Arbella

by Georgina Lee

  Although the queen and I did not have much in common, we became friends. It helped that we are of similar age; she is only two years older at 29, and preferred younger ladies to attend her. She was criticised for her extravagance and frivolity, but she was very kind, and the people liked her. Unusually, she did not wear a travelling veil, so her face could be seen properly, which endeared her to the people and there was always plenty of cheering when she travelled.

  Given the amount of time that the king spent hunting and the favours he showed his male friends, I thought she was very tolerant. She spoke to me with great disapproval of the custom we have of removing the heir to the throne from his parents, to be with strangers. Apparently the king’s childhood was not happy, brought up as he was by the strict Scottish Lords, but that did not prevent him from sending his own children away.

  But all around me, I was becoming disillusioned by the ways of the Court. Hundreds of titles had been given out by the king since he came to the throne, a contrast to the few that Queen Elizabeth bestowed during her long reign. Many were bought for large sums of money to finance the king’s extravagant lifestyle or pay off loans to his favourites. It was rumoured that few of the men were worthy of such honours.

  I was mindful of my own Cavendish family, particularly aunt Mary and uncles Henry and Charles, who had fallen foul of my grandmother and although she was now one of the wealthiest woman in the land, she did not help them as they would have wished. I managed to obtain a couple of patents for aunt Mary and uncle Gilbert, which assisted their ever stretched finances. But of course I had to provide a reciprocal gift because it was expected, so yet more expense for me.

  But worse than this, was the lowering of morals. I realised that I have led a sheltered life at Hardwick and been protected in many ways, but I was not the only one to be appalled at the behaviour of some of the members of the Court. It began with the king himself, who did not hesitate to kiss his male friends and fondle them intimately in public. Such liberties quickly became normal and those of us who disapproved had to take care to hide our feelings. The queen seemed to think nothing of having Lady Penelope Rich as a friend; she who had at least two illegitimate children by her lover, Lord Mountjoy, as everyone knew. However, her majesty showed no signs of such unfaithfulness to her own marriage vows, so standards had not crumbled completely.

  All the previous rules of life at Court seem to have been thrown out of the window. I saw countesses kissing pageboys and taking different lovers each week. Sometimes I felt as if I was not at Court at all, but in some noisy, bawdy house that I had wandered into by mistake and there were no rules about Court etiquette or table manners.

  In the New Year, I was made the Queen’s Carver, a great honour of course, but after my first attempt (which was rather feeble I am ashamed to say) the position was never taken seriously in practical terms. It was not helped by the fact that many ladies of the Court were not at all kind to me, although they took care not to let the queen see it. I was aware that they whispered about me behind my back and stifled their disapproval at my bookish ways.

  Their constant smirks and surreptitious glances wore me down. Most of them did not make any effort to be friendly towards me and I convinced myself that I did not care. But the few friends I did have were sympathetic to my feelings. Amongst them, Lady Isabel Bownes was my closest, but she was not in London very much, so we were forced to communicate by letter. Sir William Stewart, an old Talbot retainer whom uncle Gilbert asked to keep an eye on me was very attentive, and my steward Hugh Crompton was indispensable. Sir William Fower was my late Lennox grandmother’s executor and he always made an effort to help to me when necessary. I think he still felt some guilt that his father was the one who took the Lennox jewels to Scotland, when they should by rights, have come to me. Familiar faces have been most welcome since I arrived,

  My health deteriorated again after leaving Winchester. Patti thought it was all the worry of the trials and she told me I spend too long over my books late at night, with only a flickering candle to read by. My eyes were sometimes swollen and red, in truth I never liked to be seen like this, but I could not shut myself away. I wished aunt Mary was there with me; the delicious venison pies she sent each week from Sheffield, with her letters, were a poor substitute for her company.

  We de-camped to Woodstock again so that the king could enjoy the hunting. I could think of no reason to avoid joining the royal party, so one sultry evening in late summer, I found myself in the royal tent, in the last few hours of yet another rowdy, royal banquet. All around me the tables were being cleared away by servants and an area made available for dancing as the musicians tuned their instruments. My head ached in the heat and I covered a yawn, but I could not leave the royal presence just yet.

  I looked up to see a young man standing before me, perhaps no more than 16. Tall and fresh faced, he held his cloak casually as he doffed his hat and bowed; I inclined my head cautiously to acknowledge him. No doubt he was one of the king’s favourites sent to annoy me.

  “You do not remember me do you, Lady Arbella?”

  I studied him more closely and felt myself becoming confused. He did look slightly familiar, but I had met so many people since arriving in London.

  “I am William Seymour, Marquis of Hertford; we met in church the last time you were at Woodstock.”

  I must have looked blank, for he added, “Lord Hertford’s grandson.”

  “Oh, yes,” I replied quickly, hoping he did not see my discomfort at hearing that family name. He must have known of my previous attempt to wed his elder brother.

  “May I sit down?”

  “Of course.”

  He moved a chair so that he was facing me and I twisted my rings nervously.

  “ Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked.

  There was a roar of laughter from the party of men surrounding the king and we turned to them momentarily.

  “ As much as I usually do on these occasions,” was my reply. He gave an understanding smile, showing slightly crooked teeth.

  “His majesty is in fine spirits this evening. How is the queen, I hear she is expecting another child?”

  “She is still in London, I would imagine she is glad of the excuse not to come here.”

  There was an awkward silence before he took a deep breath.

  “You know that Edward and I are at Magdalen College, we graduate together next year.”

  “How lucky you are, I would have loved to study at Oxford.”

  “From what I hear, you would have been an excellent pupil. Some of my fellow undergraduates waste their time and do not deserve a place.”

  “It must be very distracting for you. I find trying to study here is not easy either, so I often burn the candle late into the night.”

  “As do I.” He leant forward slightly, “we shall have to make a pact, or better still, form a club of late night study, with just the two of us as members.”

  The idea filled me with sudden delight and I returned his smile. A servant came to refill our glasses and it gave me a chance to think of what to say.

  “What shall we study?”

  “Whatever you wish, although I doubt my knowledge is as good as your own.”

  “Nonsense!” I was quick to dismiss such an idea. “I am sure that is not true.”

  It occurred to me that Edward might be here too and William must have seen my searching gaze for he reassured me kindly, “do not distress yourself, my brother is not here tonight.”

  My head dropped forward in embarrassment and I could not look at him. His hand gently covered my own and I felt a surge of relief that he was sympathetic to how I felt. I had made such a fool of myself over the Christmas festivities the year before last when I proposed marriage to his older brother, Edward. I still could not think of it without mortification.

  “Will you dance with me? I would be honoured if you would,” he said shyly.

  As I looked up at him, lost in the spell he managed to cas
t over me in just a few minutes, I had to supress an urge to brush a stray curl from his forehead. We joined the other dancers and suddenly, I did not want the evening to end.

  The Court remained at Woodstock for three more weeks. The king wished to stay longer, but state duties were neglected in his absence, so he was forced to return to London. Although he relied heavily on Robert Cecil, now Lord Salisbury, and his Council, there were still many administrative matters to attend to. Only the king could appoint and dismiss councillors, judges or JP’s, there were domestic and foreign issues to discuss, and he was the only one legally able to summon or dissolve Parliament. It was strange that despite being an intelligent and well-educated man, understanding history, the classics and theology, he did not seem interested in the administration of his own realm.

  But I was also reluctant to return to London now that I had met William. We have had the opportunity to spend much time together, not alone of course, there were always other people around us, but I was never aware of them. He was the kindest, most considerate man I had ever met, and to my eyes, the most handsome. More than that though, his mind was so in tune with my own that we could talk for hours about anything and everything.

  At last I had someone to converse with about more serious issues, someone whose knowledge and intelligence is of similar standing to my own. He showed himself to be mature beyond his years, far more than I was, I was sure, at that age. My heart would skip a beat when I saw him, I longed to be with him all the time and in idle moments my quill sketched elaborate drawings of our initials intertwined. Of course I was falling in love with him, utterly and completely, but I did not know if he shared my feelings. Our parting was softened by promises to write to one another and he kissed my hand as I sat in the coach waiting to leave. I watched his figure receding as we turned onto the road; Patti smiled at my obvious fondest for him.

  But back in London, I returned to my life at Court and time slipped by. The queen needed more attention with her latest pregnancy and there were still several more months left of it. She liked me to read to her. I was careful to avoid reading anything of a Catholic nature, even if she asked me, lest I should be accused of having tendencies towards the old religion, which the king would see as a threat to him. With the fall of autumn leaves and gathering winds, I was struggling with my health again and was granted permission to stay with aunt Mary in Sheffield.

  Despite being further away from William, it was a great relief to be somewhere quieter and familiar. Here I did not feel constantly on show and I was able to relax. In December 1604 I developed a nasty red rash and a fever, together with an attack of neuralgia, which was most unpleasant, so I was not well enough to join in the Christmas festivities. Instead I was confined to my chamber with my books and letters from William to reread. The winter weather was dull and damp, which always seemed to affect me detrimentally.

  Patti left me to work as a housekeeper nearer to her betrothed in the countryside at Chiswick, although she promised to keep in touch. I felt pleased that through my instruction, she had bettered herself and was now able to work as a higher status servant. A lady by the name of Mrs Bradshaw has replaced her as my companion, coming highly recommended by a friend. I took to calling her Mrs B. and we soon became friends.

  The early months of any year were always a trial for me, with anniversaries of the deaths of those I have loved. My mother died on 21 January 1582 and Robert was executed on 25 February 1601. The anniversary of the day my aunt Mary was sent to the block on 8 February 1587 is also a difficult day to remember. But the king will surely spare a thought for his mother on that day too, even if he was told all through his childhood that his mother was an adulteress and murderer. I wished I could have told the king of the time I spent with his mother; he was taken away as a babe and never knew her. But it was made clear to me that this was a subject he never discussed, and so I did not have the chance.

  News arrived that the queen had given birth in April 1605 to another daughter. They have named her Mary and I have the honour of being her godmother, along with the Countess of Northumberland. Also the king has granted me the privilege of awarding a baronetcy to anyone I chose, so I decided upon uncle William, as he seemed to be the obvious choice and I knew it would please all my family. I was starting to think about returning to London when I received a letter from my grandmother’s secretary, telling me that she was very ill and I must hurry back to Derbyshire without delay.

  The news shocked me; I have not thought much about her since leaving Hardwick. My memories are too painful and I have been deferring the journey. I know I should have been to see her before now and felt not a little guilty. The night before my journey, I received a letter from Mrs Digby, a friend of my grandmother’s, who wrote that she hoped all could be well between the dowager countess and me. That was also my wish and hope, but I was not going to bend to her every whim. To this end, I asked the king to write her a letter urging her to treat me kindly, as in the past. A reply came back within two days from her stating that she had already shown great generosity towards me and found it hard to understand why I should feel my presence there would be unwelcome. Apparently the king laughed when he read it and I can well imagine her reaction when she found out.

  But my visit went ahead as planned and, in truth, it was not as bad as I feared. Derbyshire and Hardwick were just the same. I supposed in some ways I found this reassuring, but I could not help perceiving it as a reminder of the many unhappy years I spent there. The older servants made a fuss of me, saying how well I looked, but I could not put off going upstairs any longer and slowly made my way to my grandmother’s bedchamber. I hardly knew what to expect, as I thought she would be in bed, but she was sitting by the fire with her eyes closed, evidently asleep. The temperature in the chamber was stiflingly hot and stuffy, as she felt the cold so much.

  She had not heard me enter and I waited for a few moments. This was a face I knew so well, her every expression from love to fury. Even in repose, she looked formidable. There was still that sense of strength and steely determination in her features, not softened at all by old age and ill health. Her long hair, now grey and thinning, had been tied back in a long plait and finished with a red ribbon, striking an incongruous note of frivolity. She was well wrapped up in a woollen blanket and her feet rested on an embroidered footstool. No sheaves of business documents or ledger books lay beside her. Instead, the evidence of an invalid: various clay pots of herbal ointments and bottles of medicine sat on the table with the flickering candles. Her ornate oak bed remained as grand as ever, the plush red drapes and heavy blankets as expensive as any I have ever seen.

  “Lady grandmother?” I said before reaching out to wake her.

  She opened her eyes and for a moment, looking confused, then realised it was me, and her face broke into a smile before coughing and wiping her mouth with a shaky hand. I kissed her heavily lined cheeks and pulled up a chair to sit down nearby.

  “So you are here at last, Arbella, it has been too long. Let me look at you.”

  She reached for a magnifying glass and held it to her eye, studying me up and down for few moments. I had made sure I was looking my best in a favourite gown and thankfully I saw the approval in her face.

  “You have grown up, quite the young lady now.”

  “I have been grown up for some time, “I replied quickly, fingering my gold necklace. “How are you feeling? Is Dr Hunton attending you, I did not see him when I arrived.”

  “I am a little better, though my cough disturbs me at night. He is a good doctor and comes each day, he often asks after you.”

  “He was always very kind to me.”

  “Your uncle William tells me you are enjoying Court, I wish you could have written yourself.”

  I sighed, hoping that the whole conversation was not going to be of her reproaching me.

  “I shall be able to stay a few days before returning for the christening of Princess Mary, but I am here now, and glad of it. I have been homesi
ck, it may surprise to know.”

  She seemed to find this statement amusing and said I have a good way of hiding it. I took the opportunity to tell her of my friendship with the queen and how she has honoured me, mentioning also how patient the queen is with the king who spends so much time hunting.

  My grandmother listened indulgently, then asked, “did you use your influence to gain a baronetcy for uncle William?”

  “I did, lady grandmother. Are you not pleased?”

  “Of course, I am delighted. Lord Cavendish, how grand it sounds.”

  I nodded in agreement and there was a brief pause while I summoned the courage to mention a subject that I knew will be difficult for us both.

  “I do wish you could be friends again with aunt Mary and uncle Gilbert. They are so kind to me; it seems such a pity that we cannot all be a happy family again.”

  My grandmother’s face became set as she frowned, clearly unwilling to enter in a conversation about it. As for her reconciliation with uncle Henry, I realised now that would never happen. She continued as if the question was never posed.

  “And your own health? I used to worry so much about you when you were here.”

  “I have bouts of being well and then weeks of illness where I feel I am dying. But then I recover and enjoy the parties at Court and all the entertainment. But...”