Читать интересную книгу The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex - Jean Plaidy

But at last she was forced to accept it, and the only way she could curb her great grief was in rage and recriminations.

“Raleigh said it would cure all but poison. Poison! Someone has poisoned my son. Who could have done such a foul thing to one who was beloved by all? What enemies had he among righteous men? None. But he had his enemies. What about Robert Carr whom he always hated? What of that sly shadow of his, Overbury? I always hated Overbury. I do not trust Overbury. He has poisoned my son at the request of Carr. I will prove it. There shall be an autopsy. And if poison is found I shall not rest until I have brought those men to justice.”

Those who heard of the ravings of the Queen did not hesitate to speak of her suspicions. Soon they were being whispered, not only in the Palace but throughout the City.

Even when the autopsy revealed that Prince Henry had died from natural causes, the rumor still persisted that he had been poisoned; and the names of Robert Carr and Overbury were mentioned in this connection. It was said that the Prince had hated his father’s favorite and had stood in the way of his promotion to even greater honors. Carr had a reason for wishing him out of the way; and it was known that Overbury was Carr’s creature.

James, who had shown greater courage than the Queen during the Prince’s illness and had been at his bedside even though warned of the contagious nature of his illness, scorned these suggestions; and bade Robert put them from his mind.

“Why, lad,” he said, “’twas ever the same. A prominent person dies and the word Poison is bandied from mouth to mouth. The autopsy shows the cause of death and in time all will come to accept it.”

Robert was grateful for the King’s sympathy but he was uneasy. It was unpleasant to be suspected of murder.

One evening the guards at St. James’s were disturbed by the figure of a naked man; he was tall and fair, and in the dim light had a look of the Prince.

“I am the ghost of the Prince of Wales,” cried the naked one. “I have come from the grave to ask for justice. Bring my murderers to the scaffold. It is where they belong.”

Some of the guards fled in terror, but two, bolder than the rest, approached the man and saw that he was not the Prince of Wales.

They hustled him into the porter’s lodge and there demanded to know who he was.

“The Prince of Wales,” he answered. “Come from the grave for justice.”

“This is a trick,” said one of the guards. “Someone has sent him to do this. We’ll find out who.”

They then took a whip and proceeded to lash the fellow until he screamed in agony. But he persisted that he was the ghost of the Prince of Wales.

Ghosts did not allow themselves to be beaten, the guards were sure. They tried to force him to confess he was a human being trying to trick them; but he persisted in his story, and they kept him there through the night, every now and then trying, as they said, to make him see reason and confess the truth.

In the morning news of what had happened was carried to the Palace and brought to the ears of the King, and James himself went to the porter’s lodge to see the ‘ghost’ of Prince Henry.

He frowned when he saw the marks of lashes on the naked body.

“Why,” he said, “did ye no understand that the man is sick? He’s suffering from the same fever that carried off the Prince. He’s in need of doctors, not lashes.” He tried to soothe the man whose mind was clearly wandering. “Don’t ye fret, laddie. You’ll be taken care of.”

He gave orders that the man should be cared for and inquiries made as to who he was.

It was soon discovered that he was a student of Lincoln’s Inn who had left his bed, deposited his clothes in an open grave and wandered on to the Palace.

On the King’s orders he was looked after in the porter’s lodge; and one evening when his nurses went to his bed, they found he had disappeared.

It was presumed that he had wandered out of the lodge, perhaps in an effort to find his way back to the grave which he believed he had left.

Some boatmen thought they saw him at the river’s edge and, as he was never seen again, it was believed that he had drowned himself in the Thames.

The rumor of poison died down; but it was not entirely forgotten. Rather was it laid away to be brought out in the future when people were reminded of it.

INTRIGUE AT CHARTLEY CASTLE

When Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, traveling from Court with his reluctant bride, was within two or three miles of Chartley Castle he found that the people of the neighborhood had come out to welcome him. He acknowledged their greeting with bows and smiles and felt wretchedly uncomfortable when he saw their astonished looks directed toward the beautiful but sullen girl riding beside him.

Frances stared straight ahead of her as though she did not see these people. She was not going to pretend that she was a happy bride.

Her beauty must attract attention, for although it was a little marred by her thunderous looks it was no less remarkable.

When they entered the old castle and found the servants lined up, waiting to pay homage, she walked past them and did not glance at one of them, so that it was clear to all that there was something very unusual about their master’s marriage.

“The Countess is weary with the long journey,” said Essex. “Let her be shown her apartments without delay so that she may rest.”

“I am not in the least weary,” retorted Frances. “While at Court I have been in the saddle for hours without feeling the slightest exhaustion. But let them show me my apartments.”

A dignified manservant signed to two young women, both of whom hurried forward, curtsied afresh to the Countess and turning, made their way up the wide staircase.

“Come, Jennet,” said Frances; and without another glance at her husband, followed the two serving girls.

“What a draughty place this is,” complained Frances. “One might as well have lodgings in the Tower. They could not be more uncomfortable. Where are you taking me? Is it to the apartments occupied by the Queen of Scots, when she too was a prisoner here?”

“I am not sure, my lady, where the Queen of Scots had her apartments,” said the elder of the servants.

Frances shuddered. “Poor lady. How she must have suffered!”

They had reached a corridor and were confronted by a spiral staircase. When they had mounted this they came to the apartments which had been prepared for the Earl and his Countess.

The rooms were luxuriously furnished, and from the windows was a view of the lovely Staffordshire countryside.

Frances looked at the big bed and her eyes narrowed.

She turned to the serving girls.

“You had better tell me your names.”

The elder, a girl of about twenty, said: “I am Elizabeth Raye, my lady.” She turned to her companion who appeared to be about sixteen. “And this is Catharine Dardenell. We have been selected to wait on you.”

Frances surveyed them intently, trying to assess how loyal they would be to the Earl. It might well be that she would need them to perform special services for her. She decided to try to win their confidence.

“I am sure you will do all you can to help me,” she said; and her face was transformed by the smile she gave them.

They curtsied in a rather embarrassed fashion.

“We shall do our best, my lady,” murmured Elizabeth Raye.

“Go now and bring me food. I am hungry. Bring enough for my maid here, too.”

“Yes, my lady. But a supper is being served in the great hall and the cooks have been planning for days what they would give my lord and lady on this day.”

“I shall not eat in the great hall. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“When you bring the food, knock on the door. It will be opened to you, if the two of you come alone.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Go now, because I am hungry.”

When they had gone, Frances turned to Jennet.

“Take the key from the outside and lock the door from the inside.”

“My lady …”

“Do as I say.” Jennet obeyed.

“Of one thing I am certain. He shall not come into this room.”

“Do you think that you can hold out against him, here in his own castle?”

“I must hold out against him.”

Jennet shook her head.

“You think he will force me? I have a dagger in this sheath. See, I wear it about my waist as some wear as pomander. I will kill him if there is any attempt at force.”

“Have a care, my lady.”

“Jennet, I am going to be very careful indeed.”

The Earl rapped on the door.

Frances went to it and called: “Who is there?”

“It is I, your husband.”

“What do you want?”

“To see you. To ask if you are pleased with the apartment.”

“I am as pleased as a prisoner can be with a prison as long as you do not share it with me.”

“Do you understand, Frances, that there will be a great deal of scandal if you behave like this?”

“Do you think I care for scandal?”

“I care.”

“Care all you wish.”

“Frances, be reasonable. My father lived here before me. It is my family home.”

“What of it?”

“I am asking you not to cause a scandal.”

“I’d be hard put to it to provide a greater scandal than your father did.”

“Frances, let me come in, only to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You are my wife.”

“Alas!”

“What have you against me?”

“Everything.”

“What have I done to deserve your contempt?”

“Married me.”

“Frances, be reasonable.”

“I am ready to be. It is you who will not be. Leave me alone. Let me go back to Court. If you are so fond of your draughty castle stay and enjoy it. I would not attempt to tell you where you should be—as long as it is not with me.”

“I shall not endure this state of affairs. You are my wife and my wife you shall be … in every way. Do you understand me?”

“You make yourself coarsely clear.”

“Let me come in and talk.”

“I repeat, there is nothing to be said.”

He was silent. He sighed deeply and then said in a sad voice: “Perhaps by tomorrow you will have come to your senses.”

She did not answer, but leaned against the door listening to his retreating footsteps.

She went back to Jennet. “You talk of his forcing me. He never would. He has no spirit, that man. He’s as mild as milk. Oh, why did they marry me to such a one, when, if I were free …”

Jennet shook her head and turned away.

Frances caught her arm and gripped it so tightly that Jennet cried out.

“What are you thinking, eh? Answer me at once.”

“My lady, you’re hurting my arm.”

“Speak then.”

“I was thinking that you are not free, and my lord Rochester did not seem to be as desolate as you were when you left London.”

Frances lifted her hand to strike the woman, but thought better of it. Her face crumpled suddenly and she said: “Jennet, I’m afraid that if I stay here too long, I shall lose him.”

Jennet nodded.

“You think so, do you?” burst out Frances. “What right have you to think? What do you know about it?”

“I have seen, have I not, my lady? But why do you despair? You saw Dr. Forman and Mrs. Turner before you left Court.”

A worried frown appeared on Frances’s brow. “I wish they were nearer, Jennet. I wish I could talk to them.”

“You have the powders with you?”

“Yes, but how administer them?”

“It would have been easier if you had allowed him to live with you.”

Frances shivered. “Never. If I did I believe that would be the end. My Lord Rochester would have finished with me then.”

“Did he say so?”

“He hinted it. Jennet, we’ve got to find a way. We’ve got to get out of here. I feel shut in … a prisoner. I was meant to be free. I can’t breathe here.”

“We’ll have to see,” said Jennet.

Essex almost wished that he had not returned to Chartley. Here it was much more difficult to keep secret the extraordinary state of his marital affairs. It was embarrassing for all his retainers to know that he was so distasteful to his wife that she refused to live with him as his wife. He was very young, being not much over twenty, and had had very little experience of women. Frances, two years his junior, was knowledgeable in comparison; she understood him while she bewildered him.

Had he been a stronger-willed man he might have forced his way into her apartments, in order to assure her that he was the master, but his nature was too gentle for him to adopt this method and he hoped he could persuade her to act reasonably.

He even made excuses for her; she was innocent; she was unprepared for marriage and viewed it with distaste. She was after all very young; she would grow up in time; then she would be sorry for all the trouble she had caused him.

The entire neighborhood was aware of the strange happenings inside the castle. The Countess was never seen out of doors. She refused to leave her apartments; her doors were always locked; though he believed that in the night, accompanied by Jennet, she walked about the castle and in the grounds.

Jennet was always with her; and the two Chartley maids, Elizabeth Raye and Catharine Dardenell, waited on her. They were regarded with great respect by the rest of the servants whom they told that the Countess was in truth a sweet lady, and so lovely to look at that she must be good. She had shown kindness to both Elizabeth and Catharine; and her own maid, Jennet, whom she had brought with her, was devoted to her. Catharine and Elizabeth were beginning to believe that the fault might lie with the Earl.

Essex spent a great deal of time brooding over the situation; and he liked to escape from the castle and often walked for miles trying to think of some solution.

He could, of course, allow her to return to Court and leave her alone; that was what she wanted; and she was ready to be his good friend if he would agree to it. But he was stubborn on one point; she was his wife. Ever since their marriage he had dreamed of coming home to her, because he had carried with him, all the time he had been abroad, a memory of that lovely young girl to whom he had been married. Having built up an ideal of what their life together would be, he could not accept this situation. He would not give up his dream so easily.

As he walked alone, deep in thought, he heard a cry for help which came from the direction of a swiftly running river. He was sharply brought out of melancholy reverie and, turning toward the direction from which the cry had come, he recognized his steward, Wingfield.

“Wingfield,” he called. “What’s wrong?”

Before Wingfield could answer he saw for himself; a man was wading out of the river supporting a young woman whom he had clearly rescued.