He caught the edge to her voice. ‘The people mutter against it. Her Grace should have been laid to rest long before now. But the King seems more preoccupied with settling her estate. He has appointed me to resolve certain difficulties with her will.’
‘Oh?’ Frances turned to him. ‘I thought the Queen had little to bestow.’
‘And so it appeared. The lands that formed part of her marriage settlement have long since been distributed elsewhere and she spent all of her income in the last months of her life – though I am at a loss to find out the beneficiaries. Her Grace was ever generous to those who served her,’ he added, casting a meaningful glance at Frances. She suspected he knew well enough that Anne had been among those to venture their fortunes on Raleigh’s expedition.
‘There were only the jewels she brought with her from Denmark, which she bequeathed to the prince,’ he went on.
Frances held his gaze. It was as the Queen had told her. ‘Surely the King does not mean to quibble over those?’
Her friend pressed his fingers lightly along his brow, as if to knead away the creases. ‘He would not have troubled himself with so trifling a matter, had it not been for Buckingham’s suggestion that he should have the jewels valued. I think he did it to vex the prince, who has made his distaste for his father’s favourite all too obvious.’
Frances said nothing, though fury surged in her breast. That the marquess should stoop to such pettiness to punish a grieving son was despicable.
‘It seems the jewels are worth a great deal more than the King was aware. The prince might build a new palace with them and still have funds left over to furnish it with treasures.’
Frances stared. Had the Queen known this? Surely she would not have claimed poverty on her deathbed in order to deceive her. The trust and affection that had grown between them was too great. Frances thought back to the words Anne had uttered. She had told her only that the jewels were all she owned, not that she intended to bequeath them to Charles. Did she hope that the jewels would help to secure the Catholic bride she so desired for him?
‘Four hundred thousand pounds.’
It took Frances a moment to heed Bacon’s words. ‘That is impossible,’ she whispered.
‘I thought the same,’ he replied, with a shrug. ‘But the jeweller I consulted was in no doubt. He told me he has seen many treasures in his long life, but never any as rare as this. The pearls alone are worth a king’s ransom.’
‘Does His Grace know?’
Her friend shook his head. ‘No – at least, not yet. But I cannot withhold such information from him for long. The marquess has asked for the valuation every day this week.’
Frances fell silent, considering. ‘Can James contest the will?’
‘He will try, once he knows what a treasure his wife bequeathed their son,’ Bacon said, his voice low. ‘But I see no means by which he can prevail, unless it is his intention to wrest the jewels from his son’s grasp.’
‘Let us hope the prince has them in safekeeping.’
A chill breeze whipped through the garden and Frances felt a few icy drops of rain against her face.
‘I must go back to the palace,’ she said, rising from the bench. ‘My husband will soon return.’
‘Then permit me to accompany you,’ Bacon replied, holding out his arm, as the clouds darkened overhead.
CHAPTER 32
14 May
‘It is no good,’ Kate said, turning from the looking glass. ‘I look ridiculous.’
Frances smiled kindly. ‘Here, let me help you.’ She took the ribbon from the young woman’s hands and began to weave it deftly between the curled strands of her hair. ‘I remember feeling the same about the costume I was obliged to wear for my first masque,’ she remarked, tying the vivid green silk into a neat bow at the base of Kate’s neck. ‘There. That is much better,’ she added, standing back to admire her work.
The girl gazed uncertainly at her reflection in the glass. ‘Thank you, Frances,’ she said, with a small smile. ‘You have made me look a little less monstrous.’
‘Your father would be proud to see you so gloriously arrayed.’ Frances patted her shoulder.
Kate’s smile vanished. ‘There has been no more news, since . . .?’
Frances shook her head. ‘I expect he is preoccupied with arranging matters at Belvoir. I understand that the King hopes to hunt there as soon as the weather turns.’
‘I have heard so, too,’ Kate agreed. ‘Though I pity my poor father for having to turn his mind to such matters when there is so much else to occupy him. I cannot but grieve for Mistress Flower and her daughters, though I know I should think only of the welfare of my little brother. Do you believe them guilty of bewitching him? It is sinful of me to doubt the judgement of the law – and of my mother the countess, I know. But . . .’
‘The guilt or innocence of the accused matters little in such cases,’ Frances replied quietly. ‘Countess Cecilia is not alone in believing that to lift a curse those who cast it must be put to death. I am sure she was not acting out of malice, but a desire to protect her son.’
‘Yes of course. I should not have . . .’ Kate looked down at her hands.
Frances clasped them. ‘I do not believe they inflicted any harm upon your brother,’ she said earnestly. ‘Fever and sickness are all too common, particularly in childhood, and often take hold suddenly. It is unusual that your younger brother has still not recovered, I admit, but that is more likely due to a natural frailty – or the attention of his physicians.’ Her mouth curled with distaste. How she wished she might attend him herself.
‘Then I pray God will gather their souls unto him, even though they died without the comfort of absolution.’
Did she mean the last rites of the Catholic faith? Frances wondered. She thought back to the aroma of incense in Kate’s chamber, many months before. They had never spoken of it, but the conviction that Lord Rutland’s daughter shared his faith had taken root in Frances’s mind. A flush was creeping up the young woman’s neck now.
‘You have spoken no sin,’ Frances said softly. Confessing that she, too, was of the old faith was dangerous. Yet she longed for Kate to unburden herself, knowing it would comfort her, strengthen the bonds of their friendship. ‘You cherish the same faith as your father, I think?’
Kate’s head jerked up in alarm.
‘Please, you need have no fear,’ Frances urged, stroking the back of her friend’s hand with her thumb. ‘I believe as you do. It is a secret that I keep hidden in my heart, as all faithful subjects must, but that diminishes neither its strength nor its truth.’
The young woman’s shoulders sagged and her eyes glistened with tears. ‘I have wanted to speak of it to you for so long, but I promised my father . . .’
‘He was right to ask this of you and wants only to protect you while the King still persecutes those of our faith so relentlessly . . . But it is something we might share together, in private.’
Kate’s face brightened. ‘That would bring me such comfort, Frances!’ she exclaimed. ‘Sometimes I feel that God does not heed me when I pray alone. I am always so fearful lest someone discovers me that I often forget the words. With you by my side, I know I would have greater courage.’