The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

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.

And from then on Frances knew that this was the man with whom she wished to spend the rest of her life. She was alternately wild with joy, desperate with sorrow.

Why had they married her so young to Essex when she might have married Robert Carr? She knew that he had no mistress; and could have had but few. Yet to him—because of a love potion, she believed—she had become irresistible.

He was the most important man at Court. Why had she thought the Prince was? The Prince was a simple boy, unaware of true passion. She was awakened now, and afire with desire, and no one but Carr could satisfy her.

All the honors that he asked for would be his. He could have any post, any title. As his wife she would be the most powerful woman in the Court.

“Oh, God,” she cried to Jennet, “how I want to marry Robert Carr.”

There was dancing at St. James’s. Robert Carr was not there, and therefore Frances was bored and indifferent; she was longing for the evening to be over and wished that she had not come.

Henry had not sought her out, although his manner had not changed toward her. She supposed that he was going through one of his prim periods. Let him. She had no desire for him. From now on there would be one man and one man only in her life.

As she danced she dropped her glove and, seeing this, one of the courtiers picked it up.

Knowing nothing of the new state of affairs and believing that the Prince would be glad to possess his lady’s glove, and, after the prevailing custom, count it an honor to wear it, this man carried the glove to the Prince and, bowing low, offered it to him.

The dance had come to an end; the music had stopped suddenly; and all were watching this pretty little scene.

Henry looked at the glove and when he did not reach for it, there was complete silence, so that many heard the words which were spoken.

“Your Highness, my lady Essex dropped her glove.”

The Prince looked at it disdainfully and then said in a clear high voice: “I would not touch that which has been stretched by another.”

The whole Court knew then that the Prince of Wales had discovered his mistress’s infidelity; and that the love affair between them was at an end.

“I don’t care!” Frances declared blithely to Jennet. “I’m glad. I did not want him pestering me. The silly boy with his ‘I durst not.’ ‘I’d liefer not.’ And ‘This is sin.’”

What a lover! Oh, how different is my Robert.