Renard shook his head. “No one but my master, who is your friend and always will be. When you are married to Philip, you will have an even stronger hold on his affections, and you will have a man beside you. But in the meantime we have to deal with Elizabeth. We have to stop these Protestants looking to her as their new Queen.”
“It is treason.”
“Your Majesty speaks truth. So … let us begin to flout these treasonable schemes by turning our attention to your sister.”
“I cannot imprison her.”
“Not until she is implicated. But let us be watchful and begin by preventing her setting up this image to staunch Protestants. She must attend the Mass.”
“I will have her told that she must obey.”
“That will be the first step,” agreed Renard.
Before I could send the order to her, a messenger came from her with a letter begging me to grant her an interview.
I did this.
As soon as she approached me, she fell on her knees.
I said, “You may rise and tell me what it is you have to say to me. I see that you have recovered from the sickness which prevented your attending Courtenay's ceremony. You appear to be in rude health.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have recovered. May I say I hope Your Majesty is in good health.”
There was a look of concern on her face which told me I looked ill. She did not say I did, for she knew that would annoy me, but she implied it with a glance of compassion which made me immediately aware of the contrast between us—she so young, so vital, so full of good health, and myself ageing, pale, several inches shorter than she was, so that when we stood, she looked down on me.
I told her I was well. I repeated, “What is it you wish to say to me?”
“Your Majesty, I am deeply grieved.”
“Why is that?”
“I fear Your Majesty has lost her love for me. This makes me sad indeed. You have ever been a good sister to me, and I am desolate to think I may have done something to offend you. I know of nothing…except this matter of religion.”
I said, “You have been told many times to attend Mass, and you stubbornly refuse to do so.”
“Your Majesty, I have not had your advantage. I was brought up in the Reformed Faith, and I have heard no other.”
“There is no excuse. There are many who would instruct you.”
“Then Your Majesty has relieved me greatly. I must have instruction. Perhaps some learned man could be appointed for me. I will willingly learn. Your Majesty will understand that, having been instructed in one form of religion, it stays with one, and it is hard to change.”
I never knew whether to believe her or not. But for Renard's warning, I would have embraced her and told her that she should have tuition at once and we should be good sisters again. But I did hesitate. I knew Renard was right when he said she was wily and she must be watched. But seeing her before me, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, the look of humility in her face, the obvious eagerness to be taken back into my affections, I almost believed her.
I said, “You will attend Mass on the 8th of September. It is the day the Church of Rome celebrates the nativity of the Virgin.”
She looked a little taken aback. I tried to read her thoughts. She could not refuse. She knew that there were spies about her, all waiting for her to make some slip. Renard would be happy to see her in the Tower, considering her safer there. De Noailles would want her out of the way too. He wanted us both out of the way, to make the road clear for Mary of Scotland. On the other hand, Elizabeth was next in succession, and she only had to wait for my death.
The thought made me shiver. But I could not believe this fresh-faced young girl would be foolish enough to become involved in a plot which, if it did not succeed, could cost her the crown and possibly her head.
I kissed her. “We are sisters,” I said. “Let us be friends.”
She smiled radiantly, and I warmed to her. I knew she had been deeply hurt because, when I had been acclaimed legitimate, that could only mean that she was not. When we had both been called bastards, there had been a bond between us. As Queen I had to be proclaimed legitimate, and deeply I had desired this… not only for myself but for the sake of my mother. But I did feel for Elizabeth. It was bad enough to be the daughter of Anne Boleyn who, many believed, had been a witch.
It pleased me to be lenient with her. I would help her. It might well be that all she needed was instruction.
But I was adamant that she must attend Mass on the occasion I had mentioned.
She did appear. She came, looking pale and wan.
How did she manage it? I asked myself. I only half-believed in her illnesses. She recovered a little too quickly for them to be genuine.
She was surrounded by her ladies. They almost carried her into the chapel. When they arrived, she asked them to rub her stomach in the hope of bringing her some relief.
It was a good piece of acting—if acting it was. People would say, “Poor Princess! She was forced to attend Mass, but it was easy to see how reluctant she was. It made her quite ill.”
And it seemed to me that she had scored again.
RENARD WAS INCENSED by the manner in which Elizabeth had behaved. Far from upsetting the Protestants with her little bit of playacting, she had strengthened her position.
“I shall never be happy while she remains free,” he grumbled.
He thought I was a fool. I had been taken in by my sister's wiles. I kept Jane Grey alive in the Tower. Again and again he tried to impress on me that these two women represented rallying-points. The country could break into revolt at any time. Did I not see that Elizabeth and Jane, as Protestants, could be at the very center of plots against me?
I replied that the people were with me. They had chosen me.
“They could choose Elizabeth,” he said.
I shook my head and he lifted his shoulders and turned away. He said, “She must be watched. If there is the least indication that she is plotting against you, it must be the Tower for her… and most likely her head.”
He came to me a few days later with the news that de Noailles was visiting Elizabeth secretly. It could only be that they were plotting to destroy me.
“Why should de Noailles be working for Elizabeth?”
“He is not,” replied Renard. “Depend upon it, once he had dispatched Your Majesty, Elizabeth would go the same way. She is too naàve … too eager for power to see that. His only interest is to put Mary Stuart on the throne.”
“Must there always be these plots against me?”
“Until we are sure that you are safe on the throne, there will be.”
“And when will that be?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Your Majesty must see that we take every precaution and that while Madam Elizabeth is here, charming the people and being, as she thinks, so clever, we must be watchful. She should be sent to the Tower at once.”
“But nothing has been proved against her.”
“Then we must find out if there is anything to prove.”
I summoned two of my ministers—Arundel and Paget—and told them that the Princess had been behaving in a suspicious manner with the French ambassador.
“Go to her,” I said. “Discover if there is any truth in these rumors.” They clearly did not like the task. I noticed that people were becoming more and more careful how they treated Elizabeth. If she could survive, if she did not commit some treasonable act and if nothing could be proved against her, she had a very good chance of coming to the throne. I knew that was what she wanted more than anything. She always implied when I was in her presence that my health was poor and I looked sickly. Though perhaps I imagined that, and it was only myself who compared her healthy looks with my delicate ones. The people had shown that they did not like the succession interfered with. So … Paget and Arundel would remember that the young woman they were questioning for treason could be their Queen tomorrow. Naturally they were loth to go to her.