and the roof did not fall in on your heads.” Mother stared down at the missive. “How could he betray me thus? Burying himself alive in this accursed library was pain enough for me, but he had to steal you as well, making certain I lost you to his infernal books! If he were here, I vow I would—”

Her threat faded to silence. Father was gone, far beyond her reach. Only the books he loved remained. She spun toward the shelves, grasped the nearest volume, and flung it into the fire. I cried out, too stunned to move as the flames leapt to devour it. The stench of burning parchment, velvet, and leather billowed into the room as she scooped up an armful of books and hurled them into the fireplace. Copernicus. I recognized the precious volume that opened the heavens wide to Father and me. I dove toward the hearth, scrabbled in the flames to save the book, but my mother yanked me out of danger. Tears streaked her features, black soot turning her face into that of a stranger. “Be damned to him for this! God in heaven, do you have any idea what you have done?”

“I have tried to pull myself out of the hell you wish to bury me in!”

“Hell?” Mother gaped as if I were possessed by a demon spirit. Maybe I was. “What do you think you will find among Queen Elizabeth’s courtiers?” She buried her face in her hands. When she raised it again, it was splotched red. “Your father petitioned Parliament so the Calverley title could be inherited through the female line. Your father’s title will be your husband’s to claim if the Crown wills it, as well as your fortune. And a courtier will gobble it all down, the money, the land, your body, getting sons to further his ambition!”

I took a step back, buffeted by her words. “I would not wed a man such as that.”

“Courtiers are consummate actors! You would not know his intentions until after he had you safely wedded and bedded. Then the mask would fall away, too late for anyone to save you. That is not all! Every time you pass under the queen’s eyes . . .” Her fingers dug into my arm. “Elizabeth is ruthless. Cunning like any other Tudor. You can never know when she will strike—”

“I will serve as a maid of honor. What possible reason would the queen have to strike at me? She is one of the finest minds of our age, Father said. It would not be logical for her to—”

“Father said, Father said! If your father had so much to say, he might have mentioned your plan to me! I am his wife of twenty-five years. I had a right to hear it from his own lips! But no. John de Lacey was ever too much the coward to meet me face-to-face, say something he knew would anger me.”

“He was not a coward!” I yanked away from her. “I would rather die than—”

“Die? Do you know how many of the people I loved at court have done just that? Had their head cut from their body? Felt heartbreak cleave their chest? Betrayed. Humiliated. Destroyed. Until in the end death’s release must have seemed a mercy.”

“You speak of Lady Jane Grey and Katherine Parr. What do I have in common with ladies as exalted as that? I wish for no throne.”

“You wish for things I know will destroy you! Why did your father not listen when I warned him? He made you fit for nothing, Nell. Not fit to be a wife. Not content to be a woman, accepting a woman’s lot in life.”

“And what is that?”

“Atoning for the sin that drove Adam out of Eden. Submitting to God’s punishment—bearing children in pain, serving man as your master.”

“Are you really so certain God holds half the lives he created in contempt?”

“Why else would so many women die bearing new life?” Mother asked with a soul-weariness even I could hear. “I would think a girl as bright as you are would see the truth clearly. Women are lesser beings than men.”

“Then why did God make Elizabeth queen?” I challenged. “Perhaps that is the first question I will ask Her Majesty when I am waiting upon her.”

Mother’s eyes rounded in fear. “You would court disaster? Speak heresy?”

“I will speak the truth.” It sounded braver than I felt in the face of her expression.

“You think truth will save you from danger? To survive in a royal court you will have to learn to lie. Lie until you cannot remember what truth is. Lie until it poisons everything you touch.” Mother’s voice cracked. “Stay here, Nell. Trust a mother who loves you. You will find nothing at court besides your ruination.”

For a moment I wavered, an image arose in my mind, a bleak, gray lifetime shut away like one of mother’s white larks. “Better that than never to have a chance to be happy at all. Please, Mother. Tell me why you are so set against this. Give me one logical reason I should not go to court. Just one.”

“I do not have to explain my decision. You are my child, Nell! Mine! And you will obey me in this!”

A
MONTH LATER
a second summons came from the queen couched in terms Mother dared not refuse. Although defeated, she made what arrangements for my protection she could. She carefully chose the retinue that was to accompany me from my childhood home to London. Twelve armed men, Moll, who was now to be my maid, and Jem and Crane, who were in charge of the de Lacey horseflesh and my baggage.

I had won. I reveled in my victory. Even my mare seemed to catch my mood. My beloved Doucette preened beneath me in her new green velvet saddle, her trappings exquisite against her sleek coat. My own apparel matched her finery. Billows of emerald velvet cloak swirled about my shoulders. A caul of silver thread netting confined my hair. A jet-beaded escoffion with two yellow plumes perched jauntily on my head.

The numerous garments Mother had planned so carefully for my time at court lay stored in Father’s traveling chests, their leather-clad lids peaked so the rain would run harmlessly off them. Dried herbs like the ones Eppie once tucked in her bosom were secreted away in the chests to keep the contents smelling sweet.

A locked coffer of jewels and coin I had not bothered to look in was buried deep in the cart that was to be driven by Jem’s trusty hand. But I had prepared my writing desk myself, seeing that the elegant drawers and compartments decorated with images of the goddess Diana were well supplied. Quills and parchment. Powder to be mixed into ink. Wax beads and a tiny dipper to melt them above a candle. Tucked in one of the cunningly fitted drawers was my brass seal in the shape of Athena, goddess of wisdom, which Father had let me choose years ago on a visit to Cambridge.

Most precious of all the possessions I carried to my new life was the small chest of books I had cushioned with fresh straw. Tucked within the pages of one of the volumes, a reading list Father had asked Jem to help him write sometime in the weary days before he died. His final gift, so I could continue my studies without him.

I carried so much that was Father away with me. From my mother? Only the breach separating us, wide as any sea. Or so I thought, headstrong babe that I was. I did not guess she sent the sturdiest shield she could find to stand between me and disaster. Ignorance. How many heartsick hours she must have prayed it would protect me.

Doucette pranced, impatient as I was to put Calverley Manor behind us. But as we prepared to ride away, Mother stopped me. She approached my horse, something cradled against her black wool bodice. A book. Something that survived the fire? My heart leapt. But it was de Pizan’s
The Three Virtues
Mother pressed into my grasp. The volume that instructed a woman how to survive at court.

“I thought you would be glad to have this. A birthday gift if you will. You will turn sixteen on the road to London.”

It was true, in the confusion I had forgotten. Still, I could not conceal my disappointment. “I had hoped this book might be Father’s Copernicus, saved somehow from the flames.”

“Copernicus will not help you where you are going, Nell. You will need more practical fare. I read it, recognized the wisdom in the pages, and the warnings. You must beware, Elinor,” Mother said as I shoved her offering into my saddlebag. “Do not be rash or hasty or speak without thinking.” Her voice cracked. She wrestled it into submission. “Promise me you will not follow through with this mad plan just to prove you can best me. I have told Crane he is to turn back any time you wish it. Even up to the moment you reach the palace gates.”

I closed my eyes, imagining the moment I would join the throng entering that glittering new world before me. Scientists bringing their latest discoveries to lay before the queen, adventurers laden with the bounty of new continents, plants and animals and birds no Englishman had ever seen. Philosophers and soldiers, men of daring and intellect. And women who could hold their own among the tangle of new ideas changing the world.