Jean Plaidy - The Murder in the Tower - The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

“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.

The Earl ran to the scene and helped the two men take the woman—who was one of the servants—back to the castle.

It was an hour or so later when Essex summoned Wingfield, with the man who had rescued the girl, to his apartments.

Wingfield introduced this man as Arthur Wilson, whom he had invited to the castle for a short stay. Arthur Wilson immediately spoke up for himself.

“Having fallen on hard times, my lord, I seized this opportunity to enjoy the hospitality of Mr. Wingfield in exchange for certain services.”

“It is fortunate for that poor girl that you were here,” said the Earl; and noticing that Wilson was a man of education he invited him to drink a glass of wine with him.

When the wine had been brought and they were alone together, Wilson told the Earl something of his history.