that it was merely another sign of Robert’s contempt for me. He had never asked if I could ride well and assumed that I could not.
William Hyde, whose care I had been consigned to whilst Robert was out of the country with King Philip, had evidently been given the same instruction for he wrapped me about with so much caution and coddling that a vain woman would believe herself highly prized.
‘We must take care of you as well as Sir Robert would do,’ he would declare roguishly when I expressed a desire to take the air and he refused to allow it. ‘You cannot go out at present, there is too chill a wind.’ In such small ways he made my life a misery.
Today was different, however. Today I had been allowed out – under the strict supervision of Mr Hyde’s grooms – because Robert had an important commission for me to fulfil, and as I reined in my horse on the rising land above Hatfield House, I felt the smallest frisson of pleasure to be out in the world.
The Princess Elizabeth’s house was considered a palace but even I could see the irony in that. She might have been happy there as a child, sharing her brother’s education, but now the brick walls were her prison. Queen Mary knew that her sister was as unscrupulous as a usurer and as sly as a fox. The Queen had set her under lock and key here, and I admired her for it.
My move from the court in London to Throcking in Hertfordshire now made a great deal of sense. As I had thought, it was nothing to do with me, and all to do with the Princess Elizabeth. Robert wanted me to be close by her so I could run the errands to her that he could not. Had he shown me but an ounce of the unswerving devotion he had for her I would have laid down my life for him. Yet that was as nothing to him. He could not even see me when Elizabeth was in his mind, for she eclipsed all else as the sun eclipses the moon. Robert was dazzled, blinded. He had to be to take such risks when his position under Queen Mary was so precarious.
The groom knocked vigorously at the door and I shivered for we were deep in shadow here. The tall brick gables of the hall loomed high over us. A black-clad servant showed me into the hall and left me for an age seated on a horribly uncomfortable wooden chair; I believe they wanted me gone. However, I had a commission and I was engaged upon it. I waited.
Eventually one of the Elizabeth’s ladies, also in black, swept me up and carried me away to a little panelled ante-chamber. She was impatient. She had no time for this.
‘You can give Sir Robert’s message to me,’ she said to me, holding out her hand imperatively. ‘I will see that it reaches the Lady Elizabeth.’
I had been expecting this. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ I said, with a respectful curtsey to soften the refusal, ‘but Sir Robert insisted I hand it to none other than her highness herself.’
My choice of address for the Princess did not go unnoticed, just as I had intended. Here in this house, loyalties were split like shards of glass. Some of the Princess’s ladies spied for the Queen. Others were dedicated to her service. This woman, Lady Vane, I knew to be one of the latter for her mother had been a friend to Queen Anne Boleyn.
I saw the expression shift in Lady Vane’s eyes and her manner thawed a very little.
‘Sir Robert’s devotion to Her Highness has always been appreciated,’ she said.
‘He is indeed most devoted,’ I agreed smoothly. ‘No one could be more loyal to her.’
The truth of my words mocked me. What other man would send his wife with a message to the woman he loved?
I waited. After a moment Lady Vane had come to her decision. She nodded. ‘Follow me,’ she said.
I had travelled over twenty miles from Throcking to Hatfield in order to deliver Robert’s gift to the Lady Elizabeth but those last few steps through the shabby old house were the most difficult for I hated her so much. In my imagination I had turned her into a monster. My heart was thumping so hard I thought my steps would falter. Yet when I walked into the library and saw her