The King's Witch

by Tracy Borman

  ‘His Majesty seems out of humour, my lord,’ her uncle said in a low voice.

  She had been too lost in thought to notice the Earl of Northumberland take his seat. He bowed his head in greeting, and she returned his smile.

  ‘He has been denied the hunt today,’ the earl replied. ‘The council had much business to discuss in preparation for Parliament. It will be convened in two weeks’ time.’

  Her uncle grunted.

  ‘He devotes more time to his hounds than his councillors,’ he said, pausing to spear a large piece of beef from one of the plates in front of them. ‘The people mutter greatly against it, especially as he is a foreigner.’

  Frances darted a quick glance towards Cecil, who was seated several places away from them, and seemed to be listening. She touched her uncle’s hand briefly, and nodded in Cecil’s direction.

  ‘His Majesty is intent upon uniting his two kingdoms,’ Northumberland said in a low voice. ‘There will be much debate about it in Parliament, judging from the objections that were raised in council.’

  ‘That will never be passed,’ her uncle replied. ‘The Scots have long been our enemy, and no Englishman will ever be bound to them. Parliament has already thrown out that scheme once.’

  ‘The king claims that God forged the two countries into a single island, by nature indivisible, and that we must now be united in law,’ Northumberland countered. ‘He will not let it rest.’

  ‘Then he will turn even those of the true faith against him, as well as the Catholics,’ her uncle muttered. ‘God knows there are already enough plots simmering in the kingdom.’

  At that moment a server appeared and set down half a dozen fresh dishes before them. Frances breathed in the aroma of salmon roasted with onions, ginger, and wine, and of freshly baked manchet bread.

  ‘Lady Frances?’

  The Earl of Northumberland was looking at her expectantly.

  ‘Forgive me, my lord. I was quite lost in thought,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘I was merely asking your opinion of the princess. Is she growing into a young lady of discernment?’

  Frances’s expression softened.

  ‘Her Grace excels in learning and accomplishments, my lord,’ she replied with a smile. ‘I doubt not that she will prove a jewel in the Stuart crown, greatly beloved by all.’

  Northumberland eyed her closely.

  ‘What of her vanity? Lady Mar says she is too fond of her dresses and her looking glass.’

  Frances bristled.

  ‘The vanity of the young can hardly be condemned, my lord – particularly one who is surrounded by flatterers and luxury. The princess is a credit to the kingdom, and will only become more so as the years pass.’

  She caught a fleeting look of triumph on the earl’s face that left her feeling strangely unsettled.

  ‘I hope very much that you are right, Lady Frances,’ he replied quietly.

  All of a sudden, he and her uncle scrambled to their feet. Frances turned to see the queen standing before them. She rose to curtsey.

  ‘Lady Frances, I would be grateful for a moment of your time.’

  Frances stole a glance at Anne, but her expression was as unreadable as usual.

  ‘Of course, Your Grace.’ She bowed her head, and, not pausing to look back at her dining companions, followed in the queen’s wake.

  The fact that there were no other ladies in attendance heightened Frances’s curiosity. Perhaps, after all, she was to be released from her duties – discreetly so as to avoid any scandal. She had fulfilled her obligation by nursing the princess back to full health, but the stain of witchcraft still hung about her, and she saw the looks that Anne’s ladies gave her whenever the princess visited her chambers. She had even caught the queen herself observing her with something like suspicion on occasion.

  As they made their way along the corridors that led from the Great Hall to the queen’s private apartments, Frances allowed the notion of her release to take hold in her mind, imagining a life free from the contagion of the court. Her first thought was of returning to Longford, but the idea of being there alone did not hold the appeal that it once had. She smiled at the realisation that she could no longer imagine life without Tom. She was his, heart and soul. Though they had not yet spoken of a betrothal, she had come to hope that the increasingly long hours that he spent at Gray’s Inn were aimed at enhancing his means. Her thoughts raced on. He could go with her. A lawyer with his skill and connections would easily find work in Salisbury. He might also help to run the estate.

  By the time that they arrived at the door to Anne’s apartments, Frances’s heart was racing with anticipation. The queen gestured for her to take a seat by the fire, opposite her own. She then crossed to her writing desk and unlocked one of the drawers with a small key that she drew out of her pocket. Frances craned her neck to see as she lifted out a small black casket and took something from it. As she came to sit opposite her, Frances saw that she held a folded parchment.

  ‘Lady Frances, you have been poorly treated by my husband and his court,’ she began without preamble. ‘For all the love you bear my daughter, I know that you wish to be free of it.’

  Frances’s heart leaped. She glanced at the document on Anne’s lap. The queen seemed to hesitate before continuing.

  ‘We are greatly indebted to you for the service that you have performed. Were it not for you, our daughter would surely have perished.’

  Frances waited. If Anne was struggling with her conscience, then she had no need. Being released from service was the greatest reward that she could wish for. She was going to offer some words of reassurance, but the queen began to speak again.

  ‘This is a deed for some land that lies in the manor of Greenwich,’ she said, handing Frances the document. ‘The title has been transferred to your name, and you may draw interest from it as soon as the current lease has expired in a little over a year’s time. It will provide you with the means to leave this court, should you wish it.’

  This was so unexpected that for a moment Frances was unable to speak. She gazed down at the parchment, which bore the queen’s seal. As she ran her fingers over the smooth wax, she struggled to hide her disappointment. Though the land, lying in one of the richest manors in England, was a prize that her fellow courtiers would have fought bitterly for, it was as nothing compared to her freedom. She broke the seal and began to read, but the Latin danced before her eyes. Her name was in large script at the top of the document, an elegant flourish beneath the ‘F.’ It was signed ‘Anna Regina’, and dated three days earlier.

  As she carefully refolded the document, she felt a sudden stab of anger. Is this what her ordeal was worth? The terror and pain that she had suffered in the Tower, the sullying of her name ever after? A piece of land, no matter how valuable, was a poor recompense. It was not even in the name of he who had sanctioned her torture. The king had shown precious little remorse in the months that had followed.

  Frances met the queen’s gaze at last, her eyes cold.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace, but I cannot accept,’ she said firmly, holding out the document.

  Anne looked momentarily surprised. When she made no move to take the deed, Frances continued: ‘I am grateful for your beneficence, but as it is not you who has wronged me, my conscience will not allow it.’

  Understanding registered on the queen’s face, and her features relaxed.

  ‘This is not given in apology, Lady Frances,’ she said, her voice softer now. ‘Nothing could erase the stain upon my husband’s honour for what he did to you, and I would not so insult you as to try to buy your forgiveness.’

  She reached out and gently lowered Frances’s hand so that the document rested on her lap once more. ‘It is a recognition of the esteem in which you are held. An assurance for your future, not an apology for the past.’

  Anne’s eyes were alight with sincerity. Frances held her gaze for a moment, then stared down again at the deed. If she was patient, then
this would give her what she had wished for after all. The income would far exceed her salary in the princess’s household, offering her the tantalising prospect of independence, the ability to make her own choices, free from the overweening influence of her uncle. She remained silent, considering.

  ‘If that is the reason for which it is given, then I thank you, Your Grace,’ she said at last.

  The queen smiled graciously and inclined her head.

  ‘I am glad. But you must speak of it to no one – not even those closest to you,’ she said, her eyes searching Frances’s face. ‘The king knows nothing of it, and I would not wish him to.’ She paused, then added quietly: ‘I hope that it brings you comfort and security in these uncertain times.’

  Before Frances could answer, Anne stood up, signalling an end to their conference. Frances rose to her feet and swept a deep curtsey. She walked slowly from the room, the deed clasped tightly in her hand.

  CHAPTER 29

  28 January

  Frances traced the intricate stonework between the panes of glass, running her fingers along the small diamond shapes. The fire that had been lit in the small grate had long since burned out, and the air was chill, so that her breath misted the panes when she leaned against them.

  Time seemed to pass more slowly here at Hampton Court, away from the noise and bustle of Whitehall, where every courtyard and corridor seemed crowded with people. In place of the shrill laughter and simpering flattery, she could hear the cawing of rooks, and the gentle lapping of the river against its banks. She felt, if not contented, then more settled than she had since returning to court. The deed that lay safely locked away in the casket next to her bed gave her greater hope for the future than she had felt for many months. She longed to speak of it to Tom, to begin making plans, but she would keep her promise to the queen.

  Although impatient for freedom, she had to acknowledge that her life at court had become easier of late. Her duties were less burdensome than they had been before her arrest. As the princess’s acknowledged favourite, she was no longer required to perform the numerous domestic tasks allotted to a lady of the bedchamber. Most of her time was spent conversing or reading with her young mistress, who was now so accomplished that Frances often had to remind herself she was still a child. It had also become their custom to go riding every afternoon, or, when the weather prevented them, to play bowls and tennis indoors. The king delighted in watching his daughter on these occasions, shouting encouragement from the galleries.

  Only Tom’s absences, which had grown even more frequent lately, disturbed her repose. He had left for Gray’s Inn soon after their early-morning walk in the woods, taking advantage of the rising tide and a waiting barge. Although he spoke little of what had occupied his time when he was away, he never tired of listening to Frances talk about how she had filled her hours – of how the princess progressed in her study, the latest gowns for which she had been measured, and the subjects of her endless chatter. Frances pushed away the familiar unease she felt whenever she reflected upon the one-sided nature of these exchanges. It was at odds with the growing intimacy between them.

  She glanced down at the privy garden, with its perfectly symmetrical swirls of hedges that encircled the small ornate fountain at the centre. She caught a peal of giggles, followed by the flash of a scarlet cloak. The princess was out walking ahead of her usual hour. Before Frances could begin to speculate about the reason, the queen came into view. She was following her daughter at a more sedate pace, looking on indulgently as Elizabeth darted this way and that, plucking sprigs of holly and kneeling to smell the heads of the roses, hoping to catch at their soft scent even though the petals had long since fallen away.

  Now and then, the queen laid her hand on her belly. Frances could see her brows furrow as she did so. But she had none of the pallor of her last pregnancy, and the child appeared to be growing well. Her confinement would be in a little over two months’ time. It would be her eighth. Frances wondered if the fear of what lay ahead diminished each time, or if the certainty of it made it all the greater.

  Anne was turning now, as if watching someone approaching. A few moments later, Tom appeared. Frances blinked in surprise. But there he was, bowing low before the queen and her daughter. He stepped back then and gestured towards two men who had followed in his wake. Both were dressed in extremely fine clothes, which even from a distance Frances could see were richly embroidered. The smaller man gave a sweeping bow, pulling off his hat with a flourish as he did so. Like the other, he had a beard that was trimmed down to a point, but his moustache was much more ostentatious and curled around at both ends. Frances judged that he was about the same age as Tom. His companion appeared a little older, and was much taller. As he knelt to make his obeisance, she peered closer. There was something familiar about him, yet she was sure they had never met.

  Though she strained to listen, Frances could not make out their conversation. Now and then, there was a peal of laughter from the princess, who evidently delighted in their attentions. The small man talked the most, and wore an expression of smug amusement that Frances found irksome. She knew that she should not be so quick to judge, and that the real reason for her irritation was Tom’s failure to tell her of their arrival – or his, for that matter.

  With a sudden impulse, she pulled on her cloak and strode out of the room. As she descended the stairs that led down to the princess’s apartments, she experienced the same sense of anticipation she always felt at seeing Tom. The realisation made her more irritated still, so that by the time she reached the door that led out into the garden, she did not pause to compose herself, but wrenched it open with such force that it slammed back against the wall. The assembled company turned around to look at her.

  Seeing the queen’s shocked expression, Frances flushed and dipped a curtsey, trying to steady her breathing as she did so. She was aware that Anne was observing her closely.

  ‘Forgive me, Your Grace. I had not thought to find you here,’ she said at length. ‘Or my lady princess.’

  Elizabeth giggled.

  ‘I persuaded Mama to let me come outside,’ she told Frances. ‘It is too beautiful to be cooped up in my chambers, even with Master Homer for company.’

  She looked across at the three gentlemen and grinned.

  ‘I hope our company has provided some compensation for his loss, Your Highness,’ the smaller man remarked, his voice as smooth as silk, ‘though clearly you have not often neglected your studies. You speak with greater eloquence than everyone else here.’

  The princess flushed with delight at the compliment.

  ‘Forgive me – I have not yet made your acquaintance,’ Frances cut in.

  He gave a curt bow.

  ‘Sir Everard Digby, my lady,’ he said without looking at her. His smile had become fixed.

  The name was instantly familiar, but Frances could not remember where she had heard it. She shot a cold look at Tom, then glanced at his other companion.

  ‘This is Thomas Percy, Lady Frances.’

  So that was why she thought she recognised him. Now that she was able to study him closely, she saw the same long nose and dark eyes as the Earl of Northumberland. He had mentioned a cousin whom he had appointed to manage his estates at Alnwick during his prolonged visits to court.

  ‘We are truly blessed, Frances, are we not?’ the princess observed gleefully. ‘Mr Wintour has come back already, and he has brought us two new friends. I think the hours here at Hampton Court will begin to pass by much more quickly now.’

  Sir Everard made another elaborate bow.

  ‘We have been most desirous to gain an audience with Your Grace, but had not dared to hope that it would be so soon after our arrival.’

  ‘Fortune has indeed smiled upon you, Sir Everard,’ Frances cut in. ‘Will you be staying long?’

  The question was directed as much at Tom as at his companions.

  ‘Alas, no,’ Percy replied. ‘We have important business to attend to in L
ondon, before Parliament is convened. But we will go to it with a lighter heart now that we have met Your Grace.’

  The colour rose to the princess’s cheeks again, and she made a pretty curtsey.

  ‘Well, gentlemen,’ the queen said, before her daughter could engage in any more flattery, ‘the princess must return to her schoolroom, and I to attend His Majesty. We bid you good day.’

  All three men bowed low, and Sir Everard stepped forward to kiss her hand, before paying the same reverence to the princess. Elizabeth looked at him regretfully.

  ‘You will visit us again before you leave?’ she asked hopefully.

  Before he could reply, there was the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel, and Cecil appeared from a gateway in the wall that bordered the garden. Frances wondered how long he had been standing there.

  ‘Your Highnesses,’ he said with a bow. ‘Gentlemen.’

  His presence was like a sudden chill on a summer’s day. The queen kept her expression neutral, but Frances noticed Tom scowl. Both of his companions straightened their backs and gave a stiff bow.

  ‘What a merry little party,’ Cecil remarked with a smile. ‘Would I were so at liberty to enjoy the delights of this place. I have been confined to the gloom of the council chamber these past three hours.’

  ‘No doubt there was much business to divert you, my Lord Salisbury,’ the queen replied evenly, ‘with the next Parliament being so close at hand.’

  Cecil gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head.