The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(29)
But she did have a point. Who was he to refuse a crumb of comfort to a woman whose labours had brought such an abundance of joy this week? Philip raised her lovely, plump hand and kissed it. “I swear to you, I have not forgotten my responsibilities. And I will not forget what has been done to my men in Ireland. Trust me—because I hold my tongue does not mean that my mind is not ever working toward resolution of our political and religious splits. You cannot think I would so carelessly jeopardize my daughter’s soul as to lightly consign her to hell.”
Mary seemed mollified, but sniffed at mention of Anabel. “I hope your daughter will do you greater credit than my Scots son. Children or not, our first devotion must be to the truth.”
Philip murmured what could be taken as agreement or mere comfort. There were times when Mary’s resentments seemed likely to swallow up every other feeling she might have, affecting every decision. It was a mistake Elizabeth had never made.
—
It was early November before Christopher Courtenay answered Elizabeth’s summons and presented himself to her at Whitehall Palace. She met him in a chamber with a high painted ceiling and linen-fold paneling to shoulder height. Above that ran a frieze of Tudor roses picked out in ruby red and gold.
Elizabeth had always had a special fondness for Kit. He had the looks and personality of his mother—innately charming, mischievous, and amusing, with a warmth of affection so often absent in royal circles. Today, though, as he straightened from his bow, he looked subdued. Tired and worn, as though he were much older than nineteen.
Just as well, as her proposal was meant for an older man.
“How was Ireland?” she began after she’d seated herself and invited Kit to do the same. She had chosen not to use her canopy of estate, in order to lessen the formality, but her chair was still heavily carved and gilded. Though Kit had known her all his life, he did no more than perch on the edge of his seat as though ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. Or perhaps he was only that eager to escape her.
In answer to her question, he began, “Stephen hasn’t said much—”
“I don’t mean Carrigafoyle or what followed with your brother. I meant yourself. Did you enjoy your time with Lord Leicester? Make yourself useful?”
“If you find it useful to parry wits with a woman like Eleanor Percy.” Ah, there was the impulsive boy she knew and loved.
“Your mother used to do that very well—so well, in fact, I wager Eleanor has never forgotten it. You must watch yourself with her. She has no love for the Courtenays.”
“She had no need to trouble herself with me in Ireland, not when she had an earl to charm.”
“Eleanor Percy and my own Black Tom?” Elizabeth did not like that at all. Surely the Earl of Ormond was too canny a man to fall for Eleanor’s tricks.
But men had been falling for her tricks ever since she’d charmed the late king. Elizabeth had thought her brother a fool then. Time had not changed her opinion of the woman.
This was not a subject to discuss with a curious boy. Elizabeth forcibly returned to the subject at hand. “I did not mean to inquire about women in Ireland. I meant your time as…what was your position? Seneschal? Clerk?”
“Secretary,” he said stiffly. “I learned a great deal.”
“And were bored out of your mind by three-quarters of it.”
For the first time since entering, Kit’s face brightened. “Closer to four-fifths.”
“Then it’s as well that what I need you for now is nothing like being a secretary.”
He had his mother’s lightheartedness—and his father’s wariness. “Your Majesty, I cannot imagine any royal task for which I would be fitted—”
“I’m not asking you to imagine. I’m asking you to listen.”
She could see the flicker of fear subsumed by stubbornness and knew he was afraid she was going to order him to Anabel’s household. Elizabeth had a general awareness of why that would be troublesome—an awareness she had not wished to explore deeply—and wasn’t bothered about using it against him.
“Some years ago—far longer ago than I truly care to examine—my uncle, Lord Rochford, trained your father as a personal envoy. Everyone thought Dominic a most unusual choice, considering that his strengths have always been of the straightforward variety. Your father despises politics and officials in almost equal measure. Which was precisely why he made such an effective envoy. People were blinded by what they knew of him, which made them careless. Expectations are such a useful tool.”
If she had been anyone else, Elizabeth was certain Kit would have been on his feet by now, demanding that she either get to the point or leave him alone. But he managed to swallow his instinctive reactions. “What is it you expect of me, Your Majesty?”
“Mary Stuart, lately our reluctant guest, has given birth to twin sons to the King of Spain. I am preparing gifts, and I require envoys to present them.”
“You have ambassadors for such a task.”
“And intelligencers and diplomats…of course I do. And of course those men are going. But I also need a friendly face for Philip to welcome. He is looking for something more personal from England, considering that his sons are also half brothers to the Princess of Wales. I propose you travel to Spain next spring, after spending the winter being trained as my envoy by Lord Burghley.”