felt the floorboards vibrate.
‘The devil take him! Perhaps the matter exceeds his judgement – he is new on the throne, after all. Allow me to explain it again,’ he went on, in a sing-song voice. ‘King Frederick and my daughter have been deprived of their lands in Bohemia and the Palatine. I have already expended a vast portion of the royal treasury on their behalf, but until your master’s forces join with mine we can hope for little success. King Philip is honour-bound to oblige me in this, since it was his father who robbed them of their lands in the first place.’
The ambassador had the grace to look momentarily abashed. ‘My master sympathises with King Frederick, Your Grace, but—’
‘To hell with his sympathy!’ James shouted.
As the ambassador opened his mouth to reply, little Mary began to wail again.
‘Take her away,’ Buckingham snapped at his wife, who immediately rose to her feet and, bobbing a hasty curtsy, scurried from the room. Seizing her opportunity, Frances slipped away un noticed and followed in her wake.
Kate was already out of sight by the time Frances passed the yeomen stationed outside the presence chamber. But the aroma of violets trailed behind her. Frances had made the perfume as a gift for her twenty-second birthday. Although Kate had not spoken two words to her since her return to court and had been careful to avoid her gaze, the fact that she still wore it gave Frances hope that their friendship might yet be revived.
As she rounded the next corner, she saw a flash of green silk in one of the archways that led out into a small knot garden close to the royal apartments. Slowing her pace, she walked towards it.
‘Kate.’
The young woman leaped at her voice, though she had spoken softly. She cringed away, shielding her child from her, as Frances took a step forward. ‘Please, do not be afraid. We are still friends, are we not?’
Kate did not reply but glanced quickly around, as if fearing they were being watched. ‘You must not speak to me. My husband forbids it.’
Frances smiled to hide her dismay. ‘What harm can there be in two old friends conversing?’
Kate’s eyes widened in panic as Frances moved to sit down next to her. Mary peered at her curiously from behind her mother’s sleeve and gave a shy smile. Her face reminded Frances of the cherubs that were painted on the ceiling of the royal chapel. The face of an angel, just like her father. She pushed away the thought. ‘Did my letters reach you?’ she asked. ‘I wrote to you often, after . . .’
Kate was silent for so long that Frances thought she would not answer. Then: ‘I burned them.’
Her words smote Frances. This was Buckingham’s doing, she told herself. Unless . . . Did Kate blame her for what had happened that night? Did she believe Frances had abandoned her? She felt as if her chest was being squeezed. ‘Kate?’ she ventured, reaching out to touch her hand. The young woman pulled it quickly away. ‘Kate, you must listen to me. I am as true a friend to you now as I ever was. I cannot bear to see you so afraid.’
‘Would you not fear the devil?’ Kate spat back, rounding on her. Mary gave a little whimper but she seemed not to notice. ‘My husband has told me what you are, how you bewitched my poor brother to death and would do the same to me – to our child – if you had the means.’
Frances stared at her in horror. ‘Kate, no.’
‘Lady Buckingham,’ she corrected. ‘You presume too much upon our former acquaintance.’
Frances fell silent, measuring her words. ‘I see that you are not minded to heed me, Lady Buckingham,’ she replied, her voice steady. ‘I see, too, that your mind has been corrupted. But I speak truth when I say that I have only ever shown you kindness, compassion. And I received the same from you in return. You were the closest friend I have ever had in this place’ – although Kate’s face was still turned away from her, she saw a muscle twitch in her jaw – ‘and I pray God that He will open your heart to me again one day.’
Little Mary made a soft cooing noise and began opening and closing her tiny fists. Frances resisted the temptation to stroke her downy hair, but instead rose slowly to her feet and gave a curtsy of farewell.
CHAPTER 48
19 December
‘Frances!’
Someone