The Virgin's Daughter (Tudor Legacy #1)(3)
John Dee interjected in his quiet, thoughtful manner. “If that is your sole objection, then you should hear Sir Francis out.”
She was quick enough to grasp why, and the further shock of it drove her to her feet. “You view the LeClercs as enemies, and think that they will not expect a woman to unearth their secrets.”
Walsingham rose more slowly, regarding her with an air of disinterest she did not believe. “Nicolas LeClerc is a widower, and Julien has never married. Charlotte made it clear in her letter that she would like to match you with one of her brothers. Why would they suspect a young woman with such long ties to their family—a woman actually born in their household—of spying?”
“They would not, because I will not do it.”
“Even if it were a matter of life and death?”
“Is it?”
“I do not trifle in other than matters of life and death, my lady. I have cause for concern in the LeClerc household and would be as happy to have those concerns dismissed as confirmed. I could approach it in another manner, but it would take longer and be less certain.”
“No,” Lucette said decisively. “As you called me my mother’s daughter, then you know that my family does not meddle in politics.”
“Not even at the queen’s command?”
“Her Majesty would never command this.”
“Are you certain?”
Drawing herself up to her full five and a half feet, Lucette said firmly, and daringly, “If Queen Elizabeth has a request for me, she can ask me herself.”
She left without being dismissed, fury at Walsingham’s impertinence mixed with a less laudable and less comfortable emotion: curiosity.
It had always been her besetting sin, and as Lucette swept through the freezing corridors of Nonsuch Palace she admitted to herself that her interest had been engaged and she would be a little disappointed if nothing more came of it.
—
“She declined?” Elizabeth asked, before Walsingham had even finished bowing.
“She did. She has something of her mother’s tongue about her, but her temper—”
“I know all about Lucette’s temper,” Elizabeth interrupted drily. It was Will’s temper, which meant it would cool as swiftly as it flared.
“The lady more or less dared you to ask her yourself.”
“I told you it would come to that.” The queen waved away an attendant offering an array of sweets and gestured to Walsingham to sit. “Are you certain involving her is the best course?”
“Absolutely.” Walsingham was accustomed to the queen revisiting decisions already made, and he listed his arguments succinctly once more. “No one will think twice about Lucette Courtenay visiting her family’s longtime friends in France, especially considering that she was born there. Charlotte is clearly anxious to match the girl with one of her brothers, so Lucette will have every reason and opportunity to get close to both of them.”
“You have not told her why, or that you have a particular interest in Julien LeClerc?”
“I will not tell her why until she agrees—and about Julien, I will tell her nothing at all. I need her to make up her own mind.”
Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the tabletop, tempted to delay but knowing that another opportunity so perfect might never present itself. “Then I suppose it’s time to exercise my royal prerogative and see how far Lucette will allow herself to be commanded.”
“Your Majesty will keep in mind the delicacy of the situation.”
“A French plot to assassinate me? I am every day aware of the delicacy of the situation, Walsingham. It is why the Princess of Wales will leave court within the week. It would not do to keep her too accessible.”
“The princess is not, I take it, in agreement with that plan?” Walsingham asked disingenuously, for those at court who had not heard Anne’s outrage for themselves had quickly been apprised by those who had. Elizabeth knew her daughter to have been named well, for she had every single bit of her Boleyn grandmother’s temper and quickness to take offense.
“Princess Anne will do as she must, as she was born to do. She may blame me for her position, but I do not think she is in a hurry to give up its privileges. Until Philip accepts the inevitable and divorces me, there is no chance of him having another heir and Anne will continue to be a pawn in Spanish politics.”
Walsingham eyed her narrowly, and Elizabeth stared him down, daring him to accuse her of delaying the divorce herself. But he merely cleared his throat and said, “The sooner we have eyes in the LeClerc household, the better.”
“Consider it accomplished,” Elizabeth said. “I know how to bring Lucette to heel.”
But there was a slight hollow inside when she pondered the girl’s features in memory—though not really a girl any longer, she mused. Twenty-two. Bright and stubborn and wary and innately generous…and with those wide blue eyes that had the power to unsettle the Queen of England more than she had ever allowed anyone to know.
—
Though Lucette had known Her Majesty, Elizabeth, Queen of England, Ireland, and France as long as she could remember, to be in her presence was to be intimately aware of power. Who had it, and who didn’t.
Lucette had been waiting in the queen’s privy chamber for a quarter hour when the queen swept in, snapping her fingers at her attendants to leave them. Lucette curtsied, eyes lowered so that all she could see was the bottom few inches of the queen’s sapphire and gold gown, intricately wrought with embroidered scallops and whirls.