Arbella

by Georgina Lee

  “You mean because he has a claim to the throne too?”

  “Of course! The king could see it as very provocative and William is still young...”

  “Only 13 years younger than me, but it does not bother either of us.”

  “Have you spoken to his majesty about it?”

  “I will request another audience as soon as possible.”

  “And you will tell him William is your choice?”

  “Yes.”

  Even to my ears, I did not sound convincing. I avoided her stare and she leaned forward to make her point.

  “Arbell,” she told me firmly. “The king will not like it. You both have a strong claim to the throne. The Seymours have a history of marrying without permission; we are both too young to remember the defiant choices of Catherine and Mary Grey. Indeed, William’s grandfather married Catherine as you know, and they were not allowed to be together, dying under lock and key in the name of love over 30 years ago.”

  “Of course I know about them!” I retorted. “That was long ago, this is different.”

  “Is it? I fear for the consequences if you go ahead with this plan, you must know it is a reckless course of action! I beg you to think very carefully.”

  “I have thought about it! I have had years to think about it. I am not young any more, I am past my prime, with each passing year my chance of happiness is slipping away. William and I are in love and I shall be with him. I do not care what the king or anyone thinks, it is my life.”

  I could see she was shocked by my passion and I gripped her hand tightly.

  “I must shape my coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world, God willing, but fit for me,” I said with determination. “ Will you help me?”

  “Are you quite sure?”

  “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  She did not hesitate. “You need not ask, I am always here for you.”

  We hugged one another; aunt Mary could always be relied upon. Then the lowered her voice, although no one could have heard us.

  “Do you remember when Queen Anne was so ill, it was thought she might die? There were rumours that his majesty would then marry you himself.”

  I had not heard of this, and I was horrified to think of the king, with his unattractive appearance and uncouth, unrefined manners, being my husband.

  “All the more reason for me to ensure that cannot happen, by being already married.”

  “But you must ask permission.”

  “I suppose I must.”

  “Then perhaps all will be well,” she replied.

  We looked at one another in complete understanding and I became even more determined to fulfil my dreams when the time was right.

  But I decided that if I was to go on this progress, then I needed to do it before the autumn. Crompton had been busy with the itinerary, planning and organising each stage of the journey. In all, there were 14 different houses to visit. I began at St Albans on 22 August, then on to Lady Cheney’s at Toddington. From there to Sir William Skipton at Prestwood in Northampton, Lady Bowes at Walton Hall, Chesterfield, the Shrewsbury’s at Sheffield, Sir George St. Paul in Melwood Park, Lord Darcy at Aston, on to Chatsworth, Buxton, Wingfield, Loughborough and Wellingborough. I wished to see Rufford where my parents first met and fell in love; aunt Mary joined me there. Finally I stayed with the Kent family for six days before returning home.

  Sometimes the roads in the Midlands were bad though. One day it took several men to mend it before we could pass, by which time it was dark, making our passage hazardous. I lost count of the many guides I had to pay in order for us to find our way across the moors, where the road seemed to disappear altogether. Despite these inconveniences, I experienced pleasure from my travels and I wrote regularly to William to tell him all about it.

  Even the cost of it did not dampen my spirits once I was home. Crompton showed me the breakdown of expenditure, in total it cost me over £338, but it was so good for me to get away from London. I realised I was very lucky to have the love of my family and friends. In this buoyant mood, I requested another private audience with the king and to my relief, I was granted one within a couple of days.

  This time, he was seated at his writing desk when I entered his private apartments. The desk was scattered with papers and documents, all of which I assumed to be of great importance. Looking up, he stood up to greet me and I curtseyed deeply.

  “I hope your majesty is in good health.”

  He gestured for me to sit on the window seat with him.

  “Aye, well enough, cousin. You enjoyed your progress? I hear it was a great success. And now you are settled in your wee house with all those artists and poets living nearby?

  “Yes, it is wonderful to have my own home so close to Denmark House where the queen now resides, should she wish to see me.”

  “Prince Henry tells me he has been several times and enjoyed your hospitality.”

  “I was honoured to have the prince for supper only last week.”

  He nodded his approval and folded his arms. “ So what is it you wish to see me for today?”

  I took a deep breath. “It is the matter of my marriage, your majesty. I was wondering if you felt the time was right for me to marry yet?”

  He did not answer at once and I tried not to look expectant or eager.

  “Your marriage, yes of course.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there was a time when I was concerned, but I think a marriage would be acceptable now. I know that you have waited a long time, but the negotiations have yielded nothing and you have shown no real or sustained interest in anyone.”

  “You give permission?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

  “Yes, cousin, to a man of this realm of course. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “William Seymour, the grandson of the Earl of Hertford.”

  There was a long and uncomfortable pause as he digested my reply. His face became purple with rage, and I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel as his voice rose with fury.

  “William Seymour! No, no, no! I absolutely forbid the match. He is a direct descendent of King Henry’s sister, Mary Tudor; I cannot possibly allow you to marry him; such a union would strengthen your claim to my throne. It is unthinkable!”

  “But, your own children...”

  “Do you question my divine authority?”

  “Of course not, your majesty, but the succession is secure. We have no desire to make any claim your throne, I swear on my life.”

  “How do I know that? You say so now, but what about the future? What if others wished you two to reign as king and queen?”

  He stood over me menacingly, his shouting becoming louder by the second.

  “Do not dare to speak to me about this matter any further. I have told you my decision and that is the end of it. I wonder at your sanity to even suggest that man to be your husband.”

  “Please, please your majesty, I love him so much, I have waited so long. I beg you to reconsider.”

  Bending down with his face only inches away from mine, he became so close I could feel his unsavoury breath on my cheek, and instinctively I pulled back. This seemed to increase his anger even more. His bulging eyes were like those of a wild animal, and his hands shook as he jabbed his forefinger at my face. He seemed on the brink of losing control of himself altogether.

  “Such unseemly displays of womanly emotion are wasted on me. You will not marry William Seymour, is that understood? You are never to mention this subject to me again.”

  By now, I was sobbing without restraint and could not answer. He stared at me for a few moments before striding out of the chamber. I had never seen him so angry.

  I wrote to William immediately and told him of the king’s fury. Once I had calmed down, I became defiant. Why should I be obedient about my marriage? This was my last chance for happiness and I was determined to take it. I told William that I believed we should proceed with o
ur wedding at the earliest opportunity. He wrote back that he agreed, we would take the chance that once it was a fait accompli, then the king would calm down and accept it. We took William’s relation and friend, Edward Rodney, into our confidence. He was a solid, trustworthy young man and I knew he would be loyal to our cause, but our marriage plans had to remain a secret for the moment.

  Soon after, the king commanded us both to appear before the Privy Council, who ordered us to give up all idea of ever marrying one another. As I stood before them, a collection of old and grey haired men, I wondered if they knew anything about love or passion. Of course they had to obey the king, and even if they did, they would never dare to voice their disagreement. I had said to William beforehand, that we should appear compliant and humble, to lure his majesty into a false sense of security. We played our roles well, and they were satisfied. The king seemed to be appeased, and he increased my pension, promised to pay my debts, and granted me the rights to sell wine and whisky in Ireland. I believed that I was back in the king’s favour once more, but I knew it would not be for long.

  I thought the subject was then forgotten, as there were other important events at Court that occupied everyone’s attention. The Prince of Wurttemberg visited London and I was given a place of honour with the royal family, under a golden canopy, to welcome him. There were the usual lavish banquets and masques in his honour, which I still found tiresome, so it was a welcome diversion when the 17-year-old Prince Henry was invested as Prince of Wales at Westminster. What a fine figure he looked in his robes, his youthful appearance providing sweet hope for the future of the realm. Uncle Gilbert played a prominent part in the ceremony, which I knew pleased him. He was never happier than when he was being seen to be important; he always felt slighted in Queen Elizabeth’s reign.

  Queen Anne had organised one of her now famous masques on 5 June, this one entitled Tethy’s Festival. Tethy was the Queen of the Ocean; Princess Elizabeth played the part of the River Thames and I found myself unable to refuse her majesty’s wish for me to act as the River Trent. My cousins Aletha and Elizabeth had minor roles in what was to be the most spectacular masques yet, although I went through it all in rather a daze, being so preoccupied with my forthcoming secret marriage plans.

  Prince Charles played his part by dancing with some young girls before presenting his brother Henry with a beautiful diamond encrusted sword, which drew gasps from the audience. My costume was so very elaborate, layers of lace and taffeta with shells and coral, which clinked as I moved. It was uncomfortable to sit down wearing it, so for the banquet afterwards I had to change.

  Then the whole Court moved to Greenwich and the king went hunting with his favourites, which gave William and I the ideal opportunity to put our plan into action. The astrologer told us that the best date for us to wed would be Friday 22 June, so William undertook to find a priest who would be willing to perform the ceremony. That was easier said than done, but after some discreet enquiries, the son of the Dean of Rochester, the Reverend Blagen, said he would oblige, for a generous fee of course.

  It was very important that we had more than enough witnesses; William felt keenly the stigma of his father’s illegitimacy because his grandparent’s marriage, without royal permission, was originally squashed due to the shortage of witnesses. Edward Rodney said he would be honoured to be one for us and we also had his servant, Edward Kyton, together with the ever loyal Crompton and Mrs Bradshaw. Another gentleman servant, Edward Reeves, completed the list. William and I were both of age, so our marriage would be perfectly legal.

  At the appointed time of night, William and the three Edwards arrived by barge to Greenwich where our marriage was to take place. The palace was quiet, with just a few administrators and some servants, their footsteps echoing along the passageways as they went to their beds. I was a bundle of nerves, unable to keep still for longer than a minute. Mrs B. helped me to dress in one of my best gowns and combed my hair, leaving it loose to my waist. William had never seen my hair thus, and I hoped it did not disappoint him. I dearly wished that aunt Mary could have been with us, but we decided that her arrival would have attracted unwanted attention and speculation, so our respective families were absent.

  We all convened in my apartments with supressed excitement and partook of a late supper, talking quietly as William and I held hands to wait. The priest eventually arrived at 3am, huffing and puffing with a red face because he was late. As dawn crept across the chamber and the candles were extinguished, the soft, natural light slowly diffused over us, highlighting different expressions on our faces. I knew that everyone here wished us well, but they were aware of the risk they were taking by being our witnesses, and the possible displeasure of the king that might follow.

  The short ceremony began; I said my oath in a loud, clear voice as I gazed into William’s eyes. My hand was trembling as he took it to exchange rings, but he steadied me with a reassuring smile. Our signatures were obtained, together with those of our witnesses, before we knelt for the blessing. William and I were declared man and wife; it was all over so quickly. Everyone gathered round to congratulate us and there were toasts and laughter. I had to stop myself from hugging the priest, who drank a glass of best claret before making his hasty exit.

  I was now a married woman. My husband and I made our way home to Blackfriars in the morning sunshine. This was the start of the rest of my life; I did not believe it possible that I could be so happy.

  For the next six precious days, my husband and I were alone together; I dismissed all the servants that week, apart from the cook, a kitchen maid and Mrs B. We shut ourselves away in my bedchamber, which I had taken pains to make as special as possible. There was fresh, sweetly fragranced linen on the new double bed and vases of red roses on the windowsills, their delicate aroma floating in the gentle breeze from the open window that stirred the muslin curtains. Each night I placed dozens of candles around the bedchamber, creating our own safe haven.

  William was a kind and gentle lover, soothing my apprehension about the marriage act. I thought to myself, so this is what the fuss was all about, I wished I had not been forced to wait so long for it.

  “We must make up for lost time,” he told me and I giggled in agreement.

  The hours passed as we enjoyed one another and as the days blurred into night, I lost track of time. William would get up to light more candles and I loved to watch his lean and muscular body with pleasure. The world outside did not exist for me, I wanted nothing but what was in this chamber. Our table was regularly replenished with all sorts of different food, as took our fancy. We ate like peasants on the bed. I was not ashamed of my nakedness and lay with my arm above my head as he fed me grapes and sweetmeats whilst we talked about everything and nothing. Eventually I fell asleep on his chest. I never knew I could be so happy.

  This idyllic existence ended all too soon, as William had to return to Oxford and we said a fond farewell. I watched him ride away, fighting back tears. Upstairs I stroked the pillow where his head had lain and buried my face in it, hoping to smell a trace of his scent. I started a letter to him at once, telling him how much I was already missing him.

  For the rest of that day, I wandered aimlessly round from chamber to chamber, fingering the furniture and gazing out of the windows into the street. As always, it was filled with people going about their daily business, either on foot or by horse and coach. They seemed a world away from me and my blissful memories of these last days. I saw Mrs B. regarding my dreamy mood with indulgence and she made herself busy elsewhere, understanding that I wished to be alone. Was there ever such a kind and sympathetic friend? The servants returned to resume their duties and I retired to bed early, falling asleep quickly, content in the knowledge that I had already planned my next meeting with William in a week’s time, when I would travel to Oxford.

  The following morning I was forced to remain inside as the rain fell heavily outside from dark, grey skies, so I took my sewing and sat by the window, althoug
h the light was not very good. Just as I ordered candles to be lit, there was a knock at the front door and Dodderidge announced that Lady Anne Hoby wished to see me. She was someone whom I did not consider a friend at Court, and I was at a loss as to why she was calling on me, but I did not wish to seem rude, so I told Dodderidge to show her in.

  Anne Hoby was the daughter one of my elderly neighbours, Lady Elizabeth Russell, who died the previous year. She had been a wealthy and influential woman who went to great pains some years ago to stop Will Shakespeare from building a theatre nearby. I would not have minded such a diversion on my doorstep, but she seemed to think it would attract a rowdy element and managed to gain the support of some high-ranking nobles to further her cause. But Shakespeare had upset her with his play Henry IV, when he lampooned her late second husband and he been forced to remove the offending lines of the text.

  Never actually having met her daughter, I was at a loss to know why she should be calling on me. I wished I had chosen a smarter outfit to wear, as I had not been expecting to see receive any visitors.

  “ Lady Arbella!” she cried on seeing me and paused in the doorway looking at me with her eyebrows raised. There was a supressed excitement about her and I had a feeling of foreboding.

  “ To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?” I replied smoothly, signalling to Dodderidge for refreshments.

  She looked around the chamber, her beady eyes missing nothing.

  “How charming,” she murmured and sat down, arranging her skirts with care. “ I just had to see for myself; there are such rumours about you at Court. I have been sent to find out if they are true.”

  “What are these rumours?” I asked, with my hand carefully covering my wedding ring.

  “There is no need to be so coy with me! I think everyone will know your secret by the end of the day, including his majesty.”

  The refreshments were brought in and we waited whilst our drinks were poured. She refused a piece of marchpane and sipped her wine daintily. Once we were alone again, I repeated the question and sat myself down opposite her.