Against the Wind Page 4

  "We may yet have that chance, Mary," Elizabeth whispered, having agonized over how to share the news with her heartbroken sister. But she need not have worried; Mary's face lit up.

  "You?"

  "Confirmed just last week." Her sister's joy was contagious, and Elizabeth giggled like a child as Mary embraced her. "Will you be the godmother? Please?"

  "Of course I will!" Now a different type of tears glittered on the Queen's face. "Oh, Elizabeth. He might have stolen the chance to be a mother from me, but we won't let him take it from you. Tell Robert to care well for you, and I will make him a Duke when the child is born, boy or girl."

  Elizabeth burst into tears.

  ***

  Mary's health rallied as Elizabeth became big with child. By mid-July, the queen returned to court and threw herself into the business of securing Elizabeth's place as her heir. Robert, too, helped by charming Mary out of her despondency. He danced exclusively with her at Christmas and bought her dozens of heartfelt gifts when Mary's spirits flagged, treating her more like a beloved sister than a monarch and providing the familial love that Mary needed so badly. His attentions finally made Mary joke that perhaps she should have married Robert herself, but Elizabeth only laughed, secure in her husband's love. Besides, Robert's focus on Mary ensured that he did not so much as think of taking a mistress when Elizabeth could not lie with him, a fact that left Elizabeth quite satisfied.

  Elizabeth entered confinement in October of 1558, wishing devoutly that her great-grandmother had not laid down such strict rules governing childbirth by royalty. Being locked away from the life of the court was dull beyond belief, and the days dragged onwards without relief. Only constant visits by Robert and Mary kept her from going truly mad, along with the Dowager Queen and her two daughters, who provided cheerful smiles and entertaining antics. Mary had warmed to Kitty a little these days, helped by the way motherhood and lonely widowhood had matured their father's last wife. They would never be bosom friends, but the two queens were friendly enough , and Mary protected Kitty from an unwanted third marriage when the new Duke of Norfolk sought to marry his cousin off for the benefit of the Howard clan.

  "Speaking of marriages, the Earl of Hertford has approached me about his son," Mary mentioned one day as she tried to entertain her bored sister.

  "Oh?" Elizabeth looked up from the sewing she had been trying to focus on. Between her, Mary, and their ladies, the coming child already had more clothing than any one baby could ever wear, but at least sewing passed the time.

  "Young Lord Edward wants to marry Catherine Grey, it seems."

  That made Elizabeth grimace. "What is it about the Grey sisters and the sons of ambitious men?"

  "I think this case may be different," the Queen replied reflectively. "Hertford is actually against the idea, but it seems that his boy and Catherine are in love and threatening to elope. Frances Grey is furious."

  "She deserves no worse," Elizabeth snorted. No one had ever been able to prove that Frances had been neck deep in Warwick's plot to place her daughter Jane on the throne, which meant she had kept her head when her husband was relieved of his. Yet Frances was wise enough to remain away from court most days, although it probably irked her to see Jane continue to receive Mary's favor.

  "Catherine is terribly in love with Lord Edward, Your Grace." Jane now spoke up from the chair she'd been sewing in. She smiled wryly. "This isn't a case of ambitious parents who have to drag the prospective bride and groom down the aisle, much though my mother fears you will see Guilford and I in Catherine and Edward."

  On first glance, the parallels were striking, although Elizabeth did not think that Hertford was nearly as foolish as Warwick; Edward Seymour would never gamble his own life so wildly. He preferred to gain the monarch's favor and keep it, and knew exactly where his head would end up if he even thought about supplanting Henry VIII's daughters with a Grey girl.

  Yet the similarities ended there. Poor Jane and Guilford had not wanted to marry one another at all, Elizabeth knew, and had taken years to warm up to the idea. They would never be in love, but the pair had developed a fondness for each other and seemed happy now. Marriage and escape from her domineering mother had done Jane a world of good, too. Back in the days of Edward's reign, she would never have dared speak her mind like this, but now she was comfortable as part of Mary's closest circle of friends.

  "Should we allow it, then, cousin Jane?" Mary asked lightly, making Jane blush.

  "If Your Majesty pleases. It would surely make my sister the happiest of brides."

  "And we Tudor women do have a habit of marrying who we please," Elizabeth added wickedly. "Going all the way back to Jane's grandmother, I believe."

  They all laughed together. Elizabeth was too young to have known Princess Mary, the Dowager Queen of France who had thrown everything away to marry the Duke of Suffolk, but Mary had told her many stories about their brave and defiant aunt while growing up. Catherine Grey was made more in her grandmother's mold than Jane was, and Elizabeth could believe that she would make good on that threat to elope.

  "Well, then that settles it," Mary concluded with a smile. "Besides, there shall be a fine Tudor lad or lass soon enough, which should put paid to any courtier's foolish ambitions."

  That had been one of the two stipulations Mary had insisted on inserting into Elizabeth and Robert's marriage contract: their children would all be Tudors. Robert had brothers enough to carry on the Dudley name, and he'd not argued. He'd been a little less happy when Mary had, in writing, denied him the chance at the crown matrimonial, but even Robert could override his own ambitions enough to understand why. He would never be more than Prince Consort if Elizabeth came to the throne, but that still made him the first man at court, and Robert was content enough.

  But Elizabeth turned her mind back to her sister, taking Mary's hand. "I may be the mother, but this child is for both of us, Mary."

  "For England."

  ***

  On November 17, 1558, Elizabeth gave birth with the queen, Jane and Catherine Grey, and Dowager Queen Katherine in attendance. Robert paced furiously outside the birthing chamber, never willing to believe that it had actually been a quick labor and an easy birth; he only knew that Elizabeth's cries seemed to go on forever. Finally, however, Elizabeth fell back against the bed, torn between exhaustion, disappointment, and all-consuming love.

  The queen cradled the child while the other ladies prepared Elizabeth to receive visitors, and then handed her to her mother.

  "Mary, I'm…"

  "She's beautiful, sister," Mary interrupted with a genuine smile, even if the expression was a little wistful. "Another princess for the Tudor line. We do seem to be hardier than the boys, after all."

  Elizabeth melted into a smile of her own, looking at her beautiful daughter. Her eyes were blue, as all babies' were, and she already possessed a full head of Tudor red hair. She mewed softly, and Elizabeth rocked her gently. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Robert arrived before Mary could respond, rushing into the room.

  "Are you all right, my love?" he asked quickly, forgetting to even bow to the Queen in his rush to reach his wife's side.

  "I'm fine, Robin." She smiled at his concern, and then shifted the baby in her arms. Elizabeth forced herself to smile, and to speak levelly, without concerns for her husband's reaction. "Meet your daughter."

  Robert's entire expression softened. "She's so tiny," he breathed. "What do we name her?"

  They had not discussed names before the birth; Elizabeth had been too superstitious to allow it. She'd been afraid that talking about names could jinx them, but now that she'd seen her daughter, the choice was obvious.

  "I want to name her Mary," Elizabeth said softly, "for the sister who has always been the only mother I have ever known."

  She risked a glance at her sister, and the joy in Mary's eyes made every challenge of the last fifteen years worthwhile.

  ***

  Mary I died in August of 15
59, eight months after her goddaughter's birth. Visibly pregnant, Elizabeth was crowned Queen of England one month later, with her husband, the Duke of Northampton, by her side. She would reign for forty-four years, during which time Robert Dudley remained both loyal and faithful, a pillar of strength when she needed him, and always her best friend . Of their four children, only two survived her, both daughters. Neither of their sons died young, but one had been lost fighting Philip's Armada and the other years before to smallpox, leaving another Mary Tudor to inherit the throne.

  Mary II and her husband, James VI of Scotland, saw to it that Elizabeth was buried next to her sister, as united in death as they had been in life. The inscription on the tomb in Westminster Abbey described the pair well: "Consorts in realm and tomb, here we sleep, Elizabeth and Mary, sisters, in hope of resurrection"