Jean Plaidy - The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

She could not endure the waiting; it was unnerving her.

There was a meeting in the house at Hammersmith when she opened her heart to Mrs. Turner.

“I begin to wonder whether Dr. Franklin is as skillful as we thought,” complained Frances. “All this time and the man still lives!”

“He is loth to administer stronger doses for fear of discovery.”

“Afraid! These men are always afraid. My dear Turner, if they cannot give us what we want we must do without them.”

Anne Turner was thoughtful; then she said: “I heard that Paul de Lobel is attending him.”

“Well?”

“I sometimes visit his establishment in Lime Street and I have noticed a boy there who is very willing to do little services for me … for a consideration.”

Frances was alert.

“Yes, dear Turner?”

“Overbury has had several clysters since he has been in prison and de Lobel administers these. They would be prepared in Lime Street before taken to the Tower. If I could speak to this boy … offer him a large enough sum …”

“Offer him twenty pounds. He would surely not refuse that.”

“It would be a fortune to him.”

“Then tell him that he will receive the money when Sir Thomas Overbury is dead.”

“Three months and seventeen days I have been in this cell,” said Overbury. “How much longer shall I remain?”

Dr. de Lobel looked at his patient and thought: Not much longer, by the look of you. For if the King does not release you, death will.

He said: “Any day, sir, you will get your release. That’s how it is with prisoners. I come some days to a prisoner to find that he is no longer here. ‘Oh,’ they tell me, ‘he was released last week.’”

“One day you will come here, doctor, and find that I am gone.”

“I hope so, sir, I hope so.”

“Oh, God, let it be soon,” said Overbury fervently

“And how are you feeling today?”

“Sick unto death. Such pains I have endured! But let me be free of this place and I’ll recover.”

“You have been writing too many letters. You have tired yourself.”

“In a good cause,” Overbury smiled. They would be reading his letters now. They would learn the nature of the man for whom he had done so much and who now left him miserable in his prison. They would know something about the evil woman who had changed one of the best of men into a fiend.

“This clyster should do you much good.”

“Another clyster?”

“Sir, it is my pleasure and duty to make you well again. Come, prepare yourself.”

It was shortly after the clyster was administered that Sir Thomas Overbury was overtaken by such sickness as he had never known before.

He no longer wished for liberty and revenge; he only wished for death.

The next day the sickness continued and he lay panting for his breath.

What has come over me? he asked in his lucid moments. What has happened to make me thus?

No one could answer him. They could only shake their heads and tell each other that the wasting sickness of Sir Thomas Overbury had taken a more virulent turn.

For seven days he lay groaning in his cell; and on the eighth day when his jailers came to him, he did not answer them when they spoke to him.

They looked closer and saw that he was dead.

THE WEDDING

O verbury dead!

Frances was dizzy with glee. But what of the divorce? Oh, if it were only possible to give the old Archbishop a clyster.

She heard from Robert and her great-uncle that but for the Archbishop of Canterbury they would have the divorce by now. It seemed the old fool had a conscience and even the fear of the King’s displeasure could not make him offend that.

Why, in God’s name, if two people wanted to divorce each other, couldn’t they? demanded Frances. What had it to do with old men who had finished with life and could not understand the passions of the young?

The King, eager to have the matter done with, because it was causing too much talk throughout and beyond the Court, sent for his Archbishop and asked how the cause was going?

George Abbot looked grave.

“It is a cause for which I have little liking, Your Majesty,” he said.

James looked impatient. “Why, man, we all find ourselves facing distasteful problems at times. Then the best advice is to do the work with all speed and have the matter done with.”

“Your Majesty, this is not a matter which can be settled with a yea or a nay, and it grieves me that you should reproach me for listening to my conscience.”

“What grief can there be to your conscience if the Lady Frances is no longer the wife of the Earl of Essex?”

“It is no concern of mine, Your Majesty, whether the Lady Frances be the wife of the Earl of Essex or another. But I cannot give a verdict which I do not believe to be just. That is my problem, Sire. I am fifty-one and have never yet muffled my conscience when called upon to do my duty. It grieves me that I must displease Your Majesty and it is a matter of desolation that this verdict should be of importance to you. But if I said yea when I meant nay, then you might say that a man who did not serve his conscience could not be trusted to serve his King.”

James saw that the Archbishop was deeply moved and his sense of justice forced him to admit that the priest was right.

But what a pother to make about the matter! And Robert would not be happy until he had his bride; the Howards were also eager for the match.

Nevertheless he laid a gentle hand on the Archbishop’s arm.

“You’re an honest man, I know well. But it is my wish that the Lady Frances should be divorced from the Earl of Essex.”

The Archbishop was on his knees. This was indeed a trial of strength. If he fell from royal favor through this matter, then fall he must. A man of God must obey his conscience.

He felt strengthened when he rose; he knew exactly what he would say to the Commission when it assembled. He was going to show those men that there was no true reason why this marriage should be severed except that two people—one a woman belonging to a family of influence, the other a favorite of the King—desired to marry. If this divorce were granted it would be a blow to marriage throughout the country. It would never be forgotten; women would be accusing their husbands of impotency when they sought to marry someone else. Everything that he, as a man of the Church, had ever believed in, cried out against it.

He could feel the power of his eloquence. He was certain that he could sway those men the way in which they must go; even those who had received favors from the King, and those who were promised more, must surely reject them for the sake of their immortal souls.

He knew he could count on five honest men, and these were led by the Bishop of London. No matter what the consequences to themselves they would vote as they thought right. But the remaining seven? He was not sure of them—though he knew that some of them had already taken their bribes.

With great confidence he awaited the arrival of the Commissioners at Lambeth. He was well prepared for he was certain he had been inspired. He would work on them with the zest and fire of truth; he would make them see the sin they were committing by selling for wealth and honors their right to decide.

When they were all assembled he rose to speak, but before he could do so a messenger from the King arrived and said he had a command from His Majesty.

“Pray tell us this,” said the Archbishop.

“That, my lord, you spend no further time in talking one with another. It is His Majesty’s command that you give the verdict and that alone.”

The Archbishop felt deflated. The brilliant speech he had prepared would never be uttered. He saw that the men who he suspected were going to vote in favor of the divorce were delighted; they were eager to have done with the business and retire, their favors earned.

One could not disobey the command of the King. The vote was taken.

Five against the divorce; seven in favor of it.

“A majority!” cried Northampton when he heard the news. “At last we are triumphant!”

Frances received the news with rapture.

Overbury dead! Herself no longer the wife of Essex and free to marry the man she loved!

Everything that she had longed for, schemed for, was hers.

“I am the happiest woman in the world,” she told Jennet.

James was thankful that that unsavory matter was at an end. Now let it be forgotten. Let Robert marry as soon as he liked; and let everyone forget that Frances Howard had ever been Frances Essex.

There were other troubles. It was a sorry thing to see tradesmen calling at the palace and threatening the servants that they would deliver nothing more until their bills were paid. Small wonder that people compared this Stuart with the Tudors. Imagine anyone asking Henry VIII or Elizabeth to settle a bill!

James had little royal dignity; he was too ready to laugh at himself and see the other person’s point of view. All the same, having tradesmen demanding payment of bills was something he could not tolerate.

He told Robert about it. “A sorry state of affairs, Robbie. And here am I wanting to give ye the grandest wedding the Court has ever seen!”

“Your Majesty must not think of me. You have already been over generous.”

“You’ve had nothing more than you deserve, lad. You look sad. And you about to be a bridegroom!”

“I am sad because of Your Majesty’s plight.”

“Why, bless you, boy, old Dad has been in difficulties before. We’ll think of a way.”

Robert did think of a way. He gave twenty-five thousand pounds to the treasury.

When James heard of this he wept with emotion.

“The dear lovely laddie,” he kept saying. “God bless his bonny face.”

He knew of a way to reward his lad.

“Robbie,” he said one day, “it seems Viscount Rochester is a title hardly worthy of you.”

“I am grateful for receiving it at Your Majesty’s hands.”

“I know that, lad. But I’d like to see you on a level with the best. You are, of course; but I want them to have to recognize it too. Ye’re going to be an Earl.”

“Your Majesty!”

“My wedding present to you and the lady.”

“Your Majesty, how can I …? What can I …?”

“Ye deserve it, boy.”

Robert’s eyes were bright with excitement. How pleased Frances would be!

A few days later James created him Earl of Somerset.

Frances was being dressed by her women. She had chosen white for her wedding gown and she wore diamonds; with her golden hair about her shoulders, she had never looked as beautiful as she did on that day.