How handsome he was! Frances could scarcely stop herself staring at him. Never had she seen such a profile; he wore his golden hair somewhat long; and his fair skin was becomingly bronzed; his expression was extremely pleasant but remote, and that remoteness was like a challenge to Frances. He sparkled as he moved, for costly gems decorated his jacket; and diamonds and rubies were set off to perfection on his beautiful white hands.
“My Lord Rochester, pray give us your opinion….”
“My Lord Rochester, you’ll be the death of me. I have rarely laughed so much….”
His kindly smile was bestowed right and left; on the sycophantic gentleman opposite; on the fawning lady on his left; on the wondering Frances on his right; and yet, thought Frances, he cares nothing for any of us.
And why should he, when he is, in some respects, the ruler of us all? For the King himself wishes to please him in every way, and if he puts a petition before James, it is granted; a word of advice from Robert Carr, my lord Rochester, and the King is ready to act.
There never was such a man! thought Frances. How irksome, how maddening that to him she was merely a young woman of the Court, of no more interest than any other.
But it shall not be so, she promised herself.
She plucked at his sleeve. He turned his smile on her, that facile smile which meant so little.
“My lord, I am afraid I am a dull neighbor. You must forgive me. I have not been long at Court.”
“I can see that you are very young.”
“Perhaps I am older than I seem. I have lived long in the country.”
“Is that so?” He was smiling at the man across the table who was doing his best to attract his attention. He did not care how old she was or whether she had lived in town or country. She meant nothing to him. He was unmoved by the beauty which had been irresistible to the Prince of Wales, and as soon as he left this supper table he would have forgotten her.
He shall notice me, she vowed.
The violence of her feelings often amazed her. With an impulsive gesture she knocked over a goblet of wine. His puffed, slashed breeches were marked by the wine, and for a moment she had his full attention as she caught the goblet and lifted eyes, wide and frightened, to his. Surely he must now notice how beautiful those eyes were; who else at Court had such long lashes? He must notice. He must.
He did for a moment. He flicked his breeches with a careless hand.
“It is of no moment,” he said gently. “You must not distress yourself.”
“But I fear I have made you angry.”
“Do I seem so?”
“No, but I understand you to be kind. My great-uncle is glaring at me. He will take me to task for this.”
Robert Carr smiled. “I will be your advocate,” he said.
“Oh, thank you.” She touched his hand and lowered those magnificent eyes so that now he could see their fringed lids. “But I have ruined your clothes.” A pretty white hand touched his thigh.
He patted the hand and for a second kept his over hers.
In that moment, she told herself afterward, the importance of this occasion became known to her, for Frances Howard, Countess of Essex, had fallen irrevocably in love with Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, and first favorite of the King.
Frances was in despair.
She had seen him on several occasions since, and on all these he had smiled at her somewhat vaguely as though he were trying to remember where he had seen her before.
What could she do? It was not easy to meet Viscount Rochester. Every day men and women waited outside his apartments in the hope of seeing him. He was often with the King, and unapproachable.
She felt listless when she was with the Prince of Wales, and constantly she compared him with Robert Carr. The Prince was a boy, a boy who always seemed a little ashamed when they made love. That was not the way to be a good lover. How different Robert Carr would be if he were in love with her.
If he were in love! But he was not very interested in women. Perhaps he dared not be, for fear of offending the King. At times she knew she was foolish to have set her heart on such a man; but because he was unattainable he seemed all the more desirable.
Jennet quickly learned the state of affairs.
“My lady could try a love potion,” she suggested.
“How could I give him a love potion?”
“There are potions a lady can drink which will make her irresistible to any man.”
“Is it indeed true?”
“We could put it to the test, my lady. Give me leave to visit a friend of mine. I will tell her what is wanted and we will see what happens.”
“Do you really know such a woman?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Where is she?”
“She lives at Hammersmith. Give me leave to visit her and I will put your case before her, without mentioning names of course.”
“There can be no harm in it.”
“Only good, if my friend can make my lady irresistible to a certain gentleman.”
“Go then and try.”
“It will cost money.”
“How much?”
“I must ask. But I think it will cost much money, as you would expect it to, my lady, if it does its work.”
Frances clasped her hands. “I would be willing to pay … a great deal … for my lord Rochester.”
It seemed to Robert Carr that everywhere he went he saw the young Countess of Essex. He was not so indifferent to her as he had appeared to be. She was without doubt the prettiest young girl at Court and he liked her persistence. There was no doubt that she admired him, and was inviting him to be her lover.
He had made inquiries. She was, even at this time, the mistress of the Prince of Wales. How amusing to humiliate that young man. Robert did not forget that blow on the back with a racquet. If it had been anyone but the Prince of Wales he would not have let the incident pass. But he was shrewd enough to know that he must not have an open quarrel with the heir to the throne.
Yet quietly to snatch his mistress was another matter.
Why not? James did not object to his young men’s marrying or taking an occasional mistress. This girl was already married to Robert Devereux, the young Earl of Essex. There could be no harm in a little dalliance. And how furious the Prince would be!
Next time he met her—he would not go out of his way—he would pause and talk to her; he would convey to her that he was not indifferent. It would be amusing to see how far she would go. He had no doubt that she was ripe for immediate seduction.
Frances was jubilant. Everything she wanted would be hers, she was sure of it, because the potion had worked. She had paid highly for it, but it was worth every penny. She had drunk the rather unappetizing brew, and the next time she had seen Robert Carr he had stopped to talk to her. His voice had been caressing; his eyes even more so.
So there could be no doubt that she had become irresistible to this cool young man. She went to her own chamber and embraced Jennet.
“It works!” she cried. “He has spoken to me. His looks tell me all I want to know. It will not be long now.”
Nor was it.
Robert Carr chose an occasion when the King was resting and the Prince was honoring his father’s Court with his presence.
He found himself near Frances in the dance and when their hands touched they clung.
She was ready and eager. He did not need to persuade. It was not difficult to slip away because worldly courtiers had a gift for knowing when two people wanted to be alone, and with such as Carr it was necessary always to forestall his wishes.
They were left uninterrupted for an hour in one of the ante-rooms.
That was an ecstatic hour for Frances; a very pleasant one for Carr.