would be lucky to escape with his life.
‘The man only said what we were all thinking.’ Bacon took a delicate sip of wine. Frances smiled at him, gratified that he had chosen to sit with her and Thomas, rather than taking a place on the dais, to which his status entitled him.
‘That may be so, my lord,’ Thomas replied, with a grin, ‘but some thoughts are safer in our heads than upon our lips.’
‘You are in danger of becoming as seasoned a courtier as the smiling marquess over there,’ Bacon retorted. ‘Little wonder you have survived in this place for so long.’
Frances placed a hand over her husband’s and gave it a squeeze. She rejoiced that he had seemed so much more himself in recent weeks. The burden of their debts had begun to ease, thanks to the rents they received from Thomas’s newly leased lands, and Lord Rutland had offered his support, having heard of their troubles from his daughter. Even the constant menace from Buckingham seemed to have abated, now that he was preoccupied with securing a Spanish alliance. He had spent so much time courting Gondomar that he had neglected the royal stables and Thomas had been able to perform his duties unimpeded, for the most part.
‘Tell me,’ Bacon continued, ‘when will I meet your fine boys, of whom I have heard such praise?’
Frances’s heart gave a familiar lurch.
‘We hoped to visit them two weeks ago, but the King decided to make the most of the fine weather and go hunting before the Christmas revels began,’ her husband explained.
‘Can you not bring them to court?’
‘No,’ Frances said, a little too quickly. ‘That is, William is too young to travel far, and John and Robert will hardly be parted from him.’
Their housekeeper Mrs Garston had often written of how the two boys doted on their little brother. Although Frances loved to think of the bond between her sons, it pained her that she was a stranger to the youngest. Perhaps John and Robert were beginning to forget her, too.
‘How old are they now?’ Bacon interrupted her painful reverie.
‘John is four and Robert three,’ she replied. ‘William will be six months old tomorrow.’
‘And George?’
Thomas answered this time. ‘He is thirteen.’
‘A man already,’ Bacon remarked. ‘I’ll wager that beautiful mother of yours dotes upon him.’
Frances smiled but did not trust herself to speak.
‘I am sure they are all a credit to you both, my dear,’ he said kindly.
The spiced wine warmed her throat as it slipped down, and she felt herself relax. Looking towards the dais, she saw that the King’s face had regained its usual high colour and he was guffawing at some jest his favourite had made. On his other side, the Queen seemed to wince, then regained her usual placid expression. Her skin was waxy pale, despite the rising heat of the room.
On the table next to the dais, Frances could see Kate seated opposite her father. The earl was as solemn as she had seen him many times of late, and he spoke little – not that he had much opportunity, given that next to him the Countess of Buckingham was holding court.
At that moment, she caught a movement to the left of her vision and turned to see a liveried servant weaving his way through the tables. He stopped when he drew level with Lord Rutland and bent to whisper something in his ear. Frances saw the alarm on the older man’s face, before he recovered himself and forced a bright smile in his daughter’s direction. Placing his napkin on the table, he rose and gave a curt bow towards the dais, then hastened from the room, the countess staring haughtily in his wake.
‘My dear?’
Frances tore her gaze away from Lord Rutland’s retreating figure. ‘Forgive me, my lord. The revelry has quite exhausted me. If you will both permit it, I shall retire now,’ she said, already rising to her feet. Thomas made to follow, but she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please – stay and keep Lord Bacon company,’ she said, with a smile. Her husband looked up at her with concern, his eyes searching hers, but eventually gave a nod of acquiescence.
Frances forced herself to walk slowly from the hall, anxious not to draw attention. As soon as she was in the corridor beyond, however, she quickened her pace. The air was much cooler there and the noise of the revellers grew fainter as she made her way through the succession of