The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(48)

“Sir Christopher,” she said to her chief minister and secretary, seated to her right. “We have had word from the queen’s court at Nonsuch?”

It was a rhetorical question, for it had all been discussed beforehand in smaller, less formal groups. But this was for posterity, with clerks taking careful notes of all that was said.

Christopher Hatton answered in his normal, equable fashion. “The treaty was signed with the Netherlands on the tenth of August. The queen has agreed to provide more than seven thousand troops and to bear almost a quarter of the annual cost of the war. Philip Sidney has been appointed governor of Flushing and Sir William Pelham will command the English troops.”

“In return?” Anabel asked drily. “For I well know the queen gives nothing without ample return.”

“In return, the towns of Brill and Flushing will be ceded to English control, to be garrisoned at our own cost. Also, two seats on the Council of State and the title of Governor General of the Netherlands. That last,” Hatton added drily, “the queen has declined.”

Nicely judged, Anabel thought in admiration. No one negotiated better than her mother, or knew to the precise detail what could be safely bartered. But her public position of defiance allowed no more than a raised eyebrow and a cool, “Interesting. That could argue the queen does not trust any of her men to hold such a position.”

Only Tomás Navarro looked pleased with that assessment. The Jesuit was allowed to attend her privy council meetings, without being allowed a formal position. A way of controlling the information that flowed to King Philip.

“England must recognize,” Navarro said in his precise and accented English, “the futility of opposition in the Netherlands. The queen would do well to leave the rebels to His Majesty, who knows so much better what his people need.”

In her opinion, the Flemish could hardly be reasonably called the people of a Spanish king, no matter that King Philip’s grandfather had been archduke of that territory. But Anabel merely smiled noncommittally and asked Robert Cecil, “And Ireland?”

“Stephen Courtenay has embarked from Dumbarton with the St. Adrian’s company of mercenaries. Their task is to strengthen English forces in Dublin and, if possible, push back against the rebels and expand the size of the Pale.”

“At least I trust Stephen to do his work efficiently and without undue severity. He has no interest in religion or politics—only in doing his job well.”

“A man with no interest in religion is a man scarcely to be trusted,” Navarro stated.

Anabel turned on him the false smile and steely gaze learned at her mother’s knee. “This council is not called upon to trust him. Dublin is the queen’s concern.”

“And your concern?” Give Navarro credit—he had no fear of plain speaking.

“The security and unity of the North.” Anabel paused for effect, for not everyone on her council had heard the news that followed next. “Which is why I will be meeting with Her Majesty at Kenilworth in November. To impress upon her the value of the work we have been doing here. And to remind her that no part of her kingdom can be safely ignored.”

It was for far more than that, of course. Those few who knew the entirety of the ambitious plan hatched almost three years ago knew that this was a precious opportunity for mother and daughter to consult in privacy and adjust their plans as necessary. News passed through ciphers and at second-or thirdhand could not replace two quick minds working in concert.

There was a murmur from her council, not distinct enough for words or loud enough for excitement, but Anabel was reasonably pleased. “In the next weeks before we leave Middleham, I expect every detail of our work in the North to be documented in perfect order. Matthew,” she nodded at her treasurer, “and Lady Philippa will be making the rounds of the great houses and towns to remind everyone of our commitments—and theirs. And to note any concerns we should bring before Her Majesty.”

“Will the members of this council be invited to Kenilworth Castle?” Philip Howard wanted to know. It was only the second time the Earl of Arundel had come north since accepting a place on Anabel’s council. And she still found it difficult to read him.

“But of course.”

“All of your council members?”

“Do say, Lord Arundel, if you are not happy with the idea.”

He could almost match her for sardonic smiles—then again, he was a Howard. “I can conceive of no greater pleasure.”

I’ll bet, she thought grimly. Arundel was going to take a great deal of pleasure in facing down her mother. And almost as much pleasure in setting queen and princess against one another.

It was only when the council had dispersed that Anabel was cornered by Pippa. “Will you bring Kit south with you?”

“You have heard what happened at Dumfries,” Anabel replied with resignation.

“I imagine there are peasants in Germany who have by now heard what happened at Dumfries.”

“You’re going to tell me not to bring him south.”

Pippa hesitated. “No. I know better than to try and give you orders.”

“I may not take orders from you, my friend, but I will take advice.” Anabel looked wistfully at her. “Pippa, can you not tell me…”

“What?”

“Do I marry James next summer?”