esteems you.’
Kate shifted uncomfortably and turned towards the palace, so that Frances could no longer see her face.
‘It is my poor brother, Francis, who most interests him,’ she replied. ‘He visited him often during the early days of his sickness and has written many times to enquire after him since coming to court. My father is very grateful for his attentions, of course.’
Frances raised an eyebrow. She could not imagine Villiers had acted out of concern for the boy. ‘How kind that he should take such trouble,’ she observed, ‘especially when the King allows him so little leisure.’ She plucked a blackberry from the bush next to them. It was unripe and tasted a little sour, but the ride had sharpened her appetite. ‘He is handsome, is he not?’
Her companion became very still, as if she was holding herself taut. ‘Of course. But . . . ’ It was barely a whisper. Frances waited. ‘. . . there is something about him that unnerves me. It is sinful of me to say so, for he has shown my family and me nothing but kindness. Yet I cannot shake off the feeling that he means us ill somehow.’
Frances sat upright and placed her hand lightly on her companion’s arm. The young woman started as if scalded.
‘You must not chastise yourself for being honest, Kate,’ she said. ‘I have long since learned to trust my instincts – more than the things I see and hear. Your caution will serve you well at court. I would that I had had as much of it when I first came here.’
Kate turned to face her now. ‘I do not deserve your kindness, Frances,’ she said. ‘My lady mother is right. I am too much given to foolish fancies. At least I will not vex her while I am here. She has troubles enough to contend with.’
‘I will pray for your brother’s recovery,’ Frances said. ‘With God’s blessing, by the time you return to Belvoir he will be out of all danger. But I hope that in the meantime you will permit me to keep you company as often as you desire it.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Kate brightened at once. ‘I should like that very much. I feared I might lack for companions, as I do at home.’
Frances felt another pang of pity for her. She must have led a miserable existence since her father’s marriage. ‘We can ride out every afternoon, if you wish, and when the weather is less clement I have many books to keep you entertained.’
Kate’s smile faded. ‘Thank you.’
Frances wondered what she had said to upset her, but kept her counsel. She could not expect her new friend to confide in her so soon.
When they returned the stable-yard was deserted and light was already blazing in the great hall.
As soon as Kate had dismounted too, Frances took the reins of both horses and led them back to the stables, wondering why Thomas had not yet emerged. But there was only a young groom inside, busy raking out the hay. Pushing down her unease, she handed him the reins, then walked briskly back into the yard.
‘I will escort you to your father’s lodgings,’ she said, taking Kate’s arm.
The atmosphere was unusually subdued as they passed through the public rooms, just a few small clusters of courtiers talking in hushed tones. They turned curious stares towards her companion, so she quickened her pace, holding Kate’s arm firmly so that she was obliged to do the same.
As soon as they reached the earl’s apartment, Frances bade a swift adieu, saying she needed to make shift for dinner. She walked back through the palace towards her own chambers, her anxiety mounting with every step. Thomas never retired from his duties so early. When at last she lifted the latch on the door to their apartment, her husband rushed to greet her. Her relief at seeing him soon faded when she saw his expression.
‘What has happened?’ she asked.
He pulled her inside and closed the door. ‘Somerset has been found guilty – his wife too,’ he said, in a low voice, grasping her hands.
Frances’s mouth dried. Bacon had been so sure they would be pardoned.
‘Lady Somerset confessed to Overbury’s murder before the verdict was given,’ Thomas continued. ‘Her husband maintained his innocence, despite pressure from the King to admit his crimes and receive clemency.’
‘What will become of them?’ Frances asked fearfully.
Her husband looked as stricken as she felt. ‘They have been sentenced to hang.’
She sat down abruptly, like a