And when he endeavored to be so, James was his affectionate self once more.
But he was beginning to smile rather fondly on Sir George Villiers—not, he wanted everyone to know, that this interest in the young and charming man in any way changed his abiding affection toward my Lord Somerset.
James was happier than he had been for some time. He was delighted with the new young man whom he had nicknamed Steenie because of his likeness to St. Stephen; and Robert was being his old self, understanding that the friendship between them was too deep to be disturbed by a new fancy.
James had been on a tour of the south, for it was necessary to show himself to his people from time to time, and was resting at Beaulieu when he heard that Sir Ralph Winwood had ridden from London because he wished to speak to him on an urgent matter.
James had never greatly cared for Winwood but he believed him to be a good minister and he received him at once.
Winwood seemed over-excited and it must, thought James, be news of some importance to have brought him so far to tell it, since James would shortly be returning to London.
“Your Majesty,” began Winwood, “a strange rumor has come to my ears and it disturbs me so much that I could not rest until I had laid it before you.”
“Let us hear what it is,” said James.
“It comes from Flushing, Your Majesty, where an English boy has recently died in great distress on account of a crime he helped to commit in England.”
“What boy is this?”
“He was an assistant to Dr. Paul de Lobel, Your Majesty, and he declares that Sir Thomas Overbury died by foul means in the Tower and that he was bribed to poison the clyster which was administered to him.”
“Ha!” laughed James. “There are always rumors of this sort.”
“This seemed more than a rumor, Sire. The boy was in great distress and made a full confession on his death bed; he mentions certain people in connection with the case and I believe there to be such persons living in London as those he named.”
“What persons are these?”
“A jailer of the Tower, and a Dr. Franklin … a man of shady character, Your Majesty, even perhaps a dabbler in witchcraft.”
At the mention of witchcraft James’s face darkened.
“Look into this matter, Winwood,” he said, “and report to me what you find.”
THE LITTLE FISH ARE CAUGHT
Since the marriage of the Earl and Countess of Somerset, life had been good for Anne Turner. When she awoke in her luxurious bed in some palace or large country house she thanked the day Jennet had brought Lady Essex to her. Anne was a beautiful woman, a fact which had not been so obvious when she was living obscurely in Hammersmith as it was now that she was at Court.
She had even become a leader of fashion and many women had taken up the yellow ruffs which she wore because, as they were so becoming to her, they believed they would be to them.
It was a good life, and all because she had done an inestimable service to a rich and noble lady. Frances would never forget; in fact Anne was determined that she should not, and although she never reminded her that they had committed murder together, she made sure that Frances remembered.
Frances was her friend and patron and she had become one of the many ladies in the retinue of the Somersets. She saw the good life stretching out ahead of her and was determined never to return to Hammersmith.
Her servants came to dress her, and while she sat at her mirror and they arranged her beautiful hair, they chattered to her of Court gossip because she always encouraged them to do this. It was important to carry little scraps of information to the Countess; and now that Sir George Villiers was becoming so prominent, Frances always liked to hear the latest news regarding him.
This day they had another piece of gossip.
One of the maids had a lover who was servant to Sir Ralph Winwood, and Sir Ralph had just returned from a visit to the King. He had left in a great hurry it seemed, and when he had returned had been very busy. He had had long and secret talks with several people—but servants were the great detectives and secrets could not long be kept from them.
“Such a pother, Madam,” said the maid, “and it seems that it concerns a long dead gentleman. He died in the Tower and it was by poison.”
Anne had begun to watch the maid’s face in the mirror, but the girl did not notice how fixedly she stared.
“They’re going to find out who poisoned him. They’re going to follow up the trail because he was once a very important Court gentleman, a friend of my lord Somerset, no less.”
Anne stood up; she was afraid the girl would see that her face had whitened.
“Did you hear this gentleman’s name mentioned?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound casual.
“Oh yes, Madam. It was Sir Thomas Overbury.”
Since Frances had known that she was pregnant she had felt more at peace. It was true that Sir George Villiers had cast a shadow over her security and would have to be watched; but she felt equal to deal with that young upstart. Each passing week, she reminded herself, took her farther from the divorce and the death of Overbury.
Therefore she was unprepared for the news Anne Turner brought her. As soon as she saw Anne’s face she knew that something important was wrong and her heart began to pound with terror.
Anne looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.
“No one can overhear,” said Frances.
“A most distressing rumor. Winwood is investigating Overbury’s death.”
Frances stared at Anne for the moment, unable to speak, so great was her horror.
“My maid was chattering about it.”
“Maids’ gossip.”
“Her lover serves Winwood. I do not think we can afford to ignore this, even if it is only gossip.”
“But why … in God’s name why … now … after all this time?”
Anne shook her head. “We must act quickly … I think.”
“How?”
“It is certain that Weston will be interrogated. He was his jailer at the time.”
Frances nodded. “You must see him, Anne. You must make sure that he will know exactly what to say, or I fear he will betray us all.”
“Thank God you have good friends.”
Good friends!—thought Frances. Northampton dead. Robert in ignorance of the plot in which he was involved—and Sir George Villiers standing by, ready to snatch his power.
“Go, Anne,” she said urgently. “Go at once and see Weston. Warn him. It is always better to be warned.”
In a tavern some miles from London a lady in a cloak, the hood of which partly concealed her face, impatiently waited in the room which the innkeeper had set aside for her to receive her guest.
A Court lady, mused the innkeeper. One could always tell. And this was a secret assignation with a lover. The innkeeper was not displeased. This might be the beginning of a succession of visits from Court ladies and gentlemen; it would be well to let them know that he was an innkeeper who could be discreet.
When the lady’s guest arrived he proved to be a disappointment for he was a somewhat shabby fellow. Was the lady having a love affair with her groom? Perhaps this was the reason why they must meet well away from the Court.
Anne’s reception of Richard Weston was certainly unlike that of a woman receiving her lover.
“Weston,” she cried, “so at last you are here! I thought you would never come.”
“You are distressed, Madam.”
“So will you be when you hear what I have to tell. We shall all be more than distressed if we do not take the utmost care.”