Her husband looked calmly at him. ‘Your Grace?’
The duke took a step towards him. Frances moved closer, taking care to remain hidden from view. Her eyes flitted to the sword at Buckingham’s belt.
‘Do not toy with me, churl. You have dripped poison into the King’s ear while I have been away, making him doubt my loyalty and question my motives for going to Spain. Why else would he give me such a greeting just now?’
Frances willed her husband to say nothing that might provoke him.
‘What other motives could you have had, my lord duke, than to secure a great alliance for this kingdom?’ he asked, in mock-innocence.
Buckingham moved so close to Thomas that their foreheads almost touched. Slowly, he reached around to caress the hair at the back of his neck. Nausea rose in her, as Frances watched her husband struggle to stop himself lashing out, knowing that this was exactly what the duke wanted. Suddenly, Buckingham grasped a handful of hair and yanked Thomas’s head backwards. ‘You may think you enjoy His Majesty’s favour now, but it is an illusion. I will see you ruined – you and that pretty wife of yours. I would have rid myself of you both years ago, if it was not so diverting to see you suffer. Losing your family seat must have been enough to unman you,’ he purred.
Frances saw her husband’s hand move to his sword.
‘But do not grieve, Thomas, for you and your wife must visit us there, as soon as we have ordered the place to our satisfaction. I wonder that you can have put up with somewhere that lacked so many modern comforts – not to mention fashions. Why, it is quite the relic!’
‘You purchased it? But . . .’
Buckingham inclined his head. ‘Through a second party, of course – I know how touchy men can be about selling to their superiors. Now I have returned, I will have much more leisure to set it to rights. Katherine will manage it for me. It will do her good to spend some time away from court. Goodness knows what company she has been keeping during my absence.’
Frances stared at him. He had released his grip on her husband and was smiling at him.
‘Now, please – fetch my boot. I must go and dress for dinner.’
Frances gazed at the long tables lined on each side with courtiers, all looking in her direction. It was strange to see the hall from this vantage point, and although it was a great honour to have been invited to join the King’s table, she could not help feeling rather exposed. She was glad that Thomas had been seated next to her, the Earl of Rutland on her other side. She was glad, too, that Buckingham was at the opposite end of the table, several seats away from James and the prince.
‘My lords.’ The King had risen to his feet. ‘We have ordered this feast to celebrate the return of our son and heir, the Prince of Wales.’ A cheer rose up around the room. ‘And of His Grace the Duke of Buckingham.’ Frances was gratified that the cheers petered out. She saw that the duke’s smile had become fixed. ‘But it is also our pleasure to reward the great service performed by two other gentlemen here this evening. My lord Rutland, Sir Thomas – Tom,’ he added, with a grin, ‘please accept these small tokens of our gratitude and esteem.’
Frances exulted to see the earl and her husband kneel to receive their gifts. She could not resist flashing Buckingham a smile. Her triumph faded as she saw Kate next to him, staring miserably at her plate. As she reached for her glass, Frances saw an angry red welt at her wrist.
‘Congratulations, my love,’ she said, as Thomas sat down and showed her the gold medallion studded with rubies with which the King had presented him. She found herself wondering how much it was worth – though she knew they could not risk His Majesty’s offence by selling it.
During the feast that followed, Frances drank more than was her custom – partly to celebrate her husband’s safe return and his obvious favour with the King, but also to blur the memory of what had happened in the stable-yard. Thomas had refused to speak of it when she had told him she had seen and heard everything. Losing Tyringham Hall had grieved him enough, but the knowledge that it was to Buckingham was too much to bear. Even after several glasses of wine, Frances was aware that the King had drunk much more than she had. His face was flushed and his voice had become progressively louder so that now most of the hall could hear whenever he made a remark.
‘Father,’ the prince said quietly, as James gulped the contents of his glass, dribbling most of it down his chin.
‘Peace, boy!’ he retorted. ‘I dunnae know what has got into that pretty head of yours. Ye were always so biddable – better disposed than any son in Christendom. But since returning from Spain, ye have been carried away with rash and foolish counsels.’
‘Please,’ Charles begged, placing a hand on his father’s arm in a vain attempt to stop him taking another long draught of claret.
‘Silence!’ At the King’s shout, all eyes turned to the dais. James went on, oblivious: ‘Yer head has been turned by our duke there,’ he said, wine spilling over the rim of his glass as he gestured towards Buckingham. ‘God knows how many devils are within him since that journey.’
The King’s favourite took a sip from his own glass, but his knuckles were white as he grasped it.
‘Ye have used such cruel words towards your dear dad and sovereign,’ he continued, addressing Buckingham directly now. Frances had heard that the duke referred to James in that way but had dismissed it as unfounded gossip. ‘I cannae forget nor forgive them.’
Buckingham was gripping his glass so tightly now that Frances feared it would shatter. ‘A man might utter any number of foolish words when overcome with excitement to see his king and master,’ he replied smoothly.
Arthur Brett, who was seated next to James, suppressed a titter. The duke flashed him a look of such fury that the young man blanched.
‘I saw no such excitement,’ James slurred, ‘only pride and insolence.’
The silence in the crowded hall was absolute, the tension almost palpable, as all eyes were trained on the disgraced favourite. The yeomen standing behind the throne grasped their halberds. For several moments, Buckingham stared back at James, his expression unreadable. Frances found herself willing him to strike out, raise his sword against the King. Such an act could never be pardoned. Instead he set down his glass, rose to his feet and, bowing low before his royal master, walked slowly from the dais.
‘Frances.’
The voice was so quiet that for a moment she thought she had imagined it. She stopped and looked around the deserted garden. The sun had not yet risen and she had not expected to see anyone else there. A cold hand gripped her wrist and she swung around. Before she could speak, Kate pulled her towards the entrance to the maze where she had been hiding.
‘I could not leave without seeing you,’ her friend whispered. There were dark circles under her eyes. ‘It grieves me to think what opinion you must have of me – your husband, too. He is an honourable man and does not deserve such treatment.’
‘You have done nothing against either of us,’ Frances said, clasping her hands.
‘Oh, but I have!’ Kate whispered, tears in her eyes. ‘I am to be mistress of Tyringham Hall, to look on as your husband’s beloved home is dismantled, brick by brick, and a new mansion built in its place. And all in my name!’ She bent her head and began to sob.