Read Online Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her by Susan Kay - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Kay
Tags: nonfiction, History
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showed no outward sign of grief. And then the night-
mares began and the childish roundness fell away from her cheeks. She
was pale and sullen and aggressive, less readily affectionate than before and
the spectacular tantrums of her early years returned.
“I can’t deal with it any longer—she’s quite beyond me!” sobbed the
governess one evening, when a particularly irrational and violent outburst
from her charge had reduced her to tears. “I’m going to write to the King.”
Blanche Parry stared at her steadily in the firelight.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, madam. She’s the last person the
King wants to be reminded of under the circumstances. He might have
you removed from your post and then—God forgive me for saying
this—I wouldn’t trust that child alone in a room with a length of rope.”
Kat turned deathly pale. “She’s only eight!”
“She can tie a knot, can’t she?—that’s all it takes. She may not show
it, but she’s very fond of you, madam.”
“I’m fond of her,” admitted Kat, “more than fond. But when she
screams like that I’m damned if I know what to do.”
“Let her scream,” said Blanche wisely, “until she learns how to cry.”
t t t
The clock in the schoolroom ticked steadily, for life continued and so did
lessons. Katherine’s death had left small impression on the Dudley boys
and the little Prince was young enough to lose an unpleasant memory in
the pressing urgency of daily concerns.
44
Legacy
But Elizabeth harboured a strange obsession with the gallery that led to
the Royal Chapel at Hampton Court. She faithfully collected the morbid
snippets of conversation drifting around and embroidered tales that made
the younger children wide-eyed with fear.
“The gallery’s haunted!” she said with grim authority. “That’s why no
one cares to walk there alone after dark.”
The silence which greeted this remark, profound and very satisfying,
lasted roughly ten seconds, the time it took for Robin Dudley to retrieve
a soggy pellet of paper from the inkwell with a ragged quill.
“Father says there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said derisively. “And I
wouldn’t be afraid to go there after dark even if there were!”
Elizabeth closed her copy of Terence and returned her own quill to
the central stand on the table.
“Tonight,” she said softly, “we’ll see just how brave you are.”
t t t
They stood in the silent gallery, huddled in their sable-trimmed night
robes, with their cold feet tucked inside velvet house shoes and their huge
shadows spreading over the panelled wall behind them.
“I don’t like it here, Rob,” said Guildford Dudley in a tremulous
whisper.
“Well, you would come,” snapped his brother, who didn’t like it
either, but was certainly not going to admit it. “I told you not to.”
“Aren’t you afraid we might see— her ?”
“Nobody’s ever seen her. They only say that you can hear her voice
crying here at night.”
They both shivered, moved closer together, and were silent. At the far
end of the gal ery they could see the distant, bobbing light of a solitary candle.
For a moment it paused by the door of the Chapel, where the Queen had
been captured, then it came slowly, flickering and swaying, back towards
them. In her long white nightgown, Elizabeth looked like a smal ghost
herself, with the light shimmering over her pale face and glinting on her
red hair. Guildford clutched his brother’s arm and was roughly shaken off.
“Don’t be stupid, Gil.”
“I want to go back, Robin—I’m scared!”
“Cry-baby,” said Elizabeth sharply as she reached them. “What did
you bring him for?”
45
Susan Kay
“I didn’t bring him,” said Robin furiously, “he followed me—he’s
always following someone, like a silly sheep.”
Guildford began to snivel softly into his furred sleeve. Elizabeth turned
away impatiently to set down her candle and beside it the
mares began and the childish roundness fell away from her cheeks. She
was pale and sullen and aggressive, less readily affectionate than before and
the spectacular tantrums of her early years returned.
“I can’t deal with it any longer—she’s quite beyond me!” sobbed the
governess one evening, when a particularly irrational and violent outburst
from her charge had reduced her to tears. “I’m going to write to the King.”
Blanche Parry stared at her steadily in the firelight.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, madam. She’s the last person the
King wants to be reminded of under the circumstances. He might have
you removed from your post and then—God forgive me for saying
this—I wouldn’t trust that child alone in a room with a length of rope.”
Kat turned deathly pale. “She’s only eight!”
“She can tie a knot, can’t she?—that’s all it takes. She may not show
it, but she’s very fond of you, madam.”
“I’m fond of her,” admitted Kat, “more than fond. But when she
screams like that I’m damned if I know what to do.”
“Let her scream,” said Blanche wisely, “until she learns how to cry.”
t t t
The clock in the schoolroom ticked steadily, for life continued and so did
lessons. Katherine’s death had left small impression on the Dudley boys
and the little Prince was young enough to lose an unpleasant memory in
the pressing urgency of daily concerns.
44
Legacy
But Elizabeth harboured a strange obsession with the gallery that led to
the Royal Chapel at Hampton Court. She faithfully collected the morbid
snippets of conversation drifting around and embroidered tales that made
the younger children wide-eyed with fear.
“The gallery’s haunted!” she said with grim authority. “That’s why no
one cares to walk there alone after dark.”
The silence which greeted this remark, profound and very satisfying,
lasted roughly ten seconds, the time it took for Robin Dudley to retrieve
a soggy pellet of paper from the inkwell with a ragged quill.
“Father says there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said derisively. “And I
wouldn’t be afraid to go there after dark even if there were!”
Elizabeth closed her copy of Terence and returned her own quill to
the central stand on the table.
“Tonight,” she said softly, “we’ll see just how brave you are.”
t t t
They stood in the silent gallery, huddled in their sable-trimmed night
robes, with their cold feet tucked inside velvet house shoes and their huge
shadows spreading over the panelled wall behind them.
“I don’t like it here, Rob,” said Guildford Dudley in a tremulous
whisper.
“Well, you would come,” snapped his brother, who didn’t like it
either, but was certainly not going to admit it. “I told you not to.”
“Aren’t you afraid we might see— her ?”
“Nobody’s ever seen her. They only say that you can hear her voice
crying here at night.”
They both shivered, moved closer together, and were silent. At the far
end of the gal ery they could see the distant, bobbing light of a solitary candle.
For a moment it paused by the door of the Chapel, where the Queen had
been captured, then it came slowly, flickering and swaying, back towards
them. In her long white nightgown, Elizabeth looked like a smal ghost
herself, with the light shimmering over her pale face and glinting on her
red hair. Guildford clutched his brother’s arm and was roughly shaken off.
“Don’t be stupid, Gil.”
“I want to go back, Robin—I’m scared!”
“Cry-baby,” said Elizabeth sharply as she reached them. “What did
you bring him for?”
45
Susan Kay
“I didn’t bring him,” said Robin furiously, “he followed me—he’s
always following someone, like a silly sheep.”
Guildford began to snivel softly into his furred sleeve. Elizabeth turned
away impatiently to set down her candle and beside it the
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