The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(10)
Young, yes, but so was Anabel. And Pippa. As Elizabeth had once been young, with Minuette and Dominic and Will…Youth had its faults, but also its strengths. And with his bloodline and upbringing, Matthew Harrington would be the most faithful of servants.
She nodded once. “I think Matthew is quite a good choice. Provided you can persuade Lord Burghley to part with both his son and his protégé.”
Her daughter’s smile was blindingly confident. “Pippa says Lord Burghley has been training Matthew specifically for my household. He will be glad to have him with me.”
“And Philippa would know,” Elizabeth retorted wryly. “Very well. We shall make all the necessary arrangements and announcements before leaving for Wales next week.”
Where Anabel would be formally invested as Princess of Wales and begin her public tasks, meant to bind the hearts of England as firmly to herself as to her mother.
And where she would meet for the first time the French representatives of Francis, the Duc d’Anjou, and begin the delicate formal dance of possible betrothal.
6 August 1581
Dearest Lucie,
We arrived in Chester earlier today. It has been more than two weeks since we left London, in slow procession north and west to this town once so precariously held by the English on the very doorstep of Wales. Now, of course, the divide is cultural rather than political and it is from here that Anabel takes center stage. Over the next two weeks we will travel through northern Wales, freely crisscrossing what was once such a hotly contested border, making our way as far west as Caernarfon and thus onto Wrexham, Oswestry, and Shrewsbury before riding in triumph into Ludlow, where Anabel will be formally invested as Princess of Wales.
She has made me study Welsh with her, though her language talents far outstrip mine. I might just be able to ask for a loaf of bread if left alone, but Anabel is capable of conducting quite broad conversations. She is rightly proud of her talents, and of the work she has put into them. I think the Welsh will be celebratory enough to please even her.
The queen will meet us in Ludlow. I suspect it is not easy for her to launch Anabel on her own, but what makes her such a good ruler is that she does not put personal feelings above the good of the realm. England needs Anabel.
And Anabel needs me. For now, at least.
You are coming to Ludlow, aren’t you, Lucie? Or has joy—and newlywed nights—turned your mind enough that you have decided to live in York forever?
Pippa
11 August 1581
Pippa,
Julien and I returned to Compton Wynyates two weeks ago, as you know perfectly well since that is where you directed your letter. I still don’t feel I can call it home—I suspect that will always be Wynfield Mote—but I am not one to take against a perfectly good house and land merely because it’s new. Besides, the queen would be insulted. Yes, I know, Compton Wynyates was Father’s gift to us, but I also know that it was the queen who made the suggestion to him and might even, I suspect, have paid for some of it. How could I not be touched? Both by her unexpected parting with money, as well as the even more unexpected humility in doing so in secret.
And don’t lecture me about what I owe her. The queen and I understand each other perfectly well since last summer.
Do you miss Kit very much? It is hardly fair that you should be caught between him and Anabel. Now that one of them has been enlightened, how long before the other follows? Queen Elizabeth may have had her Robert Dudley (though we have only stories of their love), but I do not imagine she will remember that if ever she is forced to deal with a defiant daughter in love.
How very glad I am to be out of all that uncertainty! And yet, despite my perfect happiness, we will indeed be in Ludlow for the investiture. Julien and I can only stay locked away for so long before it becomes a scandal, even if we are married.
I wish you well in managing your absent twin and temperamental princess.
Lucie
After just one week in Ireland, Stephen was good and ready to take a ship straight back to England. Except he couldn’t, because they were well into the interior by now. His company had landed in Waterford on the fourth of August and marched out again just forty-eight hours later, for rumours of Spanish troops along the west coast were rampant and Sir William Pelham and Captain Oliver Dane needed as many men in the field as fast as they could get them.
It wasn’t especially fast. Waterford was an English town, but its hold on the coast was tenuous, and within five miles the landscape itself seemed to turn against the English soldiers. There had been no recent fighting, but the countryside could hardly be called easy. They were shadowed along their way—Stephen could feel the watching eyes even when he had no idea where the watchers were hiding. He and Harrington marched the men at a pitch of wary preparedness that was exhausting. He knew ambushes were the favoured method of the Irish fighters and wondered how he was supposed to avoid them. It would take him years to learn the land half as well as those born in it, which left all the momentum in the rebels’ favour.
From tension and exhaustion, everyone in the company was in a foul mood by the time they met up with Oliver Dane’s troops. Stephen left his men settling under Harrington’s direction and went directly to Dane’s tent.
It was serviceable and stripped down, the tent of a man accustomed to rough campaigning and who had little use for ornament. By reputation, Captain Dane also had little use for idle noblemen who came to Ireland simply for the sport of it.