Her protests, I knew, were prompted by fear. It was the fear of a woman who had sat by on more than one occasion and seen how the grandiose plans of men could lead to ruin. Our cousins Robert and William Kett had been hanged at the end of the last year for their uprising against the King. It was, she said, a woman’s place to sit at home and weep whilst their men threw away their lives.
I had happier hopes than that. I had no intention of weeping. I would marry Robert and join him at the King’s court and my life would be a whirl of excitement. I saw no further than that. I was young and in love; why would I?
‘I sometimes think that Mother is a witch,’ I said, standing up, shaking the straw from my skirts. ‘She fears the future. Do you think that is because she has seen it?’
I half expected Arthur to make the sign of the cross at my words, for he was a countryman at heart and as such was full of superstition. He did not smile but nor did he flinch from the question. ‘I think she has seen a semblance of the future,’ he said slowly. ‘We all have. We have all seen great men stumble and lose all they have worked to achieve. She does not want that for our father and least of all does she want it for you.’
‘I will do very well,’ I said. ‘I will be a great lady and live in a castle and have ten children. The Dudleys always have lots of children.’
I liked that vision of my future. It would give me a place, a purpose. It pleased me very much to know that, for I was outgrowing my life at Stansfield. What was I to do if I stayed here, year after year, a spinster losing my bloom? I needed an establishment of my own and a place in the world.
‘I do love Robert,’ I repeated, as though that was the charm that would ensure my future happiness. ‘We love each other.’
Arthur did not reply and for a moment I thought I saw shadows gathering in his eyes. I wondered if he was thinking about the other sharp words that Mother had uttered in an unguarded moment; that Robert was infatuated with my beauty and wanted my body but that lust would never sustain a happy marriage. I had not really understood what she had meant. Robert made me feel desired and that pleased me as surely it would please any woman. Besides, I knew that the advantages were not all on my side. Father possessed influence in the county, which Lord Warwick intended to use to his benefit. Already there was talk of Robert serving as a member of the parliament for Norfolk and I knew that Father could make that happen. This was not such an unequal alliance.
So I told myself, but despite that reassurance I felt somehow chilled. To comfort myself I reached up to kiss Arthur’s cheek, resting one hand on the warm, smooth flank of the horse. It was peaceful here with them both in the stables but I was done with the peaceful life of a country maid. I had been fashioned for finer things.
‘Thank you, Arthur,’ I said.
He gave me a hug, his arms strong and comforting about me. Even though I thought it would crease my gown, I returned the embrace. I would miss him when I went to London but I knew I would never tempt him to visit me in the city. He would have felt as out of place there as I now felt here in the country. Arthur belonged to the land. It would always call him home.
‘Why do you thank me?’ he said wryly. ‘All I have done is to tell you what you wanted to hear.’
‘I am thanking you for being the best of brothers,’ I said. ‘I know you will never fail me.’
‘That at least I can promise,’ Arthur said. He released me. He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were grave. ‘If you need me, Amy,’ he said, ‘I will always be there for you.’
‘Of course you will,’ I said. I spoke carelessly, for why would I ever need him? On the contrary, I had already started to think of the favours I might gain for my family when I was a courtier’s wife.
I went out into the stable yard. There had been a rain shower and the cobbles were glazed with water but the twilight sky had cleared to a pale blue. A sliver of moon climbed above the clouds. My natural good spirits had reasserted themselves and I felt excited and light of heart. I knew I would be able to persuade Mother to my point of view. She wanted to see me happy and Robert would make me happy. There would be no need for Father to overrule her. She would agree the match and Robert and I would be wed.
Mother thought that she could see the future, but the one I was intent upon was quite different from her vision. Robert and I would grow together. I would impress on him my worth as more than just a beautiful wife and, God willing, a mother. His parents, like mine, had a strong mutual love and respect. The model was there for us to follow. He would quickly realise that a woman could not only be his sun and stars, the centre of his world, but his equal, his inspiration, his life.
There was no limit to my belief in him, and in myself. And of course I was right; Robert would indeed come to value one woman more highly than any other on Earth.
I had no idea that that woman would never be me.
Chapter 5
Lizzie: Present Day
Bill had barrelled into the tent about a minute after Dudley’s call came through, surrounded by a phalanx of security in dark suits. He’d cut Lizzie off in mid-call and taken her phone away from her, saying that it was imperative that she didn’t speak to Dudley or anyone else until they had spoken to the lawyers and come up with a story. Lizzie hadn’t a clue what he meant but it felt bad. Bill had ushered her out of the back of the tent to where a car waited, anonymous with blacked-out windows. On the way out, Lizzie had caught a glimpse of the packed marquee; two hundred people, the girls all dressed up in red wigs with sparkles in their hair to look like Celia Jones, clutching books and silver pens. They looked so happy and excited that she had felt ashamed. In a moment some flunky would get up on the stage and tell them that Lizzie Kingdom wasn’t going to be able to come after all and there would be tears and complaints and none of it would touch her because she would be miles away by then, cocooned in the world that Bill had created for her, protected and adrift at the same time.
She wanted to talk to Dudley. She wanted it so badly she was on the edge of screaming at Bill to give her the phone back. She felt a brief, vicious flash of anger that Amelia had done this to him. Stupid cow, how could she be so careless as to fall downstairs? And how had she managed to kill herself? If she’d broken her arm, she could have done an interview for a magazine or two, all brave and smiling through the pain, and made herself some cash so that she wasn’t always leeching off Dudley. As soon as the thought was formed, she felt ashamed all over again. Amelia was dead. It was horrific. She remembered Johnny in his page boy’s outfit ten years ago. He would be sixteen now and his sister was dead.
Lizzie dug in the pocket of her jacket and took out a bag of marzipan fruits. The rich smell mingled with that of Kat’s nail varnish and filled the back of the car. Fortnum’s had seen her snacking on some of their sweets during a documentary behind the scenes at Stars of the Dance and sent her a bag every week now. She’d never been able to resist sugar in whatever form it was presented, even though her dentist told her she would have false teeth by the time she was thirty. It was comfort eating, she supposed, and that meant extra time in the gym.
Amelia. Lizzie bit hard into the marzipan centre. She had always disliked Dudley’s wife even though she hadn’t met her often. Their paths crossed mainly at parties and premieres; Amelia had been a pretty, waif-like blonde who had never really found a role for herself. She’d tried modelling and had some auditions for TV, or so she had confided to Lizzie, and she had featured in a number of celebrity magazines. Periodically there were articles about her latest project, pictures of her posing at Oakhangar Hall, looking glamorous in the gardens or baking up a storm in the kitchen, but none of her plans seemed to come to anything. Lizzie, who could not remember a time when she had not been working, had always thought Amelia was lazy. Everyone else seemed to feel sorry for her. Even Bill, tougher than old boots, had once said he thought Amelia was as fragile as a butterfly. Lizzie had thought she was a different sort of insect, a parasitic one.