by Georgina Lee
Mr. Starkey is a creature of habit, every morning he rises at 6am to pray before breakfast, then returns to his chamber to prepare lessons for Arbella. His usual day passes quietly and he is not required to teach William’s children any more, as they have moved to Owlcotes and the eldest, Wylkyn, has started school. On Sundays and Feast Days, he is kept busy in his role as chaplain, but when possible, he loves to walk and climb in the Derbyshire hills. The other servants look askance as he sets off in a stout pair of boots, with a knapsack containing a drink and a book, returning at dusk with his cheeks glowing and ready for a hearty meal. When Arbella first asked him to help her, he was flattered. But in the days that followed, he realises it would be very dangerous for him to be involved. Then he thinks he is already involved, by the simple fact that she has confided in him. Who is going to believe that after all the time they have spent together with their books, that he is not an accomplice to any of her ideas? He has heard about the failed marriage plan from some of the servants, they have spoken of little else recently. Without expression, he listens to them telling the tale and does not betray his fear that he could be found to have been a part of this marriage plan, and possibly taken to the Tower and found guilty of treason. The thought of it fills him with such terror that he cannot swallow and has to leave them quickly, only to be violently sick as soon as he reaches the relative safety of his chamber. Thoughts of escape are quickly dismissed, he knows that they would find him soon enough, and he does not have the funds to pay for a passage to France where he would be safe.
Some of the servants think Lady Arbella has a streak of madness; they talk of her unpredictable outbursts and sometimes strange conversations that the family tries to hide. Most of the seventy servants that Bess employs, know her to be a spoilt, haughty young woman and they are indifferent to her trials and tribulations. But Mr Starkey knows her better than any of them and has seen her struggle with her emotions and in despair over the unfairness of her captivity. Is it her fault if she is haughty? For has not her grandmother brought her up to believe she is a royal princess who must be addressed as ‘highness’? Is it her fault if she is spoilt when her grandmother has given her the best that money can buy, all her life? But he says nothing and keeps his counsel when they discuss her. If he was ever to talk about her, he would tell them that he admires her intelligent and enquiring mind, surely so unusual for a woman; and believes that she is, in fact, cleverer than some of the men he has met in his lifetime. Added to which, she is quite beautiful in his eyes, with her soft and sensitive nature. The truth of it is that he feels very sorry for her. Often he watches with sadness as she cries during lessons, or tells him of a particular grievance; he aches to put his arm round her, to hold her close and make everything right.
Jolted out of these thoughts, he picks up his quill. It is a great effort for him to move and write now, but he forces himself, and after fifteen minutes he has painstakingly written three short sentences. Just as slowly, he puts down the quill and carefully props the letter up against his books so that those who will find him can see it. He stands up; stretching stiffly and quietly manoeuvres his chair under a ceiling beam before reaching under his bed where he has hidden a length of rope. All his movements seem to require a great effort and are taking all his concentration. He is very tired. Slowly he takes off his boots and puts them neatly beside the desk before climbing on the chair. He feels that he is dreaming; his senses are heightened so that the wooden seat feels harder than usual against his bare feet. There is a pounding in his ears and the only thing real to him is the roughness of the rope and the overwhelming smell of fear as he swallows the bile from his stomach.
It is a tremendous struggle to throw the rope over the beam and tie it round his neck; it takes him several attempts before he is satisfied. The sweat from his hands has made it slippery and by the time he manages to do it, he is panting heavily.
A floorboard creaks as someone walks past his door and he stops to listen intently. No one has ever been into his chamber, it is his own private space, and now at this moment, he is glad of it.
Seconds pass and he fleetingly remembers he has not set Arbella’s work for the next day, but it does not matter any more. He hopes she will remember him kindly and not judge him harshly. “Forgive me Lord!” he cries, then with a grunt, he kicks the chair from under his feet.
The last thing he sees is the bright sunlight glinting on the snow covered Derbyshire countryside, hurting his eyes.
Hardwick Hall,
Derbyshire
My dear Uncle Henry,
We awoke this morning to find my faithful tutor, James Starkey, has taken his own life by hanging himself. This has been a terrible shock to me and the household. I find myself trembling so much that I can hardly write at all and my mind is overwhelmed with the thought that he was so unhappy, yet we did not see it or were able to help him. To take one’s own life is a terrible sin and I know he must have been desperate to do it. Sometimes I can feel myself sinking into such depths of despair that I imagine taking one step further and ... but no, I will not write down such thoughts. You must forgive me, I am very upset by this news. He has been a good friend to me and I am very saddened that he should choose to end his life. May God have mercy on his soul. My lady grandmother has told me that in all likelihood, he was afraid that since Dodderidge was arrested, a charge of treason would be brought against him. Although she has not said as much in words, I know she considers his death to be as a result of my plan to marry Edward Seymour. To conclude that I am in some way responsible for his death hurts me deeply.
I wish I could say to her that it is not I who is to blame, but rather the circumstances, which have forced me to take such drastic action to secure myself a husband. We all know who is responsible for those circumstances.
This has made me all the more determined to escape from my lady grandmothers house for I feel that if I have to live here a moment longer, I am very much afraid I will truly go mad. I have written again to her majesty begging to be allowed at Court, but the queen is very ill, possibly dying, so I doubt she has even seen my letter. I have told my lady grandmother that I will refuse food until I may be allowed to leave this place, such is the despair I am forced to endure. Your recent letter proposing to take me from here within weeks did give me some hope, and I beg of you with all my heart to implement the plan at once. I will be ready, day or night, but we must take great care.My lady grandmother is still ever watchful of me, and her spies are everywhere. I wish you good luck and God speed with this endeavour.
I remain your ever loving niece, Arbella, dated this day vii February 1603
Arbella takes the news about Mr Starkey so badly that she has to be confined to her bed for several weeks. She is laid low with stomach pains, vomiting, aches in her muscles and painful redness of her skin.
Disorientated and restless, she is unaware of the family who watch her anxiously. Dr. Hunton tries various remedies such as the application of leeches and some herbal medicines he has made himself, but all are unsuccessful. He advises rest and Bess realises there is nothing he can do to help her. But it is not just Arbella who is affected by Mr. Starkey’s suicide. For a long time afterwards there is an air of shocked disbelief at Hardwick. Bess has never experienced such a tragedy with any servant before, and in her letter to his family, she expresses her deep regret, whilst praising his many good qualities. He is, of course, buried in unhallowed ground, and although Arbella wants to attend the funeral, she is too ill to do so.
A new chaplain will have to be found, but Bess is now reluctant to engage a replacement tutor for Arbella, fearing that another man will unwittingly be drawn into her granddaughter’s wayward schemes. For moral support, Bess has summoned William and Elizabeth to visit, and they arrive as the weather is just beginning to feel warmer in March. The snow has melted and the first of the snowdrops are coming through the ground. After the usual greetings, they sit down to eat, but there is a conspicuous space where Arbella should be sea
ted.
“Will Arbella not be joining us, lady mother?” asks Elizabeth as they help themselves from the assorted dishes on the table. “You mentioned that she spends a lot of her time writing at her desk.”
“Most of which is complete nonsense,” says William dismissively, as he peels himself an orange.
“This refusal to eat is making her ill. I am very worried about her, but Dr. Hunton says there is nothing that can be done,” replies Bess.
“Have we tried that hard? We should force her to eat,” he says emphatically. “Hold her down.”
Bess and Elizabeth look shocked. “You cannot force anyone to eat,” Elizabeth tells him firmly.
“I agree,” says Bess. “What you suggest is very undignified.”
“So is fading away due to lack of food. Typical female hysteria!”
“I am not subjecting her to such violence. She will start to eat when she realises this protest will not achieve anything.”
“Shall I try to talk to her?” asks Elizabeth.
No one has a chance to reply as two servants enter at speed, out of breath from running, and bow in unison.
“Your grace, there are two men demanding entry at the gate,” one of them announces.
“Do these men have names?” asks William.
“One is Sir John Stapleton, sir, and the other is your brother, Henry Cavendish.”
“Stapleton, the Catholic?” queries William and looks at Bess in surprise.
“I knew he was in the area, I have had my men around the village on watch over the last few days. What do they want?” she says.
“Henry Cavendish wishes to speak to his niece, the Lady Arbella, your grace.”
“Does he?” Bess is unperturbed and carries on eating.
William gets up, “I will go and speak to them.”
“No, William, sit down.” She turns to the servants. “My son may come inside and speak to Lady Arbella for two hours, tell him, no more. Stapleton is not to be admitted under any circumstances.”
The servants bow again and make their way back to the front gates. Bess wipes her mouth on a linen napkin and looks at Elizabeth, who is watching the proceedings with fascination.
“Elizabeth, would you be so good as to ask a servant to find Arbella, and tell her that her uncle Henry is waiting at the gates to see her?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth gets up and disappears, leaving Bess and William to wait.
“What is Henry up to now?” asks William with a frown.
“We shall shortly find out I think, come with me.”
William helps his mother up and they walk over to the window that overlooks the front gates. They watch as the servants are seen conveying her message, and Henry dismounts before the gate is unlocked and passes through. Stapleton stands holding the reins of both horses.
“Are you just going to let them walk around the grounds?” William sounds surprised.
“My men have their orders, they will not be able to take her.”
“I hope you are right.”
Elizabeth joins them at the window and they see Arbella come towards her uncle. Even from this distance she does not look well, and leans on Henry for support when she reaches him.
“This situation with Arbella is intolerable for both of you, for all of us. And Henry is not helping matters as usual,” observes William.
“I had expected no less of Henry. It has to continue as long as the queen lives. We are all at her mercy.”
“And when she no longer lives, what then?”
“William! To talk thus …” exclaims Elizabeth, shocked by his question.
“Do not be alarmed, Elizabeth,” Bess is quick to reassure her. “Such talk will be all over Court, whispered in corners of course. And we are amongst friends here.”
“Has the queen named a successor yet?”
“Has she ever done so? No, but King James has been secretly establishing himself here in recent years. He has a son and heir, so there will not be much doubt about it.”
They are interrupted by another servant. “Your grace, the Lady Arbella and Sir Henry wish to speak to you.”
“Bring them up,” Bess replies with some reluctance.
She gestures to William and Elizabeth for them to sit down on the seat by the window, and brings herself up to her full height, breathing deeply to calm herself. After a minute Arbella appears on Henry’s arm, and they position themselves about ten feet from where Bess stands. Henry gives an exaggerated bow and has a supercilious expression on his face. Arbella looks defiant, although it is clear she is unwell, her skin is pinched and as white as a sheet.
“So Henry, what brings you to see me after all this time?” Bess asks wearily.
“My lady grandmother …” begins Arbella.
“I addressed the question to my son. Be silent until you are spoken to, Arbella!”
Henry’s expression does not change. “I am pleased to see you looking so well, lady mother. And William, I see you are still trying to ingratiate yourself with the one person who holds all the purse strings.”
William makes a half movement to get up, but Elizabeth puts a restraining hand to stop him. Henry turns his attention to William’s wife.
“And Elizabeth, how are you finding your new life inside the Cavendish family? Very cosy is it not? Our mother is not on speaking terms with most of her children, despite claiming to love us all.”
Elizabeth looks at him stony-faced and does not reply.
“My visit here today is merely to see my dear niece and take her for an outing. The weather is so fine today …”
“… so you thought she would benefit from a change of scenery. How very thoughtful of you Henry,” Bess finishes for him.
He smiles, “just so. If you have no objection, we are ready to leave at once and will be back by nightfall.”
“And where are you planning to go?”
“Not far, lady mother. Do not be alarmed, I shall take great care of your jewel.”
“I cannot allow you to take Arbella, the reasons are well known to both of you. Why do you come here and disturb me with these outlandish schemes?” she demands.
“I can tell you why!” interrupts William, getting up. “Because he always likes to cause trouble.”
“You keep out of this! It has nothing to do with you. If you had been a better uncle to Arbella, she might not be so keen to leave here,” Henry retorts.
“You are deliberately going against the wishes of the queen if you think to remove Arbella.”
“For all we know, the queen may already be dead; I would not trust Cecil an inch.”
William gives a dismissive laugh. “When the time comes, our niece will go to Court, but it will have nothing to do with you. Anyhow what exactly did you plan to do with Arbella? Where would you go?”
“We have friends in the West Country,” replies Henry evasively.
“He means Edward Seymour, Lord Beauchamp,” says Bess and they all look at her, now it is Henry’s turn to laugh.
“Of course you know all about the plan, lady mother, I should have guessed. Nothing happens that you do not know about.”
“What is this?” asks William.
“There are rumours that he has raised an army with the help of the French, to support Arbella’s claim to the throne.”
Henry looks sheepish, for even as Bess tells them, it sounds too preposterous to think that anything will come of it.
“So this is your grand plan, is it? To place Arbella in danger; do you realise what will happen if there is a challenge to the succession? Arbella could be tried for treason and sent to her death!” William is red faced with anger. “Go back to your mistresses Henry, and keep out of matters you do not understand!”
“Will you two be silent!” Bess cries with exasperation.
“May I be allowed to speak now?” Arbella’s voice is heard at last. “Are you telling me I may not go with my uncle?”
“Yes, as well you know child, you may walk with your un
cle in the grounds, under guard, but that is all. You did not expect anything more, did you?”
“You see uncle Henry, I am a prisoner just like my aunt, the Scottish Queen; and we all know what happened to her!” Arbella pulls herself away from Henry and begins to walk up and down in agitation. “I have pains throughout my body, why is it I cannot sleep? Why do I sometimes feel so confused and do not know where I am? Do you know what I saw last night, the ghost of Mr. Starkey, he was running through the grounds. If he was here now, he would know what to do, when is he coming back, he has been away for so long …?”
“Arbella, you must go to your chamber and lie down, you are not well,” Bess tells her in alarm.
“No!” she shouts in reply. “I shall not go to my chamber. I have no chamber, there is only your own. I shall spend some time with my uncle who has been kind enough to come and visit me.”
Henry takes her arm again and guides her towards the door. “This is what you have driven her to, I hope you are satisfied,” he says with a reproachful look at Bess.
“I have driven her to nothing. She is ill and should be in her bed; do not let her get overtired,” Bess urges as they leave, although they give no sign they have heard her.
“Henry is looking old, his lifestyle must be catching up with him,” muses William, who pours himself some more wine. “Shall I go after them?”
“There is no need, I have taken care of it,” Bess tells him and sits down heavily.
Elizabeth has been watching the scene in amazement, and had not realised the extent of the animosity between the family members. But she is not stupid, and knows it is Bess who holds all the cards in this game, for the moment.
“Open up and let us pass at once!” Henry commands as he stands at the gates with Arbella.
A curious crowd has gathered, craning their necks to see the latest Cavendish family disagreement.
