Lettice’s family was an unusually close one, and if she were with them at this time then her father probably advised her to keep a low profile. This was indeed the course of action that Lettice now chose; but it did not come naturally to her. In the storm that followed the discovery of her marriage, she resumed a lifestyle similar to that which she had adopted during her first marriage, throwing herself into the role of a wife whose primary concern was her household and family, living in the seclusion of the countryside. It was not, perhaps, the life that she had ultimately envisaged for her marriage with Leicester, but for the moment she had few options. At least she was happy in her choice of husband, and that must have kept her partly content through the lonely months away from court and Leicester. In order to win back the Queen’s favour, Leicester realized that it was more prudent to keep his wife in the background. Even so, their love for one another had survived the moment that they had both been dreading. Lettice, though, could and would not be content to remain in the shadows forever – the Queen would have to accept that Lettice and Leicester were man and wife, whether she liked it or not.
CHAPTER 13
A She-Wolf
DESPITE LETTICE’S RETREAT from London, as time passed the Queen still showed no signs of thawing. It was not long, however, before Leicester was once more restored to favour. As Elizabeth Jenkins surmised, ‘certain aspects of the landscape had been irreparably altered, but the ground was still firm beneath Leicester’s feet’.1 His relationship with Elizabeth held strong, and Leicester was free to show himself at court. For Lettice there was no such clemency. She was forced to remain in the shadows, living quietly in the hope that the Queen’s temper would eventually cool. This meant that she was unable to officially take up residence with her husband. Consequently she spent the majority of 1580 at Greys Court, apologizing to Lord Burghley in October for detaining her younger brother Francis, who was expected at court. While in the country she missed company, and longed for news from court. She still received visits from her husband, although the frequency of these is unknown. Their passion for one another was still strong, and by the end of the year it was clear that the situation could not continue in this vein: by then, Lettice would have known that she was pregnant.
Despite the malicious reports that Lettice and Leicester had had children born out of wedlock, this was nothing more than scandalous gossip, and there is no evidence of any children prior to their marriage. In February 1580, the French ambassador, Mauvissière, had heard that Lettice was heavily pregnant, but nothing more is heard of this. It may well be the case that – possibly not for the first time – she had experienced the tragedy of a miscarriage. If so, it would have made the child that she and Leicester conceived later in 1580 doubly precious. Leicester was delighted by the news of his wife’s pregnancy: he had long craved a legitimate child, and in his earlier letter to Douglas Sheffield, he had claimed that besides the Queen’s favour, ‘there is nothing in the world next that favour that I would not give to be in hope of leaving some children behind me, being now the last of our house’.2
It was with the arrival of their child in mind that both Leicester and Lettice realized that the situation had to change. There was to be no doubt in anybody’s mind that the child that Lettice was carrying was legitimate, and it was this that prompted the recorded testimonies of the witnesses who had attended their wedding. Leicester had also determined that his child ought to be born in his house, and so at some time between the end of 1580 and the spring of 1581, Lettice took up residence at Leicester House, her husband’s townhouse on the Strand.
Formerly the property of Lord Paget, who named it Paget Place, the house had been acquired by Leicester in January 1570. He immediately renamed it in recognition of his title, and it became his London base when he was not residing at court. The Queen visited Leicester there on a number of occasions, even after his marriage to Lettice – presumably the Countess was either absent or required to remain out of sight.3 Leicester House lay immediately opposite the church of St Clement Danes, and was an imposing house with a Tudor gatehouse.4 Built around four sides of an inner court and with an open forecourt, it boasted a number of lavishly furnished rooms, and four beautifully laid-out knot gardens. Within them was a two-storey banqueting house that Leicester had built by the river, perfect for entertaining guests.5 A contemporary report noted that ‘There was a chapel where now the porter’s lodge is at the outer-gate, appertaining to St Clement’s Danes’, and this was something that both Leicester and Lettice made regular use of.6 Inside, it was full of the beautiful objects that Leicester adored, and that he had spent many years acquiring. By the time that Lettice arrived these included ‘a pair of playing tables of black ebony and white bone’, silver-gilt plate which proudly displayed Leicester’s bear badge, ‘a little treble lute in a case’, and ‘a globe of all the world standing in a frame’.7 In addition, forty-two pieces from Leicester’s portrait collection were on display, including two of the Duc d’Anjou – the Queen’s suitor – which may have been given as gifts in an attempt to curry Leicester’s support, one of ‘Venus and Cupid’, and interestingly, one of Lettice’s daughter, ‘my Lady Dorothy’.8 More surprising, perhaps, was the presence of a ‘picture of my Lady Sheffield enclosed in a wainscot case’ – a piece that Lettice must have been none too pleased about, but which nevertheless was still there after Leicester’s death.9
It would not be long before Lettice put her own stamp on Leicester’s residences – particularly Leicester House, where in addition to the apartments that were provided for members of Leicester’s family, a number were also set aside for Lettice’s children. Her own bedchamber in the house was sumptuously furnished in a reflection of her status; there was a fine bed of walnut which was adorned with curtains of luxurious scarlet, and a set of furniture that included coffers for storing her lavish wardrobe. Curiously, sculptures of Leicester and the Queen were on display in Leicester House in the late 1570s and 1580s, but after that they disappear. Elizabeth Goldring suggests that this may have been due to Lettice’s influence.10
IT HAD BEEN around a decade since the birth of Lettice’s last child – the short-lived Francis. As she was now thirty-seven years old, the risks that came with childbirth were significantly higher, something which both Lettice and her husband would have been all too aware of. It therefore made good sense for her to remain in London, where both midwives and physicians were easily at hand, ensuring Lettice received the best possible care as she entered her confinement. Meanwhile, her husband was still needed at court in order to support the Queen: though Lettice was now his wife whom he loved, there was no doubting that Elizabeth still remained Leicester’s greatest priority. He was first and foremost a courtier.
Lettice began her confinement at Leicester House in the spring. It is possible that during this time she had the company of her two maids, Bridget Fettiplace and Lettice Barrett, although exactly when they entered her service is unclear.11 She had a particularly good relationship with the latter, who in 1588 would become her sister-in-law when she wed Lettice’s younger brother, Francis. It was during this time that the couple became well acquainted, for Francis was a member of Leicester’s entourage. Lettice was both relieved and overjoyed when, on 6 June 1581, she was safely delivered of a son. On both a personal and a practical level, their son’s birth was a joyous moment for the couple, who probably saw it as a sign that their union was blessed. Leicester was elated: thanks to Lettice, he finally had a legitimate male heir. The boy was named Robert after his father, and was immediately given the title of Lord Denbigh.12 He may have been christened in nearby St Clement Danes shortly after his birth. There is no indication as to the identity of his godparents – given the circumstances, neither Leicester nor Lettice dared to invite the Queen to assume this role. More probable is that Leicester’s brother, Ambrose, and perhaps also Lettice’s father or one of her siblings filled these positions. What is clear is that the boy’s parents doted on him, and he was raised in the utmo
st splendour within the luxurious trappings of Leicester’s homes. At Leicester House, his cradle was covered with costly crimson velvet, and he had a fine little chair that was upholstered in green.13
There is no reference to the Queen’s reaction upon learning of the birth of Lettice and Leicester’s son. Unsurprisingly, however, it did nothing to warm her to Lettice; indeed, it may have served to heighten the dislike and jealousy that Elizabeth felt towards her kinswoman. After all, in effect Lettice now had many of the things that the Queen may arguably have wanted – a marriage with Leicester that was cemented by love on both sides, and a son. In the immediate aftermath of her son’s birth, though, Lettice probably cared little about Elizabeth’s feelings, and threw herself into caring for her baby.
Although the usual team of nursery staff were employed to oversee the infant Lord Denbigh’s everyday needs, Lettice, devoted mother that she was, also played an active role in her son’s life. It had been twelve years since she had had a newborn to care for, and given that she was still banned from attending court, her son’s care gave her something to focus her energies upon.
BESIDES LORD DENBIGH, Lettice also had her four children from her first marriage. With the exception of her eldest son, three of her children were still residing in York in the Earl of Huntingdon’s household. There is no contemporary evidence as to how these children reacted upon learning of their mother’s remarriage to the Earl of Leicester. Judging by the relationships that they all came to share with him, though, it is safe to say that any teething problems were quickly smoothed over. Not only did Lettice still dote on her elder children, but Leicester would also prove himself to be a caring stepfather who took an interest in all of their lives – particularly his wife’s eldest son, Robert.
By the summer of 1581, Robert, Earl of Essex, had completed his MA at Trinity at Cambridge. He had paid a brief visit to Leicester House, where he had perhaps met his baby half-brother for the first time. Lettice would surely have been delighted at having been reunited with her eldest son, her ‘Sweet Robin’ who she had probably not seen for some time. Essex had met the Earl of Leicester before, but this was the first occasion on which he would have been introduced to him as his stepfather. In the same way that Lettice had once done, Essex was able to travel from London to Kenilworth, there to take advantage of the hunting that his stepfather’s country residence offered. From there he returned to the south, taking up residence with his grandfather, Sir Francis Knollys, at Greys Court. Francis took a great interest in his grandchildren, and certainly did his best to guide his eldest grandson. However, on this occasion Essex’s stay with his strict grandfather was of short duration, and from Greys he continued to his father’s former estate at Lamphey. It was here that he would largely remain over the course of the next few years, where he did ‘very honourably and bountifully keep house with many servants in livery and the repair of most gentlemen of those parts’.14
Meanwhile, Lettice’s disgrace had no bearing on the Queen’s attitude towards her goddaughter Penelope, who she welcomed to court in January 1581. Penelope had just turned eighteen, and had been escorted south by her guardian, the Earl of Huntingdon. It is possible that she took the opportunity to visit her pregnant mother while she was in the capital, for mother and daughter were close. Beautiful, vivacious and intelligent, Penelope was an instant hit at court in the same way that Lettice had once been. Though she had washed her hands of Lettice, Elizabeth now showed that she bore Penelope no grudge, offering her a place in her household. Penelope thus began her career at court, following in the footsteps of her grandmother, her aunts and her disgraced mother: hers was to be a more active career than Lettice’s had been. Her daughter’s success with the Queen and her popularity at court may have filled Lettice with optimism; perhaps, in time, she too would be the recipient of the Queen’s favour once more.
The court was a world away from the quiet seclusion of the north that Penelope had been raised in, and had much to offer a girl of her vitality. It was all the more splendid given that, at this time, there were a host of entertainments staged in honour of the proposal of the Queen’s marriage to the Duc d’Anjou – plans that would, like those of all of Elizabeth’s previous suitors, come to nothing as once again the Queen got cold feet. By 1583 everyone – fifty-year-old Elizabeth included – was under no illusions that she would ever marry. Her love for Leicester, and her diplomatic negotiations elsewhere, had all come to nothing. There would be no royal marriage.
In no time at all, Penelope had earned the admiration of many of her contemporaries, including Leicester’s nephew, Sir Philip Sidney. Her father, Walter, had cherished hopes that the couple would marry. Later, Philip would make her the inspiration for his famous poem, Astrophil and Stella. Probably written in the summer of 1582, just months after Penelope’s marriage to Lord Rich, the verses were intended for private rather than public pleasure, and were not published until 1591. About a love affair that was never consummated, the references to Penelope as Stella are blatant. Sidney consistently played on Penelope’s marital name, Rich, referring to her as ‘The richest gem of love and life’, and making reference to Cupid’s shield, ‘Where red roses are show on a silver field’ in the same manner as the Devereux crest. Among other things, the poet also refers to her ‘joyful face’.15 There is no evidence to support the suggestion that Philip and Penelope became lovers, and her father’s aspirations for a marriage between the pair would never transpire; Penelope’s guardian, Huntingdon, had found a replacement.
When Lettice’s first husband had left instructions for his children to join the household of the Earl of Huntingdon, he had also given him control of their futures. Lettice’s daughters and her younger son, Walter, were completely dependent on him, and relied on him in order to secure their future prospects. Penelope had barely settled at court when Huntingdon began looking towards her marital prospects. In March, he believed that he had found the perfect candidate.
On 27 February, Robert Rich, second Baron Rich, died. His heir was his second son, also called Robert, for whom the succession to the barony of Rich had come as something of a surprise.16 Only the previous year, in 1580, Robert’s elder brother had died, and the death of his father in quick succession meant that in a short space of time Robert had had the title of third Lord Rich thrust upon him. Robert was three years older than Penelope, and hailed from Essex, where his family estate was the former monastery of Leez Priory, near Chelmsford.17 He had also inherited a vast number of other estates, mainly in Essex, rendering him an annual income of £5,000 (£746,500). This eye-watering sum rendered the as-of-yet-unmarried Lord Rich one of the most wealthy and eligible bachelors in the country – little wonder that the Earl of Huntingdon saw him as a great prize for Penelope.
Besides his wealth, though, Lord Rich had little to commend him. His grandfather, Sir Richard Rich, was an unpleasant character, who had gained notoriety during the reign of Henry VIII for supplying false evidence against Sir Thomas More.18 His father did not have much more to recommend him, for although he had been among the gentlemen who had accompanied Penelope’s father to Ireland in 1573, it had not been long before he craved his home comforts and returned to England. Robert had not been educated to anywhere near the same standard as Penelope, but Huntingdon approved of the fact that he was a vociferous Puritan. He was also an unsavoury character who had a reputation as a bully – he had once resorted to violence when attempting to evict a family from his lands, and his underhand tactics were well known.
A match between Penelope and Lord Rich is unlikely to have been one that either Lettice or Walter would have considered – especially since both parents had probably had their hearts set elsewhere. However, Lettice no longer had any legal say in the matter, and given that she was at this time awaiting the outcome of Lord Denbigh’s birth, her mind was occupied elsewhere. Huntingdon swiftly took matters into his own hands, without first consulting Lettice or Penelope. Just eleven days after Lord Rich had succeeded to his father’s
title, Huntingdon wrote to Sir Francis Walsingham, explaining that Rich was ‘one in years very fit for my Lady Penelope Devereux’, and asking him to intervene for ‘the favour and liking of her Majesty’ to the match.19 The Queen duly gave her blessing, perhaps perceiving that, with her father dead and her mother in disgrace, Penelope’s fortunes rested on her ability to make a good marriage. Although Penelope had little in terms of material wealth, she was born of good family, something that Rich could not have failed to value.
There is no record of how Lettice felt about her daughter’s impending marriage, but Penelope’s feelings on the matter are clear. She was expected to obey the arrangements that her guardian had put in place, but, like her mother, Penelope had spirit. Rather than accepting the husband that had been chosen for her, she bravely defied the conventions of the day by voicing her objections even as she stood at the altar: sadly, her feelings of despair were paid little heed. On 1 November, Lord Rich and Penelope were married. Lettice was not there to witness this unhappy moment in Penelope’s life, which was probably conducted at court. However, her son Essex was certainly in attendance, splashing out on a lavish new suit of clothes for the occasion. For Penelope, it was not a cause for celebration; Lettice no doubt heard first-hand an account of her eldest daughter’s wedding day, later recorded by Penelope’s second husband. He wrote that, ‘A lady of great birth and virtue, being in the power of her friends, was by them married against her will unto one against whom she did protest at the very solemnity and ever after.’20
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