The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(99)
It was a full two weeks after Stephen’s shocking arrest for murder before Anabel saw any member of the Courtenay family. The princess hadn’t even seen her mother—the queen coped with emotional difficulty by flinging herself into intense political efforts, those things she could control. The firsthand account of what had happened came to Anabel from the Earl of Ormond, who courteously came to see her at Charterhouse when she sent him a message.
She listened to Ormond’s story and asked only one question. “Did the man deserve it?”
He was too experienced to fall for such simplicity. “The question of punishment was the queen’s to decide, not anyone else.”
But Stephen Courtenay wasn’t just anyone else. Anabel sat isolated at Charterhouse, waiting, and wondered how much her mother’s harshness had to do with her earlier fury with and banishment of Walsingham.
Pippa finally came the second week in November. Anabel took her straight through to her bedchamber and commanded her other women not to disturb them. Then she sat her friend down and demanded, “Tell me.”
“There isn’t much to tell. My parents have been allowed to see Stephen in the Tower. He has not been charged with any crime, and there is no indication that he will be in the immediate future. Lord Burghley thinks it likely the queen will simply leave him there for some time to let him think about what he has done. No one seems to believe there is any chance he will be tried and executed.”
“What do you believe?”
“I keep looking at my parents and seeing the shadows that have always been on the edges of their lives. There was a time, I expect, when no one thought there was any chance of the two of them falling from grace with the last king. Monarchs are capricious creatures.”
She said it with a detached air that made Anabel grasp her hand. “Pippa, my mother is not the same as her brother or her father. She is furious, yes, at the insult to her pride and the assault made so near to her presence. But all she is doing is making a point. She would never harm Stephen.”
Pippa closed her eyes, looking weary. “There is more than just Stephen. Two days after his arrest, Lucie miscarried a child. Nearly four months along…it was a girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” Anabel whispered. “How is she recovering?”
“She is in no danger. Just desperately grieving. As soon as she can travel, Julien will take her home. They have hardly been there since they were married. She doesn’t want to leave Stephen, but there is nothing she can do here that others cannot do as well.”
“And the rest of you?”
“My parents will remain in London as long as Stephen is in the Tower. Kit will have to oversee things at Tiverton and Wynfield Mote and Farleigh Hungerford—he will spend the winter on horseback bearing a responsibility he once craved. But not at this cost.”
Anabel put Kit out of her mind. There would be time later for that. “And you?”
Pippa smiled, swift and sad. “Do you not want me with you?”
“Of course I do! I did not know if you would care to be associated with me.”
“Oh, Anabel. You are not your mother. Where do you mean to spend the winter?”
“Not London. They do not think it would be good for my health. Ludlow, perhaps?” She saw the queer expression on Pippa’s face and asked sharply, “What? Do you have a better idea?”
“Have you ever thought,” Pippa said slowly, “of going north? It has been generations since an English royal has spent significant time in the North for other than military purposes. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was the last royal to make his home in Yorkshire, and it was those ties that allowed him to take England’s throne, even if only for a short time.”
“You want me to become a Yorkist?”
“I want you to be an effective leader. Your mother’s example is brilliant, but she cannot be everywhere. Why not extend yourself in a less crowded arena?”
“Why do you want me in the North, Pippa?”
Her friend had that familiar, disconcerting, otherworldly look that had always half frightened and half intrigued Anabel. Pippa sounded like a prophetess when she said, “Because the North is going to need you—and you will need them. War is coming, and when it does, England will need to meet it in united fashion, Protestants and recusants together. The North will love you, Anabel. You will have the power to command them. And also…”
Anabel finished that final thought. “And also, it is near to Scotland and James.”
Pippa nodded.
“You hinted once,” Anabel said, looking down at her clasped hands, “that I might have a husband of my choosing.”
“Choices are made for many considerations, Your Highness.”
Anabel closed her eyes and sighed, allowing herself one regretful memory of Kit’s caresses. Then she opened her eyes. Firmly, she said, “I will speak to Lord Burghley. He will know how best to broach the subject with the queen.”
15 November 1582
Dear Kit,
I begin to regret not leaving London with you. It seems wrong to flee to Anabel every day, but in truth I’m not at all certain Mother and Father notice me when I am here. Father is as silent as the grave and Mother spends her days in a whirl of letter writing and making personal calls on anyone in London whom she might charm. There has been some debate as to whether that latter should include Francis Walsingham. It has been more than a month since Elizabeth sent him away in a temper—the longer she does not call for him, the more entrenched I fear she will become. If there is one thing our queen cannot bear, it is being forced to admit she is wrong.