-:-:-
Elizabeth's eyes never left the stage. The audience followed her lead, hardly knowing what to make of such brilliance. When "Twelfth Night" ended, the Great Hall exploded in a furor of enthusiasm.
Edward led his players forward. They took bow after bow together, savoring their triumph. Even Edward, who harbored few doubts about his writings, was taken aback by the emotions surging through him.
The Queen and her Court had reacted to his scenes and characters just as he had intended. There was a heady power in commanding such an immense and sophisticated audience. Bowing deeply, Edward felt its strength surge through him with an absolute joy.
"Twelfth Night's" dazzling debut dominated Court conversation for days afterwards. Only one lone courtier spoke out against Edward's comedy. His name was Christopher Hatton and he objected to being lampooned as Malvolio, the play's cross-gartered blusterer. When, at Burghley's suggestion, Hatton complained to Elizabeth, she dismissed his objections with a wave of her hand.
Several days later, the Queen rewarded Edward with a large country estate. The Earl had become her Majesty's newest shining star, but stars can fall all too easily. Within a year his brilliance would tumble headlong to the earth.
-:-:-
Edward, dressed even more than usual in the height of courtly fashion, stood outside one of Whitehall Palace's music rooms. Inside, he could hear Anne playing a lively galliard by William Byrd. The Earl couldn't understand why he, Elizabeth's most accomplished favorite, should suddenly feel as nervous as a schoolboy whenever he saw the Queen's new maid of honor.
The compelling desires that burned inside him reminded Edward of those heady days when he had first discovered romance. For years, he had thought of little else. Now, this beautiful young woman was rekindling those distant feelings.
Anne's face besieged his thoughts day and night. Simply hearing her voice filled the Earl with desperate longings. When he slept, the maid's faultless form floated through his dreams. He often woke in a hot sweat, imagining that the bed linens were the touch of Anne's smooth skin pressing eagerly against his yearning body.
Gently pushing open the music room door a crack, Edward peeped cautiously inside. Anne was performing on the virginals for a small audience mostly made up of Court musicians. She played exquisitely. A handsome young admirer stood attentively at her side, waiting to turn the pages of music.
Suddenly, Anne looked up from her score and favored the room with a brief, radiant smile. Edward's heart was racked with urgent desires. He longed to fling open the door and rush to Anne's side.
The Earl reached for the doorknob and then hesitated, frozen by fear. His knuckles whitened as they squeezed the handle. Edward realized that he couldn't venture even a single step inside the room without being betrayed by his heart's frenzied poundings. He could only stand, hidden by the door, spying tenderly on his newfound love.
-:-:-
The setting sunlight slanted through open windows, throwing Edward's pacing shadow against oak-paneled walls and intricate tapestries. His rooms were located at the Savoy, a faded, old castle on the Strand. They consisted of two good-sized bedchambers, an impressive dining room and a large study. Each room was decorated with carpets, solid furniture and gilt candlesticks.
Tiring of his restless pacing, Edward threw himself across the bed, a bottle of wine within easy reach. For the thousandth time, he contemplated fate's newest irony. On the exact same day that "Twelfth Night" had won him the Queen's favor, he had lost his heart to a maid of honor.
Every courtier knew that dabbling with Elizabeth's maids was the fastest way to arouse the royal rage. Passionate thoughts about any maid of honor, never mind the youngest arrival, were the very height of folly. For Edward, as the newest favorite, such musings were nothing less than social suicide. Published abroad, they would topple his career at Court just as it was beginning.
Elizabeth was an extremely possessive woman, highly intolerant of romances inside her Court. Edward had seen her so carried away by rage that she had struck errant lovers with her own royal hands. A lengthy stay in the Tower was mandatory for any person of rank who dared to marry without first seeking Elizabeth's permission.
It was, of course, no great wonder that Henry VIII's daughter loathed romances in her maids. After all the Virgin Queen must be surrounded by virgins. Court romances might become less dangerous if she could be persuaded to marry, but Edward knew that Elizabeth would never take a husband. Wedlock would make her a mere queen, while now she reigned supreme as both king and queen.
An elderly courtier had once told him that prudent single noblemen remained celibate while at Court, or if that was impossible, sought out married women who wouldn't try to tie them down in marriage as maidens or widows would. Edward had found this amusing at the time, but now he also saw the wisdom of such advice.
Clambering off the bed, he walked into his study, carrying the wine bottle. Picking up a pen, the Earl resolved to forget his foolish infatuation. He told himself that his priorities lay not in a new love affair, but in penning more entertainments for Elizabeth.
Edward set pen to paper but, for once, the words denied him. It was all very well for a white-haired courtier to urge celibacy but Edward was still relatively young and possessed of an extremely fertile imagination.
Even now, as he sat at his desk, face furrowed, pen to lips, his reveries kept drifting back to Anne. They gave him no mercy. Images of her raced through his thoughts without respite. He recalled how she sat at the virginals; her talented fingers caressing the keys; the way she looked up from the musical score, smiling demurely.
Pushing all thoughts of Anne from his mind proved impossible. After an hour or so of trying, Edward resolved to break free of her spell by concentrating on someone who aroused only contempt in him: Burghley.
Soon the Earl was looking down at four lines he'd penned:
"The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is only fit for treasons, plotting and spoils,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night."
It was a serviceable enough sentiment but it did little to distract him from thoughts of Anne. Could he find solace in writing about this new yearning? Setting the page aside, Edward dipped his pen, turned to a clean sheet of paper and tried for something a little more romantic.
Hours later, despite scratching the pen over page after page, all his work had been tossed aside. Nothing his quill crafted could match the passions Anne aroused in him.
Tossing the pen aside, Edward slammed his palms down on the table. Leaping up, he stalked the carpet in agitated frustration. What was it about her that stirred him so? If he could only discover that, then he'd be better able to resist her. Like many of the thoughts that occur to men in the early morning hours, this idea had immediate appeal.
Abruptly, not knowing beforehand that he'd do it, Edward summoned a groom. Soon he was astride his favorite horse, cantering over to Whitehall. It wasn't difficult for Elizabeth's favorite to enter the palace late at night. He hurried down empty corridors towards the sleeping quarters. Finally, Edward stood outside Anne's bedchamber.
Suddenly, the Earl felt timid and flustered. Taking a firm hold on all his courage, he eased open the door and slipped quietly inside Anne's dark bedchamber.
His heart pounding, Edward crept on tiptoe towards her sleeping form. What if she should wake? What if he should be discovered? The consequences were unthinkable, but he couldn't stop himself. Edward was pulled towards her. As he drew near, his entire body began to tremble with repressed excitement.
He debated turning back at every step but then he saw her sleeping face and, suddenly, all the risks seemed worthwhile. Anne was lying peacefully with her head turned towards the open window. Soft moonlight revealed the young maid's exquisite features, framed by a white lace pillow.