She sat down abruptly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. An image of the poor wretch she had seen at Tyburn flitted before her, the young woman’s eyes bulging and her tongue lolling from one side of her mouth. She swallowed bile as she stared up at her husband. He laid a hand on her shoulder but could offer no words of comfort.
‘Will the King show them mercy?’ Frances asked.
Thomas’s mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘There seems little prospect of that. He has already offered Villiers their estate at Sherborne.’
Frances slumped back in the chair. ‘This is his doing, I am sure of it.’
Thomas sank down next to her, then raised bleak eyes to hers. ‘He has the face of an angel and the heart of a devil.’
CHAPTER 19
7 June
‘Lonicera periclymenum,’ Bacon murmured, as he bent to breathe in the heady scent of woodbine, then gently rubbed the creamy white and yellow petals between his fingers. ‘I have long preferred the Latin names. They are so much more poetic.’
Such remarks had earned him a reputation for pomposity. The same intellectual gifts that had been so lauded by the old Queen and her court were viewed with disdain by her successor – and, therefore, all those who sought his favour. Frances was glad that James had been prepared to overlook his natural aversion towards men of letters and appoint Bacon as his principal legal adviser. The Somersets’ fate now rested in his hands.
‘Efficacious in the treatment of mouth sores and defluxions of the throat,’ he continued now.
‘And a cure for maladies of the stomach, I believe,’ Frances added. Enough trust existed between them for her to have confided her knowledge of such things.
Her companion chuckled. ‘Little wonder it is grown here at the palace. The servers ought to hand it out at the end of each feast – it would save all manner of griping and groaning during the night . . . If I didn’t know better, I would think you, too, had been indulging in an excess of rich fare.’ He cast a sly glance at her stomach. ‘Congratulations, my dear,’ he added, with genuine warmth.
Frances opened her mouth to protest. Thomas had agreed to keep her condition a secret until it could no longer be concealed. She could not quite explain why she had willed it so. A desire to protect the growing child from the dangers of court? Or perhaps she wished to avoid the constant reminders that she would soon be obliged to leave her husband and return to Buckinghamshire. Whatever the reason, she could not feel the same joy in this child as she had in the others. It seemed to rest uneasily in her belly, like the restless spirits her old nurse Ellen had often spoken of.
‘Forgive me, I should not have shown such presumption.’
Frances was suddenly aware that Bacon was watching her with concern. She gave a bright smile and reached out to squeeze his hand. ‘You are truly a man of science, Sir Francis,’ she replied, ‘for you observe things that others fail to notice. But, pray, do not share your knowledge just yet. I have a foolish notion to keep it hidden for a while longer.’
Her companion nodded. ‘Of course – though I think the young knave will soon show himself to the least observant of courtiers.’
Frances smiled. She had a fancy it was a girl this time.
They continued to stroll through the privy garden. It was a pleasantly warm day and the cloudless sky seemed to promise many more to come. Frances breathed in the scent of the roses that were in full bloom. Here, enclosed by the neatly clipped hedges on either side of the garden, she could almost believe herself a world away from the court. But even as she thought it, an image of Somerset and his wife, enclosed by the cold stone walls of the Tower, flitted before her. She shivered, despite the rising heat.
‘I am indebted to you for meeting me, when you have so much pressing business to attend to,’ she said.
Bacon inclined his head, but his expression was grave. ‘I have endeavoured to make His Grace see the wisdom of clemency,’ he replied, ‘but as yet he shows little inclination towards it. There are other voices than mine and they ring more loudly in his ears.’
Villiers. Frances knew that his words had as good as tightened the noose around his rival’s neck. ‘You must keep up your persuasions, my lord,’ she urged. ‘Sir George might enjoy greater favour, but you have greater wit. The King must know how the people mutter against the conviction as founded only upon rumour and hearsay. The Somersets have gained more sympathy in the Tower than they ever did at court.’
Bacon opened his mouth to reply but closed it and swept a deep bow. In confusion, Frances turned her gaze towards the path ahead and froze. The subject of their whispered conversation was strolling towards them with his usual languor. At his side was an older woman, finely dressed in a gown of jet-black satin studded with pearls. As they drew closer, Frances saw that she had the same dark blue eyes as her son.
‘Lady Mary,’ Bacon said, stepping forward to kiss her hand. ‘Permit me to introduce my companion, Lady Frances—’
‘Tyringham,’ the woman said sharply, pursing her thin lips as she eyed Frances closely. ‘Your husband works for my son, I believe.’
Frances dropped a brief curtsy and assumed what she hoped was a polite expression. ‘Sir Thomas is master of the King’s buckhounds, my lady,’ she replied, holding her gaze.
‘Quite,’ the older woman observed. ‘Having the command of such men enables Sir George to attend to weightier matters,’ she added, her expression softening as she turned to him.
‘I trust your journey was comfortable?’ Bacon asked.
‘Not in the least,’ the older woman snapped. ‘The roads south of Leicester are quite shocking – those in London even worse. I wonder His Majesty has not ordered their repair.’
‘I will speak to him about it, Mother,’ Villiers told her. ‘Though at present I fear he has more pressing matters to attend to.’ He shot a look at Bacon.
‘How long do you mean to stay at court?’ Frances asked.
Lady Mary Villiers gave a sniff. ‘I have no thought of returning to Brooksby Hall yet – why, I have only just arrived.’ Her voice was laced with disdain. ‘The Garter ceremony will take place next month, and I am sure that I will not lack for diversion here in the meantime.’ The look she exchanged with her son made Frances feel uneasy. Even though she had only just met the woman, she suspected she was as black-hearted as he.
‘Lady Katherine Manners will be delighted to keep you company whenever I am detained by the King’s business,’ Villiers remarked.
His mother’s expression lightened at once. ‘Dear Kate – such a sweet child, and so excessively fond of me. I promised the countess I would look out for her. She must be quite at a loss here at court.’
Frances experienced a jolt of apprehension on her young friend’s behalf. During the two weeks since Kate’s arrival, they had spent many hours together, riding out whenever the weather was fine or conversing over their needlework. Frances had soon understood the reason for her companion’s reticence about books: the poor girl could barely read. That she had been denied the education her status demanded was entirely due to her stepmother – of that Frances had no doubt. It had made her determined to help her. Already, she had begun to read aloud to Kate from some of the books in her library to spark her interest and lessen her fear. Soon, she would encourage her to practise her letters.