CHAPTER 28

31 October

Frances’s shoulders sagged and she surrendered herself to her husband’s embrace. She had shed so many tears since Raleigh’s death. The shock of his bloody end filled her mind whenever she tried to sleep. But she missed him too. Theirs had been a friendship born in treason but strengthened by mutual affection.

‘All will be well,’ Thomas murmured into her hair, smoothing some loose tendrils away from her face. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against his chest, wishing she could stay cocooned like this for ever, safe from the dangers that swirled about the court.

‘I want to go home, Thomas,’ she whispered, lifting her face to his.

He smiled sadly, then bent to kiss her. ‘As do I,’ he replied. ‘I have wanted nothing else for months now. But the King will not allow it. He would not even agree to my taking leave so that we might visit our sons. I did not trouble you with it,’ he added, ‘for I knew it would grieve you. I would suggest that you returned to Tyringham alone, but leaving court at such a time might raise suspicions against you. Buckingham would be sure to make the most of it.’ He grimaced. ‘But perhaps when the controversy of Raleigh’s death has died down I might petition His Grace again. There has been talk of another visit to Scotland at the end of the year. If that comes to pass, he can surely offer no objection.’

‘Assuming he does not command you to accompany him,’ Frances said, dejected.

Thomas was silent for a while. Eventually he brightened. ‘I have some happier tidings.’ He walked briskly to the bureau and pulled a letter from one of the drawers. ‘My agent writes that the lands surrounding Tyringham have finally been leased – and for a higher price than I dared hope. It will not settle our debts, but it is a start, at least.’

He handed the note to Frances. ‘That is good news,’ she replied flatly.

The ground crunched underfoot as Frances picked her way through the copse that lay on the south side of Hyde Park. She had woken to discover a thick covering of frost over the palace gardens. They looked breathtakingly beautiful in the early-morning sunshine, the hedges and branches fringed with glimmering white as if suspended by some enchantment. The disappointment that she and Kate would not be able to go out riding as planned was tempered by the sheer beauty of the scene. She had been glad when her young friend had agreed to a walk instead.

‘Here, let me help you,’ she said, holding out her hand.

Kate took it gratefully as she stumbled over another tree root. ‘I am so clumsy,’ she mumbled apologetically.

‘This woodland is hardly made for walking,’ Frances replied. She wished her companion would not berate herself so often, as if fulfilling the role that her stepmother would usually inhabit. It was more than two years since the Earl of Rutland had brought his daughter to court – long enough for her to have grown in confidence, Frances reflected. But the die had already been cast and she feared that the young woman would always feel inferior to those around her, even though she exceeded them in goodness and virtue.

They had emerged onto the open grassland now, which was intersected with numerous pathways. Frances chose the one that followed the southern edge of the park. She glanced at her friend. ‘You are very quiet today, Kate. I hope it is not too cold for you. I was perhaps foolish to suggest we venture so far.’

‘No, not at all,’ Kate replied emphatically. ‘I longed to be free of the palace – that is, to enjoy some fresh air,’ she added. ‘There will be few such opportunities now that winter is approaching.’

‘Is there any other reason why you wish to escape Whitehall at present?’ Frances ventured.

Kate’s face reddened. ‘It would churlish of me to complain. Many young ladies long for a place at court and I am fortunate enough to be there by virtue of my father’s position, without any duties to perform.’

‘And yet?’ Frances prompted.

She sighed. ‘It is not much of a burden to bear, really, and you will think me the most ungrateful wretch for even mentioning it. It is just that the countess has required my presence a great deal lately. I should be honoured, of course, but I confess that I find her company more a trial than a pleasure.’

‘I can well imagine it,’ Frances replied, with feeling. ‘Lady Mary is an overbearing woman, and very fond of her own opinions.’

‘Yes!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘It is such a relief that you share my view. I have tried to remain patient, but her behaviour seems to have grown worse in recent weeks. If ever I decline her invitation to dine, she takes it as a personal affront and complains to my father.’

‘He is sympathetic, though, I’m sure.’

‘To an extent, yes,’ Kate said, ‘but he is preoccupied with other cares at present and I do not like to vex him.’

Frances slowed her pace. ‘I am sorry to hear it. I confess that I have been a neglectful friend to him of late. Do you know what troubles him?’

‘He has received many letters from Belvoir lately. Although he assures me all is well, I fear that my brother still sickens.’

‘That must worry him greatly,’ Frances said. ‘It has been a long time now since Lord Ros first fell ill.’

Kate nodded. ‘My father and stepmother have tried everything to bring him back to health. I pray daily that he might show some sign of improvement. Lady Mary has even offered to send her own apothecary to Belvoir.’

‘How kind,’ Frances observed. Like her son, the countess was not the sort of woman to do anyone a service unless it was in her own interests. ‘I will add my prayers to yours, Kate,’ she concluded.

Frances tried to focus on the beauty of the scene around them, but her thoughts were too distracted by concern for Kate and her young brother. They had almost reached the path that led southwards out of the park, towards Chelsea, when the clatter of hoofs brought them to an abrupt halt. They stepped aside to let the riders past, but as they drew closer Frances recognised the young man at the centre of the entourage. She swept a deep curtsy, pulling gently on her companion’s arm so that she might do the same.

‘Your Grace.’

‘Please.’ The prince gestured for them to stand. Seated on his stallion, Charles appeared more at ease and of greater stature than when Frances had seen him at the various court gatherings he had attended. He was soon to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, she calculated, as she stole a glance at him, and had grown into a fine, if still rather delicate young man. He had the same high forehead and piercing eyes as his mother, and above his top lip she saw a few carefully manicured wisps of a fledgling moustache.

‘It is a pleasure to see you, Lady Frances, Lady Katherine.’ His voice was much softer than his father’s, and higher in tone. ‘I had not thought to encounter anyone else from court here on such a cold day.’

‘The walk from Whitehall has warmed our bones,’ Frances replied, with a smile.

It was the first time the prince had spoken to her and she was a little surprised that he knew her name. But, then, he had been groomed as a future king, so his attendants would make sure he was familiar with his father’s court and everyone within it.

He turned to Kate. ‘I trust you are well, Lady Katherine?’

The young woman flushed a deep shade of crimson. ‘Very well, Your Grace, I thank you.’

‘Will you ride far today, Your Grace?’ Frances asked, breaking the awkward silence.

‘To Greenwich,’ he replied. ‘I wish to visit Her Grace the Queen. I fear I have been a neglectful son of late.’

Frances resisted the temptation to ask whether his father the King knew of his excursion. He could hardly bear to hear Anne mentioned these days. ‘I trust she is well?’ she enquired instead, remembering the Queen’s pallor when she had seen her on the night of Gondomar’s reception.

Charles did not reply for several moments. Then: ‘These late events trouble her, I think.’

‘As they do all faithful subjects.’ She saw that her words had hit their mark.

The prince’s gaze intensified. ‘We must pray for patience and forbearance.’

Beside her, Frances heard Kate’s sharp intake of breath. The King’s son had as good as acknowledged that he regretted Raleigh’s death, that he shared the faith that united them. Or perhaps she was reading too much into his words.

After an interval, the prince touched the brim of his hat to both women, then nodded to his entourage and rode out of the park, straight-backed and chin held high. Frances watched his slender form fade from view. For the first time in many months, she experienced a flicker of hope for the future.