The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(105)

That is one grudge I continue to hold against my cousin, Mary Stuart: that she set such a poor precedent for a woman ruler. True, her French husband died before he could bind Scotland to him, and Darnley was a disaster from beginning to end. But by the time she tried to reclaim power as queen, it was too late. She had squandered her chances with her impulsive and emotional choice of Darnley. At least Mary had the good sense not to give him any real power…but was that not also the downfall of their marriage? Few men are ever content to be second to their wives.

I like to think you might have proven an exception to that rule.

I knew that Philip and his countrymen would desire power in England. But I gambled that a ruling king would never have quite the desperate, hungry edge of a Henry Darnley or an extraneous prince of a faraway state. At the least, I could be certain that Philip would have many other claims on his attention than me.

Why did I marry Philip? Certainly not for the reasons you married Amy Robsart! It was not due to our mutual attraction—though that was certainly part of our marriage, a strong and most pleasant part. Does that bother you? Good. You deserve that discomfort for all the times you sought out your wife and your other women behind my back. How many women did you sleep with in your relatively short life? Far more, certainly, than I care to count.

So, attraction. That was one point in Philip’s advantage column. But I could not afford for that to be the defining factor. Politics, then. It was certainly logical to ally ourselves with Spain at a time when England had been weakened by my brother’s vendettas.

In the end, can you guess the deciding factor? Probably you can, knowing me as you do.

Pride.

You know how deeply ran the scar of losing Calais to the French. Held for so long by so many English kings…how could I bear the thought of having lost it due to William’s reckless affections and careless diplomacy? But we had not the strength then to take it back. And the longer it remained French, the less likely we could ever wrest it free again.

Philip did it for me. And I do mean for me—he might have been glad of the chance to discompose the French, but Calais was meant as a betrothal gift for England’s queen. And it worked. The day the Spanish ambassador brought us word that Calais had been liberated by Spanish troops and then promptly handed back into English control was the day I told Lord Burghley to draw up a treaty of marriage.

It took many months and much suspicion and wrangling of specific language, but finally it was sealed and the marriage date set. Only then did I panic. Just a little, but enough for me to beg the only friend I had left for help.

Minuette and Dominic would not come to me, in those first years of my reign. At least not to London. But every now and then I could persuade Minuette to meet me elsewhere. For advice, for comfort, for the purest friendship left to me. Even when she made me furious. No one has ever been able to irritate me as quickly and thoroughly as Minuette—except you, of course.

And no one, not even you, has ever been quicker to restore my confidence.

She did not tell me what to do. She did not offer an opinion on either politics or personalities. What she said was simple: “Do what you think is right, Elizabeth. You are at your best when you are sure of yourself to the point of arrogance.”

Philip was not, could never have been, the husband of my heart. But I did love him. And for all the enmity we now throw at each other, I cannot wish it undone. It brought me Anabel, whom I love more than I will ever let her know. Unlike me, she is being raised to rule in her own right. You would like her, Robert. Of that, I am sure.

Do you know what I remember most often about you? It is not your eyes or your charm, not your grace or the strength of your hands. It is not even your impudence, though I do miss that more than I could have guessed.

What I remember are the last words you ever spoke to me. When I asked you to take Minuette out of England, far from my brother’s reach, you kissed my hand. And you said, “I am your man, Elizabeth. To the last day of my life.”

It is the one thing for which I have never forgiven Will—that the last day of your life came far too soon.

Because of that, my heart breaks a little when I see my daughter’s eyes following the man she loves—and cannot have. But you, who knew me best, will know that sentiment will always come second to duty. My daughter will do what she must, as I did before her.

And one day, perhaps she will write just such a letter to the man who claimed her heart. As you claimed mine, so early that by the time I realized it, it was already too late.

Good night, my sweet Robin. I trust your eyes are watching me from heaven as always they did on earth.

Elizabeth R.





QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION


1. Discuss the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth. Do you agree with Elizabeth’s actions? How would you have handled the situation, in Elizabeth’s position? How do you feel about Mary’s relationship with Philip, compared to Elizabeth’s?

2. As Anabel gets older, the dynamics between the princess and the queen become increasingly complex. Compare and contrast the two women. In what ways are they similar? How are they different?

3. How does the parenting style of Minuette and Dominic compare to that of Elizabeth and Philip? Is one technique more or less effective? Would Elizabeth be a different sort of mother if she weren’t also a queen?

4. What do you think of the dynamic between Anabel and Kit? Do you see any parallels to Elizabeth’s relationships?