roots, her fingers twitched to pluck the tiny white flowers of the wild cherry and the smooth green leaves of devil’s spit. Both would make an excellent poultice for gout. If the King had not declared such things witchcraft, she might have eased his suffering. She slowed her pace and closed her eyes so that she could immerse herself in the smells and sounds of the forest. How had she lived without this for so long? The gardens at Whitehall were a poor imitation, where Nature’s beauty was clipped and trained into the neatly confined patterns that were pleasing to the King’s eye.
Would she and Thomas ever be free of the court? Her heart sank as she thought of how they were more tied to the King’s service than ever, now that they had lost their home as well as their fortune. Thomas was too proud to accept the help her mother had offered, but even that would not have been enough to support them for long. She had refused to use the inheritance that Tom had bequeathed her, which she had signed over to George for when he came of age. Their only chance to secure their future and that of their other sons was to win favour with the King and his successor. The royal bounty was the source of fortune and power. Little wonder that men took such risks in its pursuit.
Frances had reached the edge of the woods now. In the distance, she could just see the ancient tower of St Peter’s. The light was fading too fast for her to walk there and satisfy her curiosity in meeting the new incumbent. Her mother had written to tell her of Pritchard’s death the previous year. Few people in the village would have mourned him – certainly she herself had been glad of his passing, though she knew it was sinful. She had rejoiced, too, upon hearing that his successor was the nephew of her old mentor, the Reverend Samuels. She hoped he would bring the same moderation and kindness that had made his uncle so beloved of those who worshipped there.
The bells began to chime. Instinctively, she reached into her pocket and clasped the smooth beads of her rosary. Had she been right to deny Anne Vaux and Lord Salisbury – and, in so doing, her faith? God had given no sign that any of the plots to bring England back to the Catholic fold were pleasing to Him. The lives of those involved had been blighted, and the heretic King still sat securely on his throne.
She closed her eyes and an image of Buckingham flitted before her. Could he really be the saviour of whom the late Queen had spoken? She thought of everything he had done since he had first come to the King’s notice at Apethorpe: the scheming, the ruin of his rivals, the subjugation of an innocent young woman and God knew how many more. She could not – would not – believe it had all been to serve anything other than his own interests. This latest expedition was no different. It was the lure of Spanish treasure rather than the prospect of a Catholic princess on the throne that had enticed him.
Her fingers tugged at the beads so sharply that she felt the chain snap. No. She would rather be cast out of Heaven than support such a man as Buckingham.
CHAPTER 51
27 August
Frances traced the droplet with her finger as it trickled down the glass. It had rained incessantly for more than three weeks now, ruining the harvests and plunging the kingdom into a deep melancholy from which it seemed destined never to recover. The court had the atmosphere of a prison, nobody having ventured outdoors except to scurry between their lodgings and the state rooms, cowering beneath the downpours. Denied any opportunity to hunt, King James had reverted to the same testy, petulant behaviour that he had displayed when Buckingham and the prince had first embarked for Spain. Even his new favourite had been unable to raise his spirits. The pervading damp had exacerbated the inflammation in his joints, making him more irritable still.
The court’s enforced confinement had made the return from Longford even harder to bear. Although she and Thomas had been back at Whitehall for two months now, Frances still missed her old home as keenly as the day they had left. Every time she thought of how she had bade her mother and sons farewell, her throat