If the story summary seems shorter than my other reviews of Philippa Gregory's books, it's because it was. The plot was wafer thin and strung out over 482 pages in the hardback version of the book. The storyline could be summarised in a single sentence. Robert Dudley makes a bid for power through his lover Elizabeth and neglects his wife. Practically nothing happens for 450 pages, which are filled out by endless, ultimately pointless scenes which contributed nothing to the outcome of the plot, of either Amy Robsart moping around or Dudley wooing Elizabeth. Even events that were, I'm assuming, supposed to inject some sense of excitement and risk into the story, fell flat. There was no sense of urgency at all to the French invasion of Scotland or the monetary crisis, and as for Cecil constantly begging Elizabeth to put Dudley aside amidst dire warnings of losing her throne, because Elizabeth ignores him and nothing happens to back up his warnings (there is talk of threats to Elizabeth and Dudley, but nothing ever materialises), this too lacked the crucial element of danger to make me care about the characters. All of this builds up to climax of the book, Amy Robsart's murder and its aftermath, which is resolved in the last 32 pages of the novel. As a result of this very short resolution and its placement at the very end of the book, the climax felt rushed through and hastily tacked on to the end of a plot which felt like it wasn't really going anywhere.
You might argue that the slow and boring plot with its odd climax is not Gregory's fault, because she was constrained by having to stick to the events that actually happened, but this is misleading for two reasons. Firstly, Philippa Gregory has a track record in her books of disregarding historical accuracy, which she does so again in "The Virgin's Lover", so whilst personally I prefer historical fiction to be as accurate as possible, there seems to be nothing constraining Philippa Gregory from altering events to make them as exciting as possible. Secondly, even with a predetermined set of certain events that have to occur in the plot, a good writer ought to be able to produce high quality work regardless. Going back to the flat resolution of the novel, another reason it deflated like a soufflé was because it seemed inexplicable that Elizabeth would suddenly give in now to Cecil's pleas to get rid of Dudley after constantly refusing to do so throughout the novel. This sudden reversal didn't make sense within the (admittedly warped) internal logic of the book or the personalities that Gregory had established for the characters (which bore no resemblance to their real life counterparts). On top of this, the writing is once again riddled with redundancies that Gregory beats the reader over the head with - it is constantly repeated how Cecil hardly ever signs his name to documents, and how Elizabeth tears at the cuticles on her nails when she is nervous - and she can't seem to "show" instead of "tell".
Amy Robsart is our intended heroine, although much of the focus revolves around Robert Dudley and his activities at court, one gets the distinct impression that Amy is who we're supposed to feel sympathy for. But I didn't feel sympathy for her. In fact I found her infuriating. Not only was she another very passive character (Gregory really seems to favour passive heroines in her novels), but she was whiny, clingy, needy, stupid, and extremely high maintenance. I could see why Robert wanted a divorce in the book. She's jealous without reason of the women around Robert, even well before he begins the physical relationship with Elizabeth. She ridiculously suggests that he take up the plough, and later when he asks her to find an estate for them she selects a tumbledown farmhouse - neither of which Robert, being of the highest nobility, would ever countenance. For that matter, Amy being of gentry class herself, the real life Amy Robsart would probably have scoffed if you asked her to work in the fields - just another example of Gregory demonstrating a lack of understanding of social standing and class in Tudor times. This Amy shows a complete idiocy and ignorance about the demands on her husband to make an appropriate living as a courtier, for example begging him not to go to war and renege on his sworn promise to King Philip of Spain after he merely has a bad dream the night before setting off. I know this is a nitpick, but ever notice how, in real life, people rarely have bad dreams right before something bad happens to them? But in books it happens a lot because the author thinks it's clever and subtle foreshadowing. It isn't. It's like telling your readers with a big neon sign that something bad is about to happen to this character. Whenever Robert was with Amy she constantly nags him, and in one scene, where he has news for her, she manages to turn the conversation to herself. She also needed constant reassurance from Robert. In one particular scene, Robert attempts to leave early when visiting his wife becomes too much for him, and hopes to politely and succinctly slip away, but Amy wakes up the entire household including their hosts, tumbling them all out of bed and embarrassingly putting everyone out so that her husband can have an official farewell. In the same scene, she pelts him with baseless, vitriolic accusations that he is riding off to some lover, despite having been given no cause to suspect this whatsoever. Personally, I wanted to shake her. There is further evidence that Amy has been misrepresented here - in the novel, she can barely read, but in actuality we have some of the letters she wrote still surviving today, and she seems to have been at least competent in her reading and writing.
Dudley and Elizabeth meanwhile are unrecognisable. Whilst the real Dudley was undoubtedly ambitious, and probably opportunistic, the man of this novel is arrogant, foolhardy, prideful beyond belief, scheming and outright power hungry. He does desire Elizabeth, but foremost in his mind is power, and the chance to become king. With the real Dudley, the reverse seems to have been true - he truly cared about Elizabeth, and whilst he probably would have taken the power marrying her would have meant if the opportunity arose, he doesn't seem to have bullied, pushed or manipulated her into such a course of action. As for Elizabeth, Philippa Gregory follows up her character assassination of Anne Boleyn in "The Other Boleyn Girl" by now turning her attentions to her daughter. I was appalled by this Elizabeth; giggling every other paragraph, biddable, docile, completely indecisive without a man in her life to tell her everything she has to do, vacillating and unbelievably foolish. No wonder the Dudley of this fairy story thinks he's got a good shot at dominating her and taking the power of the throne for himself. There is no sign of the precociously intelligent, cautious political player who knew how to use the attractions of her self and her kingdom to keep a whole brace of international suitors interested for decades. Gregory mistakes Elizabeth's carefully controlled flirtations for actual wantonness and flightiness, and her cautious political manoeuvring for woefully uninformed and hysterically indecisive. I say "mistakes", but it's clear that this portrayal is deliberate.
Speaking of mistakes, where was Elizabeth's spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham? Instead he is amalgamated into William Cecil and "Cecil's agents" are constantly spoken of. Was it too big an ask to have had a cast of more than four people? Lettice Knollys, Mary Sidney, Lizzie Oddingsell and others do feature in the story but as thinly sketched cardboard characters at best. Anachronisms have slipped in such as the use of wine glasses and the practice of side saddle. Perhaps the most astounding disregard of historical accuracy comes with the Dudley-Elizabeth relationship. Whilst the real life individuals certainly appear to have cared for each other and had a romance, there is no proof whatsoever that the relationship was consummated, or that it ever went so far as Elizabeth becoming betrothed to Dudley and fully intending to marry him. The scene which has Elizabeth disguising herself as a serving girl and sneaking out to meet Dudley via an all too convenient deus ex machina secret doorway is patently ridiculous. Not only was Elizabeth hardly ever left alone, but she never would have deigned to wear serving clothes, and where on earth would she have obtained such clothes from anyway without anyone seeing her, and made her way to Dudley without being recognised by the hundreds of courtiers living at court that saw her every day?
Between the nonexistent plot and the cringe-inducing characterisations, the novel had no interest whatsoever for me. Forget historical fiction, this schlock bears no resemblance to the facts bar the characters' names, and reads more like a trashy Harlequin romance novel.