There is a sombre air over Whitehall on this day. Only hushed voices are heard at the palace and in the Lords and Commons. My mission is to break news of great import to the Lady Elizabeth and I can ill afford any delay. I ride furiously to Hatfield, spurring my good horse on constantly to greater speed. The animal responds splendidly, almost as though he realises the importance of our mission. The ground is still soft from the incessant rain but at least, today, it is fresh, cold and dry. The sky is clear and bright. We encounter slightly harder ground in Hertfordshire where few have ridden lately. I am able to spur my horse on even faster, but the animal will need a good rest and feed when we arrive.
At Hatfield I am received with solemnity. Perhaps my hasty arrival, grim expression and
