by Tracy Borman
Frances suppressed a shudder. ‘Surely you do not fear for me, Mother?’
‘Cecil told you to have a care, Frances,’ her mother replied. ‘Now it is clear why. Every word he speaks is for a purpose.’
‘But he knew that I was there to ease Her Majesty’s suffering,’ Frances protested. ‘My herbs were to heal, not to conjure up the Devil.’
‘Cecil knows only the king’s truth now. And he is resolved to prove it. He will not rest until he has delivered a witch to his master, as a cat would kill a mouse for its keeper. If he can serve his own ends at the same time, then so much the better.’
‘But what am I to Cecil?’ Frances demanded scornfully. ‘There must be many more people at court of whom he wishes to rid himself, and I am already out of the way here at Longford.’
‘You know that he has long resented our family for the favour shown to us by her late Majesty, despite …’ Helena’s voice trailed off. After a pause, she reached out and grasped her daughter’s hands again. ‘We must keep you here, Frances, away from the vipers’ nest of court.’ Her face twisted with distaste.
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ Frances assured her.
‘But you must understand, you will be alone here – the household and your personal attendants excepted, of course. Your sisters will accompany us to London – Lord knows, they hanker after returning,’ Helena added. ‘We must be seen to present ourselves to the king, or risk his displeasure.’
‘I have been alone here these many weeks, Mother. And Longford is still standing, is it not?’
The marchioness returned her smile.
‘I am sure you could manage ten such households, and still have time for those precious plants of yours,’ she assured her. ‘But even here, so far removed from the perils of court, you must look about you.’
Frances’s expression darkened. ‘I know that all too well.’
She regretted her words at once, but it was too late.
‘What has happened?’
Frances hesitated. ‘The Reverend Pritchard chose the evils of witchcraft as the subject for his first sermon,’ she replied eventually, failing to keep the scorn from her voice. ‘He seemed to disapprove of my attending the Godwin boy, who has sickened again, and warned his flock against healers and wise women. He would have done better to offer prayers for the late queen.’
Helena’s brow was creased with concern. ‘You take too many risks, Frances. You must put your own welfare ahead of those whom you think you help.’
‘Forgive me, lady mother, but I do help them,’ Frances urged. ‘They have no other succour. The rantings of that cleric can hardly make any positive effect.’
Her mother shot her a warning look. Frances took a breath, then continued. ‘I have done nothing against the laws of God or nature. I only use my medicines for good, Mother.’
‘Would that you might not use them at all!’ Helena burst out with a severity that surprised Frances, who nevertheless held her gaze steadily. Eventually, her mother gave a heavy sigh, and when she spoke again it was in a more resigned tone.
‘It is because of me that you are in such danger, Frances,’ Helena said quietly, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I, more than anyone, respect the skills of healers.’ She paused, glancing up at the portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung on the wall opposite the window. ‘When I was carrying your sister Elizabeth, I fell mortally sick with a fever. The queen sent her most trusted physicians to attend me, but it was all in vain. I continued to worsen. Then the queen’s old nursemaid, Blanche, sent for a woman whom she knew to be skilled in the art of healing. Her tinctures broke the fever and saved my life – and that of my child.’
Frances stared at her mother and understanding suddenly dawned.
‘And that is why you and my father have always encouraged my study of such arts, when I should have been spending my days with the needle or lute?’
Helena looked down at her hands.
‘We have put you in danger, Frances. The old queen looked fondly upon wise women – and men,’ she added, ‘and refused to listen to Cecil and others of her council who spoke out against them. But they have been subject to the whims of the monarch many times before now. Hundreds have perished in the past on suspicion of using their skills to bring sickness and even death.’ Her expression darkened. ‘These are perilous times, Frances, and what was smiled upon in the last reign is condemned in the next.’
‘So I must relinquish my healing? Turn my back on those who suffer?’ Frances asked, her words clipped.
‘If you do not, then your life here at Longford will be in as great a peril as if you were at court.’
Her mother had struck at the heart of her fear, and she knew it. Frances sighed, resigned.
‘You know that I will do anything to stay at Longford, even if it means withholding my skills – for a time,’ she added.
Helena nodded, satisfied. ‘Safety will be your reward – and mine.’
CHAPTER 5
2 May
‘What has happened to your hair, Frances?’ Elizabeth demanded scornfully as soon as her sister walked into the parlour. ‘You look as if you have been on the ducking stool!’
Bridget gave a giggle, but quickly stifled it when she saw her mother’s face. Calmly, Frances took her place at the breakfast table. With Ellen’s help, she had divested herself of her sodden riding gown and mud-stained boots, both of which now hung by the kitchen fire. A simple dress of pale blue silk had been hastily pulled over her head and laced up – a little too roughly, she fancied – and Ellen had tamed her tangled hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck. But there had been no time to dry it, and every now and then Frances felt a droplet of rainwater trickle down her back.
‘My lady mother.’ Frances inclined her head, then turned to the opposite end of the table. ‘Father.’
She plucked a grape from the platter in front of her, then took a sip of ale. Slowly setting the glass down, she addressed her sister: ‘I decided to take a ride before the weather turned.’ She smiled. ‘As you have observed, I was a little too late.’
Helena shot her a look of reproof. ‘You should know better than to ride out into a storm, and without anyone to accompany you.’
‘Our daughter was ever mistress of her fate, my love,’ Sir Thomas cut in, smiling. ‘That is no doubt why our late queen showed her such favour. She recognised a kindred spirit.’
Frances smiled ruefully at him.
‘Well, that may have served in the last reign, but our new king would not take kindly to such waywardness in women,’ her elder sister remarked. ‘Lady Margaret writes that the queen is subject to his will in all matters – their daughter too.’
Frances saw the look of triumph in Elizabeth’s eyes. She always loved to boast of her acquaintances at court, few though they were.
‘Ah, but such great ladies have always found ways to trick their husbands into believing that they are compliant, when all the while it is they who wield the power,’ her father observed, smiling at his wife.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. A moment later, Dymock walked in carrying a letter. He gave it to his mistress with a quick bow. Frances saw a fleeting look of concern cross her mother’s face as she opened it. Glancing at the note, she could just discern the outline of a lion on the seal. Her scalp prickled.
Helena’s eyes darted over the contents, which were evidently brief. Frances observed her closely, but her expression was impassive.
‘The Earl of Northampton will dine with us this evening,’ she announced at length. ‘He has broken his journey in Salisbury, but will be with us by five o’clock.’
There was a brief silence. Frances’s heart sank. Her uncle only ever made the journey to Longford in order to bend one or both of her parents to his will. He was not even a blood relative, but claimed kinship to Helena’s first husband, and had always styled himself her brother. As a scion of the powerful Howard family, his word
was law, as he saw it. Frances knew that her parents hated his visits just as much as she did.
‘The earl must have followed in our wake,’ Sir Thomas remarked evenly. ‘We only saw him a few days ago at court.’ Frances noticed the look that he exchanged with her mother.
‘We are fortunate indeed that he has chosen to honour us with a visit when he must have more pressing business at St James’s,’ Helena replied.
Frances stared down at her plate, but her appetite had vanished. It had been many months since she had seen her uncle, but the memory of his visit remained all too strongly imprinted in her mind.
‘How long will he stay?’ she asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.
‘He does not say,’ her mother replied. ‘But I doubt it will be for long. He will have much to occupy him, now that he is a member of the council.’
Frances looked up. ‘Then he has succeeded, despite Cecil’s opposition?’
Helena nodded. ‘Our new king has no wish to make an enemy of the old noble families. The Earl of Nottingham has also found favour, though he is no more a friend to Cecil than my brother.’
Frances fell silent. Perhaps the king would prove more conciliatory than they had feared.
‘We must make haste,’ Elizabeth declared excitedly, interrupting her thoughts. ‘My uncle will no doubt wish to discuss our marriage. We must have our best gowns prepared.’
‘Lord Northampton will not be here for seven hours yet, sister. You might have a hundred gowns prepared in that time,’ Frances observed sardonically.
‘You would do well to make shift yourself,’ Elizabeth retorted, looking her sister up and down. ‘He will want to talk of your marriage too, even if there are fewer suitors for the second-born daughter.’
Before Frances could answer, Elizabeth stood up and gave a brief curtsey to her mother, then hastened from the room.
‘If only that were true,’ Frances said quietly to herself.
The fire crackled in the grate, its warmth releasing the scent of the fresh sprigs of rosemary and lavender that had been scattered across the floor. Frances and her sisters sat on a long, low mahogany bench, the seat covered with dark red velvet. Each of them wore their finest dresses, their hair beautifully coiffed, and their necks sparkling with jewels. Opposite them were their mother and father, seated next to each other. Helena’s dress was of dark grey satin, shot through with a silver thread that caught the flickering light of the fire. Her back was straight, and her hands were clasped together on her lap. Nobody spoke.
After several minutes, a loud knock could be heard in the entrance hall beyond. Sir Thomas reached across and gave his wife’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then rose to his feet. Another knock, and Dymock entered.
‘The Earl of Northampton,’ he announced, bowing low.
Frances’s uncle swept past him. His imposing figure seemed to fill the room at once. He was dressed in a dark red doublet, slashed with gold silk, and Frances noticed that the fastenings were pulled taut across his stomach. He wore the white hose made fashionable by the men of court, but his red leather shoes, though pointed, had no heels. This latest embellishment must have been, literally, a step too far, she mused.
Frances and her sisters rose to their feet. Only their mother remained seated.
‘My lord, we are greatly honoured by your visit,’ her father said, giving a swift bow.
‘Gorges,’ the earl replied abruptly, then looked down at her mother, who proffered her hand. He kissed it briefly.
‘Why are you not at court, sister?’ he demanded without further ceremony.
Sir Thomas nodded to Dymock, who poured a glass of wine and offered it to the earl, then stood behind his chair. The rest of the company sat down.
‘It is from Burgundy, my lord,’ Sir Thomas remarked pleasantly. ‘A particularly fine vintage.’
The earl grunted, and downed the contents of the glass. Frances noticed a droplet of the ruby liquid trickle from one corner of his mouth. He brushed it aside, then held out his glass for more.
‘We will return to London as soon as the sickness has passed and we have put our estate in order, brother.’ Helena spoke softly but with authority.
‘What business can there be here of greater import than His Majesty’s pleasure?’ Northampton demanded, casting a scornful look around the room.
‘It is our intention to leave the care of Longford in the hands of our daughter Frances, my lord,’ she replied.
The earl swung to look at Frances, his eyes narrowing. She straightened her back and met his gaze. Her uncle had always been a thickset man, but she fancied he had grown heavier these past months, his complexion ruddier. The blond hair that now barely covered his scalp was flecked with white.
‘Her?’ he scoffed. ‘What about your sons?’
‘Theo and Edward are both completing their studies at Cambridge, my lord,’ her mother cut in, ‘and Robert and Thomas are staying in the household of the Earl of Derby.’
‘That at least is good news,’ the earl remarked. ‘Lord Stanley will join me on His Majesty’s council – God knows he’s paid out enough for it. He will prove a useful ally against Cecil.’ He took another drink, then looked back at Frances. ‘But what does she know about running an estate? She is merely a girl.’
Frances felt herself redden, but remained silent.
‘Our daughter knows Longford better than anyone,’ her father replied a little too firmly. ‘And she is quick to learn.’
‘Have you no agent, man?’ the earl continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘This is not woman’s work. Our new king would be shocked to hear of it.’
Frances imagined the look of triumph on her elder sister’s face, but stared resolutely ahead.
‘We trust Frances above any of our household,’ her father insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. ‘I am sure the king would understand that the bonds of family are stronger than any other.’
‘With a whore for a mother?’ the earl spat back. ‘One who abandoned him when he was still in the cradle?’ He glared at Helena and her husband. ‘You might have understood our new king better if you had troubled to pay your respects to him at Berwick, like sensible – and faithful – subjects.’
‘Brother, you must know that my duties to Her late Majesty prevented our journeying north,’ Helena replied sharply.
‘So you tied yourself to a powerless old woman rather than show your obedience to your new sovereign?’ he cried. Frances saw her mother’s eyes widen briefly, but she remained silent. ‘You have lived at court long enough to know where the path to advancement lies,’ her uncle continued. ‘You have brought disgrace upon our family, and if you do not soon return to court, it would be better that you remain for ever absent.’
‘We will be there for the coronation, my lord,’ her mother replied calmly.
‘Along with half of London!’ the earl retorted angrily, his colour rising even more. Frances noticed a small vein at his temple begin to throb. ‘If you do not present yourself to King James before then, you will find yourselves at the back of a whole procession of supplicants for his favour. Your husband has already failed to secure a place on the council. There will only be scraps left for you both to scavenge by the time you reach him.’ He took another long swig of wine. ‘Do you not care for their fortune, either?’ he demanded, gesturing towards Frances and her sisters, and spilling some of the contents of his glass. ‘I have been working tirelessly to make them good marriages, but it will all be in vain if you do not show them at court.’
‘We care deeply for all our children, my lord,’ Helena countered, ‘and will be taking Elizabeth and Bridget with us when we return to London.’ Both girls sat up straight at the mention of their names, their eyes sparkling at the thought of being introduced to prospective suitors.
‘They look well enough,’ Northampton muttered, giving them a quick appraising stare. ‘But you know this one is the real jewel in the family chest.’
Without warning, he grabbed Fra
nces by the wrist and dragged her to her feet. ‘She’s a pale little creature,’ he said, pinching her cheek between his finger and thumb. Frances winced and lowered her gaze, unable to bear the sight of her uncle assessing her as he would a horse that he planned to show off at the tiltyard. ‘But she is the fairest of your daughters by far, and her beauty makes up for her being only the second-born. If we play it right, she will restore your family to favour.’ His expression darkened. ‘Had she not been so obstinate, she would already be married to a duke.’
Frances shuddered inwardly at the mention of the proposed betrothal to the aged Duke of Rutland. Her obstinacy had been rewarded, when, after several months of protracted negotiations, her prospective suitor had died. She glanced up at her parents, who seemed to have been struck mute. After an agonising pause, her father spoke.
‘If you had three jewels, my lord, would you place them in the same casket,’ he asked quietly, ‘so that a thief might steal them all away at once?’ The two men eyed each other intently. ‘The court is a bountiful place, as you say,’ Sir Thomas continued, ‘but it is also a dangerous one. Though we may hope for peace and toleration, His Majesty has made no pronouncements yet. But it is no secret that he intends to purge England of witches, just as he has Scotland. Once this zealotry takes hold, there is no knowing where it will lead. You know that Frances is skilled in healing. She won favour with the late queen because of it, but it is more likely to earn her the censure of this new king. We will not risk her safety, nor that of our entire family, by bringing her too soon to court.’
The earl fell silent, considering.
‘My niece would do well to desist from such practices at once,’ he said at length. ‘You have indulged her long enough with her plants and potions. The king will have her marked as a witch before she has even set foot in St James’s, and Cecil will lose no opportunity to disgrace our family. He would have succeeded before now, were it not for the old queen. If my niece courts scandal, he will use it to oust me from the council.’
