Read Online The Lady and the Poet by Maeve Haran - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maeve Haran
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Majesty’s whereabouts and whether it is possible that I present you.’
Suddenly shy in the presence of four pairs of inquisitive eyes, and very much aware of the dowdy nature of my gown amongst so much fashionable finery, I smiled humbly and found myself a quiet window seat.
The ladies soon forgot my presence and resumed their chattering.
‘Heard you of the Earl’s latest doings?’ one whispered to her neighbour.
I guessed there was only one man they could be talking of: Elizabeth’s dashing favourite, the Earl of Essex. In her life the Queen had had two great favourites. Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, whom myfather served for many years when he was a young man, and he was the man she most nearly married, but for the inconvenience that he had a wife already. And when his wife was found dead at the bottom of a staircase the scandal was so great that the Queen would not wed him. Finally, to her great fury, he married one of her ladies in waiting. This lady, Lettice Knollys, had a son of her own, one Robert Devereux, now Earl of Essex. And though this Robert was thirty years the Queen’s junior, he was yet the only man who could make her laugh and feel young. Or make her furious. Or so people said.
I made busy with opening my fan while the Queen’s lady continued, ‘Last night the Earl stayed so late playing cards with Her Majesty that the birds sang in the trees before he left for his own apartments.’ The lady dropped her voice so low I could hardly hear it.
‘And yet he finds time to make love to Elizabeth Brydges,’ whispered another.
‘And Mistress Fitton also.’
They all giggled.
‘Why does she not stop him? She is the Queen. She could send him to the Tower.’
‘She has too much fondness for him. Even though it is rumoured he looks beyond her reign to James, the Scottish King.’
One of the ladies looked around her stiffly, her eyes nervous as a startled bird’s. ‘So do many, though they would never have it known. And so they all will until she names her successor. Though none dare say so.’
‘She will never do that. It would mean acknowledging the ending of her own great reign. She prefers to live in the present.’
‘Silence!’ said the oldest of them. ‘Such talk is treasonous. It is you who will end up in the Tower not my lord Essex!’
With a glance behind them they returned to their previous topic.
‘Know you the latest?’ the first lady enquired in a low voice. ‘Two days past the Queen saw love looks pass betwixt the Earl and Lady Mary Howard.’
‘Mercy! Has the man no shame? What did Her Majesty say to him?’
‘Nothing at all. He can still do no wrong in the Queen’s eyes. It was the lady in question who caught her ire. Lady Mary wore a dress of fine velvet all powdered through with gold, and the Queen pulled atthe stuff with her own hands demanding to know who said she, a mere lady of the Presence Chamber, could wear such finery?’
They leaned in, eager to hear the climax of the tale.
‘Sssh,’ one lady elbowed the other suddenly to be silent, ‘here comes Mary now.’
A small and neat young woman with fair hair and glowing dark eyes, a striking combination, came slowly into the room. Taking in the knot of ladies who had fallen silent at her approach she seemed to straighten up, like a puppet whose string is pulled to make it stand. Her bearing went from meek to passing proud.
It seemed as if she would speak when, without warning, a figure in a red wig appeared from the royal bedchamber, with many jewels adorning her, wearing a dress of velvet all powdered through with gold that laced not up properly, revealing two ancient white bosoms almost to the nipple. Just as shocking, the dress hung only halfway down the calf, exposing an expanse of velvet stocking. I tried to quieten my gasp of horror. It was the Queen!
Fortunately she had eyes for none but her errant lady in waiting. ‘See, now, Mary Howard!’ she demanded, her voice high and wild. ‘Is not
Suddenly shy in the presence of four pairs of inquisitive eyes, and very much aware of the dowdy nature of my gown amongst so much fashionable finery, I smiled humbly and found myself a quiet window seat.
The ladies soon forgot my presence and resumed their chattering.
‘Heard you of the Earl’s latest doings?’ one whispered to her neighbour.
I guessed there was only one man they could be talking of: Elizabeth’s dashing favourite, the Earl of Essex. In her life the Queen had had two great favourites. Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, whom myfather served for many years when he was a young man, and he was the man she most nearly married, but for the inconvenience that he had a wife already. And when his wife was found dead at the bottom of a staircase the scandal was so great that the Queen would not wed him. Finally, to her great fury, he married one of her ladies in waiting. This lady, Lettice Knollys, had a son of her own, one Robert Devereux, now Earl of Essex. And though this Robert was thirty years the Queen’s junior, he was yet the only man who could make her laugh and feel young. Or make her furious. Or so people said.
I made busy with opening my fan while the Queen’s lady continued, ‘Last night the Earl stayed so late playing cards with Her Majesty that the birds sang in the trees before he left for his own apartments.’ The lady dropped her voice so low I could hardly hear it.
‘And yet he finds time to make love to Elizabeth Brydges,’ whispered another.
‘And Mistress Fitton also.’
They all giggled.
‘Why does she not stop him? She is the Queen. She could send him to the Tower.’
‘She has too much fondness for him. Even though it is rumoured he looks beyond her reign to James, the Scottish King.’
One of the ladies looked around her stiffly, her eyes nervous as a startled bird’s. ‘So do many, though they would never have it known. And so they all will until she names her successor. Though none dare say so.’
‘She will never do that. It would mean acknowledging the ending of her own great reign. She prefers to live in the present.’
‘Silence!’ said the oldest of them. ‘Such talk is treasonous. It is you who will end up in the Tower not my lord Essex!’
With a glance behind them they returned to their previous topic.
‘Know you the latest?’ the first lady enquired in a low voice. ‘Two days past the Queen saw love looks pass betwixt the Earl and Lady Mary Howard.’
‘Mercy! Has the man no shame? What did Her Majesty say to him?’
‘Nothing at all. He can still do no wrong in the Queen’s eyes. It was the lady in question who caught her ire. Lady Mary wore a dress of fine velvet all powdered through with gold, and the Queen pulled atthe stuff with her own hands demanding to know who said she, a mere lady of the Presence Chamber, could wear such finery?’
They leaned in, eager to hear the climax of the tale.
‘Sssh,’ one lady elbowed the other suddenly to be silent, ‘here comes Mary now.’
A small and neat young woman with fair hair and glowing dark eyes, a striking combination, came slowly into the room. Taking in the knot of ladies who had fallen silent at her approach she seemed to straighten up, like a puppet whose string is pulled to make it stand. Her bearing went from meek to passing proud.
It seemed as if she would speak when, without warning, a figure in a red wig appeared from the royal bedchamber, with many jewels adorning her, wearing a dress of velvet all powdered through with gold that laced not up properly, revealing two ancient white bosoms almost to the nipple. Just as shocking, the dress hung only halfway down the calf, exposing an expanse of velvet stocking. I tried to quieten my gasp of horror. It was the Queen!
Fortunately she had eyes for none but her errant lady in waiting. ‘See, now, Mary Howard!’ she demanded, her voice high and wild. ‘Is not
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