The Poison Bed: 'Gone Girl meets The Miniaturist'

by E C Fremantle

  Anne was rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m in such a mess.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Frances’s tone was soothing. ‘Just stay silent on the matter. No one needs to know you consulted Forman, or Franklin, or anyone else of their ilk. And if Franklin starts to sing, who will believe him over you?’ Anne was puffing out short, shallow breaths. ‘Hold yourself together. I’ll make sure you’re home to see the birth of this one.’ Frances patted her belly. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘They’ll hang me, Frances.’

  ‘Of course they won’t.’ She met Anne’s distress with a smile. ‘Listen, Weston’s a lost cause now and Franklin can be sacrificed, if need be.’ In response to Anne’s look of shock she saw she’d gone too far and added, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. Don’t you understand? It’s either you or him.’

  Anne had begun to quake. Frances held her firmly by the shoulders. ‘Listen to me, Weston’s already tried to implicate you and don’t imagine that monster Franklin will do you any favours either – he’s a man who trades in poison, for God’s sake. Open your eyes, Anne. This is about your survival now.’

  ‘But I am guilty. I did everything your great-uncle asked of me without question.’ She was racked with sobs. ‘I’m going to Hell.’

  Frances waited, before saying, ‘Uncle was a wicked man who coerced you. You only did as he said. You were terrified of him. We all were.’

  Anne calmed down eventually and Frances led her from the kitchen into the hall, where the guards took hold of her, shoving her towards the door.

  ‘Let her go,’ Frances barked. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves, treating a woman in such a way. Mistress Turner will go with you without a fuss.’ They obeyed her command without hesitation.

  Anne went in silence, but as she passed through the door she glanced back at Frances with a look of sheer terror.

  It was the identical look that Frances’s little mirror image had worn when she was pleading for her life to be spared.

  Him

  ‘Wake up. Wake up, Robert.’ Frances was shaking me urgently. I had a vague memory of having already been disturbed that morning. ‘Something’s happened.’ I pulled myself up, dazed with sleep. She placed my writing box on my lap, drawing the bed curtains wide so the light streamed in, temporarily blinding me. ‘I need you to sign a warrant permitting a search of Weston’s house. I’ve called for Harry to witness it.’

  ‘I don’t understand?’ I was still fuzzy with sleep. ‘Why?’ She took out a sheet of paper and a pen, dipping it and holding it out for me to take. Black spots dripped on the sheets.

  ‘Weston’s being held and now Anne’s been arrested.’

  In my head, I was running through the several Annes we knew. ‘You mean your Anne?’

  ‘Of course my Anne!’

  ‘But whatever for?’

  ‘I don’t know, Robert. She thinks there might be letters at Weston’s house that make it seem as if she was involved.’

  ‘Involved in what?’ I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.

  ‘Thomas Overbury’s death, of course.’ She sounded impatient, annoyed by my sluggish understanding, but I supposed her distressed by events. She and Anne Turner were as close as sisters. The whole business was encroaching on our world, creeping in through the cracks, like a noxious smoke.

  ‘Was she involved?’

  ‘No.’ Frances seemed appalled by my question. ‘But Weston worked for Anne, before – before … You know.’

  I did know. Before Northampton had employed him as Thomas’s gaoler. I was beginning to see the web of connections around Thomas’s death that had previously been invisible to me. I knew that Northampton had employed Anne Turner years before, as Frances’s nurse, and – it struck me like a jab to the gut – also much more recently, as her companion. It was becoming increasingly clear that, as I had suspected, Northampton was the spider at the heart of the web – a wider web than I’d ever believed. All the threads ended with him. ‘What exactly is in the letters?’

  She threw up her hands. ‘I’m as confused as you, Robert. But Anne insisted that those letters will send her to the gallows.’ She looked at me, her eyes glossy with distress. ‘We can’t let that happen. I don’t care if she’s guilty. I have to do everything I can to save her.’

  It seemed impossible to think of the angelic Anne Turner being involved in such a heinous deed. ‘Even if she is’ – thoughts were still forming in my mind – ‘then surely she can only be guilty of acting on another’s orders.’ I didn’t feel I could mention Northampton by name. Frances might have broken down altogether if I’d suggested her great-uncle was guilty of more than merely ensuring Thomas’s incarceration.

  ‘Please just write it, I’m begging you. We can’t lose any time. We can’t risk the investigators getting their hands on them. I can’t lose Anne.’ She was pawing at my shoulder. I found myself strangely renewed. Beside my wife, who was normally so contained and resourceful, needing – desperately needing – me to take the reins, I felt in control.

  ‘I don’t know about this.’ My pen hovered above the paper. A concern was nagging at me.

  ‘You don’t know about what?’ She sounded on the brink of despair.

  ‘If there’s a warrant with my seal on it, it may reflect badly on me – make it seem that I have something to hide.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’ She had calmed down and was running her hand over my back. I could feel the firm curve of her swollen belly against my shoulder and thought of the life growing there. ‘As a Privy Council member, you must sign warrants all the time. Such things are part of your official responsibilities, aren’t they? And my brother as a witness. It’ll be quite correct.’

  She was right. But still I hesitated.

  ‘You’re behaving like a guilty man, Robert.’ She jumped back, snatching her hands away from me, looking at me, seemingly horrified. ‘I don’t want to believe you were involved. Not you. Not my Robert.’

  ‘No.’ It was not the first time she had looked on me with doubt in recent weeks. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just I’m mad with worry.’ She slumped against my shoulder. ‘Robert, I need you.’

  The way she said it, as if her very existence depended on me, touched me more profoundly than anything she had ever said or done before. I felt an inner rage boil for the man who had broken her. If he hadn’t been dead already, I would have marched then and there to Northampton House and run my sword through his ribs right to the hilt.

  ‘I need you,’ she repeated, in a whisper.

  ‘I know, my darling, I know.’ I imagined Northampton’s warm blood soaking into my cuff. I wrote out the warrant, signed my name, and she heated the wax, dripping it over the paper for me to push my seal into it.

  ‘Dress yourself. I can hear Harry arriving.’

  I pulled on some clothes. She opened the window to tell her brother she was coming down, then whipped away the paper and rushed out of the door with it while I struggled to get my boots on.

  Harry was already countersigning the warrant when I arrived in the hall, sealing it with his arms beside my own. I’d always known, from the way he looked at her and hung on her words, that Harry Howard idolized his sister. He smiled – a copy of her smile – rose and pressed me into a hug, patting my back, saying, ‘We’re going to have to make haste to Royston.’

  ‘To Royston?’ I was confused and listening with one ear to Frances, who was briefing two of the servants to go and search Weston’s house.

  ‘Any letters, any written matter at all, bring it back to me,’ she was saying, as she bundled them out of the door. ‘Quick as you can.’

  Harry was explaining: ‘I’ve just heard that Coke left for Royston yesterday. He’s gone to ask the King if he can appoint the lord chancellor for help with the investigation. Ellesmere is an enemy of the Howards. It’s clear what’s going on.’

  I wished it were as clear to me as it was to Harry. ‘I don’t understand.’

&nb
sp; ‘Can’t you see?’ he snapped. ‘They’re trying to bring us all down – starting with you. We’ve got to stop them. You must persuade the King not to sanction Ellesmere’s appointment.’

  ‘Why would he listen to me? I doubt he’d even let me see him.’

  ‘You can say you’ve come to make amends. Think, it’s what he wants – to have you back in the fold. Get on your knee, tell him you’ll apologize to Villiers. It’ll make him happy.’

  ‘But it’s a full day’s ride to Royston.’ The fall of the Howards was being masterfully orchestrated, all Northampton’s people under arrest, another enemy brought in to investigate and me at the heart of it. Fear churned through me.

  ‘Coke left yesterday by carriage and he’ll certainly have stopped for the night. It’s not yet eight. If we make haste we might even get there before him.’ He was already striding towards the door. ‘I have horses waiting ready in the yard.’

  I turned to Frances, a forlorn figure standing beneath my portrait, loath to leave her in such a state of distress and so heavily pregnant. But she insisted I go. ‘Don’t worry about me, my love. This is far more important. I can manage without you for a day or so.’ My wife had hidden reserves of stoicism I could only dream of.

  We arrived at Royston, exhausted. I had some trouble gaining admittance and was left loitering in the hall while a message was sent up to James. Once I was allowed in I found him with Villiers, laughing together at some private joke. They were both in their riding clothes, spattered head to toe in mud. On seeing me, Villiers stood, dipping his head in respect. His pointed politeness was an irritant but I tried not to let myself be distracted from my mission by my festering animosity.

  ‘Give us a moment, would you, George?’ the King said, and Villiers obediently left by the door to the bedchamber that used to be mine – that same room into which Thomas had burst four years before. Images from that encounter were swirling through my head and I wondered whether, had that not happened, Fate might have followed a different path. A fire roared in the hearth. I was still frozen from the journey and my fingers began to thaw painfully.

  ‘You look terrible, Robbie.’ The affection in his voice gave me a trickle of hope. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Your Majesty –’

  He held up his hand to silence me. ‘Come now, there’s no need for that formality. We are alone. I think you can call me by my given name, don’t you?’

  I wanted to burst out in tears of relief. He poured a cup of something, holding it out for me to take.

  ‘I know I have not been a good servant to you and I want to make amends.’ I sounded pathetic, pleading. ‘I intend to reform myself. I want to apologize to Villiers.’ I sipped the drink. It was warm and sweet.

  He was calm, without the tics and jitters he displayed when he was anxious or overburdened. I should have been glad but I assumed his contentment was derived from the company of George Villiers. ‘I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Robbie – very glad.’ He probed me with a look. ‘Is there something else?’

  ‘I believe Chief Justice Coke has been to see you.’

  ‘Yes, only this afternoon. His visit prevented me changing out of my dirty clothes and now you are here, so I am still covered in filth.’ He laughed but I had the impression that he was annoyed by all the disturbances.

  ‘I understand he is seeking to appoint Ellesmere to the investigatory commission.’ I tried to make myself sound staunch.

  ‘That’s correct. There has been a plethora of revelations about your friend’s death and the case is becoming far too complex for Coke to manage alone. It’s of the utmost importance it is all looked into properly. Now it’s been set in motion, I can’t be seen to be preventing the correct course of justice. I’m sure you agree.’

  I realized I knew very little about the revelations he talked of and feared greatly all the aspersions that must have been cast my way. The blame would be forced on me and I would have no way to defend myself.

  ‘Coke has made inroads,’ he continued, ‘talked to a great many people. I’m told that Overbury’s servant, I forget his name, had some very interesting things to say about you.’ He was running a finger slowly back and forth over his bottom lip. I couldn’t read him as I used to.

  ‘Lawrence Davies? What can he possibly have said about me?’ My voice came out high-pitched, like a child telling a lie.

  ‘He said that it was you who advised Overbury to refuse the embassy to Moscow.’

  My head was thrown into a spin. I was back in Thomas’s lodgings on the last occasion I saw him alive. He was in despair and terrified that misfortune would befall him on his journey to Russia. I remembered then that Davies was in and out, serving us drinks and clearing plates while we talked. I racked my brains for what I’d said, but it was all a blur.

  As if he could read my mind, the King spoke: ‘The fellow told Coke that you said of the embassy, “Don’t go. Go to the Tower and we will get you out.” Is that what you said?’

  ‘Yes, something to that effect. But it’s been taken out of context.’ I was trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. ‘I had gone to Overbury to persuade him to accept the embassy.’ I was reminded that I’d promised Davies a position and done nothing about it, so there would be no goodwill towards me from that quarter.

  I felt off kilter, as if I might collapse. I wondered if Davies had more – letters, perhaps, written evidence – that could throw me in a shady light and made a mental note to contact him, offer him something to mitigate his bad opinion of me. ‘You know’ – I wanted to use James’s name, but something in his expression told me not to, despite what he’d said earlier – ‘we both wanted Overbury out of the country before he spilled any secrets.’

  ‘If you speak for me then you are mistaken.’ His tone was imperious as he shot me a frozen look, and I had to use all the will-power I could muster to hold myself together.

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. I humbly beg your pardon – shouldn’t have put words into your mouth.’

  ‘Oh, Robbie, what has happened to you?’ His face softened and I wondered if I’d imagined that frosty glare.

  ‘This was all Northampton’s doing,’ I blurted. ‘Your investigators will discover that he’s the one with Thomas’s blood on his hands.’

  ‘I think we both know that the whole business is more complicated than that.’ He smiled, as if I was a child, or an idiot. ‘Now, tell me why Ellesmere should not be appointed to the inquiry.’

  I was glad the conversation had turned to the topic I had come to discuss. ‘I fear he will attempt to skew it unnecessarily. Ellesmere is known to have a great antipathy for the Howards – and for me in particular.’

  ‘I know him to be exceedingly reliable.’ James was nodding thoughtfully.

  ‘The Howards will feel alienated if Ellesmere’s appointed. They’re your most loyal servants and wield such great power.’

  ‘Are you telling me who I should trust now? Do you think my judgement skewed?’

  I felt myself slipping out of his orbit. ‘I beg you to reconsider. I will feel I have lost your favour and –’

  He interrupted me, saying that nothing had been decided yet, refusing to talk further on the matter. He began to describe the hunt in detail and it felt like it always had before, which allayed my worries a little, until he told me he had made Villiers his master of the horse.

  ‘So, the rumours are true.’ I lost my self-control, blurting out, ‘Can’t you see what’s happening? My enemies have dealt Villiers up to you. They want me ousted, and you’ve fallen for it.’ It was spilling from me. ‘At least when you chose me it was a free choice.’ I was almost shouting. ‘There was no faction pulling my strings. I truly cared, as if – as if …’ My words died. I couldn’t say, As if you were my father. He didn’t want to think that my love for him had sprung not from passion but from an orphan’s need for paternal care.

  I was surprised to see he was smiling and concluded that he must have enjoyed my
jealousy. ‘Don’t sulk, Robbie. Haven’t I given you enough? I gave you Frances Howard, and goodness knows how much trouble that’s caused. I gave you a multitude of honours. I privileged you above all others.’ He tweaked me under the chin, scraping me with the sharp edge of his ring.

  When I opened the door to leave, Villiers stepped back as if he’d been listening. He had his back against the wall and I stood close enough to make him uncomfortable. ‘Hear anything interesting?’

  All his careful manners fell away as he grabbed me roughly by the arm. ‘Leave us alone. Nobody wants you here.’

  I laughed. ‘Oh, you’re full of yourself now, but you won’t last.’

  He loosened his grip slightly. ‘Why don’t you go back to your whore?’

  With my free hand, I punched him sharply under the ribs making him double over with a groan. ‘Seems you’re a better dancer than a fighter,’ I said, as I walked away, quite confident he’d keep quiet about our little exchange, that he’d be afraid to look a coward.

  It was too late to begin our return journey so Harry and I stayed the night. In the morning, when we were readying to leave James was affectionate, kissing both my cheeks. Villiers had made himself scarce, I noticed, feeling a little twinge of victory.

  James’s last words to me were, ‘I’ll send news about my decision on Ellesmere soon but’ – and he looked me in the eye as he said it – ‘there’s no need to worry about a thing.’

  Consequently, Harry and I were jubilant on the road home. But we had barely been back at Whitehall an hour when a messenger arrived with a letter. It bore the King’s seal. Frances and Harry watched – two pairs of matching eyes – as I opened and read it.

  I felt the blood drop from my face and had to sit.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Harry. ‘What does it say?’

  I couldn’t find a way to tell them. The King must have had the letter written even when he was making the performance of bidding me goodbye, kissing me, looking me in the eye and telling me I hadn’t a thing to worry about. It had all been an act to be rid of me without a scene.