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Authors: Barbara Kyle
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heart.”
“Sir Adam,” a man called.
They looked down at the jetty where a boat nudged the water stairs. Isabel recognized the man standing in the bow—Adam’s friend who’d helped fight off her attackers. The boat was a ship’s longboat, and six sailors sat behind him at the oars.
“Rogers,” Adam called back, “come up here.” As the man jogged up the steps, Adam said to Isabel, “My lieutenant.” When Rogers reached them, Adam said, “See this lady home, would you? It’s not far, Bishopsgate Street. Meet me back at the ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Give us a moment first.” The lieutenant ambled to a diplomatic distance to wait, and Adam said to Isabel, “I must be off.”
“But we’ll fight them if they dare attack,” she said, her mind locked on the French threat. “Queen Elizabeth will surely beat them back.”
“How? She has no standing army. She took over a country that her sister left bankrupt. And as I’ve told you, she inherited a navy that’s just a handful of run-down ships.”
He made it sound terrible. Isabel had had no idea things were so bad.
“What’s worse, she can’t be sure of the loyalty of half her subjects.” Adam’s voice hardened. “The Catholics. Many of them practice their religion in secret, and with growing hostility. Especially in the north—Yorkshire, Northumberland—where the old ways are so rooted. And some of them are very powerful lords. The Queen just dismissed the Earl of Northumberland as Warden of the East and Middle Marches, which is basically the whole Scottish frontier, because he’s a known Catholic and she can’t trust him if it comes to choosing sides.” Isabel bristled at that, but Adam barreled on. “Elizabeth’s hold on the throne is so precarious, people are laying bets throughout Europe on whether her reign will see a second year.”
His use of the Queen’s Christian name sounded shocking. So intimate. “You call her Elizabeth? To her face?”
He scowled. “Isabel, have you heard what I’ve said? Her throne is threatened from within and without the realm. The French are poised to attack us, and the Catholic holdouts—English traitors—may well join them. She may not survive as Queen.”
“I do hear you. But invasion? It seems impossible. The French would not find England easy to subjugate, you know that. They must know that. Englishmen will fight fiercely for their liberty. And as for the Catholics here, respect for the old faith does not make any Englishman a traitor. They too will fight for their Queen.”
“Think you so?” He sounded unconvinced, and added with cool sarcasm, “If you’re wrong, I won’t be able to say ‘I told you so’ when Father and I are swinging as gallows fruit.”
She stared at him, horrified.
“Now you understand,” he said in deadly earnest. “If Elizabeth falls, our family falls.”
He turned to beckon his lieutenant, but stopped with a look of surprise as footmen set down an open litter beside him and his wife climbed out, the effort a challenge in her very pregnant state.
“Thank heaven I’m not too late,” Frances said, looking flushed. “I was afraid I’d missed you.”
Adam seemed mystified. “What is it? Is there some problem?”
“No, no. Please, don’t worry.” Her eyes glowed with affection. “It’s just that . . . I got your note.”
“It was only to inform you,” he said coolly. “There was no need to come.”
She tried to hide her hurt. “I wanted to come. You may be gone for . . . so long. I had to say farewell.”
He looked out at the waiting boat as if eager to be on it, while Frances clearly ached at the prospect of his going. Isabel did not know the source of their discord—it was hard to understand their marriage—but she felt sorry for Frances. No woman could look more in love. Isabel wanted to pinch Adam. Could he not bring himself to give his wife one kiss of farewell? Or just a tender word? She could not imagine such aloofness if Carlos
“Sir Adam,” a man called.
They looked down at the jetty where a boat nudged the water stairs. Isabel recognized the man standing in the bow—Adam’s friend who’d helped fight off her attackers. The boat was a ship’s longboat, and six sailors sat behind him at the oars.
“Rogers,” Adam called back, “come up here.” As the man jogged up the steps, Adam said to Isabel, “My lieutenant.” When Rogers reached them, Adam said, “See this lady home, would you? It’s not far, Bishopsgate Street. Meet me back at the ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Give us a moment first.” The lieutenant ambled to a diplomatic distance to wait, and Adam said to Isabel, “I must be off.”
“But we’ll fight them if they dare attack,” she said, her mind locked on the French threat. “Queen Elizabeth will surely beat them back.”
“How? She has no standing army. She took over a country that her sister left bankrupt. And as I’ve told you, she inherited a navy that’s just a handful of run-down ships.”
He made it sound terrible. Isabel had had no idea things were so bad.
“What’s worse, she can’t be sure of the loyalty of half her subjects.” Adam’s voice hardened. “The Catholics. Many of them practice their religion in secret, and with growing hostility. Especially in the north—Yorkshire, Northumberland—where the old ways are so rooted. And some of them are very powerful lords. The Queen just dismissed the Earl of Northumberland as Warden of the East and Middle Marches, which is basically the whole Scottish frontier, because he’s a known Catholic and she can’t trust him if it comes to choosing sides.” Isabel bristled at that, but Adam barreled on. “Elizabeth’s hold on the throne is so precarious, people are laying bets throughout Europe on whether her reign will see a second year.”
His use of the Queen’s Christian name sounded shocking. So intimate. “You call her Elizabeth? To her face?”
He scowled. “Isabel, have you heard what I’ve said? Her throne is threatened from within and without the realm. The French are poised to attack us, and the Catholic holdouts—English traitors—may well join them. She may not survive as Queen.”
“I do hear you. But invasion? It seems impossible. The French would not find England easy to subjugate, you know that. They must know that. Englishmen will fight fiercely for their liberty. And as for the Catholics here, respect for the old faith does not make any Englishman a traitor. They too will fight for their Queen.”
“Think you so?” He sounded unconvinced, and added with cool sarcasm, “If you’re wrong, I won’t be able to say ‘I told you so’ when Father and I are swinging as gallows fruit.”
She stared at him, horrified.
“Now you understand,” he said in deadly earnest. “If Elizabeth falls, our family falls.”
He turned to beckon his lieutenant, but stopped with a look of surprise as footmen set down an open litter beside him and his wife climbed out, the effort a challenge in her very pregnant state.
“Thank heaven I’m not too late,” Frances said, looking flushed. “I was afraid I’d missed you.”
Adam seemed mystified. “What is it? Is there some problem?”
“No, no. Please, don’t worry.” Her eyes glowed with affection. “It’s just that . . . I got your note.”
“It was only to inform you,” he said coolly. “There was no need to come.”
She tried to hide her hurt. “I wanted to come. You may be gone for . . . so long. I had to say farewell.”
He looked out at the waiting boat as if eager to be on it, while Frances clearly ached at the prospect of his going. Isabel did not know the source of their discord—it was hard to understand their marriage—but she felt sorry for Frances. No woman could look more in love. Isabel wanted to pinch Adam. Could he not bring himself to give his wife one kiss of farewell? Or just a tender word? She could not imagine such aloofness if Carlos
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