feasting and revelry. Buckingham had held court in his absence, appearing in an array of magnificent costumes, each designed to draw every eye in the room. He had insisted upon being served on bended knee, choosing from a vast selection of dishes that were laid before him on gilded platters. At the feast of his namesake St Stephen, he had gone further still. There had been a shocked silence as he had lowered himself onto the King’s chair. His rival Baron Cranfield, lord high treasurer, had eventually voiced a protest and even Buckingham’s supporters had muttered their disapproval. Frances had caught the fleeting look on Prince Charles’s face before the marquess had made him smile with some jest. Buckingham should have a care, she thought. Already people were beginning to whisper that he was the alter rex – the other King.
With his royal master incapacitated, Thomas had snatched a brief visit to Tyringham to oversee the inventory of their belongings before they were transported to Longford. The boys had arrived there in time to celebrate Christmas with their grandmother and elder half-brother. The thought of how they would be spoiled lessened the pain of knowing they would never see their childhood home again – and of her continued separation from them. Thomas had promised that, as soon as the spring came, they would make the journey west to visit them.
Her eye was drawn to a movement on the river, where a solitary barge was making its way towards the palace. Although it was too far to see clearly, it didn’t seem laden with provisions – besides, there were more than enough victuals to sustain the court for the few days they had left here. Neither could she see more than one passenger – a man, sitting at the furthest end from the oarsman. Frances kept her eyes fixed upon him as the vessel drew closer.
At last it reached the landing stage a short distance ahead. The man stepped nimbly onto the platform and pressed a coin into the boatman’s hand. He was dressed entirely in black and his face was obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. Frances thought about moving back into the shadows, but she was too intrigued to find out who the newcomer was. He kept his head lowered as he walked towards her.
The cawing of a rook made him look up.
William Cecil.
He saw her and stopped. They stared at each other for a moment. In the ten years since Frances had seen him, he had gained in stature – physically, as well as by dint of his title. He must be in his early thirties now, she judged, and he seemed to have grown taller somehow. Perhaps that was because of the long riding boots he wore, or the high ruff around his neck. Frances remembered him as pale and clean-shaven, but his face now had a more weathered look and he had grown a beard in the fashionable style.
His face relaxed and he raised his hat in greeting, then continued to walk towards her. ‘Lady Frances. It is a pleasure to see you again.’
‘Lord Salisbury.’
‘The years have been kinder to you than to myself, I fear!’ He grinned. ‘Or perhaps it is being away from court for so long – it certainly dulls the mind. I find that these days my thoughts are filled with crops and militia.’
Frances knew of his appointment as Lord Lieutenant of Hertfordshire. She could not help wondering if it had been the King’s way of removing him from court. Although Salisbury’s father, her old adversary, had been the most powerful man in government and had groomed his son to succeed him, the younger Cecil had not won favour with the King. Even before Buckingham had risen to prominence, Salisbury had retreated to his father’s seat at Hatfield.
‘And your growing brood, of course.’
His eyes lit with genuine warmth. ‘I have even more children than you, my lady. My father chose wisely. Catherine is the best of wives.’
‘Then you are fortunate indeed, my lord. Happiness is a rare blessing in most noble marriages.’ She had never met the Earl of Suffolk’s daughter but, as a member of the powerful Howard family, Catherine must have brought both political and financial advantage to her husband. ‘What brings you here at this time?’ she asked. ‘The Christmas celebrations are almost over.’
He did not answer but held out his arm so that they might walk on. At a fork in the path, he steered them towards the parkland