The Fugitive Queen Read Online Free Page A

queen’s friend Robin Dudley, now ennobled as the Earl of Leicester, bore down on us. When we had exchanged greetings, I indicated the pair I had noticed and said: “Who are those two? Is one of them the Spanish ambassador? I’m sure I remember him—De Silva, isn’t it?”
    â€œDear Ursula,” said Dudley, his own gypsy-brown face lighting up with amusement, “you never change. You arrive at court after a long absence and instantly tease out the important threads in the complex tapestry of political life. The dark man is indeed De Silva. He is a charming, and fortunately, a sensible man. It’s just as well, because the fellow who is talking to him and won’t let him get away is Lord Herries, emissary from Mary Stuart. He came to England with her.”
    â€œI thought I’d seen him before as well. It must have been when I was in Scotland a few years ago.”
    â€œNo doubt. Ah. Her Majesty is beckoning to us. Come.”
    â€œBeckoning to us ?” queried Hugh.
    â€œYes. I am concerned in the matter, as it happens.” Dudley saw my face and laughed. “No, no, Ursula. Your naughty Penelope hasn’t been making eyes at me, not that it would have done her any good if she had. I have a reputation,” said Dudley, “for being irresponsible, but I’m not that irresponsible. The queen prefers me to concentrate on her. Follow me.”
    As we joined the queen, Cecil also arrived. Every time I sawhim, I thought that he had aged since the last time. On this occasion, the gap was nearly three years long and the change was very noticeable. There was far more gray in his fair beard and the line between his alert blue eyes was now a deep furrow. Like Hugh, I thought, Cecil was tired.
    Elizabeth was informally dressed and had now seated herself in casual fashion on a broad window seat. From these subtle signals, I gathered that Hugh and I were not going to receive a blistering public condemnation for Pen’s foolishness but I knew that we wouldn’t escape quite unscathed, nor did we.
    â€œMy Cecil! Ursula! And Master Stannard! Sweet Robin, you are welcome.” As we made our courtesies, Elizabeth gave each of us in turn her hand to kiss. Then she fixed her golden-brown eyes on my face and came to the point at once. “You know what this is about, of course. The girl Penelope Mason cannot remain at court. We understand that you know why.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said sadly. Elizabeth too looked older. Her pale, shield-shaped face had settled into mature lines; her mouth was less vulnerable. She was no longer the young girl she was when I first met her.
    â€œWe expect the Maids of Honor to be lively,” she said, “even if they sing and dance in their rooms and irritate people in neighboring apartments. After all, they are young. We even expect them to flirt a little. We watch them for their own protection but allow them some latitude. Not to this extent, however. This blatant pursuit of a married man—sonnets pinned into his cloak, no less!—such things will not do. We understand that the girl’s mother wants to find a match for her. We would recommend that this is done without loss of time—before she has a chance to misbehave again, perhaps disastrously for herself. And now,” said Elizabeth, turning to Dudley, “my lord of Leicester has something to say.”
    Hugh and I looked at Dudley, puzzled. He smiled. “One of the problems the girl has is lack of dowry,” he said. “We have inquired from her and from her mother, what her portion is likely to be and there is little to spare for her.”
    â€œThe rents of one small sublet farm and the tiny hamlet thatgoes with it,” said Cecil, speaking for the first time. “Not enough to attract a court gentleman unless he were to fall deeply in love with her—and that doesn’t seem likely.”
    â€œNo,” I agreed regretfully,