At last, Buckingham led Gondomar from the tournament arena and the spectators began to file out from the stands. Frances and her husband remained seated, neither eager to take their places at the feast.
‘I wish we could be free of this place,’ Thomas said.
‘Perhaps the King will grant you leave, once he is fully recovered.’ Her longing to return to Tyringham grew stronger with each passing day.
‘There is little hope of that, my love. Already His Majesty talks of riding out to Hertfordshire next week, even though he will surely be too weak to sit in the saddle . . . I am anxious to see how our affairs prosper, though. There has been no news from my steward for more than three months now.’
It had pained him to mortgage such a large part of his estate, and for such little return. A succession of poor harvests had caused the price of land to fall sharply. Frances prayed that this year would be better, or Thomas would need to diminish the estate still further.
‘We should make haste,’ he said at length, breaking the silence that had fallen, like a cold stone, between them.
Frances nodded, and followed him towards the growing cacophony that emanated from the banqueting house beyond.
* * *
A deliciously cool breeze wafted through the privy garden, carrying the heady scent of lavender and rosemary. Frances breathed deeply and closed her eyes, feeling it soothe away the ache at her temples. The evening’s revels had seemed endless, the heat in the crowded hall suffocating. Thomas had been obliged to take his place with the other members of the King’s household, and she had been seated among tedious company. The saving grace had been the unexpected appearance of Lord Bacon, newly returned from his travels. She had missed him keenly these past few weeks, though his letters had provided some consolation. His descriptions of France – its people, customs and food – had been so vivid that it was as if she, too, had experienced them. She had laughed out loud at his acerbic comments and shrewd observations, imagining him regaling her with them in person.
Although he smiled a warm greeting, he had been too preoccupied by entertaining Gondomar’s entourage to spend any time with her. She could hardly feel aggrieved for she knew he had taken little pleasure in the duty, judging from the scowling faces of the Spaniards as they picked at the delicacies laid before them.
Buckingham had held court, like a king, throughout the proceedings, clearly delighting in being the sole focus of attention. Even Gondomar had seemed in thrall to him, though he far exceeded him in status. Such adoration had not made Buckingham more inclined to be gracious towards those who served him, though. Frances had struggled to hide her dismay when, as she and Thomas were leaving the hall, the marquess had ordered her husband to the stables on some needless errand.
She let out a long breath, determined to clear her mind of such irritations, and opened her eyes. Her heart swelled at the beauty of the garden, which was wreathed in the pale light of the moon. She should go back to their apartment soon. Thomas would worry if she wasn’t there when he returned.
The snap of a twig made her start. She swung around and saw a figure moving slowly towards her, then relaxed as she recognised Bacon’s halting step. The gout must still plague him, she thought.
‘It is well that we are unobserved, Lady Tyringham,’ he said, with mock-formality, ‘or people might suspect that this is our clandestine meeting place.’
Frances grinned. ‘Welcome back, my lord. I thought you had altogether forsaken me this time, you have been absent for so long.’
He lowered himself onto the bench next to her and leaned forward to rub his shin. ‘My bones are getting too old for such ventures. I have travelled many miles since I saw you last – all in vain.’
‘Oh?’
He glanced around them before continuing, his voice lowered. ‘The late Queen’s jewels have been stolen.’
Frances stared at him, speechless.
‘Shortly after the King had had them valued,’ he went on. ‘His Grace fell into such distress upon being told that I fear it caused his late illness.’
Who has taken my treasure? The King’s plaintive cry sounded in Frances’s ears as clearly as if he had been sitting next to her, but she said nothing to Bacon. ‘He sent you to try to recover them?’ she asked instead.
He nodded. ‘A few discreet enquiries led me to the port at Dover, where an agent of mine had learned that one of the Queen’s former attendants had boarded a ship bound for France. Her fine clothes had excited the curiosity of the boatman, who was affronted by her abrupt manner and therefore unburdened himself without troubling his conscience.’
‘Who was she?’ Frances asked, already guessing the answer.
‘Lady Beatrice Ruthven. The longest-serving of all the Queen’s attendants – though, of course, the King did not know it.’
Lady Ruthven had been utterly devoted to her late mistress. Frances could not believe that such a faithful attendant would steal the jewels for personal gain. ‘How can you be sure it was her?’ she asked. ‘Did you find her?’
‘Sadly not. But her face is not easily forgotten,’ Bacon replied, with a rueful smile. ‘She was quite a beauty in her youth.’
‘How do you know she had the jewels?’ Frances persisted.
Bacon shrugged. ‘I cannot be certain, of course, but she fled the kingdom at the precise moment they went missing, and I set little store by coincidence.’ He rubbed his fingers over his brow. ‘I followed in her wake as far as Saint-Omer, but could find no more trace of her – even with the lure of reward. I stayed on in the town for a few more days, making enquiries here and there, but it was as if she had vanished as suddenly as a dream upon waking.’
Frances’s mind was racing. If he was right and Lady Ruthven had taken the jewels, it must have been for some greater purpose than profit. They were worth enough to tempt a ruler as rich as Croesus to do her bidding – enough to raise an army, even. More and more, Frances was convinced that the late Queen had known the true worth of the jewels she had bequeathed her son. She thought back to Anne’s words as she had lain dying at Hampton Court. There are those who have agreed to do my bidding. Was the prince embroiled in all of this? Frances knew that his physical frailties had led most courtiers to dismiss him as a hapless bystander, entirely subject to his father’s will. But his visits to the Queen had grown ever more frequent towards the end of her life, and the prayers he had uttered in his father’s chamber made her suspect that he kept much hidden from the world.
‘Does the King know?’ she asked.
Bacon nodded grimly. ‘I thought of concealing it from him until I had better news to report, but I could not risk his hearing it from other lips than mine. His suspicion is so easily ignited, these days.’
Frances knew that well enough. It was one of the many things of which Buckingham had taken advantage. ‘What will happen now?’
‘The King has dispatched a number of trusted attendants to take up residence in Saint-Omer. He means to smoke the lady out, as he would a fox from its lair. But I fear she has long since fled from that place – the jewels with her.’
Frances found herself hoping he was right.
1620
CHAPTER 35