Read Online Elizabeth: The Golden Age by TASHA ALEXANDER - Free Book Online
Authors: TASHA ALEXANDER
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cause her grief. “No man could do more.”
“I can’t leave court yet. The queen needs me.” His eyes were dull, his shoulders had begun to stoop, and his movements were not as fluid as they had once been. But his voice was strong, authoritative. Much though he adored Ursula, he would never abandon Elizabeth.
Anger flashed in her eyes and he fought the urge to be irritated. “So you’re to die in a harness like a packhorse, are you?” she asked. “And for what?”
Walsingham bit back a sarcastic remark and fumbled for something to say that would not be incendiary. “I like to think of myself as a thoroughbred, not a packhorse. Have you such a low opinion of me?”
“Francis.” His wife took his hand. “You are the best man there is. I’ve never doubted that.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek as Mary came toward them, her arm in William’s.
“So, William,” Walsingham said, his voice deliberately light. “What do they say in Paris of the Pope’s call for holy war?”
“Many welcome it.” William hovered next to the table, his eyes not meeting his brother’s. He tugged at the ruffled collar, stiff around his neck.
“Sit, sit,” Ursula urged.
“Here by me, William,” Mary said.
“I don’t understand why we must all hate each other,” Ursula said, her steady gaze resting on her brother-in-law.
“Truth will always hate falsehood, ma’am,” William said, sitting next to Mary.
“Trouble comes when two sides both think they hold the truth.” Walsingham watched his brother carefully, trying to read his reaction.
“But only one of them can be right.”
“There are few issues more divisive than religion,” Walsingham said. “I’m glad to find myself on the side fighting for the truth.”
“How can you be certain you’re in possession of the truth?” William asked.
“I know it with all my heart. There’s not a shade of doubt in me. I’ve devoted my life to protecting it.”
“Why do we have to talk about war?” Mary asked, petulant. “You must have news, William. Are you married yet?”
Her uncle smiled. “Not yet.”
“Then we must find you a nice sensible English wife,” Mary said.
“No, no.” William shook his head. “I won’t be staying long. I must go back to my studies.”
His brother looked at him and spoke in measured tones. “Not too soon, I hope. Every man deserves a rest.”
“Listen to him!” Ursula said, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “When did you last rest, I’d like to know?” She leaned toward William. “He won’t listen to me. Not a thought for his health. You tell him; he’s your brother. He’ll die at his desk, out of sheer selfishness.”
Servants came in, carrying steaming platters of chicken boiled with leeks, mackerel with gooseberry compote, and artichokes baked with sherry and dates. Delicious smells filled the room as footmen poured wine.
“There are worse ways to go, madam,” William said, filling his plate.
“I cannot agree,” Ursula said. “No man should have to be so consumed with the business of state. He thinks nothing of us, only England.”
“My dear.” Walsingham gave her a tired smile. “No one doubts my adoration for you.”
“I should hope not,” his wife said. “But I’d like to ensure many more years of it, Francis. You’ll do us no good dead.”
“Quite,” William agreed, applying himself with unusual enthusiasm to the food before him. “I’m afraid your concern should focus more on my dear brother. It is he who risks running himself senseless.”
“My studies are not so ferocious,” William said.
“No?” Walsingham asked. “I wonder if that is so.”
William swallowed an enormous bite of mackerel. “What about you, Mary? Why aren’t you yet married?”
Mary’s silvery laughter delighted anyone who heard it. “I’ve exacting taste, sir, and have not yet met someone who meets my standards. Perhaps you could suggest a candidate?”
Walsingham sat back as his brother set
“I can’t leave court yet. The queen needs me.” His eyes were dull, his shoulders had begun to stoop, and his movements were not as fluid as they had once been. But his voice was strong, authoritative. Much though he adored Ursula, he would never abandon Elizabeth.
Anger flashed in her eyes and he fought the urge to be irritated. “So you’re to die in a harness like a packhorse, are you?” she asked. “And for what?”
Walsingham bit back a sarcastic remark and fumbled for something to say that would not be incendiary. “I like to think of myself as a thoroughbred, not a packhorse. Have you such a low opinion of me?”
“Francis.” His wife took his hand. “You are the best man there is. I’ve never doubted that.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek as Mary came toward them, her arm in William’s.
“So, William,” Walsingham said, his voice deliberately light. “What do they say in Paris of the Pope’s call for holy war?”
“Many welcome it.” William hovered next to the table, his eyes not meeting his brother’s. He tugged at the ruffled collar, stiff around his neck.
“Sit, sit,” Ursula urged.
“Here by me, William,” Mary said.
“I don’t understand why we must all hate each other,” Ursula said, her steady gaze resting on her brother-in-law.
“Truth will always hate falsehood, ma’am,” William said, sitting next to Mary.
“Trouble comes when two sides both think they hold the truth.” Walsingham watched his brother carefully, trying to read his reaction.
“But only one of them can be right.”
“There are few issues more divisive than religion,” Walsingham said. “I’m glad to find myself on the side fighting for the truth.”
“How can you be certain you’re in possession of the truth?” William asked.
“I know it with all my heart. There’s not a shade of doubt in me. I’ve devoted my life to protecting it.”
“Why do we have to talk about war?” Mary asked, petulant. “You must have news, William. Are you married yet?”
Her uncle smiled. “Not yet.”
“Then we must find you a nice sensible English wife,” Mary said.
“No, no.” William shook his head. “I won’t be staying long. I must go back to my studies.”
His brother looked at him and spoke in measured tones. “Not too soon, I hope. Every man deserves a rest.”
“Listen to him!” Ursula said, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “When did you last rest, I’d like to know?” She leaned toward William. “He won’t listen to me. Not a thought for his health. You tell him; he’s your brother. He’ll die at his desk, out of sheer selfishness.”
Servants came in, carrying steaming platters of chicken boiled with leeks, mackerel with gooseberry compote, and artichokes baked with sherry and dates. Delicious smells filled the room as footmen poured wine.
“There are worse ways to go, madam,” William said, filling his plate.
“I cannot agree,” Ursula said. “No man should have to be so consumed with the business of state. He thinks nothing of us, only England.”
“My dear.” Walsingham gave her a tired smile. “No one doubts my adoration for you.”
“I should hope not,” his wife said. “But I’d like to ensure many more years of it, Francis. You’ll do us no good dead.”
“Quite,” William agreed, applying himself with unusual enthusiasm to the food before him. “I’m afraid your concern should focus more on my dear brother. It is he who risks running himself senseless.”
“My studies are not so ferocious,” William said.
“No?” Walsingham asked. “I wonder if that is so.”
William swallowed an enormous bite of mackerel. “What about you, Mary? Why aren’t you yet married?”
Mary’s silvery laughter delighted anyone who heard it. “I’ve exacting taste, sir, and have not yet met someone who meets my standards. Perhaps you could suggest a candidate?”
Walsingham sat back as his brother set
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