By 1559, Elizabeth had given Robert land in Yorkshire, as well as the manor of Kew. She had also made him Lieutenant of the Castle and Forest of Windsor, and given him a licence to export woollen cloth free of duty. He had yet to buy a ‘home’ estate and settle his wife, most probably because his fortunes were only just being restored. While from 1550 to 1553 Robert had been an up-and-coming gentleman, receiving gifts of land and well-paid posts at Court, after his imprisonment and conviction as a traitor, he was deprived of most of his lands and was reduced to surviving on the revenue from the estates given to him as part of Amy’s dowry. Robert’s fortunes only changed after 1558, when Elizabeth became Queen.
In the time before he was appointed to a Court post, Robert would have lived on what he could make out of his rents, flocks and crops. He would not have been able to afford to lease or buy an estate nearer to London or to afford serious expenditure on his lands. It is probable that having Amy live with friends was the best option financially for them both, allowing Robert to rent the manor houses to bring in extra revenue.
While living in such households as those of William Hyde, Sir Richard Verney and Sir Anthony Forster still required some outlay, it was nothing like the sums that were needed for Amy to run her own household. To keep even a small manor house running depended on a staff of servants who had to be fed and clothed. This required a large budget. Later in the year, when Robert was appointed to the Queen’s Court, his expenses would have, if anything, increased, as he had to show himself to advantage among the royals and nobles, as well as to attract the Queen’s attention.
Amy’s health could have been another reason why the Dudleys did not settle in their own home. As early as April 1559, Spanish Ambassador de Feria was reporting to Philip that Amy had ‘a malady in one of her breasts’. In the same month, Paolo Tiepolo, the Venetian Ambassador, reported in the same context that Robert’s wife had been ailing for some time.6 Amy could have had cancer, an illness that was believed to be incurable, and both Amy and those close to her might have feared that she would die at any time. Amy’s maid, Mrs Pirto, also testified at the inquest into Amy’s death that her mistress suffered from severe depression, leading her to admit the possibility that Amy had considered suicide.
If Amy was ill or suffering from depression, she would have been unable to carry out the duties of running her own household. In this case, by putting her in the safe hands of friends, where she would not have to carry out the stressful duties of a lady of the manor, Robert may have been ensuring that she suffered from as little pressure as possible. Of course, from an outsider’s point of view, such as that of the foreign ambassadors, among others, who were disapproving of Robert’s relationship with the Queen, they might have interpreted Robert’s actions rather more sinisterly, as part of a greater plan to get rid of Amy in order to marry the Queen. Some speculated that Amy was not, in fact, ill and that the entire story had been devised as a cover for Robert when he killed her. Certainly by late 1559, ambassadors such as de Quadra were openly accusing Robert of plotting to murder his wife, and Robert was most probably aware of these rumours.7
In September 1559, Amy went to stay with Sir Richard Verney, one of Robert’s friends, at Compton Verney in Warwickshire. Two months later, she had moved again, this time to the household of Robert’s treasurer and friend, Sir Anthony Forster, at Cumnor Place in North Berkshire. This move brought Amy closer to Robert – the house was about 30 miles from Windsor, where he had lodgings.
The Forsters were an established Shropshire family with three sons and two daughters. Cumnor Place was a well-built two-storey former monastic building of four wings built around a courtyard. It would have had large, impressive glass windows, panelling, wooden floors, a park and gardens, and included every creature comfort. Before Forster took up the lease, it had belonged to Dr George Owen, whose relation, Mrs Owen, stayed on as part of the lease. She lived in one part of the house, Sir Anthony and his family in another and a third part was turned over for Amy’s use; it was here that she resided along with her servants, including Mrs Pirto and her attendant, William Huggins (or Hogan). Amy also had a footman and perhaps other staff, as in 1559 she received pairs of hose for three of ‘those that waiteth on my lady’.8 Another lady, a widow named Mrs Odingsells, was also a guest in the house. She was most probably Edith Odingsells, whose sister, Alice, was married to Forster.
Amy would spend the coming months settled in this comfortable manor house, surrounded by people who wished her well, and supplied by her husband with such fineries as sewing silk for her embroidery and a looking-glass. The last letter that survives from Amy is to her tailor, dated 24 August 1560, about a new dress. The tone of the letter is cheerful and shows Amy looking forward to the pleasure of a new gown, made in the russet colour (a reddish brown) that she seemed to favour.9 She seemed in good spirits.
Just two weeks later, on Sunday, 8 September 1560, tragedy struck. Amy was found lying dead at the foot of the stairs in the hall. On the day, Amy reportedly insisted that everyone in the house attend a local fair at Abingdon, although Mrs Owen and Mrs Odingsells both declined (the Forsters are not mentioned), the latter stating that she would prefer to go the following day when the gentry, rather than the commoners, would be there.
Amy was angry with the widow for refusing to go to the fair, but she could not order Mrs Odingsells to do her bidding. She did insist that all her servants spend the day at the fair, however. Amy had dinner with Mrs Owen later that evening, after which they parted company – and that was the last that anyone saw of her until the servants, on returning that evening, found Amy lying dead at the foot of the staircase, her neck broken.10
When Robert received news of his wife’s death, he immediately sent word to his household officer Thomas Blount, who he had sent to Cumnor, instructing him to find out what had happened. Robert understood that the news of Amy’s death would throw suspicion on him.11
He asked Blount to conduct an open inquiry to learn the truth, composed of a jury of ‘discreet and substantial men’ who would be seen as honest. Robert also requested that Blount send him his ‘true conceit and opinion of the matter, whether it happened by evil chance or villainy …’, adding a postscript that he had also requested that his wife’s half-brother, John, as well as others close to Amy be present so that they could keep an eye on matters.12 Amy’s other half-brother, Arthur, was also sent for to ensure that Robert could not be later accused of a cover-up.
Robert acted quickly, with an eye to his own interests. His feelings for Amy were now largely irrelevant: he needed to minimize the damage that his wife’s unnatural death might have on his chances of marrying Elizabeth. It was important that he remain in London, partly to be near the Court and partly to stem any accusations that he had rushed to Cumnor to orchestrate a cover-up or to intimidate the jury at the inquest. He counted on Blount to handle things at Cumnor without interfering personally. He was insistent that the jury should be composed of local men of good standing, even if they were hostile towards Forster or himself, as this would count for their impartiality. He knew that there had to be a full and honest appraisal of events, resulting in a finding that Amy’s death had been an accident, in order for him to be free to marry Elizabeth after a suitable period of mourning.
As instructed by Robert, Blount stopped at Abingdon and spoke to the landlord of the inn to gauge the immediate reaction of the local people to the tragedy. The general feeling seemed to be that Amy’s death had been accidental. Although there may have been some talk that it might have been murder, Forster was considered so honest by the local people that this speculation was not given much credence. Others thought it was suspicious that Amy had insisted on sending everyone to the fair on the day, which led them to conclude that Amy might have died by her own hand.
Blount asked the inn landlord if she had been suicidal, as the servants had reported to him that she had been depressed: ‘No, good Mr Blount, do not so judge my words; if you should so gather I am sor
ry I said as much.’13 Blount hoped it was an accident, but seemed to fear it was suicide, as he implied when he wrote to Robert, ‘My Lord … The tales I do hear of her make me think she had a strange mind as I will tell you at my coming.’14
Robert himself went to great lengths in his letters to Blount never to mention the possibility of suicide. On 12 September, he wrote, ‘… if it fall out a chance or misfortune, then so to say; and, if it appear a villainy as God forbid so mischievous or wicked a body should live, then to find it so.’15 He made no mention of a third possible verdict, self-termination. This was not to be mentioned or considered, possibly because it was the one that Robert most feared was true.
There would have been a good deal of evidence to support a verdict of suicide and this might have been better for Robert, but he did all he could to protect his dead wife from this conclusion, which was considered a grave sin. If she had taken her own life, she would have been denied a Christian burial and would have been laid to rest in unhallowed ground, although her rank would have saved her from the fate of being buried at a crossroads with a stake through her heart. In any case, her soul would still be damned for eternity.
With all this in mind, Robert and Amy’s intimates would have grasped at the notion of an accidental death with almost frantic single-mindedness, since the alternative, as they saw it, was too hideous to contemplate. A verdict of suicide might also have been damaging to Robert, as his opponents would claim he had driven her to it. The best possible outcome was a verdict that Amy had been ill and had accidentally fallen. As the Cumnor house has since been demolished, it is unknown whether this is a realistic explanation for Amy’s death. The records refer to a ‘pair of stairs’: that is, a short flight to a small landing, then a second short flight to an upstairs landing. The bottom set of stairs was reported to have 8 steps; even if there were more, the whole number was unlikely to exceed 14 treads.
If Amy had planned to take her own life, throwing herself down such narrow, short stairs would have been more likely to result in injury than death. They would be suitable for an attempt that was essentially a cry for help, but in that instance it would be important for someone to find her quickly, in case she really did hurt herself. Ordering her servants to leave the house would tend to support the idea of a deliberate suicide attempt, however, the design of the staircase tends to preclude this as a convincing explanation. An accidental fall would be plausible, but in that case, how would Amy’s neck have broken on a short flight of stairs?
Another possible explanation for Amy’s death emerged through research conducted in the 20th century, which would support a theory of accidental death. If Amy did indeed have advanced untreated breast cancer, she might have developed brittleness in her bones that possibly resulted in a spontaneous break. Professor Ian Aird, in 1956, demonstrated that breast cancer can cause secondary deposits in the bones, making them brittle (the deposits occurred in 50 percent of fatal cases studied; 6 percent of these showed deposits in the spine). If in a fall down a flight of stairs, as Aird explains, ‘… that part of the spine which lies in the neck suffers … the affected person gets spontaneously a broken neck. Such a fracture is more likely to occur in stepping downstairs than in walking on the level.’16 Only an examination of Amy’s skeletal remains would be able to confirm or refute such a hypothesis, however.
After his wife’s sudden death, Robert retired from Court to his house at Kew. He awaited news of the inquest from Blount. His mind was set somewhat at rest when Blount informed him that, in his opinion, the death had been a tragic accident: ‘… I have almost nothing that can make me so much as think that any man should be the doer thereof, as, when I think your lordship’s wife before all other women should have such a chance, the circumstances and as many things as I can learn doth persuade me that only misfortune hath done it and nothing else.’17
After weighing up all the testimony and evidence, the jury formally determined a verdict of accidental death. The foreman wrote to Robert to let him know, who in turn wrote to Blount, stating that the verdict ‘doth very much satisfy and quiet me.’18
And so the matter would have rested had not the Spanish Ambassador intervened. In a dispatch to Philip dated 11 September 1560, de Quadra (after meeting with Cecil, who was disgruntled with Robert at the time), stated that after promising him that he would keep anything he told him secret, Cecil had told him that he was going to withdraw from the Queen’s service and that he perceived that the Queen was facing ruin over her ‘intimacy with Lord Robert’. Cecil also claimed that the realm would not tolerate Elizabeth’s marriage to Robert:
… He told me the Queen cared nothing for foreign princes. She did not believe she stood in any need of their support. She was deeply in debt, taking no thought how to clear herself, and she had ruined her credit in the city. Last of all he said that they were thinking of destroying Lord Robert’s wife. They had given out that she was ill, but she was not ill at all; she was very well and taking care not to be poisoned. God, he trusted, would never permit such a crime to be accomplished or so wretched a conspiracy to prosper.19
De Quadra’s letter, dated 11 September, also stated that he had come to Windsor five days before (the 6th), and that on the next day (the 7th), Elizabeth had told him that Amy was dead, or ‘nearly so’ and had asked him not to say anything about it. He continued:
… Certainly this business is most shameful and scandalous, and withal I am not sure whether she will marry the man at once, or even if she will marry at all, as I do not think she has her mind sufficiently fixed. Since writing the above, I hear the Queen has published the death of Robert’s wife and said in Italian, Si ha rotto il collo. ‘She must have fallen down a staircase.’20
This letter was a blow to Robert, and also to Elizabeth. If it were to be fully believed, Cecil had as good as said that Amy was about to be murdered, and that not just Robert was implicated in such a plot, but the Queen as well.
Similarly, if de Quadra’s letter was accurate and Elizabeth had, in fact, informed him that Amy was dead or ‘nearly so’ on 7 September, this would have been the day before it actually happened (the death occurred 8 September and news reached Windsor on 9 September). This odd behaviour was compounded by the Queen asking him not to mention what she had said to anyone. The report seemed to lay bare a plan drawn up by the Queen and her lover to murder his wife, leaving them free to marry.
However, the letter is not as incriminating as it first seems. The story that Robert and Elizabeth were waiting for his inconvenient wife to die and that Robert would eventually use poison to kill her was an old one and often repeated. In fact, poison was the one thing never mentioned in connection with Amy’s death.
The remarks made by Cecil are more of a puzzle. He was quite capable of using the ambassador as a means of transmitting his opinion to the Queen, but is highly unlikely to have said anything that reflected badly on her. Given the use of ‘spin’ in modern-day politics, it is possible to imagine that Cecil might have spoken to de Quadra in secrecy expressly to make sure the latter did, in fact, convey the information to Philip. Cecil may have felt it was diplomatically wise to complain about Robert and the negative impact on England if he and Elizabeth were to marry. As for the Queen’s remark about Amy being dead ‘or nearly so’, Elizabeth could well have been referring to Amy’s terminal illness and adding, rather sadly, that it would be better not to talk about it.
This letter confirms one thing: that in September 1560 Amy’s death was now expected to happen at any time. On 17 September, Robert’s brother-in-law, Henry Hastings, 3rd Earl of Huntingdon, wrote him a letter in which he added a brief postscript: ‘… As I ended my letter I understood by letters the death of my lady your wife. I doubt not but long before this time you have considered what a happy hour is it which bringeth man from sorrow, to joy, from mortality to immortality, from care and trouble to rest and quietness and that the Lord above worketh all for the best to them that love him …’21 The very fact that Hastings felt
he could add his condolences at the end of a mundane letter, as well as their tone, suggest that Amy’s death was not only expected, but perhaps even welcomed as an end to her ‘care and trouble’.
Evidence seems to suggest that those close to Amy were waiting for her ordeal to end. She had been settled at Cumnor for nine months and seemed content. She was close enough to London that Robert could visit or send messengers and was under the watchful eye of Lady Anne Forster, Mrs Odingsells, Mrs Owen and Amy’s ever-present maid, Mrs Pirto. All that was needed to allow Robert and Elizabeth to marry and produce an heir to the English throne was for Amy to die naturally, surrounded by friends, family and physicians, without a word of scandal. Yet, in the end the manner of Amy’s death left the whole affair open to conjecture, enabling the already circulating rumours of a murderous plot to flourish at Elizabeth’s Court.
If Amy was murdered, the most logical question to ask would be who would have benefited from the timing and manner of her death? It is hard to argue that Robert and Elizabeth did. Had Amy lived a few weeks or months longer and died of natural causes, Robert would have had a real chance of becoming King of England. They had no reason to rush; Elizabeth had successfully held off her various suitors for two years and showed few signs of giving in to any one of them. She and Robert had waited so long; a little longer would not have mattered.
Furthermore, if Robert had genuinely wanted his wife out of the way, he had another option. He and Amy had no children and, with her ill health, were not likely to. A lack of children was a lawful reason for divorce at that time, and it was held to be the wife’s fault unless she could prove otherwise. If Robert had wanted his freedom at any cost, he could have divorced Amy at any time.
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