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

She refused to think of the dead body of Sir Thomas Overbury, but it was significant that she had to admonish herself on this point. Why should she think of a man who was dead? What was he to her now?

“Oh, my lady,” cried one of the maids, “there could never have been such a beautiful bride.”

Jennet was settling the white ruff about her neck, her eyes downcast.

“Just as a bride should be,” went on the garrulous maid. “White for innocence, they say.”

Frances turned sharply to look at the maid; had she caught a glance passing between her and one of the others? Were they whispering about her in corners?

She had to suppress an impulse to slap the girl’s face.

She must be watchful.

She turned to Jennet; Jennet’s eyes were still lowered. Was that a smile she saw curving her lips?

They wouldn’t dare, she assured herself. She was over-wrought. But was this how it was going to be in future? Must she be watchful, furtive; must she always be asking: How much do they know?

Frances was led into the chapel at Whitehall by her great-uncle Northampton and the Duke of Saxony, who was visiting England.

This wedding was attracting as much attention and almost as much pageantry as that of the Princess Elizabeth. The King had expressed his desire that no expense should be spared; Whitehall was to be the setting; and the Banqueting Hall was festooned and decorated with a brilliance rivaling that displayed for the wedding of the King’s daughter.

Robert Carr’s desire for a wife had in no way diminished the King’s affection; and now that the favorite had his earldom it seemed that he could climb no farther. His task in future would be to hold his place at the very heights of power.

Chief advisor and favorite of the King, joined through marriage to the most powerful family in the land—it seemed that at last he was secure.

Frances could not help thinking when the Bishop of Bath and Wells married her to Robert, of that occasion when the same man had married her, in the same place, to another Robert. She dismissed the memory as hastily as she could; she need never again think of Robert Devereux. It must be as though they had never met. He could now go his way and she hers.

She must be happy. Here was Robert smiling beside her; and there was no doubt of his satisfaction. He was respectably married; no more secret meetings, no more furtive messages.

No more fear—only ecstasy.

In the Banqueting Hall was a scene of great magnificence. The King, Queen and Prince of Wales had taken their seats, and beside the King sat the bridegroom and beside the bridegroom his wife.

A curtain was drawn back to display a scene of such fantasy that all those watching gasped with astonishment. Above was an impression of cleverly painted clouds, and below this, a sea on which boats appeared to move as though with the wind. On either side of the seascape were promontories, rocks and woods. Now the dancers came forward, each significantly garbed to indicate a certain quality. First came the villains: Error, Rumor, Curiosity; these were followed by Harmony and Destiny, the latter represented by three beautiful girls. Then there were Water and Fire, the Earth and Eternity, followed by the Continents—Africa, Asia and America. The costumes were brilliant in color and planned to give a clue to the watchers as to what their wearers represented before they sang their songs of explanation.

Queen Anne, who enjoyed such pageantry more than any other member of the royal family, watched intently, waiting for the moment when she would be called upon to play her little part, for she could never bear to be left out of these occasions; and when the three Destinies brought toward her a golden tree, she plucked a branch from it and presented it to one of the knights who came forward to kneel and receive it. This was the moment for a chorus to appear and break into song, extolling the virtues of the newly married pair.

Then from pillars of gold which had stood on each side of the big stage, maskers appeared; there were six of them and their garments glittered as they came before the royal party and the bride and bridegroom.

They began to dance, twisting, turning and leaping; and as they danced they sang:

“Let us now sing of Love’s Delight ,

For he alone is Lord tonight .

Some friendship between man and man prefer ,

But I the affection between man and wife .

“What good can be in life

Whereof no fruits appear

Set is that tree in ill hour

That yields neither fruit nor flower .

“How can man perpetual be

But in his own posterity.”

Everyone applauded this, even the King, who might have thought it a slur on his own nature but for the fact that his own son, tall, handsome, becoming as charming a prince as the brother who had died, was sitting there with himself and the Queen.

The curtain fell and when it rose again a scene of London and the Thames was displayed, with barges from which merry sailors alighted to perform their dances and sing their songs.

Frances watching all the pageantry which had been arranged for her delight, determined to thrust aside those niggling little worries which beset her. The future was going to be glorious. There would be no question of her living in the country with her new husband. It would be the gaiety of the Court all the time; and there would not be a woman more respected than the Countess of Somerset, for her husband was, in all but name, the ruler of England.

How happy I am! she thought; but it was necessary to keep reminding herself that she was.

Robert had no such qualms; he was in truth happy. The wretched divorce was over; he was truly married to the woman he loved, and James was behaving like a benign father who could not honor a beloved son enough.

It was true he had enemies, but that was inevitable. Many of these people gathered here tonight who had brought costly wedding presents would be ready and eager to turn against him tomorrow if he were to lose the King’s favor. That was human nature and something every man must be prepared for.

Northampton was his friend. He was sure of that. There was a family bond between them now, and it was good to have such a strong man for a friend. The presents he had given showed the world how much he approved of the wedding. The gold plate alone must have cost some fifteen hundred pounds; and the sword he had presented to Robert had a hilt and scabbard of pure gold. James’s gifts of course had excelled all others; the earldom was not universally recognized as a wedding present, so there had been ten thousand pounds’ worth of jewels from the King.

They were rich; they were powerful; they were in love. What could they lack?

There were some men though who made Robert uneasy. One of these was Sir Thomas Lake, an ambitious man who had been at Court in the time of Queen Elizabeth and had acted as secretary to Sir Francis Walsingham. Lake had assiduously courted the new Earl of Somerset, and had given six beautiful candle sticks as a wedding present; but he was eagerly watching for advancement and Robert did not entirely trust his friendship.

There was Sir Ralph Winwood who had shown great deference but there he was in his plain garments, refusing to put on silks and brocades or fine jewels. He was a stern Puritan and wished all to know it; and his speech was as plain as his garments. For all that, he was an ambitious man; and on returning to England from service abroad had quickly seen that if a man would advance in England he must be a friend of the King’s favorite.

There was another who caused Robert to feel uneasy. This was Count Gondomar, the new Spanish ambassador, a very handsome gentleman, with attractive manners, always fastidiously attired, gallant in the extreme, but with a pair of alert black eyes which missed little.

Robert suspected that Gondomar had those eyes trained on him; and among the presents which arrived was a casket of jewels which he suspected to be worth at least three hundred pounds. The Count of Gondomar dearly wished, said the accompanying note, that his little gift would give pleasure to the bridegroom.

The sight of those jewels had startled Robert because he had heard it whispered that some ministers actually received bribes from Spain. That was something he would never do; and the more he looked at those jewels, the more uneasy he became, for it seemed to him that there might be more in the little casket than a wedding gift.

He had written at once to the Count to tell him that it was good of him to send such a handsome gift, but that he never accepted anything without first having obtained the King’s permission to do so.

Such a comment must have been very unusual to the Spanish ambassador who had so many good friends at the English Court. It meant that this Earl of Somerset was a most extraordinary man because he was not to be won by bribes.

When Robert told James of the incident the King had smiled tenderly.

“Take the jewels, Robbie,” he said. “I know you to be beyond bribing. So you wrote to the Spaniard, eh? Well, well, it’ll be good for him to know there’s one honest man at Whitehall.”

So Robert accepted the jewels, but seeing the Count at the wedding festivities he remembered the incident.

He would have to go very carefully now that he no longer had Overbury to help him.

Frances was watching his perplexed looks and she whispered: “Does aught ail you, sweetheart?”

He smiled quickly. “Nay, I was thinking of poor Tom Overbury and it made me sad to remember how we parted and that I shall never see him again.”

A shiver ran through her.

This is our wedding day, she wanted to cry. We have won. We are together. Are we never to forget?

So they were together at last. Robert was happy.

“No longer now,” he said, “need we fear that we are being spied upon. We are legally married. This is how I always longed for it to be.”

“And I, my love,” she told him.

If he but knew how she had worked for this; how she had schemed and planned, first against Essex, then against Overbury!

She longed to tell him that he might understand something of the measure of her love for him. She wanted to cry: “This I have done for you.”

But she dared not tell him. He would be shocked beyond expression. Perhaps his feelings would change toward her if he knew.

No, she must enjoy this perfect night—for perfect it must be.

Yet when he made love to her she could not shut out of her mind those waxen figures—the naked woman with the hair that looked like real hair, lying on the minute couch with the naked model. She could almost smell the overpowering incense which had burned in Dr. Forman’s room.

And it was as though a mocking ghost was in that room. The ghost of Sir Thomas Overbury who, not so long before, had been murdered in the Tower of London.