Frances stepped forward to embrace her. ‘This is not your doing, Kate – Thomas knows that as well as I. You are as powerless to oppose your husband as we are – more so, perhaps,’ she added, looking down at the darkening bruise on the young woman’s wrist. ‘You must not grieve on our part. God will avenge his sins.’
Kate raised a tear-stained face. ‘I wish I could believe that, Frances. I have prayed for it – yes, though I am his wife and should look for nothing but blessings for him. But God seems not to heed my prayers.’
‘He will. Such sins as he has committed cannot go unpunished, in this world or the next.’ She kissed her friend’s cheek. ‘Now, go to Tyringham with our blessing – little Mary too. Make sure to take her to the woods that lie just beyond the privy garden. The pansies will be in full bloom by now.’
Kate’s face lifted into a smile of such warmth that Frances’s heart swelled. ‘God go with you, Frances,’ she whispered, and hurried back towards the palace.
It was a long time before Frances followed. The day had dawned fine and clear, and the sun’s rays carried the promise of warmth. Thomas would have left for the hunt by now, so she was in no hurry to return. She resolved to pay a visit to Lord Bacon at his lodgings near to Temple Church. He always welcomed her warmly, though his circumstances had been pitifully reduced.
She had almost reached the gate in the high brick wall that surrounded the garden when she heard the latch click open.
‘Your Grace,’ she said, dropping into a deep curtsy.
The prince did not seem surprised to see her. Evidently, Kate was not the only one who knew it was her habit to walk about the gardens early each morning.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you, Lady Tyringham. Would you walk with me?’
They made their way in silence along the path that led towards the sequence of small knot gardens. As Frances waited for Charles to speak, she pretended to look at the neatly arranged plants on either side of them, wondering why he had sought her out.
‘I have not forgotten the service you performed for my father some years ago, though I have never spoken of it,’ he began.
‘Neither have I changed my allegiance,’ he went on, ‘though you would be forgiven for thinking so . . . I promised my late mother I would marry a princess of the faith, so when Buckingham began to promote the Spanish match so vigorously, I decided to fall in with his plans.’ His face darkened. ‘But I might as well have made a pact with the devil.’
Frances held her breath.
‘The duke claims to be of our faith, Lady Tyringham, but I have seen enough to convince me that he uses it to justify a plot that is driven only by greed and ambition. As soon as we reached the Escorial, it was clear that he had struck a private bargain with the King of Spain, whereby my marriage to the infanta would be bought at a terrible price – wresting the throne from my father and placing me on it to rule jointly with my new wife as Catholic sovereigns.’
Still Frances said nothing. It was all as Salisbury had told her.
‘Buckingham had been promised coffers filled with Spanish gold if he brought all this to pass,’ the prince continued. ‘But he overreached himself, demanding more power than Philip was prepared to cede to him. He insisted, too, that his daughter Mary be married to the King’s brother, Don Carlos. He means to make himself king one day, I am sure of it.’
He turned to face Frances.
‘He must be stopped, before he destroys not just my father but the entire kingdom. Our failure in Spain has left him undaunted. He will find another means to seize power.’
Frances’s eyes blazed with intensity. ‘You are right to fear this, Your Grace. I have heard and seen enough of his plans – his character – to believe him capable of the evil you describe. If he is truly a Catholic, he will do more harm to our cause than those who seek our persecution.’
Charles nodded grimly. ‘My father’s present anger towards him will soon dissolve – as it always does. Although Lord Cranfield and others have taken advantage of his absence, he will find means to crush them.’
‘He is always at his most dangerous when under attack,’ Frances agreed. ‘I will support Your Grace in whatever way I can – my husband too. You have many allies in this court, if you would use them.’
‘Thank you, Lady Frances,’ he replied quietly. ‘I hope that God will be my ally too.’
1624
CHAPTER 53
2 October
The rhythmic splash of the oars was almost lulling Frances to sleep as the barge made its way slowly along the Thames. They were passing the Bishop’s Palace now, its elegant red-brick façade just visible through the trees.
‘I have a mind to begin another history. One of the few advantages of my reduced circumstances is having more time to write.’
Frances smiled. Bacon’s account of Henry VII’s reign had been published to great acclaim two years earlier – even the King had declared himself delighted with it.
‘Perhaps you should dedicate it to Lord Somerset, now that he has been restored to favour,’ she suggested slyly.
Although news of the King’s pardon to his former favourite had been announced several days before, Frances still marvelled at it. Even after their release from the Tower more than a year ago, Somerset and his wife had been living in virtual exile, denied the King’s presence as well as his forgiveness. That James had finally shown them his favour had been taken as another sign of Buckingham’s diminishing influence. Frances had been as pleased as she was surprised that the duke had failed to worm his way back into his master’s good graces as quickly as he had expected. Although she had had no further conferences with the prince, she suspected that he had played a part in this.
‘I was thinking Master Brett might be a better choice,’ Bacon replied, raising an eyebrow.
And it was true that the King had grown ever fonder of the young man. With his quiet devotion, Arthur formed a welcome contrast to the overbearing duke, whose temper had been ever more volatile since his return from Spain the previous year. Thomas had borne the brunt of it on many occasions. Frances was glad her husband knew what a powerful adversary his master had in the prince, or he might have been provoked to retaliate, as Buckingham clearly intended.
‘Thomas heard the King means to secure him a seat in the next parliament,’ she observed.
‘Then he will be fortunate enough to enjoy the debate about His Majesty’s proposed war with Spain,’ Bacon retorted. ‘I do hope he will argue against it, as all good men must. It will be so diverting to see the duke in a fury again.’
‘A few months ago, he was all for Spain.’ Frances did not trouble to disguise her scorn. ‘Yet now he would see all Spaniards at the bottom of the ocean. He still smarts from that business with the infanta.’
‘King Philip’s envoys have made much of his current weakness,’ Bacon concurred. ‘I hear they are putting about rumours that Buckingham encourages the King to hunt in order to seize the reins of government himself.’
Frances did not remark that there was truth to the rumours. What the duke had failed to grasp was that the more hunts he arranged for his master, the stronger James’s attachment to her husband became. Thomas was careful not to boast of it: there was nothing to be gained by antagonising Buckingham further. She only hoped that he would hold on to the King’s favour long enough for them to make use of it.