if he heard of it.’
Frances seized the opportunity. ‘My husband has been eclipsed of late, Your Grace, as have others in the King’s service.’
Anne gave a knowing smile and sank back in her chair. ‘You mean his “angel”, I suppose. I met Sir George a few months ago and understood at once why my husband is so enraptured. I have never seen such a pretty fellow. His delicate features and white skin must be the envy of all the ladies at court.’
Many times in the past Frances had wondered how the Queen had borne the humiliation of her husband’s infidelities. He had done little to conceal them. Did the shame lessen with each brighteyed young favourite he paraded in front of her? She doubted it, somehow.
‘My ladies tell me that the King was heard to lament that he cannot make Villiers his wife,’ Anne continued.
Frances failed to hide her dismay. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace. How can you bear it?’
‘I do not bear it, my dear,’ she replied. ‘I encourage it.’
Frances looked at her sharply.
‘The King and I have not shared a bed since I fell pregnant with poor Sophia,’ she went on. ‘It was a difficult birth and left me with . . . well, no prospect of more children. So there was little point. Do not think to pity me,’ she added, seeing Frances’s expression. ‘Daily I rejoice that my conjugal duties are at an end – in that respect, at least. And, given the pleasure I take in my own freedom, it would be churlish of me to begrudge my husband his. Pray, would you pour me a glass of that cordial, my dear?’ she asked, indicating the pewter flagon on the table by the window.
A sharp aroma filled Frances’s nostrils as she did so. She recognised sage and marjoram, but there was something else too. Whatever it was, she hoped it would bring Anne relief. As she handed her the glass, she noticed that a sheen of perspiration had formed on her brow. How greatly she must suffer. Frances resolved to prepare a tincture for her that evening.
‘Forgive me, Your Grace,’ she said, when the Queen had recovered her composure, ‘but you said you had encouraged this latest favourite. Surely that cannot be true. I was at Apethorpe last summer and witnessed their first meeting. From what I saw then and have heard since, Villiers needed no such assistance.’
Anne held her gaze. ‘That is true – in part, at least. His looks were more than enough to recommend him. But my husband is not so easily manipulated as many believe. Often he takes his pleasure and rewards the giver only with fair words and promises. Somerset was clever enough to secure promotions, but most are not. If I had not intervened, Villiers would have remained a humble cupbearer.’
Frances stared. She had always respected Anne for her judgement and discretion. Had she, too, been deceived by Villiers’s beguiling smile and easy charm?
‘When I heard that Somerset had succeeded in frustrating his rival’s ambitions for a place in the bedchamber, I invited Villiers to dine with me here,’ the Queen continued. ‘I knew that he lacked opportunity to spend time with the King alone – Somerset had made sure of that after their return from the progress. So I invited my husband, too. We made quite a merry party.’ She chuckled, noting Frances’s astonishment. ‘I was a generous host and ensured the King’s glass was always full of the Madeira wine of which he is so fond. It took only a mention or two of a bedchamber post that had lain vacant for some time to prompt him. By the time our feast was at an end, my husband had promised it to Villiers. I left them alone then, to seal the bargain.’
‘But why?’ Frances whispered. ‘Sir George is ruthless and grasping, and will stop at nothing in his pursuit of power. He is a danger to all who serve your husband – perhaps even to the King himself.’
A flicker of a smile. ‘He is all of those things, Lady Frances,’ Anne replied quietly. ‘But he is more, besides. Do not think that I have taken leave of my senses in placing this devil in our midst. In time, you will understand that he is our salvation.’
CHAPTER 10
25 September
At first Frances thought that she had imagined it. She waited, straining her ears for any sound. There it was again: a sharp tap. It seemed to come from the