The Dark and the Light

by Josephine Bell

  ‘She that is known as Cunning Mary? Is that the one hath helped me until now?’

  Mistress Turner nodded but did not answer. She avoided straight answers, though she had no real fear of being overheard, especially not in her own home, where every room was searched every day for concealed eavesdroppers, engines of war to blow up the house or other infernal devices.

  ‘I will find and talk with a certain apothecary, by name James Franklin. He knew my husband, who was a doctor of physic. He knows what he is contriving, which Mary doth not, with her herbal brews and such-like. Old women’s tales, translated into foul messes over her fire.’

  Lady Essex frowned a little.

  ‘The apothecary is the better choice,’ she said. ‘I would have no pickings from the hedgerows mixed by a half-crazed beldame. Your Master Franklin sounds professional. But no names, Anne, as you value your life. I will not come here for a time. You may send me the material, whatever it may be, by this apothecary’s boy, if he have one. Well wrapped up, addressed to his lordship. But with spoken orders to deliver it personally into my hands.’

  ‘There will be charges,’ Mistress Turner reminded her, watching the countess make preparations to leave.

  ‘Naturally,’ Lady Essex replied coldly, but without halting her progress to the door.

  ‘Half in deposit for the negotiations, the manufacture of the compound and the delivery to me. The rest upon safe delivery to you of the said compound.’

  ‘The amount?’

  ‘Twenty pounds now, my lady. Twenty pounds later.’

  Lady Essex came back into the room. These terms were stiffer than any she had paid upon earlier occasions. But the goal was greater, more to be desired. The risk, too. She had money with her and she paid. After all, there was a very complete understanding between them and she trusted Mistress Turner.

  Lady Essex told none, not even Robbie Carr, of the plans she had made, nor of the steps she had taken to execute them. Her fresh plans had been made because Lord Salisbury’s death had removed one pair of shrewd eyes, one acute mind that had never been deceived about her, never influenced or misled by her beauty.

  But this was not enough. She must move still with great caution. Though Cecil had gone there was another good brain and clear appreciation working impartially in her case. Prince Henry, who had known Essex well when they were lads together, would have his own view of it. She could not attack openly until the grounds for divorce had been well and truly laid. The impotence she would complain of must be proved as fact. If one drug would not serve another must be found. Both the King and the Prince must find her cause true in logic and in science.

  There was as well a further obstacle, an active, ill-intentioned, dangerous one, Sir Thomas Overbury. His great affection for Robbie made him her enemy. She both feared and detested him, jealous of this further proof of Rochester’s ambiguity and determined to end it.

  But how? Her Robbie did not occupy himself with political matters except as they affected himself and his position. He did not, as yet, see any danger there. He did not know and neither did Lady Essex that the King, in his Progress, had already met a young man, George Villiers, who had been presented to him in the simple hope that the latter’s unusual beauty of face and form might catch the eye of the monarch. As it had. No word of this meeting had come to Lord Rochester; there was nothing he knew of to disturb his present good fortune. He had money and lands and looked to have more. Tom Overbury might lecture him and warn him with vague threats of dangerous intrigue. But that was Tom’s way; it always had been. A clumsy courtier, if still a good and loyal friend.

  ‘And yet I believe he will do thee ill,’ Lady Frances told her lover. ‘I fear his constant presence. He hath no office to keep him at Court. He could not afford it were it not for thy generosity.’

  ‘He hath been my friend for very long, madam,’ Robbie said. ‘I like the clumsy, loud-mouthed oaf. He loves me well and I him.’

  ‘Yet he consorts with thy enemy. Archbishop Abbot favours him, so my Lord Chancellor Ellesmere will have nought done against him.’

  ‘Done?’ Rochester frowned at her. ‘There is no question of action. And what action? To forbid him his friends, when they be of the greatest in the land? To forbid him the Court? That would be an insult to those friends even the King would hesitate to order.’

  Lady Essex saw that she had gone too far.

  ‘I mean ‘‘said’’. Nought said against him.’

  ‘Well,’ Rochester answered, laughing. ‘Of speech we need take no heed at all. Words may wound but are never fatal of themselves, only as they lead on to deeds.’

  Lady Essex saw that she made no progress and ended the conversation. But she took her complaint to her father, who carried it to Lord Northampton, head of the Catholic faction, who called some of the members of his party into consultation to put the matter before them.

  ‘As things stand,’ he told them, ‘my Lord Rochester is unwilling to join us whole-heartedly because of the affection he holds for this young man, who doth flaunt his opinions before all and sundry and particularly those who be against our religious beliefs and behaviour.’

  ‘Shame on him!’ muttered several voices.

  ‘Shame indeed, but since we have no direct evidence of his treasonable speech and cannot therefore have him indicted for it, we must of necessity bide our time and wait for his indiscretion to grow as it most surely will.’

  ‘Cannot we arrange for this? Must we wait altogether upon chance?’

  The old Earl of Northampton smiled. In a lifetime of intrigue he had often arranged events to his liking, with the help of various presents, made in money, land, concession of privilege or some other advantage. In this he did not act differently from others of his time. Only he displayed more cunning in his arrangements and so had more success with them.

  In the present matter he showed all his old resource in spite of increasing age and feebleness of health.

  ‘Arrange, yes. But not directly. My Lord Suffolk, your daughter is altogether with us, is she not, in her disapproval of young Overbury?’

  ‘Altogether, my lord,’ answered Suffolk calmly, not disclosing that it was his daughter whose complaints had brought together this meeting.

  ‘And my Lady Frances Howard is—has much influence with—my Lord Rochester?’

  ‘Indeed, that she hath. Enough to break altogether his allegiance to his friend and his friend’s friend, those fanatical Protesters, led by our present Archbishop of the English Church.’

  ‘There is to be episcopacy in Scotland, too,’ said Lord Suffolk vaguely. ‘Established this very year, they say.’

  ‘Which doth not in any way affect our present problem,’ Lord Northampton rebuked him. ‘It appears to be the case that Lady Frances would quite easily free my Lord Rochester from his Protestant chains were it not for this upstart, Overbury. With Rochester firmly of our faction, doth that not make us more secure with the King? He sees the Spanish envoy. Gondomar, wellnigh daily. He hath a real inclination towards the true Faith, as his Queen takes no pains to conceal.’

  ‘I believe she already owns allegiance to His Holiness,’ said Lord Oxford, speaking for the first time.

  Northampton made no reply to this. It was taken for granted at the Court, but not spread abroad, where the Catholic party was so widely suspected and disliked.

  ‘Therefore,’ Northampton continued, ‘we must move slowly, warily and not at all openly to remove Sir Thomas Overbury from favour with my Lord Rochester and more importantly with his Majesty. For that way Rochester must of necessity give him up entirely. Now this may be done by discrediting him, but since there seems to be no real guile in the foolish fellow, but all noise and bombast, it will not be easy. On the other hand, by seeming to promote, we may remove him altogether.’

  ‘How?’ Lord Suffolk asked. Intricate problems of seamanship came to him to be solved naturally, without much trouble, but problems of statesmanship, political intrigue and such like, bewilde
red him utterly.

  ‘It hath occurred to me,’ Lord Northampton told him, much to the pleasure of those others who were listening. ‘that the death of my Lord Salisbury will mean certain changes in the great offices of state. Now we know that his Majesty’s ambassador in Holland, Sir Ralph Winwood, is like to be recalled. For several reasons.’

  ‘Over the proposed marriage of the Princess Elizabeth for one,’ suggested an older peer.

  ‘Exactly. A good and predictable reason, my lord, among others not so good for us, but equally predictable. This will leave an office empty. Suppose, through Rochester, we seek to promote Sir Thomas Overbury to that position of ambassador?’

  ‘Favour the man? To what purpose?’

  ‘To remove him out of England.’

  ‘Would that not suit our purpose?’ Northampton said smoothly. ‘A very comfortable and lucrative exile.’

  ‘He would not accept it,’ Lord Suffolk declared.

  Lord Northampton’s old face creased into a smile that had so little of mirth in it and so much of secret malice that his followers shrank from him a little.

  ‘And that would suit our purpose above all else,’ he said. ‘For that would be an insult to the King and would as such be presented to his Majesty.’

  While this conversation and others like it took place among the Catholic party in the days that followed, the Leslies made all preparation for their return to Oxford. But before they went a parcel of letters arrived at Alderman Leslie’s house, sent up from the Pool, where a ship had come in from James Town in Virginia. One letter was addressed to the alderman in his capacity as a member of the Virginia Company. This was an account of the general progress of the colony’s affairs, issued by the present governor to each of the committee sitting in London. Another was a private letter for Alderman Leslie from Alec Nimmo, his former business assistant and friend, who after many adventures had settled at James Town. A third letter was addressed to Sir Francis Leslie, care of his cousin, from the same Alec Nimmo.

  This was the second news Francis had had since his reconciliation with his much-loved college friend, when the latter had made a brief visit to England to receive the King’s pardon for the crime that had set him upon his adventures. Francis knew of Alec’s visit to Scotland. He knew that Alec would make no demand, would fully maintain, the present secret regarding his son’s bastardy.

  ‘Letters again from the New World, I hear,’ Katharine said, meeting Francis on his way upstairs from his cousin’s room.

  ‘My Cousin Angus hath a full account of progress sent to all members of the governing body of the Virginia Company,’ he answered, moving to let her pass him.

  ‘But you are no member.’

  ‘This letter came with his. It is from Sandy Nimmo.’

  ‘Master Nimmo continues to succeed in his venture, I trust,’ she said politely, in no way put out.

  ‘I have not yet read his letter,’ Francis answered. He made no move to break the seal and give her the contents, so after a brief pause, she sighed in an artificial manner and went on down the stairs.

  For an instant Francis was overcome by such sudden overwhelming rage that he nearly ran down after her, to seize her, turn her about, push her away from him, fling her down to the hall, break her neck, anything to destroy the cold contempt her manner expressed both of him and his friend. She had betrayed them both and cared nothing for either. Yet she was tied to him by unbreakable bonds.

  As he stood, still trembling with rage, still watching Katharine’s deliberately slow descent, a light foot sounded on the stair above him. Looking up he saw Lucy Butters, who stopped at sight of his anguished face, her own cheeks growing pale.

  ‘Lucy!’ Francis cried harshly. ‘I have news here from Virginia from Sandy. A second letter from James Town.’

  ‘From Master Nimmo?’ Lucy asked, dreading to hear fresh news of calamity from that quarter. ‘I trust he be well and prospering?’

  ‘I will open and tell thee,’ Francis said, already soothed by the sight and sound of his little uncomplicated friend, as he thought of her.

  He did so, plucking open the letter, spreading it, beginning to read aloud, with pauses to suggest private matters among the items of general interest. He was well aware, glancing down from time to time, that Katharine had not left the hall but had moved back against the lower balusters to hear what he said.

  ‘“As I have already told thee our James Town is so much improved we have already a sufficient harvest of corn of our own that we need not buy from the Indians to carry us through the next winter. My Polly,’’—that is his wife, Lucy, mother of his two children—‘‘is well and the bairns grow apace. My business is restored but I intend to go later with Captain Argall to the old colony at Sagadohoc, where he says the cod are in great numbers and the ocean free, not pent in as this bay, great as it be. All is well with us—we are equal in our families, my well-beloved friend. I trust—”’

  Francis broke off. He had heard Kate leave the hall, moving fast now, with a rustle of skirts and heels clicking on the stone floor. He lifted his eyes from the letter to those of the girl beside him and found that tears had gathered there and began to fall as he continued to stare.

  ‘There is here no matter for weeping, Lucy,’ he said, very gently. ‘’Tis good news from Alec, my child.’

  ‘’Tis excellent news,’ she sobbed, ‘and I am truly rejoiced at it.’

  She turned and ran swiftly back up the stairs to reach the shelter of her own room, while Francis continued more slowly to his own, where he sat down to read Alec’s news more carefully and more fully. James Town prospered, the Indians were quiet if not friendly. There was talk of moving the settlement higher up the James River to avoid the diseases still formidable upon the present site. If that happened, Alec wrote, he might himself move farther north outside the bay to that colony of Sagadohoc he had mentioned earlier. But nothing was yet decided. The tobacco, under Master Rolfe’s management, was greatly increased in acreage. Also the cotton.

  Success, expansion, rewarding effort. A New World indeed. No cause here for tears and yet, as Francis folded the letter at last to put it away in safety, he felt his own eyes grow wet. Dear little Lucy, with her tender heart. No child now, but a grown woman, able to understand adult griefs and losses. Equal families. How had Sandy put it—‘I shall hope, too, for further increase. My Poll hath no fears for herself in the matter and I need no encouragement—’

  Oh yes, Lucy had a clear knowledge of the matter, though he had not read this passage to her. A grown woman, a very lovely face, a very lovely gentle soul. His little uncomplicated friend? God strike him for a fool, a blind, deaf, book-ridden fool!

  Shutting up the letter Francis moved to the window of the room to look out northwards across the gardens of the merchants’ substantial houses to the London Wall and the hills far beyond. He leaned his forehead on the mullioned panes and groaned aloud.

  Chapter Eight

  Though all was now ready for the Leslies to set out for Oxford a short postponement held them in London a few days longer.

  Alderman Leslie, as a member of the Virginia Company, was personally concerned in the trade with James Town. While Alec Nimmo was in London he had discussed with the alderman how dried and salted fish might be carried to the Port of London. If Newfoundland could send to Bristol, why not James Town to Billings Gate in the Pool? The King had heard of this proposal among others and had sent for Master Leslie to hear more of them, for he had never forgotten the young Scot with his red curls, his quick temper, his open smile and his dangerous blue eyes.

  So Alderman Leslie obeyed the summons and took his cousin Francis with him, because the latter had more news of Alec than he had found in his own letter from the far-off settlement.

  King James received them very graciously. He listened without interrupting to all the alderman had to tell him. He nodded appreciation from time to time and at the end of the spoken report thanked Master Leslie very cordially.

&nb
sp; ‘And now, Sir Francis,’ he said, turning to the young man, ‘what hast to tell us of thy friend? He profits from our pardon? He is grateful for our mercy?’

  ‘He will never forget it, your Majesty,’ Francis said, hoping he would not be asked to quote any portion of Alec’s letter, for it contained only one reference to his crime and its fortunate outcome, and that in connection with the birth of his second child by his wife, Polly. ‘The whole colony thrives, your Majesty. In particular the cotton that they now spin and weave into cloth very suitable for their hot summers.’

  ‘Their winters are colder than ours, we believe,’ the King said, smiling. ‘So they must have our wool still to keep them warm for that season. What else?’

  ‘A certain Master Rolfe hath cultivated another weed, one that the naturals burn in the bowls of their long peace pipes, as they call them. As soothing, as pleasant as the Spanish tobacco used so long by our wealthier citizens, for it hath been too dear for the common man since ever it came to us from the Spanish Main.’

  The King’s manner changed.

  ‘This is ill news, sir,’ he said, his face growing red with anger. ‘An evil, choking, foul-smelling weed. A dirty habit, sir, and a harmful we would hazard a guess. A habit, we have noticed, that once acquired men find it hard to forgo. We will never have tobacco smoked at our court. In what way doth this man—Rolfe you said, prosper?’

  ‘I gather he knows how to produce a finer crop than the Caribbean Islands can provide. I believe he hath sent samples—’

  Francis looked imploringly at his kinsman, who responded at once, deferential, even ingratiating, but clearly determined to support a likely trade. The samples had indeed arrived and had been sent to various merchants who dealt with the Spanish product to find out their opinion. Though the distance it must be sent was no way different, duty upon it was absent or trivial. Smoking tobacco in long pipes, like those of the Indians, was become quite fashionable in the City and among certain of the aristocracy and court gentlemen. Besides among seafaring folk, adventurers of all kinds and their friends, who had used it for many years.