Contents ( 59)
- Prologue
- Amy Robsart, Cumnor Village
- 1
- Lizzie: Amelia and Dudley’s Wedding, 2010
- 2
- Amy: Stanfield Manor, Norfolk, August 1549
- 3
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 4
- Amy: Stansfield Manor, Norfolk, April 1550
- 5
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 6
- Amy: Sheen Palace, June 1550
- 7
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 8
- Amy: Castle Rising, Norfolk, Summer 1551
- 9
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 10
- Amy: Whitehall Palace, Summer 1552
- 11
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 12
- Amy: The Tower of London, March 1554
- 13
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 14
- Amy: Baynard’s Castle, London, Spring 1557
- 15
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 16
- Amy: Hatfield, Hertfordshire, Summer 1557
- 17
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 18
- Amy: Throcking Manor, November 1558
- 19
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 20
- Amy: Melford Hall, Suffolk, May 1559
- 21
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 22
- Amy: Cumnor Place, Oxfordshire, April 1560
- 23
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 24
- Amy: Cumnor Place, 8th September 1560
- 25
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 26
- Lizzie: Present Day
- 27
- Lizzie: Present Day
- Epilogue
- Amy Robsart, The Citrine Pool
- Acknowledgements
“Please convey my thanks to Sir Robert,” Elizabeth said and my mind jerked away from Robert’s neglect and the new blue gown that was not to be mine and I looked up to meet her mocking brown eyes. “And thank you, Lady Dudley,” she added. “I admire your obedience to your husband in what I imagine to be an onerous duty.”
My temper caught at that. It was mean-spirited of her to make fun of me simply because she could. There was a moment when I tried to hold my tongue, but my outburst had been a long time building and now it was unstoppable.
“Why?” I burst out. “Why must you have Robert, of all men? You, who could have any man!”
She did not answer immediately. Instead she ran her hands over the book’s cover again, like a lover’s caress.
“I love Robert,” she said simply, after a moment. “I always have.”
Rage caught in my throat. “You will never have him,” I said. “I shall make sure of that.”
I heard the lady-in-waiting gasp at my words but Elizabeth did not look shocked. She stood illuminated by the sun, cloaked by books and learning, so far above me in so many ways.
“You mistake me, Lady Dudley,” she said, “I have far grander plans than to be any man’s wife.” She said the word as though it had a bitter taste. “Even less,” she added disdainfully, “would I be a mistress.”
I saw my mistake. I had judged her according to the conventional fate of women down the ages, defined as I was, as even the Queen was, by men: daughter, wife, mother. Yet that was to underestimate her. The Princess Elizabeth valued herself high. She would not wed if it meant her life would be dictated by a husband. One day, if she continued to be clever and lucky and walked the tightrope and did not fall, she might be Queen of England and I could not imagine this imperious creature sharing her power with any man. I saw her ambition and I marvelled at it.
Queen Elizabeth. She would stand alone, above them all. There was many a slip in the world of politics and high treason but somehow, I knew she would achieve it.
It was then that I foresaw Robert’s downfall too with the certainty that comes from knowing someone inside and out. Robert was ruthlessly ambitious. When Elizabeth’s star rose, he would want his to rise too, higher and ever higher, the equal of hers. Yet that would never happen. Her ambition would always outstrip his, her life would always run ahead of his, and though he would try, he would never be able to catch her.
Robert Dudley and Elizabeth Tudor... Yes, they did love one another. I could see that. They needed the other to exist. Yet they were also the other’s torment.
If I wanted to profit from that I needed to play them at their own games. I had been too small in my thinking, too unambitious. I needed to take Robert’s vaulting ambition and use it to my own ends.