“But you used to say you loved my childishness.”
“You cannot be childish forever.”
“But you used to rejoice because I was different from the girls you met at Court.”
Ah, he thought, different indeed! Lacking the gracious enchanting dignity of the Lady Jane Grey, the fire and exciting qualities of the Princess Elizabeth.
Amy was shaking his arm. “Why do you not speak to me? Of what are you thinking? Why are you always staring out of the window, listening it seems. For what do you listen?”
“I … Listen! I listen for nothing.”
“You do. I swear it. You are waiting … waiting for a message from someone … someone whom you met at the Court. Why do I never go there with you? Why must I always stay here in the country? Why, when you go to Court, do you go without me?”
How stupid she was!
He looked at her with mild distaste. Oh, what a fool he had been! He was the husband of a simple country girl, when he might have been married to a queen.
Her lips were trembling. He watched the tears roll down her cheeks as she fell on to a couch and began to sob.
Would he never learn? He was more foolish than ever. His father had entrusted him with a secret, and already he had almost betrayed it. She knew that something had happened on his visit to Court and, being the foolish child she was, she believed he was in love with another woman.
He sighed. He certainly had eyes for women—the women of the Court and the women of the country. Did silly little Amy think that since their marriage he had never looked at another?
Yet he must soothe her; she must not know that he had changed. She must not know of the thoughts which were now chasing each other through his mind. He who might have been the King of England would be the brother of a king; and Guildford had always admired him. He would be able to do what he wished with Guildford; power would come his way—but not if he allowed a simple country girl to know when he had a dangerous secret.
He bent over her, lifting the hair from her hot and tearful face.
“Amy,” he whispered, “little Amy. What ails you? Why should you be jealous of the most faithful man in England?”
She raised her eyes to his face as he bent over her.
“But, Robert …”
“Why should you think these evil thoughts of me, eh? Tell me that.”
“Because you have been away from me.”
“On duty. Nothing but duty to my father would tear me from your side.”
“But … there is something. Pinto says it is another woman.”
“Pinto! What does she know of my affairs?”
“She knows much of the world, and she says that men are the same the whole world over.”
“Come, kiss me, Amy. Let us prove that Madam Pinto, though she knows so much of most men, knows nothing of this one.”
Now he was soothing her and she was ready to listen, so ready to believe what she wanted to believe more than anything on Earth; and he would not have been Robert if he had not been able to convince her.
It was night, and Amy awoke to find herself alone in the bed; the curtains about it were drawn, yet not so closely that they shut out the moonlight which filled the room. She put out a hand and touched the feather bed which still bore the impression of Robert’s body.
She sat up. The fur rug which covered the blanket had been thrown aside. There was one thought in her head. He had crept out to go to a woman, she was sure; and that woman was not a lady of the Court, but one of her own household.
With tears in her eyes she got out of bed and put a wrap about her shoulders. She stood hesitating then, wondering whether to go and tell Pinto what she had discovered. Now that she was sure he was unfaithful she was miserably unhappy, and covering her face with her hands she sat down on a stool and began to rock to and fro. She sat thus, undecided for a long time until a noise from outside startled her. Hastily she rose and went to the window. In the moonlight she saw Robert, and with him was her father and another man. She was so delighted that she threw open the casement and called his name.
The men looked up. Her father waved his hand angrily at her indicating that she was to move away from the window. She obeyed in great perplexity.
It was only a few minutes before she heard the boards in the corridor outside her room creaking, and her door was opened by Robert, who came quietly in. He was half dressed but she saw that his eyes were shining with excitement. She flung herself at him, sobbing with relief.
“I thought … I thought …”
He put his hand over her mouth. “Quiet … for the love of God, Amy, be quiet. What are you doing out of bed? You’ll wake the whole household.”
“But … I must know … I believed …”
He led her to the bed; he sat down on it and drew the curtains about them.
He was angry and his anger frightened her. “You will ruin everything,” he said.
Even as he said those words they seemed to have a prophetic ring. She would ruin everything. Had she not already done much harm? His brother Guildford was married to the Lady Jane Grey; and at this moment, though few knew it, Jane Grey was Queen of England. He looked at Amy, pretty enough with her hair hanging about her shoulders and her wrap falling open to show those plump shoulders; but he had grown up; he had outgrown the simple country charms of Amy Robsart.
“You are going to leave me, Robert?” she said.
“Now listen to me. We had not meant that you should know. But since you have seen what you have seen, your father and I think there is no help for it but to tell you.”
“What … what have I seen?”
He hid his exasperation. “Your father, myself, and the messenger.”
“The messenger?”
“He comes this night from my father, and he comes with the utmost secrecy.”
“Yes, Robert?”
How he wished at that moment that she was not there or that he had no wife, and that she was the young washerwoman who had caught his fancy in the kitchens not long ago, and who could, without curtailing his freedom, provide as much excitement and amusement as Amy ever gave him. His freedom! He felt hot with anger when he thought of his freedom. Guildford—King! And he, Robert, might have been in that exalted position. He could have put his hands about her throat then and squeezed the life out of her.
“Robert, what is it? What ails you?”
When she spoke and he looked at her childish mouth, he was surprised at himself. As if such a creature could be allowed to stand in his way!
He said: “Poor Amy, I frightened you.”
And he bent over her and brushed her mouth with his lips. Her hands came up to cling to him. Silly Amy! She had no conception of what she had done to him. All she had said when she had learned about Guildford was: “What a great marriage your brother has made!” “Aye!” he wanted to shout at her. “And I might have made it!” She was too stupid to see that through her he had lost the great chance of a lifetime. All for the sake of a country girl who was no longer able to satisfy his carnal appetite!
“Don’t be frightened, Amy,” he said. “You do not think I would hurt you?”
“Nay … nay …” How she clung to him! He kissed her again; she was soft and warm from the feather bed. Poor Amy!
“Count yourself lucky,” he said, “that you are my wife and not only your father’s daughter. He would have made you smart for calling out as you did.”
“But, Robert … I thought you had gone to visit a woman.”
“Why did you think that? Do you doubt your powers to charm me?”
“No, Robert.”
“Of course you do not! You have a high opinion of your charms. Do I not often see you simpering with Pinto as you look in the mirror?”
“But …”
“I am teasing, Amy. You must not be afraid. Can you keep a secret?”
“No, Robert, you know I cannot.”