The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [45]
I observed the conflicting emotions on Robert’s face as his mother spoke and wasn’t surprised when at length he nodded, albeit in poor humor, and muttered, “Of course not. She’s stubborn as a mule, that one, just like her sister. She’ll stay put until all her questions are satisfied. I suppose that if I must see Mary to prison in order to get that idiot council to heed reason, then I will. I’ll bring her in chains to London.”
Lady Dudley inclined her head. “I am relieved to hear it. I will go tell your father. He’s deliberating with Lord Arundel. They’ll want to send trustworthy men with you, naturally. Once the preparations are done, you’ll be informed. Why not rest till then? You look tired.” The hand she set on his cheek should have invoked tenderness. It did not.
“You are our most gifted child,” she murmured. “Patience. Your time will come.”
Then she turned and, with a swish of skirts, departed the room.
As soon as the door shut Robert grabbed one of the candlesticks and flung it against the wall. Plaster sprayed. In the ensuing silence, his panting was like a cornered beast’s.
Fighting back the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I passed a hand quickly through my hair, ruffling it, undid my jerkin laces, and emerged blinking from behind the curtain. He whirled about. “You! You were here? You … you heard?”
“Given the situation,” I said, “I thought it best if I remained out of sight, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, you eavesdropping dog.”
I dropped my gaze. “Forgive me but I was so tired. All that free wine last night, the ride here … I fell asleep on my lord’s bed. I beg your forgiveness. It won’t happen again.”
He eyed me. Then he strode to me and struck me hard, across the face. I rocked back on my heels. He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said tersely, “Asleep, were you? You’d best learn to hold your wine then. Or drink less.” He paused again.
I held my breath, my face smarting. It was a plausible excuse, if not a very convincing one, but it did save him embarrassment, and he might just be arrogant enough to assume I’d barely understood what had been said. After all, he’d never rated my intelligence highly, and I’d never expressed an ambition beyond serving his family. But there was the possibility that if he decided I posed a liability, he would kill me. I could only pray he actually saw me as a dog that would never turn on the hand that fed it.
To my relief, Robert kicked the candlestick aside and stalked to the table. “To the devil with my father. Just when I had matters in hand. I’m beginning to think he deliberately wants to thwart me. First he sends me off to the Tower on some stupid errand while he invites her to court, and now, once again, he’s found a reason to delay his promise.”
I made a sympathetic sound, trying to piece together what I’d learned.
First of all, the much-vaunted Dudley familial unity appeared to be crumbling. Lady Dudley had said her husband no longer confided in her, though she’d always been his mainstay, the iron behind his silk. Whatever plans the duke had in store for Elizabeth now excluded Robert, despite the repeated mention of a promise made to him. I could hazard a guess as to what this promise had entailed.
Moreover, Lady Dudley had mentioned the Suffolks, the new in-laws to the Dudleys. Could it be they, as royal kin, were opposed to this royal union for Guilford? Jane Grey was a grandniece of Henry the Eighth’s: She had Tudor blood in her veins through her mother, the daughter of King Henry’s younger sister. That might explain why the duke had elected to send Robert after Mary. Putting the heir to the throne in the Tower would prove a persuasive counter to the Suffolks’ objections. Or was there an even more sinister motive to these machinations?
I wanted