Lettice must have been distressed to hear of her daughter’s unhappiness, and matters did not get any better. Following her marriage, although Penelope remained in the Queen’s service she now chose to spend much of her time with her family, particularly her mother, in order to avoid Lord Rich as far as possible. She did not bother to hide her feelings, and her marriage would prove to be notoriously miserable. It was, furthermore, one that would force her to seek comfort in the arms of another.
IN SEPTEMBER 1582, three years had elapsed since Lettice and Leicester’s Wanstead wedding. At this time, the French ambassador Mauvissière claimed to have heard that Lettice was once again expecting a child (‘grosse de son segond enfant’), but if this was the case then nothing more is heard of it.21 While Lettice had continued to keep a low profile, she had by the summer of 1583 established herself firmly – and permanently – as Countess of Leicester at Leicester House. Perhaps both she and her husband expected that by now the Queen’s anger would have cooled; if so, they were both very much mistaken. Although Leicester had by now been restored to his former favour, the matter of his marriage was still raw. Elizabeth was not in a forgiving mood, and it was probably upon hearing that Lettice had installed herself in Leicester’s homes as his wife that her anger flared. It was reported that she was once again furious with the Earl ‘about his marriage, for he opened the same more plainly than ever before’.22 But Lettice was determined not to hide away any more.
THE MARRIAGE OF Lettice’s eldest daughter had now been settled, but there was still her youngest, Dorothy, to consider. In January 1582, Leicester had made a will in order to set out the provisions for his young son and heir. However, he also made reference to the marriage of his stepdaughter. Penelope’s marriage to Lord Rich had put an end to all thoughts of a match between her and Sir Philip Sidney, but it seems that Leicester, and possibly also Lettice, had considered Sidney as a husband for Dorothy instead. Dorothy was now seventeen years old, and, like her elder sister, had joined the Queen’s household as one of her ladies. As her guardian, it was Huntingdon who bore the responsibility for arranging a husband for her, but Leicester had also shown an interest in the marriage of his stepdaughter. He was keen to ally Lettice’s family with his own, and in his will he had noted that there had been ‘some talk of marriage between my well beloved nephew Philip Sidney and the Lady Dorothy Devereux’. In a confirmation of his fondness for them, he continued, ‘my hearty and earnest wish was and is that it be so, for the great good will and liking I have to each party’.23 His final desire in the matter was ‘that such love and liking might be between them as might bring a marriage’.24 Sidney had spent some time residing with his uncle at Leicester House in the early days of Leicester’s marriage to Lettice, and it is possible that talk of a union with one of the Devereuxs was raised then. Unfortunately, by early 1583, if not before, all of Leicester’s hopes were dashed. On 21 September, Philip married elsewhere – to Frances, the daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham. A matching pair of portraits of the newlyweds, which may have been commissioned to mark their marriage, now hangs at Parham House in Sussex. It was not what either Leicester or his wife had hoped for, but in the coming years they would both show themselves to be kind to the new Lady Sidney.
According to the Spanish ambassador, when it came to finding a husband for Dorothy, by 1583 both Leicester and Lettice had raised their hopes even higher than Sir Philip Sidney. On 17 March, Bernardino de Mendoza was reporting to his master that Robert Bowes, Queen Elizabeth’s ambassador in Scotland, had been tasked with a mission. He had, according to Mendoza, been instructed to speak to King James, the son of the deposed Mary, Queen of Scots, on the matter of a potential marriage with Lettice’s daughter. Under directions from Leicester and Walsingham, Bowes had told the King of Scots that
if he will marry Dorothy, daughter of the Earl of Essex (who, they say, was poisoned by order of Leicester so that the latter might marry his wife, the present Countess of Leicester), and will assure them that he will not change religion, on his being acknowledged by the English Catholics, they, Leicester and Walsingham, will have him declared by the judges to be the heir to the Crown of England.25
There is very little real evidence that Leicester had attempted to do any such thing: although the Queen had not named or acknowledged an heir, most people were now of the opinion that she would never marry, and that King James would be her successor. Nevertheless, the rumours about Dorothy’s marriage were not helpful, and once more served to intensify Elizabeth’s feelings of rage towards Lettice. In June, Mendoza reported that the Queen had begged the King of Scots’ representative to tell her ‘whether it was true that Leicester had negotiated through Davison for the marriage of the King of Scotland with the daughter of his wife’.26 The King’s representative denied it, yet
the Queen became so excited about it as to say that she would rather allow the King to take her crown away than see him married to the daughter of such a she-wolf, and, if she could find no other way to repress her ambition and that of the traitor Leicester, she would proclaim her all over Christendom for the bad woman she was, and prove that her husband was a cuckold. She said much more to the same effect; and, in order to mollify her, Leicester is now making great efforts to marry the girl to a private gentleman.27
Parts of this report were undoubtedly exaggerated, but what it does show is the intensity of the Queen’s hostility towards her kinswoman. Considering that this episode supposedly took place almost five years after Lettice’s marriage, the wounds caused by her betrayal of the Queen were still felt deeply. The comment about Lettice’s ambition also suggests that the Queen perceived their rivalry to be more than personal – that she perhaps felt that now that Lettice had managed to ensnare Leicester, she was beginning to turn her attentions elsewhere by planning to ally her daughter with a king. Either way her venomous words were scathing indeed, and whether there was any truth in the rumours or not, the Queen was not even prepared to entertain the prospect of a reconciliation with Lettice.
Prior to, and even during this episode, the Queen appears to have been fond of Dorothy Devereux in the same way that she favoured Penelope. However, that was all about to change. In July, Dorothy took the matter of her marriage into her own hands. Sir Thomas Perrot was the son of Sir John Perrot and Anne Cheyne; like Dorothy’s father, Sir Thomas had served in Ireland under his father, who was later appointed Lord Deputy. He frequently participated in tournaments at court, and it was certainly here that he had encountered Dorothy for the first time. In order to promote his suit, Sir Thomas had sought the help of Dorothy’s sister, Penelope, writing to her in complimentary terms and seeking her assistance in the pursuit of obtaining Dorothy’s consent to marry him. ‘I know my Lady Dorothy to be worthy of all titles that may be given to any lady, and one whom the greatest and proudest minded in England may think himself happy to serve,’ he wrote.28 Penelope had clearly given the match her blessing, for he continued, ‘I understand by my cousin Taseborow how great a happiness it hath pleased your ladyship to wish me.’29 It is highly improbable, though, that Sir Thomas had sought the permission of either Lettice, Leicester or Dorothy’s guardian the Earl of Huntingdon when pressing his suit.
The circumstances of what happened next are confusing, but Dorothy had evidently accepted Sir Thomas’s proposal. However, repeating Lettice’s experience, neither party felt able to approach the Queen to ask for her consent to their marriage. As a result, the couple eloped to Broxbourne in Hertfordshire, close to Lettice’s home at Wanstead. Once they were there, it was probably in the church of St Augustine’s that ‘a strange minister’ married them. This same minister had approached the church vicar that morning, in order to ask for both the keys to the church and the communion book.30 The whole scene had been conducted rather bizarrely, with ‘two men guarding the church door with swords and daggers under their cloaks, as also had the rest of the company, five or six in number’, and numerous interruptions from the local vicar, who warned them o
f the peril that they risked in conducting the service.31
Lettice was less than impressed by her daughter’s behaviour, and even less impressed by her choice of husband – with good reason, for Perrot’s father would later die in the Tower having been condemned for high treason – but there was little that she could do.32 A portrait of Dorothy, now at Syon House, dates from this period of her life. Like her mother and her sister, she had been blessed with good looks, and in a play on her new marital name, a parrot is perched on her hand.33 Described by her father-in-law as ‘that virtuous and gracious lady’, she had the same determined character as her mother, and what was more, history was about to repeat itself.34 Precisely when or how the Queen learned of Dorothy’s marriage is uncertain, but her reaction was predictable: utter outrage. Dorothy was immediately banished from court, but for Sir Thomas the price of marrying without the Queen’s consent was worse. In a clear sign of his disgrace, he was sent to the notorious Fleet Prison, along with the chaplain who had performed the marriage ceremony.35 Thanks to the intervention of Lord Burghley both men were later released, but that was not an end to the newlywed’s troubles. They were plagued by financial woes, which, like her mother before her, Dorothy begged for Burghley’s help to solve. He duly obliged, but still the Queen refused to forgive her. In despair, Dorothy wrote to Burghley that ‘our infection is a like a pleurisy that have need of present remedy’.36 The result was that Dorothy and her husband were forced to retire to the Perrot family residence, Carew Castle in Pembrokeshire, where they were to spend much of their time.37 The parallels between Dorothy’s and Lettice’s stories were remarkable, and her daughter’s feelings were ones that Lettice knew all too well.
CHAPTER 14
My Sorrowful Wife
THE EARL OF Leicester’s primary residences were Leicester House, Wanstead and Kenilworth, and it was at the former two that Lettice spent the majority of her time. In the years that she was married to Leicester, there is evidence of her having visited Kenilworth just the once, as part of a holiday in 1585. Leicester’s surviving accounts show that all three households were in constant communication with one another, and items were regularly moved between residences.1 Though Lettice and Leicester were married for ten years, it is just for the years from 1584 to 1586 that the accounts survive, but much can be gleaned.2 Eleven volumes of his household inventories are still available to us, a staggering number and the largest surviving collection of any Elizabethan.3 They provide unique and illuminating glimpses into the luxury in which Lettice and her family lived, and the ways in which they spent their time.
Although Lettice does feature in her husband’s accounts, her appearances are not as frequent as one might expect. The most logical explanation for this is that her household was maintained by the income she received as dowager Countess of Essex, but it is likely that her accounts would have contained some similar entries to those that can be found in her husband’s. For example, members of the nobility were expected to be charitable, and Leicester’s accounts reveal regular payments to the poor; on 24 October 1584, he gave money to the poor people of Witney, Abingdon and Burford Bridge, and Lettice would have distributed money in a similar way. Certainly after her death, her epitaph praised the fact that in her later years ‘the poor that lived near, death nor famine could not fear’.
Leicester’s payments also record items that Lettice would have enjoyed, such as white wine, the services of a harpist, and rewards to Leicester’s Players for performing at Leicester House.4 On the occasions that she does appear, it was often when her husband covered her travel expenses. In 1584 and 1585 she travelled fairly regularly by water, and Leicester’s waterman was often rewarded for transporting her in her husband’s barge. On 26 September 1585, for example, he was paid for ‘carrying my lady to Baynard’s Castle and back again to Leicester House’.5 Though she had been forbidden from attending court, this did not prevent Lettice from mixing with other friends and members of high society in the capital, and Baynard’s Castle was the London residence of the Earl of Pembroke, one of the witnesses at her wedding.6
Lettice’s life with Leicester was full of luxury. She was mistress of an expanding household, with 150 people working at both Leicester House and Wanstead. There were gardeners, musicians and a fisherman at Wanstead.7 In addition, Lettice had her own footman, whose duties would have included admitting Lettice’s visitors into her presence. He was known only as Dampard.8
At Leicester House she was surrounded by a variety of gold and silver objects, including gold plate, bowls, cups, spice boxes, spoons and candlesticks, most of which were engraved with Leicester’s bear symbol.9 There was Venetian glass as well as numerous costly tapestries – Leicester even patronized the Sheldon tapestry workshop in Warwickshire, and a tapestry believed to have been made for the banqueting house at Leicester House still survives in the Victoria and Albert Museum. The floors were covered in fine carpets, while there was also a painted table ‘with an ape, owls, fish, flies and birds in a gilt frame with a case of black leather’.10 Lettice slept in one of the many elaborate beds, perhaps with one of the ‘silk quilts’ that could be found among Leicester’s belongings – at New Year 1585, she even made a gift of a fine bed to her husband: beds being among the prize possessions of the nobility.
Elsewhere in the house, ‘A pair of harp virginals covered with yellow leather’, and ‘a white bone horn’ conveyed the couple’s love of music, while ‘A map of the north part of England in vellum’, a map of Sir Francis Drake’s voyage, and ‘two maps of the kingdom of France’ demonstrated Leicester’s love of maps.11 Lettice’s husband’s passion for books meant that he also had a vast library, filled with books that were covered in crimson velvet and stamped with Leicester’s crest in gold – one of which still survives in Lambeth Palace Library.12 By the time of his death he had amassed several hundred volumes, some of which were written in Italian and Latin.13 Lettice’s father would have approved of the copy of ‘An book of Common Prayer, stamped with my Lord’s arms’, as well as ‘a bible covered with yellow leather’.14 By 1584 there was also a copy of Foxe’s Acts and Monuments, which immortalized the sufferings that Protestants had been forced to endure during the reign of Queen Mary.15 Lettice had access to all of these items, and may even have taken the time to read some of her husband’s books. This does seem likely, as an inventory of her possessions taken after her death reveals that she too owned many books.16
When she was at home, Lettice had plenty of things with which to occupy her time. She certainly spent some of it engaged in needlework, and in 1586, for example, there is a note that ‘a fair saddle cloth very richly embroidered with gold, pearl, turquoises, two counterfeit rubies’ had ‘all the pearl taken off by my Lady’ on 19 March.17 She also made cushions from her old gowns. Leicester House was the scene of regular entertainments, and, as mentioned, her husband’s accounts record frequent payments to Leicester’s Players. Formed in 1559, the group of actors were at the peak of their popularity between 1570 and 1583, so much so that the Queen had granted them a royal patent. One of their most prestigious members was William Kempe, who gained fame as a popular Elizabethan clown who danced to jigs. Another of their players, James Burbage, was responsible for building the first theatre in England in 1576, known simply as The Theatre in Shoreditch.18 The Players performed a variety of plays of varying genres, including a comedy called Delight, and another called The Greek Maid. Leicester also patronized the poet Edmund Spenser, whom he had made his secretary in 1579.19 Despite his employment Spenser continued with his literary works, and it was at Leicester House that he wrote his first major work, The Shepherd’s Calendar.20 Significantly, it contains a less than flattering reference to Lettice – it was instead highly complimentary to the Queen. The shepherd, speaking to his friend, explains that as spring is approaching
Then shall we sporten in delight
And learn with Lettice to wax light.
This impertinent phrase referred to the Leicesters’ relationshi
p, and was a slight, referring to the way in which Leicester had used Lettice for sexual gratification. Though it was a blatant dig at Lettice’s reputation, there is no evidence of a rift or any repercussions for the poet.
The Leicesters were also very sociable, and regularly exchanged gifts with other members of the nobility, all of whom now accepted them as a married couple; the inventories record two small salts given by Lady Burghley in 1583, while the following year Sir Walter Ralegh gave an elaborate gift of ‘the body of a strange shell of a fish garnished with silver and gilt’.21 Lettice’s father once presented a buck, while Sir Francis Walsingham gave a stag’s head.22 Presumably Leicester and Lettice reciprocated in similar terms. Also in 1583, the French ambassador Mauvissière informed his master Henri III that he had been invited to dine at Leicester House by the Earl: ‘He has especially invited me to dine with him and his wife, who has much influence over him, and whom he introduces only to those to whom he wishes to show a particular mark of attention.’ Whether this was true or not, it is interesting to note that this was the way in which one of Lettice’s contemporaries chose to view the situation. Interestingly, Mauvissière wrote of the same dinner to the captive Queen of Scots. He told her that he had dined with Leicester ‘and his lady to whom he is much attached. They both received me very kindly.’ The couple had also, according to Mauvissière, ‘expressed a wish that the Countess and my wife should be on intimate terms’.23 Lettice would have been aware that the French were supporters of Mary, Queen of Scots, making her kindness towards one who was on good terms with the woman who had shown herself to be an enemy to Elizabeth even more intriguing.
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