favour, but you have greater wit. The King must know how the people mutter against the conviction as founded only upon rumour and hearsay. The Somersets have gained more sympathy in the Tower than they ever did at court.’
Bacon opened his mouth to reply but closed it and swept a deep bow. In confusion, Frances turned her gaze towards the path ahead and froze. The subject of their whispered conversation was strolling towards them with his usual languor. At his side was an older woman, finely dressed in a gown of jet-black satin studded with pearls. As they drew closer, Frances saw that she had the same dark blue eyes as her son.
‘Lady Mary,’ Bacon said, stepping forward to kiss her hand. ‘Permit me to introduce my companion, Lady Frances—’
‘Tyringham,’ the woman said sharply, pursing her thin lips as she eyed Frances closely. ‘Your husband works for my son, I believe.’
Frances dropped a brief curtsy and assumed what she hoped was a polite expression. ‘Sir Thomas is master of the King’s buckhounds, my lady,’ she replied, holding her gaze.
‘Quite,’ the older woman observed. ‘Having the command of such men enables Sir George to attend to weightier matters,’ she added, her expression softening as she turned to him.
‘I trust your journey was comfortable?’ Bacon asked.
‘Not in the least,’ the older woman snapped. ‘The roads south of Leicester are quite shocking – those in London even worse. I wonder His Majesty has not ordered their repair.’
‘I will speak to him about it, Mother,’ Villiers told her. ‘Though at present I fear he has more pressing matters to attend to.’ He shot a look at Bacon.
‘How long do you mean to stay at court?’ Frances asked.
Lady Mary Villiers gave a sniff. ‘I have no thought of returning to Brooksby Hall yet – why, I have only just arrived.’ Her voice was laced with disdain. ‘The Garter ceremony will take place next month, and I am sure that I will not lack for diversion here in the meantime.’ The look she exchanged with her son made Frances feel uneasy. Even though she had only just met the woman, she suspected she was as black-hearted as he.
‘Lady Katherine Manners will be delighted to keep you company whenever I am detained by the King’s business,’ Villiers remarked.
His mother’s expression lightened at once. ‘Dear Kate – such a sweet child, and so excessively fond of me. I promised the countess I would look out for her. She must be quite at a loss here at court.’
Frances experienced a jolt of apprehension on her young friend’s behalf. During the two weeks since Kate’s arrival, they had spent many hours together, riding out whenever the weather was fine or conversing over their needlework. Frances had soon understood the reason for her companion’s reticence about books: the poor girl could barely read. That she had been denied the education her status demanded was entirely due to her stepmother – of that Frances had no doubt. It had made her determined to help her. Already, she had begun to read aloud to Kate from some of the books in her library to spark her interest and lessen her fear. Soon, she would encourage her to practise her letters.
‘On the contrary,’ she interjected now, ‘Lady Katherine is greatly enjoying her time here and has not lacked for company.’
Lady Mary glared at her, but Frances’s smile did not waver. The distant chiming of bells echoed across the garden.
‘Forgive us, Sir Francis, my lady,’ Villiers said, with an affectation of regret, ‘but my lady mother and I are required to attend His Grace at chapel.’ He gave a stiff bow as his mother swept past them, skirts rustling. Frances slowly exhaled.
‘A charming lady,’ her companion observed wryly. ‘It is easy to see from whom her son derives his manners.’
‘Argh!’ Frances cried, as she pricked her finger for the third time in as many minutes. She pushed away the embroidery as she sucked the blood. The shirt was a gift for George’s birthday: he would be ten next month. She had been obliged to guess at the size, which had pained her. It did not seem so very long ago that she had chalked up his height on the stable wall at Tyringham, his back pressed against the bricks and head held as high as he could raise it. She closed her eyes until the familiar ache of longing had subsided, then carefully folded the linen back into the casket.
Glancing at the clock, she saw