Arbella

by Georgina Lee

  But how was I to keep it a secret? Before long, I would start to show and everyone would know. It was something I would have been so proud of, in different circumstances, but here, it just added to my precarious position.

  I changed my mind about writing to William in the end, it was too dangerous. I decided to confide in my friend, Lady Jane Drummond, who said she would make discreet enquiries for me about a good local midwife for the birth; but afterwards? These thoughts went round and round in my head. I would have dearly loved to see aunt Mary, whose apartments were close to mine, but permission was still denied. In one of her letters though, she told me not to do anything at the moment, but to wait. Apparently she always complained bitterly about her accommodation and was a very difficult prisoner, which did not surprise me when I heard it.

  As autumn descended on the city, the temperature fell even lower inside these thick walls. The moat that surrounds the Tower on three sides with the Thames on the fourth, seemed to trap the icy, damp air, which lingered, even on sunny days. The soldiers drilled every day, their shouts and marching boots echoing round the inner square in all weathers. Some looked very young, hardly old enough, and their sergeant-major seemed to take pleasure in humiliating them whenever possible.

  I sometimes heard stories from some of the more talkative guards who told us that when the king first saw the Tower he was fascinated by the menagerie here. To validate a claim made by a courtier that the English mastiff could out fight a lion, he arranged for three of these courageous dogs to be placed in the lion’s den. Watching the ensuing attacks, he was amazed to see the mastiffs acquit themselves very well, although only one survived. I cannot help but think there is something distasteful about such fights; I would certainly not wish to ever watch one. There are also elephants, bears and leopards for the public to see, and the sound of these animals can be heard both inside and outside the perimeter walls. I did not know how they would fare when the cold weather arrived.

  There was only one fire in my chambers and when I felt well enough to leave my bed, we would sit huddled round it for most of the time. I always dreaded the winter when my health was never good. The skin on my hands would often turn blue as I tried to sew, and I would have to give up in the end. The draughts were the worst thing to bear, it was impossible to escape them, despite the heavy drapes and curtains I have brought here. My nausea and sickness eventually passed thank God, and Mrs B. kept telling me I must eat properly; I had lost weight these last few weeks. She was so good to me, giving me her own portion of food to keep my strength up.

  “You need it more than I do, m’lady,” she would murmur.

  I looked at her in gratitude and thought how lucky I was to have her as a friend.

  The months dragged on and my first Christmas here passed as just another day, although I bought a rib of beef for us, together with other fare that we did not usually enjoy. From time to time I wrote letters to the Privy Council begging my case, but never received a reply. Lord Salisbury was very ill and it was not thought he would not live much longer; I wondered who would take over his duties.

  I also heard that Prince Henry was suffering badly with strange symptoms that sound very similar to my own and that of his father, the king. The prince disapproved of my marriage; but even so, I knew he was still petitioning for my release. He was not allowed to visit me or Sir Walter Raleigh, who still languished here. The latter certainly made the best of his captivity, unlike me; he was permitted to have access to his wife and family, enjoying as normal a life as possible.

  He walked most days between the Bloody Tower and the Lieutenants Lodging, watched by crowds from the Wharf, who presumably had nothing better to do. He has always been someone who attracts both admirers and enemies, like or loathe him, one cannot ignore him. Prince Henry, whom everyone loves, seemed to regard him with childish adoration, avidly reading his many letters and pamphlets on subjects such as philosophy, science, travel, literature and politics. I myself, along with many others, have bought his homemade cordial, which he claimed would cure a wide range of aliments. When I felt better, I would dearly have liked to spend some time in his company, if only to ease the monotony of my existence, but I knew that particular wish would not come true.

  Other distinguished prisoners were Henry Percy, the son of the Earl of Northumberland and Lords Cobham, and Grey de Wilton. The former was known as the ‘Wizard Earl’ by the people and had set up home in the Martin Tower, where he dined off gold and silver plate. He was very popular with the jailors as large amounts of money changed hands in order to facilitate his extravagant lifestyle. His chambers had been fashioned just like his home, with expensive furniture, hangings, carpets and paintings. He had frequent visits from tailors, laundresses and haberdashers, as well as prominent mathematicians who assisted him in experiments of a scientific nature. It was no wonder that the people called these men ‘curiosities’ and were always hoping for a glimpse of them. I must have been very dull entertainment in comparison.

  But just lately I was forced to admit to myself that aunt Mary had become a threat to my future. Her Catholic beliefs became increasingly obsessive and she began sending me long, dangerously worded letters from her apartments here, urging me to convert to her faith. I had no option but to pass these letters on to the king, although I was obviously reluctant to do so, but she had given me no choice. I had thought to receive thanks or even an acknowledgement for my honesty, but there was no word from Court, just the usual ominous silence.

  The letters frightened me as I could be seen as complicit to her extreme views; she was determined to place a Catholic monarch on the throne once more. To that end, Crompton told me that she had been the instigator of a conspiracy to abduct me, not to reunite me with my husband, but to fulfil her papist sympathies. I did not wish to believe it, but knowing her as I did, it was highly likely.

  I spoke to Sir William about it at length and told him I considered her to be a thorn in my side and that she was an enemy to the state. I could see he was concerned at the strength of my feelings, but I wished to make it quite clear to him that her ambitions were very far removed from my own. In turn, this would be relayed to the king, which I hoped would go some way to helping my case.

  As for my appearance, Mrs B. has adjusted my gowns so that the thickening of my waist does not show, and I am careful to wear a shawl whenever I see anyone, including the guards. Although the sickness has gone, I admit to feeling overwhelmingly tired for most of the time. I long to tell William, but the risk of this knowledge falling into the wrong hands, and hence to the king, is too great. I must keep my secret a while longer.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Sometimes I think that God is punishing me. I have lost the precious babe that I was carrying that was to have been my pride and joy. I woke in the middle of the night with such terrible stomach pains; I really thought I was going to die. My cries had to be stifled lest the guards should hear me. Mrs B. was a saint; I do not know what I would have done without her kind and experienced ministrations. The awful bleeding began a few hours later, and as dawn broke, I knew the truth had to be faced. Would I ever be a mother now, never to have the happiness of holding my child and watching them grow up? This was the most bitter of disappointments and I sank into a deep despair.

  Mrs B. told me that I must not give up hope and that William would find a way for us to be together. I could not bring myself to reply and curled up to face the wall as she bustled around the bed, burning the soiled sheets and preparing hot tisanes to soothe me to sleep. For three days I lay in bed, eating little and not speaking. Dr Hammond attended me, his face full of concern.

  “I am sorry my lady, I know you wanted a very different outcome, but I cannot help but think that this was a blessing in disguise. You must see that it would have caused nothing but trouble for you.”

  “How dare you speak of my child in that way! You know nothing of this matter or the feelings of women having to endure such heartache. I blame you for not taking care
of me properly. If you had been a better physician, I would not be in this unhappy state.”

  He looked shocked and hurt at this outburst.

  “I beg your pardon, m’lady, but I could not have prevented it. When God decides, for whatever reason, that a pregnancy must end, then no one can say otherwise. You must remember that many women lose their infants before the nine months, the queen herself has suffered in the past, as you know.”

  “You doctors are all the same! Very quick to take the money from your patients, but very slow to do anything else. I am dismissing you from my service. I shall find someone else to attend me.”

  Mrs B. and Dr Hammond exchanged a look of alarm and she moved forward to hold my hand.

  “The good doctor has always done his best for you, m’lady. Please rest now and do not dismiss him hastily.”

  “Do not presume to tell me what I should do! I can see that I have allowed you to become too familiar and it was a mistake. Well, all that is going to change from now on. You forget who I am, both of you. I am as near a princess of this realm as it is possible to be, I am...”

  Unable to finish my sentence, I burst into tears. Mrs B. hesitated before folding her arms around me and I allowed her to comfort me as my sobs gradually subsided. When I next looked up, the doctor had gone and we were once again alone.

  Later, as I lay in bed, my thoughts became very dark. I began to think about taking my own life. Everything dear to me had been taken away and I could not see how William and I would ever be together again. But how would such an act be achieved? I could not throw myself from the windows, they were too narrow. I could hang myself, but there were no beams here, only high vaulted ceilings. I was too afraid of blood to injure myself with a knife. I had heard that some herbs are deadly if taken, but how would I obtain some?

  Then I remembered Mrs B. was always with me, so I would have to find a reason for her to leave me alone, which would not be that easy. She knew me too well and would see through my deception. I never forgot the day we found my tutor’s lifeless body hanging from a beam in his chamber, poor Mr Starkey, how desperate he must have been to take such a step. Suicide is the worst of sins and the idea of my soul being dammed forever, is, on reflection, reason enough for me to put such thoughts aside, coward that I am. So I tried to be strong during these days and nights.

  I wished William would write to me, three months is a long time to be without communication and it hurt me deeply. Jane wrote to say that he is trying to make my situation easier and not make matters worse for me. How could they be any worse? Somehow I have to find the strength to live through this pain; I must pray for the will to do so.

  1612 proved to be a year of unexpected deaths. William’s father, Lord Beauchamp, passed away in the summer and I knew William would have been saddened by the news. One fine May morning, Lord Salisbury, worn out and bankrupt from dedicating every waking minute to the service of the king, also died. He had stomach cancer, so I imagine he was in considerable pain at the end. He had become increasingly out of favour with the king, who had started to give more and more responsibility to his favourite Scottish Lords.

  Soon afterwards, Aunt Mary appeared before a council, accused of refusing to answer questions in the previous year. We all knew that the real reason was her part in my escape, and that if she were to be charged with involvement, it would highlight the fact that I myself had not been charged, for there were no legal grounds for detaining me. Aunt Mary was very stubborn and continued her refusal to co-operate. She was fined £20,000 (of course she has no chance of ever paying such a large sum) and sent back to the Tower. Such a response served to confirm my belief that I was still regarded as a great threat.

  Then some terrible news reached us in November, the death of Prince Henry, that brave and kind boy. Everyone was in shock; he was so much admired and loved by all who knew him. Rumour had it that his last weeks were like a torture, with such symptoms as delirium, convulsions and a form of madness. The king and queen were naturally beside themselves with grief and they were in my prayers. I could not help but think of the effect this would have on my imprisonment, as the heir to the throne had gone, so my place, and William’s of course, moved up and we were one step nearer. Now the next in line was Charles; the sickly, spoilt child who was so different from his brother. I could only conclude that Henry’s death made my release even less likely.

  I had to sell my little house in Blackfriars, another of my dreams dashed. The proceeds of the sale went towards bribing the jailors, where all my funds continue to go. I have been forced to sell some more my jewellery to ensure my continued comfort. Crompton visited weekly and he brought news of life outside this place, we looked forward so much to his company. We were two confined women, pale and fraught with this ordeal and constantly wondering what tomorrow would bring, but he was always optimistic and cheerful in the face of our adversity. If my grandmother could see me now, she would be horrified. I do not believe anyone could have imagined this would be my fate.

  MARCH 1613

  I have not been able to write until now, as I have been very ill again, this time with convulsions and I only have vague memories of the weeks after Christmas. I found out later that Dr Palmer, sent by the king, considered me ‘out of my mind.’ I proved him quite wrong though, as by the end of January, I was fully recovered and arranging for some beautiful gowns to be made for me so that I could attend the wedding of Princess Elizabeth to the Elector Frederick on 14 February. Elizabeth had begged the king to allow me to attend and I had dared to hope it would come to pass, but I was still not allowed to leave the Tower. The dresses had to be sold and I lost money on them; yet another disappointment for me to swallow. You may think I was foolish to imagine I would ever be permitted to take my place beside the king and queen for this happy occasion, but for a short while I allowed myself to dream.

  There has been a simmering scandal unfolding at Court, which has served to act as a diversion for us and take my mind briefly off my own troubles. Just the other day, a Sir Thomas Overbury was sent here, his only alleged crime being to speak out against the divorce of Frances Howard and the Earl of Essex. Frances is a great beauty, of course I knew her when I was at Court. She was married when very young to Robert Deveraux, the son and namesake of my first love. They lived apart until they were both old enough to live as man and wife; Robert lived abroad and Frances stayed with her mother, the Countess of Suffolk, at Court.

  But Frances is the sort of woman who attracts attention from men. She fell passionately in love with one of the king’s favourites, Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, and rumour has it that she made her husband’s life absolute hell in every way possible. She sued for divorce on the grounds of non-consummation, a reason that humiliated her husband as you may imagine, and has caused no end of gossip and speculation. Sir Thomas was secretary to the viscount and made no secret of the fact that he hated Frances and was not afraid to speak against her in very vitriolic terms. When he subsequently refused a Royal Commission overseas, (an unheard of snub to the king) he promptly found himself here with the rest of us. The jailors told me he was very ill and there was talk of poison being used. It did nothing to reassure me when we heard such a rumour and for a while, I was suspicious of all our food. Then a part of me thought it would be a release of my wretched life and I immediately felt guilty. Either way, it depressed my spirits.

  We heard other snippets of gossip from visitors and some of my cousins visited me whenever possible, uncle Charles and aunt Elizabeth came occasionally and uncle Gilbert usually called in when he came to visit his wife, aunt Mary. Such visits were awkward, as they regarded me with pity and embarrassment. There is no code of etiquette for visiting a jailed relative in the Tower and I could see they struggled to find suitable topics of conversation. They were kind enough to bring me little presents of food parcels, sweet pasties or candid grapes, a book or some new game, but every time I saw them it serves to remind me of my captivity and remember the happier times when I
was able to enjoy family occasions.

  One afternoon Crompton came to see me and he had an air of excitement about his person. We sat down and Mrs B. brought us some wine before joining us. His eyes were shining and I waited excitedly to hear his news. He pressed his fingers to his lips and we kept our voices as low as possible.

  “My lady, I heard yesterday that your husband is planning another escape for you, and this time we will succeed.”

  Mrs B. and I exchanged a look of wonder.

  “Can it be true? Tell me what my husband has planned.”

  “The previous attempt was flawed because we had no contingency plan if something went wrong. We should have discussed what to do if one of us was not at the rendezvous. There were also too many people were involved. Having learnt lessons from the last time, we are confident of success, but it will need very careful planning, nothing must be left to chance.”

  My heart gave a lurch of hope; I knew that William had not forsaken me.

  “When, how soon will it happen?” I asked eagerly.

  “Not for a while,” he told me and shook his head. “There are many aspects that need to be in place before it is safe, it will take some time.”

  “What you mean?”

  “I have to build the trust of someone I have only just met, a woman, who will hopefully shelter you in London until we can get you to the coast, probably Dover, but that has not been decided yet.”