The Poison Bed

by Elizabeth Fremantle

  ‘Thank God,’ I said, only realizing then how great my fears had been that he might suggest something altogether darker. ‘Moscow.’ I was laughing inwardly with relief. ‘Moscow.’ I repeated it like an idiot.

  A blast of wind whipped up, slamming into the window. Northampton leaned down to take up the poker and prod the fire, which responded instantly, cracking as it threw up licks of flame.

  ‘He won’t be able to travel until the worst of the winter is over. But say he left during Lent. That would give ample time for the church commission to do what is necessary to release Frances from her marriage. He’ll be gone several months.’

  ‘He’d be honoured, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, for a man such as he’ – Northampton’s distaste was apparent in his pursed lips – ‘it would be no small thing to lead an embassy. I think you should propose it to the King. He may take a little persuading. Overbury is hardly of high rank. What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t foresee any problems.’ James would be as keen as I, once I divulged to him what was at risk.

  ‘You seem confident. That’s good. You see, if the King offers this ambassadorial role, Overbury will be compelled to accept it.’ The greyhound rested its muzzle in Northampton’s lap.

  ‘And if he refuses?’

  ‘If he refuses, it will be a serious breach of the law. He might end up in prison for a time.’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t refuse it.’ I was sure, absolutely so. Thomas was ambitious enough to grasp at such an opportunity.

  As I made my way back to Whitehall I felt infused with new optimism. Thomas would go to Moscow, the church commission would give Frances her annulment and we would have our marriage.

  And when I explained the circumstances to James, he said, ‘Have the papers drawn up.’ I’d expected him to make more of it. ‘I’ll send the blasted creature to Moscow and that had better be the end of it.’

  It was all so easy, as if he knew of the plan already – too easy, perhaps.

  Her

  Nelly is rocking the wicker cradle with a foot. It rasps out a repetitive creak, ad infinitum. Frances would like to throw it out of the window.

  ‘It scares me,’ says Nelly, ‘that life can be snatched from you like –’ She clicks her fingers. They have been talking about the prince’s death.

  ‘Give me your hand.’ Frances reaches forward, but the girl is reluctant, wants to know why. ‘I can tell you how long you’ll live.’

  Nelly’s eyes are wide with disbelief but she holds out her hand nonetheless. Frances traces her lifeline all the way round to the root of her thumb. ‘You’ll reach an old age. That much is clear. Only...’ She tilts her head, moving Nelly’s hand towards the candle.

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘You have an important choice ahead of you – a lifechanging choice.’ Nelly looks enthralled. ‘See here, this cross.’ Frances points to the place. ‘You must choose between betrayal or loyalty.’

  This seems to make a great impression on the girl, who asks her to explain but Frances can’t, so turns back to the prince. ‘It was a truly terrible loss. Everyone at court was beside themselves. Apart from Uncle, that is.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Nelly is still looking at her palm, as if it is her first encounter with her own hand.

  ‘It made the Essex crowd a spent force overnight. Prince Henry was their great hope, you see. For years they’d been positioning themselves for the moment he came to the throne.’ Though there is no one to hear, she lowers her voice. ‘I shouldn’t be saying this, but when I look back on it, Nelly, I can see how it all worked in Uncle’s favour, all his enemies receding into the background. He always had everything under control.’ Frances feels disloyal casting aspersions about him, even vague ones. Loyalty was the first lesson for the Howards, and God forbid anyone transgressed it.

  ‘Luck was on his side, then.’

  Frances replies, without thinking, ‘Luck had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything.’ Frances remembers that lesson in loyalty being taught to her and suddenly begins to cough, as if her windpipe is waterlogged. Nelly jumps up to pat her on the back, and when the coughing stops, Frances adds, ‘It was God, not luck, who must have been smiling on Uncle.’

  ‘God wasn’t smiling on you, being separated from the man you loved.’

  Frances feels a surge of sentiment for the girl, jumping to her defence no matter what. ‘But I knew the moment I saw Robert at St James’s Palace, from the look he wore, that he’d come back to me, one way or another. Of course, Anne Turner said it was Mary Woods’s spell doing its work. I knew better. It was love – that was all.’

  The baby begins to whimper. Frances wants to cover her ears.

  A trio of Howards waited at Northampton House: Uncle, Father and my brother Harry. Uncle ran a finger down my scrubbed face. ‘As close as you’ll ever be to ordinary.’ I had been instructed to dress as plainly as I could and to cover my hair as Essex was coming with his advisers to discuss our annulment.

  Mother had lent me her pearls. Harry tugged at them. ‘They make you look like someone’s maiden aunt.’ He seemed amused by his new dull sister.

  Master Larkin’s portraits were finished, and made an impressive display along the length of one wall. I wondered what the collective noun for Howards might be: a ‘shrewdness’, perhaps, or a ‘threat’. We could hear the visitors mounting the stairs and I found myself suddenly awash with trepidation. They entered, a solemn crew, Southampton, Pembroke and Essex, unbuckling their swords to leave to one side.

  Essex appeared tense, a frown scored into his forehead. I hadn’t seen him in months and felt a little sorry for him: he was as much a victim of the situation as I. He wouldn’t look my way, hanging back behind Southampton. People said Southampton had been very dashing in his youth. But there was no evidence of his former charm in the man who stood before us with his ruddy complexion and the bitter twist to his mouth. I wondered if having been constantly overlooked for promotion had made him lose his looks.

  Pembroke stared at me as if I were a work of art he wasn’t sure he liked. His face was strangely smooth for a middle-aged man, his beard tamed into a sharp point, and he clutched a small ivory pipe between his lips. I was careful not to meet anyone’s eye, keeping my gaze down, like the docile creature they all suspected I wasn’t.

  The atmosphere was painfully polite as Uncle offered everyone a seat, though I saw my brother Harry and Essex swap noxious looks. I loved Harry for his reckless streak – he would have done anything to protect me – but I willed him not to cause trouble.

  Uncle placed a companionable hand on Southampton’s shoulder and said how deeply sorry he was about the prince. ‘I know how close you were to him. It must have been an even greater shock for you than it was for the rest of us.’

  My father was speculating with Pembroke as to whether Princess Elizabeth’s wedding would go ahead as planned in the light of her brother’s death. ‘I think the English people would like a joyous occasion to take their minds off their grief.’ Pembroke emitted a stream of smoke from his nose. ‘And the princess seems genuinely fond of the boy.’ He sounded quite caught up in the romance but I knew that he’d championed the marriage as a Protestant alliance. In our world there was nothing that wasn’t infected with politics.

  I sat to one side, not at the table. I wasn’t there to say anything, just to appear meek and dumb while the men discussed my future. Essex sat in silence, wearing the look of extreme intractability that I knew only too well, and I couldn’t imagine these men, with their excruciating false courtesy, finding a way to persuade him to release me from my ties.

  But as soon as Uncle suggested they get down to the matter, Southampton announced, ‘I firmly believe we will be able to come to an agreement that is acceptable to both parties.’

  My spirits lifted a little.

  ‘Yes,’ Pembroke added, ‘it is of the utmost importance that ther
e be no stain of humiliation for Lord Essex. If he is deemed to have an impediment to proper consummation, it will impair his chance of a happy union in the future. Obviously, he would like to produce a family and I happen to know, as does Lord Southampton – indeed we have seen it with our own eyes – that Lord Essex is entirely capable of performing the act.’ He spoke as if it pained him to use the phrase, shifting his focus to stuffing the bowl of his pipe. Essex had turned puce with embarrassment, and I wondered if he might burst into one of his tempers for all to see.

  ‘We can testify before the church commission to Lord Essex’s ...’ he seemed to fumble for the correct word ‘... virility.’

  I was trying to avoid my brother’s eye, as I knew we’d succumb to laughter at the idea of quite how they had been witnesses to Essex’s ‘virility’, and imagined it being explained to the bishops on the bench.

  ‘That’s entirely reasonable,’ said Uncle. ‘But I must insist that Lady Frances does not suffer any implication of physical impairment.’ None of them seemed to react to the fact that he hadn’t called me ‘Lady Essex’. ‘I think we all know what I’m getting at.’

  I stared at my hands as they discussed me and set my mind on Robert. He wasn’t to be mentioned. My husband wouldn’t be so keen to give me my liberty if he knew I was to be pinned together with the King’s favourite the minute I was free. But, no matter how discreet we’d been, some people had got wind of it, thanks to Overbury’s loose mouth.

  I had seen the man walking in the gardens. The way was narrow and I girded myself, staking my claim on the centre of the path, so he would have to step back against the hedge when I passed. I stared beyond him but as he neared I caught a whiff of bergamot and encountered his eye long enough to recognize that contemptuous look, remembered the hand pressed over my mouth and the force of his warning. So, he had been working against me longer than I’d known.

  ‘I hear you’re bound for Moscow,’ I said, blocking his path. He mumbled something about it being undecided. ‘You’d better pack warm clothes. I’ve heard of people dying from the cold there.’ His polite mask fell away fleetingly, and he looked shaken. I hadn’t mentioned to Uncle that I’d identified my assailant – too much had happened since.

  Southampton’s fingers, thrumming on the table, drew me back to the room. ‘What we propose,’ he glanced towards Pembroke, who nodded his assent, ‘is that Lord Essex will swear to being able to achieve relations only with women other than his wife. That it is simply a case of physical incompatibility between the couple specifically.’

  ‘Insurmountable physical incompatibility,’ affirmed Pembroke, going on to list various legal precedents.

  I wanted to cheer. At last my future came into vivid focus. Overbury would be in Moscow, my marriage would be undone, then Robert Carr and I would be united. It was all I wanted. My scheming family could play their power games without me.

  ‘I think that seems eminently satisfactory to all parties,’ said Father, who found a rare smile. Hands were shaken on it, promises signed, and the visitors eventually filed out. Essex hadn’t looked at me once.

  ‘Well,’ said Uncle, once they had gone. ‘It seems they are more desperate to undo this thing than I’d thought.’

  Father laughed in a sudden burst. ‘They face a decade in the political wilderness. The King can’t abide them, their champion is dead, and our girl will be in the bed of the King’s closest companion. I think we should drink to our triumph.’

  I found his gloating ugly. ‘You shouldn’t talk of the prince’s death as an advantage. It’s disres–’

  ‘Don’t get high and mighty with me, girl.’ He raised a hand to slap me, but Uncle stepped between us. ‘Just remember you can be pulled down faster than raised up.’

  ‘Now, now.’ Uncle was calm and firm. ‘Harry, would you pass that jug?’ My brother handed round glasses, throwing me a smile. ‘Let’s drink to the smooth untying of our girl’s vows.’

  I drained my glass, unwound Mother’s pearls from my neck, slung them on to the table and left without a word.

  Him

  At Thomas’s lodgings a young servant opened the door. He seemed familiar to me, and when I asked how I knew him, he said, ‘I’m the boy you rescued from a beating a while back. Lawrence Davies.’

  ‘You’ve grown!’ The day came back to me – Thomas’s rudeness to the Queen that had precipitated his expulsion from court. The boy had matured in the two intervening years, had filled out and become quite handsome in a placid sort of way. I wondered what his back looked like and supposed it was striated with silver scars. His face was oval, still smooth with youth, like his hands, but his fingernails were bitten to the quick. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s in a terrible state. I don’t know what to do with him.’

  ‘You mustn’t upset yourself over it.’ I tried to sound untroubled. ‘I’ll make sure this business is sorted out.’

  He didn’t seem reassured as he showed me in and I wished I had a little more confidence myself. Thomas was slumped over the table, amid piles of detritus, an empty flagon tipped up on the floor beside him. I’d rarely ever seen him so much as merry but that day he was dead drunk.

  ‘What dragged you out of Northampton’s arse, Robert Carr ... Lord Rochester, or have you been given a new title yet?’ He was slurring, had a black eye and his coat was torn.

  I had come directly from the celebrations for the departing Princess Elizabeth, who was leaving for Heidelberg with her new husband, and was head to toe in embroidered silks. Jewelled pompoms, the size of cabbages, bounced on my shoes and my dress sword, polished to a high shine, swung on my hip. I wished I’d changed, as the outfit was frivolous and inappropriate for my task. I was concerned it might make Thomas remember what he was missing.

  ‘What happened?’ I stepped towards him, my finger hovering near his bruised eye socket.

  ‘Go away. I’ve nothing to say to you.’ He dropped his head into his arms on the table, hiding his face.

  I opened the window to let in some fresh air, beginning to clear a few things into piles. I called Davies in, asking him to bring a plate of bread and ham and an infusion of ginger, while Thomas continued playing dead. Eventually, once Davies had returned with the food and drink, Thomas sat up and looked at me. ‘So why are you here?’

  ‘Just eat something.’ I pushed the plate towards him. ‘And drink the infusion. It’ll settle your stomach.’ He did as he was told, sullen as an infant. I was struck by the reversal of roles. He had done the same for me many times in the past. ‘Listen. I’m here as your friend.’

  He glared at me. ‘If I remember rightly, the last time I saw you, you slapped my face and as good as said I was dead to you.’

  ‘It’s hardly surprising, Tom. You’d threatened me – and the King. But the situation has changed. I’m here to mend things.’

  ‘I wasn’t born yesterday,’ he snapped. ‘You’re here to persuade me to take the embassy to Moscow. I’m not going. They’ve been here twice.’ He indicated his bruised eye. ‘I’ve already told them I won’t go. I mean Moscow, for God’s sake.’ He pinched his brow, screwing up his eyes, seeming in pain. ‘Just so you can have that little bitch in your bed.’

  ‘Please don’t call her that.’ I kept my calm. ‘You’re going to have to face it. She and I will be wed as soon as she’s free.’ I tried to take his hand but he wouldn’t allow it. ‘I truly wish you would accept it and we could have our friendship back.’

  ‘People like you don’t have friends, only those you can use. You’re just like her – made for each other.’

  His words cut to the bone and it must have been evident in my involuntary wince, for he added, ‘I didn’t mean that. You are one of the few at court who’s not –’ He stopped and rubbed his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Christ, Robin, didn’t you learn anything from me? Those Howards have you dancing to their tune. They’re using you to get to the King. They’ve pimped that girl to you and you’ve fallen for it.’

 
‘You’ve always loathed the Howards.’ My irritation flared but I kept it in check. ‘It’s nothing to do with her family.’

  He made a sardonic snort.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, standing and turning my back, looking out of the window into a courtyard. It was an oasis of peace with the hubbub of the market just visible through the arch beyond. Two maids sat in a splash of spring sun. One was spinning, the other combing wool, and the light spilled from the brick wall bathing them in a pinkish glow. I had a sudden memory of watching my mother spinning–a fragment from deep in my past, for my mother was dead before I’d even learned to speak.

  ‘For God’s sake, take the embassy. If you refuse it there’s nothing I can do to help you.’ I returned to the table. ‘Think of what it’ll do for your career – I mean, an ambassador of the English King. You’ll return and he’ll ennoble you. I’ll make sure of it.’ I was babbling. ‘Baron Overbury – come on.’ I gave his shoulder a little shove. ‘Sounds rather good, don’t you think?’

  ‘Stop it,’ he barked. ‘Just stop.’

  ‘If you don’t go, they’ll throw you in the Tower.’

  ‘You’re one of them, Robin. Can’t you see that?’ His voice was flecked with despair, and shame clouded me. ‘If I’m locked up in the Tower it will have been you who put me there.’ I began to protest but he shouted me down. ‘You can’t go on playing the innocent. You want me out of the way as much as Northampton and the rest of his clan, as much as the King –’

  ‘The King does not want you out of the way.’

  ‘If you believe that you’re more of a fool than I thought. The King is terrified that I’ll spill his secrets.’

  ‘So, rescind your threat – promise him your silence. Write it down and I’ll take it to him myself.’ I knew, as he did, that once words have been said there is no unsaying them.

  We sat in silence for some time. He had picked up a penknife and was carving patterns into the table-top. Davies began to clear away the dishes, moving discreetly so as not to interfere.