Arbella

by Georgina Lee

  She reached down to the inside of her gown and produced a crucifix, kissing it quickly before returning it to its hiding place. So my suspicions were correct; I did not know what to say, but I was anxious for her, which must have showed in my face.

  “Do not be frightened, Arbella. No-one knows and no-one will know, least of all the king.”

  “He is hardly in a position to preach, there are rumours that the queen herself has converted to Catholicism.”

  “The king would never allow it.”

  “I believe as long as she does not try to interfere with politics, he is content to give her a certain amount of freedom. She intends to do much for the arts, and promote womens’ participation on the stage. But I do wish I had someone with whom I can discuss serious matters; my mind feels very underused!”

  “You are bored with Court already!”

  “It is not exactly boredom...” I flushed, for she was right.

  “I am sure you will find someone who shares your interests. The Court is still in a state of change and people are coming and going each day.” She looked at me questioningly.

  “Surely you are not homesick for Hardwick and your grandmother?”

  “Never! Those days are behind me now.”

  “But you have written to my lady mother? I am sure she would like to hear your news.”

  I shook my head, writing to my grandmother was the last thing I wished to do.

  “You must take great care when writing letters, be guarded about the subjects you mention. Write nothing which may be used against you,” she whispered and I nodded in agreement, knowing she was right to caution me.

  “Have you petitioned the king about your pension?” she asked, her voice normal once more.

  “Not yet, I am waiting for the right moment.”

  “You may have a long wait. Queen Elizabeth left debts of many thousands of pounds and our new king spends money as if there is no tomorrow. Mostly on his male friends,” she added.

  I was about to reply, but we were interrupted by one of the servants bringing fresh linen and our conversation was halted. Aunt Mary’s reminder about my finances was timely. With the death of Queen Elizabeth, my pension stopped and my grandmother made it clear she will not support me any more, so I will be dependant on the king. I have a little money from properties she has given me, but it is nowhere near enough for me to live as I should at Court. It was time for me to write a begging letter to Robert Cecil. I hoped he would look favourably on me, I regret that I was not kind to him in the past when I was younger. If anyone can persuade the king, it is he.

  In the meantime, preparations were under way for the king’s coronation, which was due to take place on St James’ Day, 25 July. Everyone thought it would be a rather odd event in some ways, because the plague was still gripping London with deathly results, so there were restrictions in place. Armed guards ensured no one entered from the city itself, and the ceremony was to be cut short. The lords and officers were allowed only a few servants in their train, so the Abbey would be somewhat depleted. Apparently the king was asked if he would prefer to delay until the plague had gone, but he wished to be crowned as soon as possible.

  Then a serious development was discovered by Robert Cecil weeks before the coronation. It was called the Bye Plot, which was to kidnap James and demand more religious tolerance. One of the two men at the heart of this plot, Griffin Markham, was a Catholic and a neighbour of ours at Hardwick. It came to nothing, but closely following it, there was another more serious plot that mentioned my name, called the Main Plot. Two of the alleged conspirators were known to me, of course, Sir Walter Raleigh and Lord Cobham, the latter being my grandmother’s godson. The plan was to kill King James and Prince Henry with Spanish help and crown me as queen.

  This was not the first time of course that such a scheme had been put forward. I had lost count of the number of plots discovered to kill Queen Elizabeth and place my Scottish aunt Mary on the throne of England when she was alive. The suspects were arrested pending their trial after the coronation, and I attempted to remain calm in the midst of such suspicion and uncertainty.

  The day of the coronation dawned with heavy rain that looked set to remain all day. The crowds were less in number, but nevertheless their enthusiasm was not dimmed, with plenty of cheering, clapping and cap throwing to show for it. I was dressed in a pale gold velvet gown embroidered with silver flowers and occupied a place of honour within the Abbey, having an unrestricted view as James was anointed and crowned. It was a shock to many people that the king showed a lack of dignity during the ceremony and at times, was quite irreverent. This was an ominous sign of his behaviour for the future.

  But the symbolism and solemnity of the occasion affected me deeply. I could not help thinking if I had been born a boy, or life had dealt me a different hand of cards, it would have been me sitting there with a crown on my head. If my grandmother’s dreams for me had come true, that is exactly what would have happened. I shivered briefly at the thought. Such an idea was treasonous, but the plain fact that there were some in this realm, and beyond, who wished to place me in that position, was a terrifying thought.

  After the ceremony, we all returned to Hampton Court for a banquet, and the celebrations lasted for several days. There was plenty of entertainment with music, plays, masked balls and the like, but I found myself uninterested in it all. This was a source of puzzlement to me as being at Court was all I have dreamed of since I was a young child. Having spent all my life thus far in my grandmother’s houses across England, I thought I would be enjoying a different life in the middle of all the activity of the Court here in London. Instead, I found myself shunning all the fun and crowds of courtiers, avoiding noisy evenings after supper, when the Scottish nobles sometimes upturned tables to wrestle and sing bawdy songs while the king looked on in amusement.

  The appearance of the Scottish lords had changed since their arrival in England earlier this year. Now their wardrobes boasted new, fashionable garments, and they swaggered about the Court, throwing their capes over one shoulder and setting their ostrich plumed hats at a jaunty angle. There were no more wide, uncomfortable ruffs to chafe the neck or bows on shoes that kept falling off. In fact, they were better dressed than some of the ladies!

  The queen’s only aim seemed to please her husband and she watched everything with a foolish smile on her face. She excused me from staying up late in the evenings, and I would return gratefully to the quiet of my apartments where my books were waiting, and I did not have to make conversation with anyone if I did not wish it. Most nights I gave Patti a lesson; she was proving to be an able pupil. I found the task I had set myself to be enjoyable and rewarding, although I believed others looked askance that I was spending my time on a servant.

  About this time, I received a disturbing letter from Lord Cobham suggesting I should write to King Philip of Spain with the assurance that I would never marry without his consent, stop helping the Protestant Dutch and allow Catholics more freedom. When the letter was handed to me, I gave a cry of alarm before immediately hurrying to Robert Cecil’s study. With tears running down my face, I told him I wanted nothing to do with it. He was kindness itself and took the offending letter, telling me not to worry. I asked him about Sir Walter’s alleged part in it, as I found it hard to believe he was involved, but Cecil was evasive and told me not to concern myself with such matters. He then said that the king would shortly be going on a Royal Progress, partly to escape the plague, and partly to see his new subjects. I would of course, be joining the Royal Party as befits my position.

  It was common knowledge these two men had no love lost between them, being previous rivals at the Court of Queen Elizabeth. Sir Walter had always had hostility towards Spain and I remember him offering to finance an attack on Spain from his own purse, but this seemed to count for nothing in his defence. I knew that there were dealings going on behind the scenes and it was all a game to the men who wanted power.

  As a woman of
course, I was kept well away from it all and only told what they wanted me to know. I could not bring myself to employ spies within the Court, as many people did; I found the endless developments and speculation very tedious. Whenever I wrote to friends, I deliberately avoided mentioning politics, apart from my lack of interest in the subject, it was safer for me to write of trivial matters, to which no one could possibly object. So as the Royal Progress made its way round the country, I followed dutifully in its path, trying not to complain about the discomforts, which were frequent.

  When we arrived at Woodstock in Oxfordshire, some courtiers were annoyed to discover that the accommodation was completely inadequate. Many people were forced to sleep in tents outside, which as you may imagine, caused much complaint, especially with the adjacent pigsties and inevitable offending odours from the farmyard. But the king loved it, as the hunting was excellent, so the rest of us were obliged to suffer in silence. Hunting took precedence over everything in his life, he would spend all day every day, whenever possible, at this pursuit. No animal was safe from the royal chase: deer, hogs, hares, fowls, herons, hawks, all of them were chased with ruthless determination.

  The perils of the plague followed us wherever we went. Members of the Court were starting the day happily enough, but stiff and lifeless by the evening. A terrible miasma of impending doom hung over everyone, we were all afraid of who would be the next victim. People took to avoiding direct contact with one another, and slyly looking for any signs of illness in anyone. Even a sneeze would provoke a wave of panic.

  I woke each morning to check myself for any signs of boils or fever and gave prayers of thanks when I found none. The king sought the advice of eminent physicians at home and abroad, but they gave no hope. One suggested covering horses and coaches with the herb, rue, to keep the infection at bay, as well as round the doors and windows of dwellings, but nothing could stop its path. We did not order any new fabrics for clothing in case the infection spread by that route. I tried to stay away from everyone as much as possible.

  The king eventually ordered that anyone without urgent business was to leave at once. We became reduced to the status of a wandering and terrified band as we made our way from place to place. All of us I suspect, longing to be going to sleep each night without wondering if it was going to be our last night on this earth.

  We arrived at Winchester in the middle of September in time for the trial of the Main and Bye plot conspirators. I wrote a little of it to aunt Mary, who remained in London, although she must have been curious. I continued to heed her advice and wrote nothing that could be used as evidence against me. There were few messengers whom I would have trusted with my letters, and I lived in constant fear of my writings being tampered with or misinterpreted.

  I was already implicated to a large extent in plots and schemes, and even the idea of such accusations made me feel faint with panic. My letters must have made dull reading, filled with domestic trivia, such as my toothache and the boredom of waiting for the king to tire of hunting. The queen seemed to like my company and often singled me out for some special favour, but such events were not enough to amuse me for very long, and I found myself longing for more cerebral occupations.

  I became ever guarded about my speech too, as I felt sure there were spies watching me and reporting back to the king. It was a strain to live a life constantly under scrutiny, and I did not always succeed in accepting it. My health continued to challenge me and I tried to ignore the various aches and pains that visited me for days at a time, surely I should not have been suffering in this way, as I was not old.

  The looking glass told me I appeared pale and delicate, not an attractive proposition for a future husband. But I need not have worried; I did not see any man at Court that I would have wished to marry anyway. The queen’s brother, Duke Ulric of Holstein had shown interest in me, but he was dull and had no charm, only being interested in drinking and eating. In any case, the king made it clear he was not ready to give me permission to marry. Uncle Gilbert was sent back to the Midlands on business of the king’s and aunt Mary was to join him shortly, so I would be quite alone.

  The Bishop’s Palace in Winchester was to be the venue for the trials, and all around us the official prosecutors strutted about full of their own self-importance, their assistants carrying sheaves of documents as they scurried behind them. The inns were all full with the many courtiers who had come there specially to see the trial; it was going to be quite an attraction. Deaths from the plague seemed to have fallen and people thought we were safe, until the next outbreak.

  I had never witnessed a state trial before and was surprised to learn the accused were not allowed any legal representation. It was also shocking to find out that my uncle Henry had been summoned here for questioning; I had not seen him since he tried to secure my escape from Hardwick. I did not write to him for fear of incriminating myself, and I knew he would not have been interested in my petty news as a substitute. I had seen uncle Charles on several occasions when he came to Court; he was another member of the family whose relationship with my grandmother was strained. She seemed to alienate so many of us.

  I took my place in the gallery on the first morning; next to me was the Lord Admiral, the Earl of Nottingham. He looked at me condescendingly.

  “If you find any aspect of these proceedings difficult to understand, just ask me.”

  I smiled coldly at him; I was not some empty-headed ninny. But I was worried about the outcome of this trial; Lord Cobham’s letter to me was potentially dangerous and I knew it might be misconstrued. I did not have to wait long for my name to be mentioned in the proceedings and everyone turned to look at the earl who stood up and cleared his throat. There was silence and I wondered what he was going to say.

  “My lords and ladies, we must remember that the Lady Arbella Stuart is the king’s nearest kinswoman. Let us not give scandal to her by confusion of speech. She is as innocent here as any other man. Once she received the letter, she took it straight to the king.”

  There were murmurings at this speech and no sooner had he sat down than Sir Edward Coke, the Attorney General added, “There is no doubt in my mind that the Lady Arbella is innocent of this whole affair.”

  I felt myself blush and the proceedings moved on to present the evidence. By the end of the first week, I began to find the whole event very upsetting, day after day of lengthy examinations of witnesses and the accused men declaring their innocence. All the while, I was in dread of hearing my name brought up in court once more. When Sir Walter was questioned, I could not but help admire his confidence; he was so sure of himself. Always charming and clever, he ran rings around Sir Edward. I had not forgotten that Sir Walter spoke out against Robert at his trial, although he remained great friends with aunt Mary, who was no doubt fretting for his future.

  After a while, I went no more, having developed a heavy cold and I started to feel generally unwell. Eventually I heard that all the accused were found guilty and faced the cruel death of hanging, drawing and quartering. For some reason, Sir Walter was given a reprieve at the last minute and was sent to the Tower at His Majesty’s pleasure. His punishment would have been beheading of course, as he is a gentleman. At least that end is quick, assuming the executioner is adept at his job, which is not always the case.

  The king and queen spent Christmas of 1603 at Hampton Court Palace, where the king preferred, and I planned to find some time whilst there, for my studies and attend to other important outstanding matters. Money continued to occupy my thoughts, I had not realised living at Court would be so costly. I had to have new gowns, pay servants, buy presents for the king and queen and their family, together with many other expenses. The king increased my allowance from £800 to £1,000 a year, which was welcome, but I suspected that the increase would still not be enough to cover my outgoings.

  The queen decided to hold a masque, but I was surprised to hear that she had give Lady Suffolk permission to use some of Queen Elizabeth’s clothes fro
m the Tower. As it was less than a year since we mourned her death, I felt this was in very bad taste. But of course, I kept such opinions to myself; the queen may do as she pleased.

  But those early Christmas festivities under Stuart reign were charged with expectation. The queen did not allocate me a part in the masque and I was unsure whether to feel pleased or aggrieved. I suppose as usual, I was that awkward relative, an unmarried woman, not young any more and no great beauty, but of high status. Perhaps she did not know what to do with me.

  So the Court was given, ‘The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses’, with music and poetry to enjoy. As a rival entertainment, Esme Stuart staged his own masque of oriental knights from China and India, so there was plenty to watch that Christmas, albeit at vast expense; there were thirty plays in all, some performed by the Kings Men. I only watched some of them, but in truth, it was sometimes more fascinating to observe the behaviour of their majesties as they went about their daily lives.

  It was many years since we had a monarch with a consort, and the two separate factions were quite different. King James had his own inner circle of friends, all men and all good looking (with one or two exceptions.) The most favoured were Philip Herbert and Robert Carr, the latter was given over 40 chambers for his personal use, all furnished with costly paintings and tapestries. Their days with the king were spent hunting, gambling and drinking, a shallow existence by any standards.

  Each time I wished to see the king I was obliged to run the gauntlet of these men who positioned themselves like sentries outside his door. The excuses came one after the other: “the king is indisposed,” or “the king is busy,” or “the king is getting ready for hunting.” I had to gather all my determination to get past them; it was very demeaning for someone in my position.

  The amount of time the king spent hunting gave rise to remarks by the many ambassadors at Court. There were some from Poland and Turkey, as well as the usual French, Spanish and Florentine representatives eager to have the king’s attention. All brought gifts such as perfumes, fine quality gloves and hawks hoods, which were just as quickly pounced upon by the gentlemen as the ladies. The king relied on Robert Cecil for all matters of state and I knew he worked tirelessly in the background, just as his father had done for Queen Elizabeth. I grew to appreciate him, especially as he spoke up for me during the trials, which he did not have to do. He began to look drawn and weary, the king expected him to be available any time of night or day, whenever the mood took him.