My aim, however, was to convince Robert of the opposite because only if he believed he had a chance to wed her would he agree to my plan. I did not think this would be too difficult. Robert’s weakness had always been his arrogance and ambition. He would want to believe he could change Elizabeth’s mind and persuade her to marry him. If the path were clear...

“She would change her mind,” I said, “if you were free. She loves you. She told me so herself.”

I saw a spark leap in his eyes, then it dulled almost immediately. His mouth turned down at the corners. “Do you think I have not considered all possible ways to achieve it?” he said. He looked at me, his gaze shadowed now. The subject wearied him. I could see it was a familiar trap, an unbearable frustration. “There can be neither annulment nor divorce for us. This leaves only...”

“Death,” I said.

The word dropped into the silence of the room like a stone in a deep pool.

“Do not tell me,” I said, “that you have not considered it.”

“Amy.” He looked uncomfortable, sheepish, too committed to lie yet too much of a coward to admit it.

“Of course you have,” I said. “How could you not wish it? I die and the path is clear.”

He frowned fiercely. “I would never hasten your end, if that is what you fear.”

I was not sure whether I believed him or not. In the whispering hall of mirrors I was imprisoned in it was all too easy to believe rumour and gossip. I did not know whether they were true or falsehood. Reason was slippery but I grasped after it.

“I do believe you,” I said, “because to kill me would be a foolish thing to do and though you may be a desperate man, I do not think you are a stupid one.”

I had his full attention now. “What do you mean?”

“If there was even the slightest suspicion that you had sought my death,” I said carefully, “your enemies would seize upon it. They would never let it be forgotten. The Queen cannot allow any rumour of foul play to besmirch her reputation. She would send you away and your chance of marrying her would be gone forever.”

I saw the expression in his eyes and knew in that moment that he had considered it. Perhaps he had even started to plan my murder. Desperate times bred desperate remedies and if Robert had thought for even one second that he might get away with it, he would act.

I should have felt afraid then, when I saw the depths to which he would go, but I did not. I sat back in my chair, stretching my aching limbs towards the fire, seeking the warmth and relaxation. It was pleasant in that little chamber, oddly comfortable and comforting as though we were a long-married couple supping together.

“Think about it,” I said. “Don’t be a fool, Robert.”