He had seen Frances’s father, the Earl of Suffolk, who had sent for her.
“I’ll swear,” said the Earl, “that you would prefer to be alone together.”
Robert admitted that this was so, and at any moment now she would appear.
Then she was there—framed in the doorway—certainly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, dressed in becoming blue, her golden curls loose about her shoulders.
“Frances!” he cried and went to her so quickly that he had not time to notice the sullen set of her lips.
He took her hands in his; then he dropped them that he might cup her face in his hands; he kissed her lips. Hers were very unresponsive.
Dear pure child, he thought, momentarily exultant, but almost immediately he asked himself whether she was as glad to see him as he was to see her.
“I am home at last.”
“So it seems, my lord.”
“Oh, Frances, how you have grown! Why, when I went away you were only a child. Are you pleased to see me? I have been longing for this day. Do not think that, although I have been away from you, I have not thought of you constantly. Have you thought of me?”
“I have thought of you,” said Frances; and it was true; she had thought of him with growing regret and repugnance; and his presence did nothing to diminish these emotions.
“I see,” he went on, “that you are shy of me. Dear little wife, there is nothing to fear.”
She turned away from him and, with sick disappointment in his heart, he sought to cajole her.
“Why, Frances, you are young as yet and—”
She shook herself free of the arm which he had placed about her.
“Please let me alone,” she said quietly but with determination. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Have your parents not talked to you …?”
“I do not want to listen to my parents. I only want to be left alone.”
He stared at her blankly; then he smiled tenderly.
“Of course, this is a shock to you. You are so young. I forget how young. You did not want to leave your parents, your family … but you will grow accustomed to the idea. After all, we are married, Frances.”
The words were like the strokes of doom in her ears.
She was married; and there was no escape.
But hope came with his next words. “The last thing I want is to make you unhappy, Frances. You need time to get used to me … and the idea of marriage. Have no fear. I do not want to hurry. We have all our lives before us.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and grateful.
Time. If she had time she might think of something she could do to escape this cruel fate.
Jennet tried to calm her; her mistress’s tears alarmed her.
“He wants me to go to the country, Jennet. The country! I shall die of melancholy. You know how I hate the country. It is better to be dead than live there. I won’t go to the country. What can I do? What can I do?”
Jennet was thoughtful; then she said quietly: “There are ways.”
“What ways? What?”
“You remember how I procured a powder for you which made you irresistible to my Lord Rochester?”
“Yes, Jennet.”
“Well, mayhap I could procure a powder which would make my Lord Essex so loathe you that he would wish to be rid of you.”
“Do it, Jennet. Do it without delay.”
“It is not as easy as that.”
“You mean it would cost money. You know I can find money. I have my jewels. I will give anything to escape from Essex.”
“You are married to him and escape will be difficult. It may well be that even if he loathes you he will still make you live as his wife. If he took you to Chartley, loathing you, you would be very little less unhappy than if he loved you.”
Frances paced up and down the apartment. Then she cried suddenly: “I will see my Robert. I will tell him of my predicament. He is the most powerful man at Court. He will know what to do.”
