The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(12)

Elizabeth Syndenham laid a possessive hand on Drake’s sleeve as Eleanor drifted just out of range. Brazen as she was, she could not approach nearer unless directed to do so by the queen. With an inner sigh, Elizabeth did just that with the slightest wave of her hand. Not that she wanted to speak to Eleanor. But being queen meant doing any number of things one did not want to do.

“Your Majesty.” Somehow, Eleanor managed to infuse the title with memories of thirty years ago, when she had been the king’s lover and for a brief time wielded the influence of that position. It might have been even briefer—for William tired of her before long—save that Eleanor managed to give birth to a healthy daughter. William’s recognition of Nora had ensured her mother’s survival in a cutthroat world.

“Mistress Stafford,” Elizabeth said icily. “Have you come to apologize for your daughter’s hasty and ill-advised marriage?”

A rhetorical question, for she knew perfectly well that Eleanor had been taken far more by surprise than she herself had. Though the queen’s displeasure was not entirely feigned—her pride instinctively revolted at the lack of protocol in Nora and Brandon Dudley’s wedding—the marriage was not technically illegal. Just very ill-advised. She waited with something like pleasure for Eleanor to defend herself.

She should have known better; Eleanor always took the offensive. “To be sure, Your Majesty, I was greatly grieved. But being separated from my daughter for such a long time, I naturally trusted that her royal relatives would ensure Nora’s perfect care and keeping.”

Meaning: Nora was in your daughter’s household, so do not lay this at my feet.

Eleanor, wisely or not, would always push to the next insult. “Naturally, I do not suspect Princess Anne of encouraging such disrespect.”

Meaning: Your daughter is almost openly defying you.

“But of course, Her Highness has in her household those who might think themselves above such matters as the queen’s permission. Philippa Courtenay’s parents,” Eleanor said delicately, “are hardly a model of respecting royal authority. Having lived with such latitude for so long, it is no wonder the Courtenay family feel themselves above protocol.”

Over Eleanor’s shoulder, Francis Drake listened with fascinated interest. And those nearest in the crowd, sensing the atmosphere, had begun to fall silent.

What Elizabeth would have given to have Minuette here just now, for no one had ever been able to oppose Eleanor as wittily and decisively as she had. The two women had a natural antipathy that had only been strengthened through years of enmity.

But this, Elizabeth reminded herself, was not a personal affair. Not wholly. It was a matter of kingdoms and religions and watching eyes. Elizabeth always made certain that such eyes would see only what she wanted them to see.

“Children may believe themselves beyond their parents’ reach…but no one is beyond the queen’s. Because I do not act in haste does not mean I do not act. And my responses are all the more effective for being measured.” Elizabeth smiled, gracious and cold. “I do not consider Nora at fault in this matter, and I do believe her most sincerely attached to Brandon Dudley. They have prudently retired to his home at Kenilworth Castle, and I do not expect further difficulties from them.”

Eleanor answered as though she been handed lines to read. “But you do expect further difficulties from…elsewhere?”

Meaning: So it is true…the queen does not trust her daughter.

As that silent thought passed from Eleanor to those watching, Elizabeth raised her hand in dismissal. “You have a house still at…somewhere near Kendal, isn’t it? I am sure after the turmoils of Ireland, you will be glad to retire to a quiet life.”

It was a pleasure to see the patches of colour betokening fury on Eleanor’s face. But the woman had not survived as long as she had without learning how to submit when necessary. “As Your Majesty wishes.”

Still, she would not be Eleanor without a parting shot. “Speaking of Ireland, your dear cousin Ormond sends his love.”

Meaning: I’ve been sleeping with your dear Black Tom, so don’t count me out just yet.

Elizabeth allowed Eleanor to curtsey and retreat, her own mouth tight to hold back words she must not say. As the crowd slowly began to pick up the threads of the evening, Francis Drake remarked, “It is a foolish woman who makes an enemy of you, Your Majesty.”

“It is not only women who make that mistake,” she replied grimly, satisfied that every word of what had occurred would soon be passed round the court with greedy pleasure. Spurring gossip was what she had intended with that unpleasant exchange. That it stung her pride to allow it was surely a small price to pay.

—

“Can’t we forget chess?” Felix wheedled to Kit. “I’m bored. I’ve already done Latin and Greek and logic and mathematics today—wouldn’t you rather be fighting than playing games?”

It had been a long winter already, with March still a few days off, and Kit quite sympathized with the boy’s impatience at being shut up inside.

“You’re too old to whine,” Stephen said from his seat by the fire where he was writing a letter. “Besides, what do you think fighting is but an elaborate game? Chess teaches you military tactics.”

“Then why aren’t you playing with me?” Felix asked shrewdly.