She scarcely saw John these days. But how unreasonable it was to expect him to give his time to her. She had served her purpose. She had borne thirteen children to enrich the Dudley fortunes and, although six of them had not survived, seven was a goodly number, particularly when they were such children as hers.
As for the Robsart family they could scarcely believe their good fortune. Their dear little Amy, their simple little pet was to be the means of allying theirs with the most powerful family in England.
The wedding was celebrated with much pomp and ceremony at the Royal Palace of Sheen, and King Edward himself attended. Never had the Robsarts believed such glory would come their way.
After the ceremony the married pair returned to Siderstern and prepared to live happily ever after.
And for a time Robert was happy.
Still greater power had come to his father. He had brought a charge of treason against Somerset, who on Tower Hill had met the same fate as that which a short while ago had befallen his brother, the fascinating Thomas. With Somerset headless, John Dudley was ruler of England, for the fourteen-year-old King—sick and steadily growing weaker—counted for little.
John’s immediate action was to assume the title of Duke of Northumberland, although never before had any man, unconnected with royalty, had the title of Duke bestowed upon him.
Honors found their way to the Siderstern manor house. The Duke of Northumberland bestowed Hemsley Manor, which was not far from Yarmouth, on Robert and his wife. John Robsart was given jointly with Robert the Stewardship of Manor Rising. This was a sure sign of the King’s favor; but the King’s favor was in reality Northumberland’s favor and it was small wonder that that fell upon his son and his son’s father-in-law.
For Robert and Amy the long days were full of pleasure. Whether it was hunting, hawking, tilting, or sport of any sort, there was none in Norfolk to compare with Robert. Wherever he went his smile was sought. He was called by the folk of Norfolk: “Our Lord Robert.”
So he grew in strength and beauty, taking a great interest in local affairs. If his father was the greatest man in England, Robert was the greatest in Norfolk. There was scarcely a woman in the county of Norfolk who would not have been his for the asking. The young bridegroom of seventeen had become a handsome man of twenty—the handsomest in Norfolk, the most fascinating, it was believed, in the whole of England; and if a search of the entire world were made, where would one so merry and gay, so full of charm and chivalry, be found to equal Lord Robert!
It was not his father’s wish that he should stay forever in the country. Now and then there would come a call to Court, and Robert would set out with his servants while the country folk—particularly the women—would sadly watch him go. They said that Norfolk was a dull place without Lord Robert.
A great welcome always awaited him in London. His mother wept with joy over him, and his brothers and sisters rejoiced to see him. Even his father, who had little time for family affairs, was not insensible to his charm and often would look at him with something like regret. The Robsart marriage was scarcely good enough for the most personable member of a powerful family.
One day during a visit to London Robert was at Hampton Court when his father took him into a small room and, with an air of secrecy, said he must have a few words with his son in the greatest privacy.
“I have had it from the King’s doctors,” said the Duke, after having ascertained that they could not be overheard, “that Edward is dying and cannot last the year.”
“What then, Father?”
“What then indeed! Unless matters go our way, we are lost.”
Robert was well informed enough of current affairs to know what his father meant. The Duke had, for political purposes, set himself at the head of the Reformers; and there were many in the kingdom who would say that Edward’s lawful successor was Mary Tudor—that fanatical Catholic.
It would be the end of his father’s power if Mary came to the throne, and the Dudleys, who had made their second rise to great heights, would make their second abysmal fall.
Northumberland smiled grimly at his son.
“Robert,” he said, “you have been a fool.”
“I, Father?”
“You will see what I mean when I tell you what I plan to do. Mary Tudor is a bastard; so is Elizabeth. Their own father said so. England will not tolerate bastards on the throne when there is a legitimate heir. The Grey sisters come before Mary Tudor. Jane, the eldest, will be the rightful Queen when Edward dies. Is she not the granddaughter of Henry VIII’s sister Mary? There is no taint of bastardy in Jane and, by God, she shall be Queen of England.”
“Jane! Little Jane Grey Queen of England!”
“Certainly. It is the King’s custom to name his successor here in England … and I have Edward’s consent to this. With that and her superior claims over the bastard daughters of Katharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, she will indeed be Queen. But do not imagine my plans end there. Robert, had you not been such a fool as to rush into marriage with the daughter of a country squire, I would have made you King of England.”
Robert for once was without speech. King of England! He saw himself in regal velvet. How that would have become him! Power! What did he know of power as yet? He realized his recent ignorance when he pictured what he might have been as husband to Lady Jane Grey—that fragile and most beautiful girl. It was true that she was a little too pious for Robert’s taste, but she was an enchanting creature.
“Well, you have missed your chance,” said the Duke, “and it will go to Guildford.”
“I … see,” said Robert.
His father laid his hand on his shoulder. He was regretful. What a king Robert would have made! Guildford would do his duty, but the Duke would rather it had been Robert. “Learn your lesson, my son. You are young, but it is never too soon to learn, as you now understand. See what your headstrong behavior has done for you. You might have been the King, but you in your own youthful folly chose to be a country squire. Always look ahead. Always think of what the future may hold. No doubt your brother and his wife Queen Jane will bestow many honors upon you. But, you see, a little patience, a little foresight, would have brought you so much more. Now you know the position, but remember it is a secret as yet. We must succeed. The future of our house depends upon success. On the King’s death there will be opposition to Jane’s succession. We must be ready for that. You will return to Norfolk and wait there, but while you wait, you will gather together a goodly force in secret to be called upon if need be. You understand me?”
“Yes, Father.”
That interview entirely changed Robert’s outlook.
He returned to Norfolk in a very thoughtful mood. Nothing looked quite the same to him again. Amy was loving, but what a simpleton she was! He could not help comparing her rustic charm with the beauty of Jane Grey, her simplicity with Jane’s learning; and he could not help seeing beside Robert the Squire, Robert the King.
They saw the change in him when he returned. Amy was fretful and jealous. Pinto believed that he was in love with a woman whom he had met at the Court. Pinto had always sensed danger in Amy’s marriage.
She tried to warn and advise. “Be patient. Do not flatter him so wholeheartedly. Hold aloof. Let him come to you for favors. Do not bestow them so generously.”
Poor Amy tried to follow Pinto’s advice, but how could she? When Robert was near her, she must beg for his smiles like a little dog performing her pretty tricks for him.
“Amy,” he cried in exasperation, “when will you grow up?”