A/N: Argh! Sorry! So much for regular updates. Thanks for your reviews and favourites, and huge apologies for taking so long to get another chapter out. I have no excuse, as they're all uploaded, so I'll settle for grovelling instead...
There is an ornamental garden at Leeds Castle through which a stream runs and that is overlooked by a large hill. You can walk through it from the visitor centre to the Castle if you don't want to go on the Drive or be transported using the visitor transport service. It's got a Japanese-ish theme to it, but I've revamped it to fit the period.
CHAPTER SIX
Reunion
"All of the accommodation has been prepared, your Grace," Seton advises, running the tip of his quill down a list, "None of her Majesty's retinue shall be obliged to rest under canvas."
"Excellent, Thomas - I have no doubt that many of the Court shall have spent the last week so accommodated, and all shall welcome walls that do not flap in the wind." Anne's voice does nothing to betray her joyful excitement. For all their correspondence, letters are no substitute for spoken words, and she has not seen her daughter for nearly a year.
The larger chambers of the Gloriette are most telling of the open lives they are obliged to lead in the palaces, and how much she has valued the privacy that living at Leeds has afforded her in her freedom from such scrutiny. There will be no presence chamber there - a large chamber in the main house has been set aside for that - and the royal family can enjoy accommodation that is theirs, and theirs alone.
The senior courtiers, and councillors, are all housed in the main house on the second floor, while those of lesser state are to rest their heads in specially built, partitioned longhouses that stand on the other side of the gatehouse, near the lake.
The first of the baggage wagons arrived yesterday, and Elizabeth's great tester-bed is already installed in her bedchamber, while her favourite items of furniture have been arranged by her chamberers in a fashion that shall please her. Watching the procedure, Anne has taken note of her daughter's tastes, and her own staff have undertaken a hasty rearrangement of some of the wall hangings to match them.
Nearby, William sits at a writing table with some accounts, but is looking up at his wife fondly as she fails to conceal her excitement from him. From his expression, it is clear that Seton is not fooled either; but they know that Anne has waited for this day with great anticipation since she issued the invitation before Christmastide, and neither begrudge her that joy.
"Come, Anne; let us walk in the fresh air awhile. There is nothing more that can be done to prepare for her Majesty's arrival. All that we can do now is wait." William rises from his chair and takes her hand, forestalling her protest, "I know that it shall not hurry the train's arrival, but Matthew shall ride to advise us as soon as it is sighted, and that shall afford us an hour or so to complete our own preparations. All else is ready."
Their stroll takes them out into the parkland, and along the stream that feeds the lake to an ornamental water garden and grotto, planted in the spring and just coming into its best as the roses bloom in the dappled sunlight from a rank of beeches that surround the space. The grotto, a new fashion imported from France and Italy, has been carved out of an outcrop of rock that swells out of a steep hill overlooking the garden. Recessed deeply into the hillside, it is entered through a tunnel artfully carved to look as though nature had formed it, while the space within is lit with shafts from above and has been carefully lined to ensure that no irksome water drips from the roof upon those who sit upon the benches below. Niches have been carved into the walls to contain marble statues of Greek gods and goddesses, and the atmosphere is refreshingly cool, "I think this shall be a popular space should the weather become warmer." William observes.
"Warmer than it is now?" Anne smiles, her fan busy, "God forbid that it become warmer. It is quite warm enough as it is."
"Then we shall tarry here awhile." William guides her to one of the benches, "Her Majesty's retinue is not expected until later in the afternoon, so there is ample time for us to enjoy a morsel of dinner is there not? I have arranged for our victuals to be served to us here where the coolness is soothing; that, and some chilled ale, shall serve most well to prepare us for the onslaught to come."
As the column crests a hill, Elizabeth is hard put to stop herself from encouraging her horse to quicken to a canter above an already insistent trot. Another half hour, and she shall be in the company of her mother for the first time in more than a year. A woman grown she may be, but she is still a loving daughter as much as a mother herself.
"My goodness, my love," Philip smiles at her as her fingers tighten around the reins, "Any observer would presume that you are eager to arrive."
"I cannot imagine what would give such an impression, Filipe," she smiles back at him, but her eyes are glistening with joy, and his own smile widens at the sight of it. Does she know how much she glows with beauty when she smiles so? Probably not - but it is a secret that he is more than content to keep to himself and enjoy when he witnesses it.
"My Lord of Northumberland," he calls back, and waits until the Duke is alongside, "I should be grateful if you could direct the rest of the column to remain alongside the gatehouse while the royal party advances within. I fear that their Graces might be quite disconcerted should all enter at once."
Northumberland smiles, "Would it be preferable if the senior Councillors also remain without for the first half hour or so?"
"I should not object to that; but not too long, for his Grace of Richmond is likely to be most grateful to escape from the saddle in good time. Perhaps a chair could be arranged for him within the gatehouse with some warmed wine?"
Philip frowns slightly, "Is he unwell?"
"Nay, Majesty - it is merely that he is tired after a long day in the saddle as he hoped to not require the carriage for this final stage of the journey, and has instead proved to himself that he is less able to remain astride a horse than in years past. I must confess that I, too, would appreciate such a courtesy." He adds, smiling.
"That is a wise suggestion. Send a page forward to the porter's lodge to request seating for the senior councillors while her Majesty is greeted by their Graces."
"I shall see to it."
The long parade of horses clops its way along a well gravelled drive lined either side with magnificent copper beeches, while birds clatter noisily from branches with a multitude of alarm calls at the disturbance. From her vantage point astride her horse, Elizabeth can see glimpses of magnificent gardens between the tree trunks, and already her mind is alive with plans to explore them, arm in arm with her husband while their sons race ahead of them pell-mell in search of adventure. They shall find adventure aplenty in such enormous grounds, manicured or not.
The avenue of trees opens out into a wide vista of open grassland that has been prepared for bowling, archery and all manner of gaming, while a grand lake stretches towards the edifice of the great royal castle of Leeds.
The old apartments of Queen Eleanor stand to the rear of the main island, and Elizabeth eyes them with interest, knowing that they have been repurposed to accommodate her family with a degree of privacy that they can only achieve in one of the smaller of her grandfather's collection of grand houses. New chambers for the boys to explore…new views to enjoy from the windows…
Privacy with Filipe, of course.
She smiles to herself: A great deal of privacy.
The gravelled path leads them alongside the lake, causing the grazing ducks upon it to flee in all directions from the thundering hoofs and take refuge upon the water. Swallows flit hither and thither across the grass and the water in search of morsels for their chicks.
Behind her, Richmond eyes them, darkly, "That is not a good sign. I should rather they were higher."
Wiltshire looks at him, surprised, "Why should that be?"
"I know not - but our gardener at Rochford always used to say, swallow high, staying dry; swallow low, wet 'twill blow. A poor spell of weather shall be most discomfiting when there are such sports to enjoy upon that green behind us."
"If it be but a few days, I have no doubt that we shall find means to entertain ourselves. My father told me that her Grace was well known for her skill in devising entertainments of all kinds."
Richmond's expression suddenly turns wistful, "Ah yes. I recall evenings in her privy chamber, where your late mother would play the muselar and sing for us, and I, too, would risk my voice. There would be primero, and triumphs - and chess between her Majesty, as she then was, and his Grace of Essex. They were good times."
Wiltshire smiles fondly at the reminiscence of his late mother, "Good times."
"Golden times, I think. They were days of risk, and uncertainty; but those days forged bonds that remain strong even to this day. England is the better for it, as is her Majesty."
Richmond continues his reminiscences as the column passes under the great gateway of the outer gatehouse. To Elizabeth's surprise - and relief - a pavilion has been erected near the smaller lake, where chairs and tables have been set for those who are of high estate, but are not immediate family. The senior councillors shall be entertained in comfort while she is escorted into the inner ward with her husband and sons. As her Grace's nephew, Wiltshire is also a part of that fortunate band; though he is slightly delayed as he is assisting Richmond to alight upon a wooden mounting block before granting him his sticks to make his way to the pavilion.
Beyond the grand inner gatehouse, the island opens up into a wide formal garden, with another bowling green set to one side. The path from the gatehouse leads directly to the front of the Manor House…
It is all that she can do not to break into a run, for there they are. Dressed in a rich gown of tawny taffeta over a black kirtle embroidered with silver thread and seed pearls, Anne is arm in arm with her adored husband, and seems equally hard-put to restrain herself to do likewise. Despite the privacy of the meeting, there are proprieties to be observed, and thus the Queen and her consort ride forward with a formal slowness, while the Princes follow behind.
Anne has taken care to conceal her hair beneath a decorative coif of linen fringed with Flanders lace and gold chains, as there are now hints of white amidst those silver locks that might shock her daughter after a long absence. In defiance of those unmistakeable witnesses to her age, she sinks into an impeccable deep curtsey, while her husband bows deeply, "Your Majesties, welcome to our home. We are right glad that you have arrived well and in safety and give thanks to God for your presence."
"Thank you, your Grace." Elizabeth answers with equal formality, "We are most grateful for your kind invitation to host the Court, and look forward to our stay." God's blood, it is tiresome to be so formal! She must speak stilted words to the master of the house - when all she wishes to do is leap down from the saddle, fall into the arms of her mother and kiss her dear stepfather upon the cheek.
"Inside, my beloved." Philip smiles at her. He knows well her inner conflict.
"Come, Majesty," Anne continues, with that same infuriating courtesy, "There is rose-scented water to refresh you, and chilled cordials and ale. I have ensured that a selection of the finest sweetmeats are set out for you, and there are some amusements awaiting the attention of their highnesses."
The pair stand aside as Philip dismounts and assists his wife to do likewise, while Wiltshire aids Henry in dismounting - much to his disgust as Edward has done so without assistance.
"William," Anne steps forth to greet her nephew, "It is good to see you - how is your dear wife?"
"Most well, your Grace; thank you. It is her hope that she can make the journey from Beaulieu in a few weeks to join us."
"Then she shall be most welcome."
Safely inside, formality is quickly dropped and Elizabeth hugs her mother, "Mama, I am so pleased to be at your side again, have you kept well?"
"Most well, sweet daughter." Anne guides the Queen to a sideboard where a table has been set with the promised scented water, "It has been a hard few days - knowing that you are near, but being obliged to wait for your arrival."
Their conversation focuses on family, wellbeing and stories of the doings of the two households as Elizabeth washes her hands and dabs at her face with a cool cloth. Behind her, she can hear the disgruntled protests of the princes as Mistress Peake performs the same service for them, "Peace, your highnesses, or I might be minded to ask your grandmama to put away those amusements she has set a side for you!"
There is an edge of humour in her tone, for she would not do such a thing to two excited and tired boys; but they do as bid and submit.
"If you could follow me, Majesties," William says, standing aside from shaking Philip's hand enthusiastically, "I shall show you to your apartments."
Elizabeth smiles as he extends his arm to her, "I should be delighted, your Grace. Lead on."
The grand bedchamber for the Queen and her Consort is of magnificent size - for it has accommodated other Queens before this one. The walls are panelled with freshly oiled wainscoting, while rich tapestries of the highest quality adorn the barer walls above. They had been put there by Henry, of course; for his profligacy has not been repeated in Elizabeth's reign, but having been stored with great care, the cleaning has been a simple affair requiring only dabbing with fresh bread to absorb the surface stains.
The bed, of course, is Elizabeth's own, but it does not look out of place in such a grand chamber. Great closets either side of the chamber contain the separate wardrobes of the Queen and Consort, while a small passage leads to a separate space containing a tub for bathing and access to the garderobe.
"This is magnificent, Mama," she turns to Anne, "We shall be most comfortable here."
"The entirety of the Gloriette is at your disposal, my Elizabeth," Anne smiles, "The hall can accommodate the senior council to sup when required, or can be your private space to dine or sup as you desire. You have only to advise your Stewards of your wishes, and the Kitchens shall accommodate them."
Again, Elizabeth leans in close, "I have missed you so, Mama. Mother I may be, Queen I may be, but I am daughter too; and a daughter is ever lost without her mother."
"Aye indeed, my daughter; as I have missed you. For all the joy of my life with William, for which I give thanks to God each day, I cannot deny that there is a void in my heart that yearns to be filled by the presence of my own child, even though you be grown to womanhood."
"Then we shall be together for the whole of the summer until we are heartily tired of the sight of each other." Elizabeth laughs.
"Mama! Mama!" Edward's voice echoes down the outer passageway from their chambers, "Look! See what Grandmama has given us!"
Elizabeth smiles to her mother: she knows what they have received for she permitted it, "What is it, Ned?" She turns and arranges her face into an expression of intrigued enquiry.
"See!" Edward is now at the doorway, his eyes alive with excitement, while a small foxhound pup bounds about his feet, "Hal has one, too! We shall have such games!"
"How delightful!" She laughs, "I also once received two dogs while on progress, and they were great companions to me - he is a handsome boy, is he not? Now you must grant him a name!"
Immediately, Edward frowns with concentration, "I shall think upon it, Mama." then he pauses and turns to Anne, "Thank you, Grandmama, he is a wonderful gift."
Elizabeth's expression changes to one of pride, for it is the first time that she has not been obliged to prompt her son to express gratitude for a gift received. No doubt she shall not be so fortunate with Hal, of course; he is still learning the importance of good manners.
"If it please you, Elizabeth," Anne turns to her daughter, "I shall see to the greeting and accommodation of your Councillors. I have arranged for the Court to sup in the great hall at seven of the clock; William shall return to escort you." Curtseying again, she steps back a few paces before turning to leave.
Philip takes Elizabeth's hand as her mother departs, "I do not need to ask if you are contented, my love."
"Indeed I am so." She smiles, "My only regret is that we may not sup in private with Mama and William this night. That shall be for the morrow."
She turns as her ladies file in, "Ah, excellent; I shall change out of this heavy riding habit. Is the russet taffeta brushed? I should prefer that to heavy velvet in this warmth."
Philip smiles and lets her go through to her closet chamber, "Mathias?"
"Here, your Majesty."
"Fetch out the ivory and black silk for me, would you?"
"Yes, Majesty."
The princes are already playing with their dogs in one of the lesser chambers as they emerge in their fresh clothing, and - unsurprisingly - Mistress Peake is already directing one of the chambermaids towards a small puddle armed with thick cloths and a bucket of steaming water.
"I fear there shall be a great deal of that in the coming days." Philip sighs, smiling fondly at the boys and their new pets, "Perhaps we shall be obliged to retain an unfortunate soul to attend to the cleansing of floors in the wake of the dogs."
"Ah yes." Elizabeth laughs, "I was more fortunate in that my dogs were free to roam in the gardens where such issues were less inconvenient. I shall see if Mama can arrange for them to be kennelled in a suitable spot that is easily reached by the boys where they can sport together without visiting damage upon our accommodation."
"That is most wise."
"I am a Queen. I am always wise."
Anne has taken great care to ensure that the Lord Chancellor's accommodation is the finest available after those chambers set aside for the Queen, "I am so pleased that you are here, Richard; we are the last of that gallant band that set forth to hold the Crown for Elizabeth, and it is a pleasure to know that we are - such as we are - together once again."
He smiles at her, "I, too, am pleased to be here, your Grace."
"Anne." She reminds him, "We share a rank and both married to others. Propriety be damned."
"Anne." He acquiesces, "I have been feeling my age of late, and it is good to pretend to myself that I am young again. I fear that hunting is beyond me; but if I can be granted a comfortable seat to watch as others bowl or shoot, I shall be content."
"If it please you, we can ride at a slower pace in the parkland when the weather is suitable. It would please me to reminisce of those days."
"I should like that." He agrees.
She pauses, and eyes him more closely, "What ails you, Richard?"
"It is nothing of great account."
"Nay my old friend; brimming eyes do not speak of no great account. What has brought sadness to you?"
"Matters of family," he admits, "My heir is keen for me to die in order to bring forth his inheritance."
Anne's eyes narrow, "Is he truly so ungracious?"
"I was, once. It is no surprise to me that my son should be the same."
"That is not acceptable. Is he here?"
Richmond nods, "He has found friendship in the company of Sir Robert Dudley - who seems equally discontented with his lot in life. I have made it clear to him that if he chooses not to treat me with respect, then he chooses not to inherit my estate; though I should wish it otherwise - for I have lost several of my sons and should prefer it if our relations were better."
"Perhaps it shall be possible to find a means of mending those relations while you are here."
"That is to be hoped for. I have arranged for his wife and their children to join us in a few weeks' time."
"Then they shall be warmly welcomed, and I shall see to securing suitable accommodation for their arrival. Put it from your mind, Richard; we shall sup this night and end the evening with games of primero as once we did when I was England's Regent. I have no doubt that we shall find the time to bring recalcitrant sons to heel in due time. Until then, let us enjoy a summer of pleasure and friendship as once we did in times past."
He returns her smile as she places a light kiss upon his cheek, "If all is broken, my friend, then perhaps, here, we shall mend it."
Old habits die hard. In spite of the fact that she is now in her mother's household, Elizabeth is held captive by the requirements of protocol and thus is dressed in forest green velvet over a russet kirtle. Her stomacher is stiff with jewels, while her sleeves are embroidered into puffed diamonds with thick gold thread - a pearl sewn into each individual diamond. Her red-gold tresses have been teased into curls secured with gold pins, with a small set of ringlets that trail over her shoulder in a most pleasing manner.
Beautiful, yes; but Jesu, it is most damnably hot.
Anna is already dabbing powdered eggshell upon her dewy forehead, "I fear, Majesty, that the evening is rather too warm to succeed against all my ministrations."
"That is the way of things, Anna." Elizabeth agrees, shifting uncomfortably, "My one consolation is that, by the evening's end, none of us shall notice the reek of sweat-sodden flesh, for we shall all be contributing to it." She laughs as Anna wrinkles her nose.
"Ah; you are truly a vision of royalty, my beloved Lizzie." Philip smiles as she enters their privy chamber, her thick dress rustling, and the chains of her jewels clinking against her pearls, "I think perhaps a suit of full armour might permit me to be equally loud in my approach."
She is not offended by his comparison; it is not the first time that she has been compared to metallic male attire, and his own garments are hardly less elaborate. For a moment she is distracted…God above, he is beautiful…
"Later, my Queen." He whispers, softly.
The pair turn at a discreet knock upon the door. Mathias, who has witnessed enough of their softer discussions to not be embarrassed by them, crosses to answer it and admits William into the chamber, whereupon he bows formally, "Majesties, I am come to escort you to supper."
Elizabeth takes his arm and plants a kiss upon his cheek, "Thank you, William. Lead on."
He smiles at her, "I promise your Majesty that upon the morrow, you and his Majesty shall be free to sup in private. We shall oblige you to attend upon the Court only as you wish."
Once across the covered bridge that links the Gloriette to the main house, William steps aside and hands Elizabeth to her husband, before bowing and indicating a large door watched by two of the Queen's Guard. One of them turns and smartly opens it, whereupon the chief Steward of the Queen's household bows, then turns and announces, "Her Majesty the Queen!"
The blare of trumpets almost - but not quite - drowns out the rumble of benches being pushed back as all in the hall rise to greet her. Instinctively, her back straightens, and her carriage becomes truly regal as she is escorted by her husband to her seat upon the dais, where her canopy of estate has been erected. She can see her mother already waiting, her seat directly to the right of the royal seat, while William will sit to Filipe's left with her most senior councillors set either side.
From her vantage point alongside the Queen's seat, Anne watches with maternal pride as her daughter approaches with all the stately formality that is required of England's Prince. She is truly radiant: glowing with a multitude of jewels, but also with the joy of being surrounded by those whom she loves and trusts the most. Henry would have been truly proud of his daughter…
At least she hopes he would. By the end of his life, it was impossible to know whether his deep loathing of his wife had translated into disdain for his child: he had died before he could ever have shown her whether that was so. Sometimes she wonders whether her memories of her long-dead husband are coloured by that slow discovery that her love for him was as much a construct as a reality; but what does it matter now? He is gone - she is here. Her daughter rules England and has provided her realm with the sons that her mother could not. That, if nothing else, would have won at least a measure of regard.
The first remove is an array of the finest of the Estate's provisions: sides of beef, haunches of venison and flocks of capons are set for every table, even those of the lower courtiers who have travelled with the column, and would normally never enjoy the finer meats served to those closer to the high table. Mounds of the finest manchet bread and dishes of fruited frumenty are set alongside to sop up the rich sauces that coat the meats, and everyone sets to with a will.
Anne smiles as Elizabeth is served a portion of venison, for she has taken care to ensure that the dish set before the Queen is one of her favourites. Garnished with slivered almonds and edible silver leaf, it is ridiculously ostentatious; but her daughter's expression shows well that she appreciates that her mother has served it to her in jest. From the morrow, she shall be contented to sample far less decorated victuals.
"Is the fare to your satisfaction, my Queen?" she asks, a twinkle in her eye.
Elizabeth swallows her mouthful, "Most satisfactory, your Grace." The corners of her mouth twitch with amusement, "Perhaps a little less silver next time?"
"Goodness, yes. I am truly at a loss to understand why anyone should wish to consume a precious metal in so trivial a fashion; though perhaps that is a hypocrisy upon my part - for I did so once with much enthusiasm, for it showed me to be a woman of much substance." Her expression becomes rueful: there is no denying her delight in display to a degree that seems now to be utterly meretricious was extensive. She still recalls the late Earl of Essex's mild reproof over an overabundance of ostrich-feather fans.
"I trust that today's display shall not be repeated? I find silver in too great an amount does not agree with my constitution." Elizabeth is smiling, "Though venison of this quality shall not go amiss."
Such trivialities…but there shall be ample opportunity to speak more openly over the coming weeks, and she is content to play the game until then.
As the second remove is fanfared into the hall, Anne's attention is caught by an odd movement at one of the nearby trestles. Most of those present are applauding delightedly at the parade of pies, jellies and clear broths as they are delivered to each table, but one is not. From his chain of office, she recognises that she is looking at Robert Dudley; but, far from enjoying the display, he seems intent instead upon the top table. Perhaps it is envy; for both his father and eldest brother are seated with the senior councillors, while his wife has won the privilege of personally seeing to the Queen's needs at the table this evening. From the rumours she has been able to overhear even in the short time since the Court arrived, she is aware of his jealousy of Northumberland, Warwick and Lisle, even though he has achieved a court appointment ahead of his elder brother Ambrose. All Courtiers are ambitious - why else would they be here, after all - but it seems almost as though Robert has nursed it like a favoured toy with which they are loath to part.
Then she looks to Dudley's left, and sees a fair haired man who strongly resembles her Lord Chancellor as he was when first they conspired for Elizabeth's future. Yes, that is Robert Rich of Leighs - but, as much as Dudley studies the high table, Leighs firmly ignores it - and she is quite convinced that he has done so from the moment he arrived. Jesu, they shall be most tiresome for all if they cannot be brought out of such foolishness.
Nay - enough of such matters. As soon as the banquet is served, she shall put such thoughts from her mind; she has not yet had the opportunity to spend time with her daughter for more than a few minutes. Tonight, that will be rectified - and she shall enjoy every moment of it.
"I fear that I have eaten far too much, my Queen." Philip sighs, "I think it fair to state that their Graces have entertained us most well this night." He turns and bows floridly to William, who laughs, "I am delighted to have been the source of your discomfort, your Majesty."
"Perhaps some hippocras, Filipe," Elizabeth sympathises, though her tone is one of jest as well, "I presume that you have taken the time to close your stomach? This is a most expensive carpet."
"I have indeed, my beloved - though I am as poorly disposed to cream cheese as his Grace of Richmond. Now, get you gone with your mother. I am keen to know more of his Grace's fine kentish hounds, and I have no doubt that such discussions shall be of less interest to you than conversation with her Grace."
She squeezes his hand, "Indeed so." She turns to Anne, "the light is good still, Mama; shall we walk in the gardens awhile?"
The sun is low in the sky, but there is still ample light to see their way as they walk, arm in arm, along the paths of the parterre garden. The fragrance of the flowers is still lingering after the day's warmth called it forth, while cool fingers of breeze waft across the island, "Are you happy my Elizabeth?" she has seen it in ample measure, but Anne has lived almost her entire life with her daughter's wellbeing at the forefront of her thoughts, and old habits die hard.
"Truly, Mama. Truly. Filipe has brought me great happiness, while my sons are a daily joy. I have the wise counsel of truly loyal men and England is at peace. Each morn, I greet the dawn in the arms of my beloved, and what better thing is there in the world than to know that one is truly loved?"
As I learned only when I married my dear William. Anne thinks to herself, "I am right glad of it, my darling. If your time here serves to bring greater joy in such fair circumstances, then I shall also be greatly content."
"And what of you, Mama?"
"As you know joy, so do I. I could not have been granted a greater gift than to be married to William; for he is not merely kind and gentle, but also true in his love for me. I thought, once, that I could not love again - for to do so might impact upon your good name. To be proven wrong in such a belief is a wonder, and I have never regretted a moment of our marriage."
"Might I ask a favour, Mama?" Elizabeth asks, suddenly.
"Of course, my dear daughter."
"My council is considerably reduced at this time; but there are matters pertaining to religion that are of great concern to me. I should greatly appreciate your counsel upon these matters - so I would ask both that his Grace of Kent resume his place upon the Council for the time that we are here, and also that you take a seat at the Council table in equal part. You ruled England at a time of religious strife, and thus I should value your participation and knowledge - for while I have his Grace of Richmond, I lack the wisdom of his Grace of Essex. To restore two columns of that first political bastion would be helpful to me."
"You would welcome a woman to the Council table?" Anne asks, surprised.
"You were once at the head of that table, Mama - why would it be strange that you return to it? Besides, as I said; you have experienced times of religious strife, while I have not. It would be foolish of me to ignore that experience, would it not?"
Anne sighs to herself, "I had hoped that this summer would be a time of leisure for you, my Queen."
"There shall be ample time for that, Mama; I have no doubt of it - but nonetheless, I must continue to govern even as I spend time away from London. It would be of great benefit to England, I think, if I could do so with you at my side."
"Then I shall do so, my Elizabeth. Willingly and with joy, for I am glad to serve."
"And you have missed doing so?" Elizabeth asks, mischievously.
"That, too."