the duke.
‘Make way!’
Frances turned to see Arthur Brett pushing through the crowds, clutching something. A flash of silver caught the light as he held it aloft.
‘I have found the new stirrup, Your Grace,’ he announced breathlessly, sweeping a deep bow.
James scowled down at the young man who had been his most intimate attendant until Buckingham’s return to favour. ‘Give it to Steenie.’
Buckingham held out his hand, but his rival pretended not to notice him and began to fasten the stirrup into place.
His royal master glanced down, his face suffused with fury. ‘How dare you defy me, boy?’ he cried, kicking at the fumbling fingers. The stirrup fell clattering to the ground and Arthur stared at it, mumbling an apology. Pity for the young man mingled with loathing as Frances saw Buckingham’s eyes flash with triumph. Thomas was right: Master Brett’s allure had been extinguished.
‘Go well, my sow.’
The duke’s words rang out across the stable-yard, prompting audible gasps. This latest nickname was the most outrageous yet. Frances had hardly believed it when Thomas had told her. Yet looking at James now, she could see how he delighted in his favourite’s over-familiarity.
‘Ye’re sure ye will not accompany me, Steenie?’
Buckingham shook his head regretfully. ‘Please – do not ask again. It grieves me sorely that I am not yet strong enough, after my recent malady. The hours will be long until you return,’ he added, kissing his master’s hand, then raising it to his cheek.
Frances’s lips curled. If he’d suffered from anything, it was an excess of wine the night before. She watched as James brought his fingers to his lips and raised them to his favourite, then pulled on the reins and gave another grimace of pain as his horse broke into a trot. Thomas smiled briefly at her before following in his wake.
The courtiers were quick to disperse, and Frances heard mutterings against the duke as they passed. He would care little for their disapproval. The only thing that would pain him was if they ceased to talk of him at all. She had no desire to engage in idle gossip and waited until the yard was deserted. As the sun emerged briefly from behind the heavy clouds, Frances saw something shining on the cobbles. Realising it was the discarded stirrup, she stooped to pick it up. Poor Brett. He had learned all too quickly of how fickle the King’s favour could be. Well, he might have some small reward for his pains, she resolved, as she put the beautifully wrought silver into her pocket and made her way towards the palace. She would find an opportunity to give it back to him later.
As she reached the gateway to the outer courtyard, she hesitated. The thought of whiling away the hours in her husband’s apartment was hardly appealing, but it was too cold to meander around the privy gardens. Then an idea struck her. It had been many weeks since she had visited Lord Bacon and he avoided Whitehall, these days. A brisk walk to the Temple would revive her, and she could take him the thistle and feverfew tincture she had prepared against the ague that often afflicted him in winter.
A little over half an hour later, she was standing at the door of his humble lodgings. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin prickled as it cooled in the dank air of the dimly lit corridor. After a few moments, she heard the light tread of footsteps on the other side of the door – too rapid for her friend’s. She had just begun to wonder if he had at last found the means to employ a servant when a weasel-faced man emerged from the chamber beyond. He darted a furtive look at Frances before scurrying down the passage and out of sight. With mounting apprehension, she pushed open the door, which had been left ajar.
Bacon looked up from his writing desk, his quill suspended over the paper. ‘You must truly be a witch, for barely had I written your name than you appear before me.’ Although there was humour in his voice, Frances noted his pallor. She closed the door behind her.
‘Who was that man?’
He gestured for her to sit down. ‘When the King first ordered me to find the late Queen’s jewels, I employed a number of associates to help me in the task. That gentleman was one of them. I had not thought to see him again, but it seems he was more steadfast than I