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

“Alas, yes.”

Robert turned away to face another partner as the dance demanded. She was still as disturbing as ever.

She was ready for him when he faced her again.

“I must see you … alone.”

“When?”

“This night.”

“And the Earl?”

“I know not. I care not. He is no husband to me and never has been.”

“How was this?”

“Because I loved one other.”

“And this other?”

“He will tell me tonight whether he loves me.”

“Where?”

“In the lower apartments of Gundulph’s Tower. Those dark and gloomy storerooms where few people go.”

He was silent while she looked at him beseechingly.

He had missed her; he wanted to reopen their relationship. He had found during the period when she had been away that he could never forget her. There was a vitality about her which was irresistible. If she and the Earl led separate lives by mutual consent what harm was there?

That night when the Castle was quiet they met in those lower apartments of Gundulph’s Tower! and there they were lovers again.

In the house at Hammersmith Frances sat opposite Anne Turner and told of her anxieties.

“And you are still unsure of him?” asked Mrs. Turner.

Frances nodded. “Yet I believe he needs me more than he did. There is a change.”

“The good doctor has been working for that.”

“I know. But the lord is always aware of that other.” Her face darkened. “And he is never far away, always threatening. I would die rather than be carried back to the country.”

“My sweet lady, you must not talk of dying. Was it so difficult to do with the powders what the doctor suggested?”

“Quite impossible. I kept to my apartments because I could not bear him near me. There were two servants who were ready to do my bidding. I bribed them and they did their best. But he was surrounded by his servants; and there was a man, Wilson, who was too clever for us.”

Mrs. Turner nodded. “It is a sorry business with so many working against us!”

“What I fear is that if there are too many difficulties the lord will be ready to forego our love.”

“We must bind him so strongly that he cannot escape.”

“Is it possible to do that?”

“With the doctor everything is possible. I think that you should see him again … soon.”

“Then I will do so.”

“Let me tell him of your visit and he will name a day when he will see you. I will manage to get a message conveyed to you.”

“Dear Turner, what should I do without you!”

“Sweet friend, it is my pleasure to help you. I have learned a little from the doctor and I see that the one who is hovering between you and the lovely lord must be removed, because until he is, our efforts will be, to a great extent, frustrated.”

Frances clenched her hands together.

“Would to God I need never see his face again.”

“The doctor will help you.” Anne Turner leaned forward and touched Frances’s hand. “Never forget,” she repeated softly, “with the doctor all things are possible.”

At a table in the private apartments of my Lord Rochester, Thomas Overbury was sitting writing; there was a satisfied smile on his face, and no sound in the room but the scratch of his pen. Thomas read through what he had written and his smile grew smug. He was always delighted with his work.

Seated in a window seat, staring out on the palace grounds, was Robert, his handsome face set in thoughtful lines.

“Listen to this, Robert,” cried Thomas, and read out what he had written.