Thomas shook his head. ‘I had little hope of any. There are no more lands left to mortgage, and the interest on our debts has mounted since the last harvest.’ He raised his eyes to her. ‘I will soon have no choice but to sell this old place.’
Frances could not hide her shock. ‘Tyringham Hall has been in your family for generations. It is our home – our sons’ inheritance. You cannot relinquish it.’
Her husband drew the sleeping baby closer to his chest. ‘I have failed you, Frances – all of you. When we married, I urged you not to embroil yourself in any more Catholic plots, for no good could come of them. I should have heeded my own warning.’
Frances laid her hand on his arm. ‘We cannot always deny our hearts, Thomas. I cherished the same hopes for Raleigh’s voyage as you did – and many others besides.’ She did not add that she would not have ventured so great a sum on such a risky enterprise. Her husband knew his folly all too well. ‘How much longer have we?’
Thomas stood abruptly and laid Samuel in his cradle. Their son gave a cry of protest and made fists of his tiny hands. ‘Six months – a year at most.’ He had moved to the window again and was staring out across the parkland, as if expecting to see their creditors galloping towards them.
‘Can you not petition the King? He will surely be generous, after all your years of service. I am sure . . .’ The lie died on her lips. She knew as well as he that, even if James was inclined to grant them some funds, Buckingham saw every shilling that left the royal coffers. He would delight in making sure his inferior’s request was refused. Love thy enemy, the Bible commanded. Such a thing was impossible when that enemy was the devil himself. Her joy in her infant son was momentarily eclipsed by a shard of loathing for the man who had blighted their lives from the moment he had appeared at court.
‘We can expect nothing from His Majesty – or any other. Lord Rutland can no longer honour the pledge he made to us now that his fortune rests with his new son-in-law. Buckingham has appointed agents to monitor the earl’s coffers. The contract stipulates that the estate he bequeaths to his daughter must be at least equal to the value that it was at the time of her marriage. Besides, our debts are such that they cannot be settled by a gift of money here and there. I can see nothing else for it but to sell Tyringham Hall.’
He leaned his forehead against the glass. Frances longed to comfort him but she had nothing to offer. At the end of her bed, the cradle began to sway as Samuel grew more fretful. She would need to feed him soon. Pray God it would make him sleep a little. She needed rest.
‘When will you go?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘But our son was born only three days ago. Surely the King will not expect you to return so soon.’
‘Buckingham has sent word that His Grace wishes to hunt on Monday, before Parliament is convened.’ He did not look at her as he spoke, his breath misting the windowpane.
‘I will come to you as soon as I have found a wet-nurse and am able to travel.’
Her husband turned to her at last. ‘Please – tarry here a while. Poor Samuel will already lack his father. I would not wish to deprive him of his mother also.’
Frances swallowed tears. She did not want her husband to see the pain she felt at the thought of leaving their newborn son – his brothers, too.
‘I will return to court as soon as I am able,’ she repeated, her gaze steady. Thomas had learned not to try to persuade her when her mind was set. ‘Now, pray give Samuel to me before he wakes the entire household.’
Frances had not expected to stay on at Tyringham for so long after her husband’s departure several months before. She had received only a handful of letters from him since, and although they had conveyed little news, she was under no illusion that this was for any lack of it. Until recently, Lord Bacon had kept her abreast of court affairs – of Buckingham in particular, whose hold over the King had grown ever stronger since his marriage. But even Bacon’s letters had become less frequent over the past few weeks. She supposed he was preoccupied with the onset of Parliament.
The thought of what might be happening at court during her absence made her even more anxious to join her husband, but securing a wet-nurse for Samuel had proved difficult. Mistress Penstone had served her well with John, Robert and William, but she was beyond childbearing years now, and none of Frances’s enquiries had borne fruit. It seemed that news of their financial difficulties had spread across the county. In the end, Frances had resigned herself to continuing to suckle her baby, until such time as he could be weaned.
Although she had been plagued by misgivings about being away from Thomas for so long, she could not but admit that spending all of this extra time with her sons had been a blessing. They had each grown so much during her prolonged absences at court that it had taken a while to become reacquainted with their new habits and mannerisms, their opinions and pleasures. She pushed away the thought that they would soon become strangers to her once more.
‘Mama, look!’
William was peering down at her from the uppermost branches, which swayed perilously as he waved. He had somehow managed to steal a march on his two brothers. A moment later, Robert scrambled up to join him, red-faced and scowling.
‘Come down now, boys – it is almost time to dine.’
Only John heeded her. He seemed almost grateful to have an excuse not to climb to the top of the tree. He had inherited his father’s caution, as well as his looks. The only time she had known Thomas to act rashly was in his support of Raleigh’s expedition. It seemed unfair that they had been punished so severely for it.
‘Must you leave, Mother?’ John’s dark eyes were solemn as he gazed up at her.
Frances stroked his hair, then took his hand in hers. He would never have allowed her to do such a thing if his brothers had been looking on, but he grasped her fingers tightly now. ‘Your father needs me with him,’ she told him.
‘Has Papa written again?’
‘The King will be keeping him busy, I’m sure.’ That, at least, was the truth. She had heard that James’s absences from court had become ever more prolonged. His passion for the hunt made him as oblivious to affairs of state as he was to the weather. The snow had come soon after Thomas’s departure for court, but he had still been obliged to prepare the buckhounds for their royal master’s sport.
‘You must supply your father’s place now, John.’ Frances saw a mixture of anticipation and fear in his eyes. ‘Your younger brothers need a firm hand – even if they seem to be masters of their destiny.’
At that moment, there was a shrill cry as William lost his footing and crashed through several branches, sending a shower of golden leaves cascading down. John was there before his mother and, in a deft move, caught his brother just before he hit the ground.
Frances’s relief was soon supplanted by anger. ‘You should have heeded my warning, William,’ she chided. He cast his eyes to the ground and she could tell from the set of his mouth that he was close to tears. ‘Come now,’ she said more softly, drawing him to her. ‘What will your father say if you have fewer limbs when he next sees you?’
William gave a loud sniff. ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ he mumbled. Then: ‘Thank you, John.’