• • •
A month later, I knelt at the Royal Chapel and recited “A Prayer for Men to Say Entering into Battle,” written by William’s sister Queen Kateryn Parr. I had asked Mary Radcliffe to see that the other ladies and maids left the queen and myself alone as I spoke with her after the noon meal. Mary, true to her word, did as I’d asked.
I approached the queen as she sat at her writing table, preparing, I supposed, for the victory celebrations that would be held across the realm and, in particular, at her Accession Day festivities. France was no longer a threat; congenial James seemed ready to please the woman he assumed, right likely, would pass her crown to him upon her death. Spain was licking its wounds. Queen and crown had prevailed.
She looked at me as I entered and the other ladies followed Mary, which drew the queen’s attention.
“I have an important matter to discuss with you,” I said.
“Yes, proceed,” she said abruptly. She did not like surprises, and Mary’s clearing the others from the room alerted her that this would be an unusual audience.
“I need to retire to my home, to take my leave,” I said. “To Langford.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, gesturing at my filled-out gown. “In anticipation of the baby. We understand this. But Langford? ’Tis crumbling, and so far away when Sheen is near at hand.”
“My husband prefers Langford, Majesty, though he does not yet have the means to finish it. After the baby is born, I wish to remain with my husband. And my children.”
She put down her quill. “Remain? For some weeks? Through the new year?”
I knelt before her. “I wish to retire from constant service.”
She stood then, towering over me. “One does not retire from service. We shall never retire from service. Our Lord never retired from service. We have never had a lady leave our service, and we shan’t have it now!”
“I would yet walk into the lions’ den for you, and I bear you all manner of love. But you must understand that my husband desires me to wait upon him, as well. Your realm is secure. My house is not.”
“We thought you sent your cousin to Wales.”
“I did,” I said. “But that does not mean I am not still needed.”
“We need you,” she said, looking weary again. “Especially at this time!”
I hoped that I had not toppled her from the unsteady balance she had only recently regained after Lord Robert’s death. “I understand your grief, Majesty, but your kingdom and responsibilities are grand in scope, and constant. Although Lord Robert’s loss was great, I fear that for a queen, these challenges shall never cease. You are well able to meet them, though, if I may dare say.”
“No, you may not dare say anything!” she said. “Is this the reward we deserve for the kindness we have always shown you, from your arrival here in our realm, from the sponsorship of your marriage to a marquess and then the acceptance of your marriage to a squire? Have we so ill used you that you must now repay us in kind?”
“No, my lady,” I said. “I have always sought to serve you with the honor, dedication, and fealty you deserve.”
“Then what of our needs now?”
I stood up and took her hands in mine, taking care to first hold the hand upon which she wore the locket ring I had given her many years since, and then the one upon which she bore her coronation ring.
“You once told me, Majesty, that you are both virgin to the world and wife to your realm, and it is him whom you must first serve and please. Then you spoke Holy Writ to me, which I know you hold in highest esteem, as do I. As Saint Paul wrote, ‘There is difference also between a wife and a virgin. The unmarried woman cares for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit: but she that is married cares for the things of the world, how she may please her husband.’ ”
I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I could feel her hands tremble in anger. “I am not married to England, Majesty. I am married to Thomas Gorges.”
She pulled her hands away from me then, catching the locket ring on the sleeve of my gown. “Begone, then!” she said. “If you care nothing for the preferments, the perquisites, and the goodly offerings we have shared with you these many years, nor the affections and love we have settled upon you, you may leave court altogether!”
I was going to plead with her to reconsider, but she stalked into her bedchamber, leaving me to look at her back, before she closed the door.
I withdrew, not knowing if she would make good on her subtle threat to take from us all she had given. I saw Mary Radcliffe as I made my way down the gallery to pack my apartments.
“Be you all right?” she asked.
After a quick embrace, I hurried down the hallway before any should see my tears.
TWENTY-FOUR
November: Year of Our Lord 1588
Langford House, Salisbury
Spring: Year of Our Lord 1589
Windsor Castle
We arrived at Langford in November; it was windy and cold and our quarters were cozy but not large. The children, used to Sheen and its grandeur, made polite comments but I could tell they were surprised and perhaps a little afraid because the ruins still surrounded us.
“No stories of specters,” I teasingly warned the nurse, who still tended to them from time to time, and she agreed with a grin. I had brought a midwife with me from Salisbury, as the babe was soon due and, as I had already given birth so many times, this one was likely to come quickly.
Within a week, some of Thomas’s men arrived from Hurst Castle, of which he was still governor, to say that a Spanish galleon had been found wrecked in its waters and they wanted to know what to do with it.
Thomas looked at me. “I need to ride out there and see for myself.”
I nodded. “The midwife is here to attend me, and we have servants.” He kissed my forehead and instructed the children to be obedient and then he left. I lay very still upon my bed, trying to forestall the child’s birth until Thomas returned, but it was of no use. Within hours the babe came, and before long, I heard the sturdy squall of my young son. He had dark hair, not like Thomas’s fair or my red. For a moment, he put me in mind of a Gypsy, and I recalled that Lord Robert, so recently passed, had once been teasingly called “the Gypsy” by his enemies for his dark good looks.
I had borne Thomas four sons; three of them yet lived, but he had not named any son for himself. I knew that I wanted to name this child for the queen, because in spite of her harsh remonstrance, I knew she loved me well. But I could not ask that of Thomas.
He returned home in two days, and sat near me. “The wrecked galleon is loaded with silver and gold,” he said. “I’ve sent some guards out in skiffs to surround it till I hear back from Her Majesty on what she wants me to do with it.”
“What do you think she’ll say?” I asked, holding our new babe tight to my chest.
“I suspect she’ll ask me to account for everything and then send some of her men to Hurst to convey it to the treasury,” he said. “But I do not know. She has not written to me since we left court some weeks back. She may relieve me of Hurst, and the Wardrobe, Chancery, and everything else.”
I nodded. “It’s well that you asked her,” I said. “And here is your fine new son.” I handed the wrapped babe to him and he drew him near and then kissed the baby’s soft cheeks.
“Have you named him?” Thomas asked.
“Without you?” I said. “Never!”
He teased, “You had named our last babe Bridget without me, though you feigned that you had not thought of it well ahead of time.”
“It is good to be known,” I teased. But then I grew more serious. “We have not named a son after you, dear husband.”