by Tracy Borman
Frances eyed him steadily. ‘That may be so, but my husband and I plan to return to his estates. I will have no further part in your schemes. God alone knows the secrets of my heart.’
William took a step closer. ‘Ah, but I know them too, Lady Frances.’ His eyes blazed into hers.
With the slightest nod, he turned and walked slowly away, towards the riverside gate. Frances watched as his silhouette merged with the darkening shadows.
Acknowledgements
The crafting of this novel, like the first, was greatly assisted by Julian Alexander and Nick Sayers, my wonderful agent and editor. I am deeply indebted to them both for their inspirational ideas and steady, patient guidance throughout. The Hodder team has been as brilliant as ever, and I would particularly like to thank Cicely Aspinall, Hannah Bond, Jeannelle Brew, Caitriona Horne and Rebecca Mundy. Will Speed has designed a beautiful cover, and I am extremely grateful to Hazel Orme for her meticulous and insightful copyediting. On the other side of the Atlantic, my editor George Gibson has been unfailingly supportive and encouraging. I am also grateful to Ben Clark and Isabelle Wilson of The Soho Agency for their help and efficiency.
Huge thanks are owed to my fellow historians Alison Weir, Sarah Gristwood, Nicola Tallis and Kate Williams for being so generous with their time and support. I would also like to thank my colleagues at Historic Royal Palaces who read the first novel and were kind enough to give me such positive feedback, in particular: Nicola Andrews, Binita Dave, Sharon Kerrigan, James Peacock, Aileen Peirce, Adrian Phillips, Jo Thwaites and Jo Wilson. I am indebted to Rhona MacCallum for organising such fantastic events, and to the numerous HRP Members who have attended, among the most faithful of whom are Miriam and Peter Barton, Maureen and Anthony Hall and John Harding.
My friends and family have, as ever, been unstinting in their support. Stephen Kuhrt has again assumed the role of Principal Cheerleader – one in which he will never be surpassed. I cannot thank him enough for being such an assiduous and enthusiastic reader of all the early drafts, and for providing such encouraging feedback. Knowing of my sweet tooth, Beverley Lawrence kept me supplied with a delicious array of cakes, while Jeroen Verschaeren sent me a consignment of Belgian chocolate to sustain me during the edit, for all of which I am eternally grateful.
Each book presents a challenge of logistics, and for solving many of those I would like to thank my parents, Joan and John Borman. Despite the frequency with which it has been given over the years, I will never take their support for granted. I was very touched by the lovely feedback that my sister Jayne Ellis gave me on the first novel and hope that she will enjoy this one just as much. I will always be grateful for the interest and encouragement that my late father-in-law John Ashworth showed in my work, and for the encouragement of my mother-in-law Joy.
Those who live with me have had to bear the brunt of my frustration when the words wouldn’t flow, and of the long hours spent hidden away in my office. Heartfelt love and thanks to Tom and Eleanor, as always. Finally, to my furry companions, Wiggins and her nemesis Cromwell (Thomas, not Oliver), for providing much-needed light relief.
Author’s Note
As with The King’s Witch, the first book in my trilogy about the Gunpowder Plot and its aftermath, I have stayed as close as possible to the known history when crafting the narrative and characters. Details relating to my heroine, Frances Gorges, are scarce, but we know that she did marry Thomas Tyringham, Master of the Buckhounds to James I. His original home, Tyringham Hall in Buckinghamshire, no longer exists and the beautiful Palladian-style house that now stands in its place was designed by Sir John Soane in 1792.
Frances’s parents, Sir Thomas Gorges and Helena (née Snakenborg), Marchioness of Northampton, did not win favour with the first Stuart king. Possibly this was thanks to Sir Thomas having played a part in the arrest of James’s mother Mary, Queen of Scots, after the Babington Conspiracy in 1586. James did not keep him in office as Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and, despite being one of the highest-ranking ladies in the kingdom, Helena was not appointed a member of Queen Anne’s entourage. Instead, the couple were assigned the keepership of Richmond Palace and rarely attended court. Helena did, though, help to broker the proposed marriage between Princess Elizabeth and Prince Gustavus of Sweden.
Edward Gorges was the second-born of Frances’s five brothers and became heir to their parents’ estate upon the death of the eldest son, Francis, in 1599. He was created Baron Longford in November 1611 – one of numerous others to be thus ennobled around this time. The sale of baronetcies was a deliberate ploy by Robert Cecil to generate funds for the crown, as well as to buy the loyalty of well-affected Catholics. The first round of creations between May and November 1611 saw eighty-eight baronets purchasing this new hereditary rank, twenty-six of whom came from recusant backgrounds. At the centre of the cohort was an interlinked network of families that had been implicated in the Gunpowder Plot.
The turbulent years following the discovery of the Plot in 1605 provided a rich seam of inspiration for the novel. The king’s persecution of Catholics intensified and the 1606 Oath of Allegiance (or Obedience) required all his subjects by law to affirm their loyalty to him. Although the English Catholics were driven even further underground, their networks remained strong, and rumours of plots to depose James and replace him with a sovereign of the ‘true faith’ remained rife. Anne Vaux was typical of those who refused to be cowed by the persecutions. She was arrested in March 1606 on suspicion of involvement with the Gunpowder Plot, but was released a few months later. Her experience did not deter her from practising the Catholic faith, however, and she was convicted of recusancy almost twenty years later.
Although there is little evidence to suggest that Arbella Stuart was a Catholic, she did become a figurehead for those who were opposed to James’s rule. Her clandestine marriage to William Seymour, who was sixth in line to the throne, in June 1610 led to their arrest and imprisonment. What happened next reads like fiction: Arbella escaped dressed as a man and made for the Channel, where she hoped to intercept her husband, who had succeeded in breaking out of the Tower. She was overtaken by the king’s men and brought back to London, but Seymour managed to reach safety at Ostend.
As well as threats to James’s throne, the years following 1605 were dominated by the question of whom his daughter Elizabeth would marry. All of the suitors I mention in the narrative were considered, but there were others: Frederic Ulric, Duke of Brunswick-Wolftenbuttel, Prince Maurice of Nassau, Lord Howard of Walden and Otto, Prince of Hesse. Queen Anne did object to the idea of her daughter marrying Prince Gustavus on the grounds that Sweden was then at war with her native Denmark. Despite his unwavering commitment to the Protestant faith, King James did give serious consideration to the suit of Victor Amadeus, Prince of Piedmont and nephew of the King of Spain.
The king’s obsession with witches showed little sign of abating during the period covered by this novel. The most notorious witchcraft trial – that of the Pendle Witches – took place in 1612 and resulted in the execution of eight women and two men. Meanwhile, another, less well-known case was unfolding at the Earl of Rutland’s estate at Belvoir. I hinted at this in the narrative and will bring it to life in the third novel.
Queen Anne’s relationship with her husband deteriorated sharply after the birth and death of their last child, Sophia, in 1606. Anne had almost died during the birth and her decision to have no more children widened the gulf between her and James. She spent most of her time apart from her husband, at Greenwich Palace and then Somerset House, which she renamed Denmark House.
James’s relationship with his eldest son and heir, Prince Henry, was little better. Although they both strictly upheld the Protestant doctrine and shared a passion for hunting, the two men had a series of high-profile clashes. Henry disapproved of the way that his father conducted the court and harboured an intense aversion towards his close favourite, Robert Carr. By contrast, as I have illustrated in the narrative, Henry adored Sir Walter R
aleigh and bitterly resented the king for refusing to release him. The prince is said to have disliked his younger brother Charles – who suffered fragile health and was slow to learn – and made fun of him in front of the court on at least one occasion. Henry’s early death in November 1612 was probably due to typhoid fever, but there were rumours of poisoning.
The other notable demise covered by this novel is that of the king’s chief minister, Robert Cecil. Although he had brought the Gunpowder Plot to light, Cecil experienced mixed fortunes in the years that followed. James increasingly preferred the company of his favourites and poked fun at his ‘little Beagle’ in public. Nevertheless, he continued to entrust him with affairs of state, telling him: ‘Though you are but a little man, I shall shortly load your shoulders with business.’ Worn down by the burdens of office, Cecil suffered from increasing bouts of ill health and died (probably of cancer) in May 1612 at the age of forty-eight. His private chapel at Hatfield House was found to be adorned with lavish decorations more akin to Catholicism than the Reformed faith. There is no other suggestion that Cecil was a closet Catholic, but this presented too delicious a prospect to ignore.
