Fallen Angel

by Tracy Borman

  ‘That is a blessing,’ she said, and looked at her hands. Raleigh took them in his. Their warmth comforted her. ‘Do you truly believe you are carrying out God’s will, Sir Walter? That He wants our kingdom to be rid of the heretic who sits upon the throne, even though it will lead to war and bloodshed?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘You doubt our faith, my lady?’

  ‘No!’ Frances cried, then held her breath as her voice echoed around the dark courtyard. Beside her, Raleigh waited. ‘It is not our faith I doubt, but the means by which we express it. Is it not better for us to live peaceably than to murder the King and thousands of his subjects in the name of religion? That might satisfy the Catholics, but it would make enemies of many others. If your plan succeeds, then we will surely be plunged into civil war.’

  She feared she had said too much. But the words had been swirling in her head for so many weeks now, depriving her of sleep until the small hours, that she could no longer bear to leave them unspoken.

  ‘What you say is true, Lady Frances.’ Raleigh’s words were measured. ‘Our old queen was of the same mind as you. She never wished to make windows into men’s souls, but desired only that her subjects might live in peace with one another.’

  Frances smiled. She had heard her mother say that many times. Would that the last of the Tudors still wore the crown.

  ‘But such peace is only possible while someone of equal wisdom – of equal tolerance – rules us,’ Sir Walter continued. ‘King James will not rest until he has rooted out every last vestige of popery, as he calls it. It is no longer enough even outwardly to conform. He means to have our souls too.’

  He drew on his pipe. Frances closed her eyes as she breathed in the earthy aroma. It brought back a memory of her father’s library at Longford, so strong that she could almost believe herself there.

  ‘I understand your fears, my lady,’ he continued. ‘You have a growing brood of sons and would not forfeit their lives for all the gold El Dorado could offer. My own son will accompany me on this voyage. Wat has grown into a fine boy,’ he added fondly. ‘Do you think I would risk his safety if I doubted the wisdom of our cause? I am an old man now and set my own life at a pin’s fee. But his . . .’ His voice trailed off and he grasped her hands more tightly. ‘I promise that I will strive to my utmost to make this enterprise succeed, Lady Frances. All I ask is that you and the others who have supported it will keep faith while I am gone.’

  ‘I will endeavour to do so, Sir Walter,’ she replied. ‘When will you depart for Plymouth?’

  ‘A few days hence – if His Grace can bear to be parted from me,’ he said, with a return of his old humour. ‘God willing, when we meet again it will be to welcome our new king.’

  Frances’s smile did not reach her eyes. But which king would that be?

  CHAPTER 17

  23 May

  ‘Their trial begins tomorrow, I’ve heard,’ the gentleman opposite Frances said between mouthfuls.

  ‘About time,’ replied another. ‘It’s been so long since their arrest that I doubt they can remember the crimes for which they are to answer.’

  His companion gave a snort of derision. ‘I’m sure Sir Francis Bacon will be only too happy to remind them. He has been assiduous in his task, by all accounts.’

  Frances helped herself to a piece of salmon and pretended not to listen. She knew her friend had indeed been assiduous, but not in the way these men believed. He had uncovered enough evidence – albeit circumstantial – to bring a case of murder against the Somersets, but had persuaded the King to show clemency. Villiers, of course, had striven for the opposite result but for once his royal master had proved resistant to his persuasion. It had sparked rumours of a rift between them, though Frances hardly dared give them credence.

  ‘Well, I hope the lieutenant has made sure the axe is good and sharp,’ the man next to her said.

  Frances took a small sip of wine but her taste for it had still not returned, even though she could now stomach the other foods she had enjoyed before her pregnancy. The child was showing itself beneath the folds of her gown and she had been obliged to let out her stays again a few days before. If she had it right, she would be obliged to take her leave of court – of Thomas, too – before the summer was out. She wondered if Raleigh would have sailed by then. It was almost two months since he had departed for Plymouth and many more ships had joined his fleet, but still he claimed it was not yet ready to set sail. Little wonder the King was losing patience. Thomas had heard him mutter that he would have him brought back to the Tower if he had not raised anchor by Ascension Day, which had passed two weeks before.

  A movement at the far end of the hall caught her eye. The yeomen were raising their halberds to let someone through. Frances glanced at the clock. Dinner was almost over so the new arrival would have to content themselves with the scraps that had not yet been devoured. It took her a moment to recognise the grey-haired gentleman who stepped into the hall. He stood uncertainly, scanning the long tables of courtiers as if looking for someone. The Earl of Rutland. It was barely four years since she had seen him, but he seemed to have become an old man. Just then, his gaze alighted on her and he smiled with such warmth that her heart swelled. He walked briskly to her table. She was only vaguely aware of the curious stares of her fellow diners as she stood to greet him.

  ‘Lady Frances,’ he said, after making his obeisance. ‘I hoped to see you here. I had heard that you had returned to court.’

  ‘I am very glad to see you again, my lord,’ she replied warmly. ‘Is the countess with you?’

  She noticed his smile falter. ‘Alas, no. Affairs at Belvoir required her presence. Our youngest son, Francis, is in poor health.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear it,’ she replied. His elder son, Henry, had died shortly after she had left court. How anxious he must be for his surviving male heir.

  ‘My daughter has accompanied me, though,’ he added, his face brightening a little. ‘I do hope she might make your acquaintance. It is her first visit to court and she is anxious to be well received.’

  Frances smiled. ‘I would be delighted to meet her, my lord. I have few enough female companions so it would be a great pleasure. Forgive me,’ she said, aware that he must be hungry after his journey. ‘Will you join me?’

  The earl shook his head. ‘Thank you, but I have already eaten.’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘I would be glad of your company, though, if you have finished your meal. My bones ache from being cooped up in that carriage, so I have a mind to take a stroll by the river.’

  ‘Gladly,’ she replied, setting down her napkin and dipping a quick curtsy to the other occupants of her table, who had resumed their conversations and barely noticed her leave.

  A few boats bobbed against the landing stage, but the river was quiet now, most people having either settled at court for the evening or returned to their homes. It was beautifully mild and there was not a breath of wind as they walked along the water’s edge. It was Frances who broke the silence into which they had fallen.

  ‘How old is your daughter now?’

  ‘Katherine will be sixteen next month.’ She could hear the affection in his voice at the mention of her name. ‘Her poor mother did not live to see our precious girl grow beyond childhood.’ Frances stole a glance at him and saw that his eyes were filled with sadness. ‘She shared your name – and something of your looks too,’ he continued. ‘Her hair shone like burnished gold when the sun fell upon it. I was greatly blessed to have such a wife, even for a short time.’

  ‘She was blessed too,’ Frances remarked with sincerity. ‘Was it long before you married Lady Cecily?’

  The earl gave an audible sigh. ‘Three years – though it would have been longer, had I not allowed myself to be persuaded. When Frances died, I vowed never to take another wife, for I knew that none would ever be so dear to me as she was. But my sister-in-law urged that I must do so for Katherine’s sake – that a father could never supply
the place of a mother, no matter how beloved he is.’

  Frances said nothing. She knew Lady Cecily’s character all too well and did not wish to appear disingenuous.

  ‘Theirs has never been an easy relationship,’ he went on. ‘Katherine was such a loving, biddable child, yet the countess found nothing but fault in her. I hoped that when we had children of our own, it might soften her opinion, but it made it sharper. I would not have been without my boys, of course, and for that reason it is sinful of me to regret marrying her. But far from bringing my daughter comfort, it has blighted her life.’

  Yours too, Frances thought, but did not say.

  ‘What ails your young son?’ she asked, deciding it was better to talk of other matters, even if they grieved him too.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ he said with feeling. ‘He and Henry fell ill at the same time. The fever came on so suddenly. They had been playing happily in the morning, but by the evening they were both delirious. My wife summoned the best physician in the county, but he was at a loss to explain it. The boys’ ranting frightened him, I think. He told us they had been bewitched.’

  Frances saw her own scorn mirrored in his expression. ‘How many other such claims have been made in order to conceal ignorance?’

  ‘Incompetence too,’ her companion agreed. ‘I knew it was nonsense, of course, but word spread rapidly throughout the village, and soon people were casting about for someone to blame. It was not long before their malicious gaze alighted upon Mistress Flower and her daughters.’

  Frances thought back to the woman whom she had met during her stay with Thomas at Belvoir Castle five years before. The earl had taken her to Joan’s dwelling on the edge of Bottesford village so that she could supply Frances with salves for the wounds her husband had sustained from the riding accident. Frances remembered her small, bird-like frame and watchful dark eyes. Joan’s younger daughter, Philippa, much resembled her, but the elder, Margaret, who also worked at the earl’s castle, was a plump, fair-haired beauty. Little wonder the locals had whispered about the girls’ parentage – especially since Joan was unmarried. She might have been a respectable widow for all they knew, but she had never troubled to enlighten them.

  ‘Have they been accused?’ Frances asked, fearing the answer. It took little more than gossip to bring a suspected witch to trial.

  ‘Not yet,’ he replied, ‘though my wife is intent upon it. Many times, she has reminded me that to lift a curse the person who made it must be put to death.’

  Frances shivered, though the shoreline was still bathed in warm evening sunshine. ‘I wonder they have not already been taken to the assizes,’ she remarked.

  ‘I have ordered the countess to take no part in the matter – my tenants too. God knows I make few enough demands of her, and those I do she sets little store by. But even she would not venture so far as to act in this without my sanction.’

  Frances wished she shared his conviction. ‘It must have pained you to leave your estate at such a time.’

  ‘In part, yes. My little boy looked so frail when I took my leave of him. He has lingered on like this since his brother died. Many times I have feared he would follow him to the grave, but still he clings to life, God save him.’

  Frances had known scores of children carried off by a fever, but it was usually of short duration – as had been the case with the earl’s elder son. That his younger brother was still labouring under the same sickness three years later was perplexing. She wished she might attend him so that she could judge his symptoms for herself. It would not surprise her if the ministrations of the various doctors and apothecaries who had seen him over the years had prolonged, rather than relieved, his malady.

  ‘But I confess I was glad to receive the King’s summons,’ the earl continued, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Lady Cecily’s persecution of my daughter has increased since Henry’s death. Worry for our surviving son has worn her nerves to shreds, and poor Katherine has suffered the consequences. It pains me to see how fearful she has grown,’ he added. ‘I hope the court might restore something of her former spirit. She was always such a happy child before . . .’

  His voice trailed off into silence, and they continued their steady progress along the river.

  ‘I will do everything I can to help your daughter, my lord,’ she said. ‘I hope you will soon arrange a time for us to meet. Tell me, does she ride?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ the earl replied, with enthusiasm. ‘She was in the saddle even before her feet could reach the stirrups. It has been her main source of pleasure ever since – though she has lacked the opportunity of late,’ he added, his smile fading. ‘Lady Cecily thinks it is bad for her complexion.’

  Frances bit back a scornful remark. ‘Then I shall be delighted to accompany her. There are many fine parks within reach of court, and the flowers and hedges are at their very best at this time of year. It will gladden her heart to see them.’

  ‘You are every bit as kind as I remember, Lady Frances,’ her companion said warmly. ‘I have thought of you often since you and Sir Thomas stayed at Belvoir. I expect a young man such as he is quite recovered by now?’

  Frances smiled. ‘His shoulder pains him in the winter months, but otherwise he is in good health. He will be as pleased to see you again as I am. May I ask why the King has summoned you here?’

  The earl gave a small cough, as if embarrassed. ‘It was an honour as unexpected as it was unlooked for. I am to be appointed a Knight of the Garter, along with my former neighbour.’

  Frances gazed at him in confusion.

  ‘Sir George Villiers.’ Frances’s smile became fixed as he went on, ‘His mother’s estate borders mine. She is exceedingly proud of his rise to favour and we never lack for news of his latest advancements.’ His voice held no trace of irony, but if what Frances had heard of Villiers’s overbearing mother was true, her frequent visits could not have been anything other than irksome to so discerning a man as the earl.

  ‘Then I offer you my congratulations, Lord Rutland,’ she said. ‘I can think of none so worthy.’ He smiled his thanks as Frances hesitated. ‘Does Sir George visit his mother often?’

  The earl shook his head. ‘Not so often as was his custom before he took up residence here,’ he replied. ‘But he visits whenever his royal master can spare him. I have never seen a man so devoted to his mother.’

  ‘You know him well, then?’ she asked, taking care to keep her voice light.

  ‘In his youth, certainly. He loved to hunt in my parkland and often came to dine with us. My boys adored him – he was always a willing playmate. He was very kind to Katherine, too.’

  Frances fell silent again. She wanted to ask more but the earl was a perceptive man and she was wary of exciting his suspicion. What was more, he had given no hint that he shared her antipathy towards his neighbour’s son. She must be patient. With luck, there would be other opportunities. The more information she was able to glean about the royal favourite, the more chance she might discover something that would help her husband.

  The sun was low in the sky now and Frances heard the distant chimes of a bell.

  ‘We should return,’ her companion said, echoing her thoughts.

  With that, they turned their footsteps back along the riverbank, towards the setting sun.

  CHAPTER 18

  25 May

  ‘Will you not be persuaded, Frances?’ Her husband watched as she tethered the horse to the mounting block, his face a mask of concern.

  She kissed him firmly by way of answer.

  ‘If you should fall . . .’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘I am more likely to trip over the cobbles of the palace courtyards than to fall from this beauty,’ Frances said, patting the mare’s dark brown neck. ‘Now, are you going to saddle her or must I do that myself?’

  Thomas gave a resigned shrug and set to work.

  ‘Lady Frances!’ The Earl of Rutland was strolling into the stable-yard, a young woman at his side. She was much smaller
than her father and walked half a pace behind him, her head bowed. Katherine had the same pale skin and long nose as the earl, but her hair was much lighter and her nose somewhat bulbous.

  ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Katherine,’ Frances said, curtsying to them both.

  The girl’s heavy-lidded eyes fluttered up and her small mouth lifted in a shy smile before she lowered her gaze again. Frances studied her. She lacked the fine features that society considered beautiful, but had a wide, honest face, with large eyebrows of the same dark blond as her hair, which was tightly curled along her forehead. Her fleshy neck and sloping shoulders gave her an air of softness – so different from the sharp, bird-like features of her stepmother.

  ‘I am glad to see you greatly recovered, Sir Thomas,’ the earl said. ‘I expect His Majesty has found much to occupy you since you and I last met?’

  Thomas smiled. ‘Indeed, my lord – I am rarely idle,’ he replied, as he tightened the girth on his wife’s horse. ‘But I know that Belvoir has allowed you no more leisure than I have here. I am sorry to hear your son still sickens.’

  Frances saw Katherine’s mouth tremble.

  Thomas turned to the young woman. ‘I will saddle a horse for you, my lady,’ he said gently. ‘Bracken is both fast and biddable – I think he will do very well for you.’

  A blush appeared on Katherine’s cheeks as she gave a quick smile, her gaze still fixed upon the ground.

  ‘Kate can tame even the wildest of steeds,’ the earl said proudly, giving his daughter’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. ‘She is the finest horsewoman in the county and leaves her old father many leagues behind when we go out together.’

  The young woman’s blush deepened. ‘You exaggerate, Papa.’