If that should ever come about it would be the end of the friendship between Robert Carr and Tom Overbury, for he, Overbury, would never endure her insolence. He thought of all those occasions when he had criticized her to Robert and how his friend had shrugged aside his insinuations.
Robert was so guileless: he did not see behind that mask of beauty. Overbury was ready to grant the lady her attractions; he was ready to admit that she might well be reckoned the most beautiful woman at Court. But he saw beyond the beauty. He saw wantonness, lust, ambition, selfishness and cruelty.
Robert must be made to understand what sort of woman this was and that if he wished to retain his high position he must not marry her.
In the heat of rage against the Countess and anger at the folly of his friend he waylaid the latter on his way from the King’s apartments and said he must speak to him without delay.
“What has happened to you, Tom?” asked Robert. “You look distraught.”
“I have just heard some disquieting news which I want you to tell me is false.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“That the Countess of Essex is planning to divorce her husband on the grounds of impotence.”
A cautious look had come over Robert’s face. “I believe that to be true.”
“The Countess’s motives are clear.”
“To you?”
“Yes, and to anyone else who knows what has been going on during the last months.”
“You are over-excited, Tom.”
“Of course I’m over-excited. I see you on the brink of ruin. Isn’t that enough to excite me?”
“You’ve been drinking too much.”
“I am quite sober, Robert. Do you realize that that woman is dangerous?”
Robert shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t want to discuss her with you, Tom. I have told you that before.”
“You’re going to discuss her with me, Robert,”
“You forget your position.”
“Nay, I forget nothing. I am the one who wrote the letters, do you remember? I am the one who wrote the poems. I know what has been taking place between you two all the time you have been professing friendship with Essex.”
Robert flushed angrily; it was a point on which he was very vulnerable. He had never been able to dismiss the thought of Essex from his mind even at the peak of satisfaction; and he was so happy now that Frances had explained about the fellow’s impotence because that changed everything. He could not feel the same shame at making love to a man’s wife when that man was incapable of doing so. And when the divorce had gone through and they were married, they would be quite respectable. That was what he was looking forward to and Tom was spoiling it. He wished he had never allowed Tom to write those letters. Tom knew too much.
“Essex is impotent,” began Robert.
“That’s the tale she tells. Why, at Chartley she had to lock her door to keep him out. Ask Wilson.”
“Who is Wilson?”
“Not high and mighty enough for the noble lord’s acquaintance, of course. Wilson is a scholar and a gentleman who serves Essex and is his friend.”
“I am glad he has such a friend.”
“Having robbed him of his wife you wish him to have some small comfort I see. Generous of you, Robert.”
“Don’t let us quarrel about this, Tom.”
“Quarrel. Robert, you are bemused by that woman. You cannot see clearly. You cannot think. I tell you this: if you marry her she will be your ruin. I am as certain of it as I ever was of anything in my life.”
“You have taken a dislike to her. It is not the first time you have sought to turn me against her.”
“It’s not the last time either. Robert, I shall not rest until I have made you see what a noose you are putting your head in. There is something evil about that woman. I do not know what, but it is there. I swear on my solemn oath that I shall work with all my might to stop this marriage. I hope to God the divorce is never granted.”
Robert’s habitual calm broke and he showed his anger.
“You presume too much, Overbury,” he said. “You forget that you would not be in the position you are today, did you not enjoy my favor. You have told me much. Now let me tell you something: if you continue in this way you will no longer enjoy that favor.”
“What? Would you write your own letters? I do not think they would be much admired. And forget not this: You have helped me, but consider how I have helped you. Consider too what I know about you and the lady. I wonder what the King will say when all the Court is laughing at the manner in which Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, has stolen away from His Majesty’s side whenever possible to satisfy his lust with that wanton who now asks us to believe that the husband, who had been clamoring to live a normal life with her, was impotent all the time. I know too much, Robert Carr. Go and tell the lady that. She’ll understand, perhaps more than you do.”
Robert strode from the room.
He went straight to Frances and told her all that Overbury had said.
She listened, her eyes narrowed, her mind busy. There was so much truth in what the odious creature had said; Robert might not realize it, but there was much he could do to harm them. What if he began to pry into her activities. That affair of Mary Woods had been a great shock to her.
She realized that she would never feel really safe while Thomas Overbury was free to ferret into her past, while he seemed to delight in defaming her character.
There was one weapon which Overbury had used with success all his life: his pen. He now decided to use it. He was certain that it would be the end of the career he had planned for himself if Carr should marry the Countess of Essex. The woman hated him and would seek to destroy him. Moreover, he believed that, since she was an associate of Anne Turner, she was in touch with men such as the late Dr. Forman. He had heard from Wilson, whose acquaintance he had cultivated, of mysterious powders discovered among the clothes of the Countess’s husband. It was possible that the Countess in her ruthless way had made other enemies besides Overbury. There had been a strange allegation from a woman in a Suffolk court. Overbury could see that marriage to the Countess might easily ruin Robert Carr. Perhaps the young simpleton did not realize how easy it was for those who had been at the very peak of success to fall into obscurity—or even worse. In the case of Carr his triumphs did not even rest on his own mental ability. A handsome face, a charming manner and an easy-going nature were the assets which had carried him where he was—with Overbury’s help.
No, thought Overbury, I am not to be thrust aside by Madam Countess. I am far more important in this affair than they seem to realize.
Since he had whispered the secret of his relationship with Robert Carr to his friends at the Mermaid Club, they had treated him with even greater respect than they had given him for his writing talent. He had heard it said again and again in his hearing that he was the real ruler of England.
Was he going to stand aside, therefore, and watch this disaster take place?
Certainly he was not. So he took up his pen. He wrote with fire and venom and the verses he produced were called “The Wife.”
These were aimed at the Countess of Essex, and anyone with a slight knowledge of her background and history would know this.
These verses were circulated, not only at the Mermaid Club but throughout the Court.
When Frances read the verses she was furious. Soon he might be openly talking of her. He was a clever man; he had shown that he had already begun to ferret into her past, and there was too much that was unsavory to be discovered there.
She had little to fear from Essex. While they were at Court he had discovered that his wife was conducting a love affair with Carr, and at last understood that her repulsion to living as his wife had nothing to do with her innocence; it was simply that she wished to be the mistress of another man. He had learned too that the Prince of Wales had been her lover, and it was no innocent virgin whom he had taken to Chartley.