I am enormously cheered at the thought of Elizabeth losing Robert Dudley, just as I am parted from Ned. “She did know! At any rate, she knew that Amy Dudley was going to die! But who is saying that it was Elizabeth?”

“The Spanish ambassador himself!” Mary reminds me. “And he had it from Cecil. He has told everyone. She will never be able to see Dudley again. Everyone says she knew that he was going to kill his wife. And if they find him guilty of murder, they will execute him, and serve him right.”

“They’ll never behead Robert Dudley!” I say bitterly. “She’ll never let them. Not him. Not her favorite.”

“It doesn’t matter who he is, if he killed his wife,” Mary declares. “Not even Elizabeth is above the law of the land. If the Oxfordshire inquest names him as a murderer, then she can’t pardon him. And besides, he’s hardly the first of that family to be beheaded.” She sees my face as I think of our sister, who signed herself “Jane Duddley.” She puts out her hand. “I didn’t mean her. I never think of Jane as a Dudley.”

I shake my head at the sudden vivid thought of my sister and the spoiled Dudley boy. “They’re none of them any good,” I say spitefully. “But Robert was the best of them.”

* * *

Once again, Ned and I are estranged. I had thought he would come to me at once and beg my pardon, but he does not. I am miserable without him, but I cannot bring myself to apologize when I am not at fault. I see him walking with Frances Mewtas and dancing with her, and each time my jealousy and unhappiness are renewed. I am determined to punish him for his infidelity, but I think that no one is in pain but me.

The court is subdued and uneasy. It seems as if nobody is happy as the days get shorter and the leaves turn color, and the summer, which seemed as if it would last forever, drains away a little more every day. The blue fades from the sky and the clouds go gray and a cold wind gets up and blows down the Thames valley.