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

There were, in fact, very few ladies present in Cambridge during the King’s stay there, apart from those belonging to the Howard family.

Frances was a member of the party, and as she rode out from London her spirits were lifted; she was putting a distance between herself and such places as Lambeth and Hammersmith; Robert was beside her, the devoted husband, who was always solicitous for her health and comfort; she was determined to be gay and enjoy that position for which she had so long fought.

Her father, Suffolk, being the host, was lodged in St. John’s College, but Lady Suffolk, with Frances and other female members of the family, were to stay at Magdalen, while James and Charles—with Robert—were at Trinity.

The men of the University were determined to provide entertainments for the royal party; the whole town was en fete, eager to do homage to the visitors, and banquets were given in St. John’s College and Trinity; but because this was a University town, there was an endeavor to keep the entertainment on an intellectual level.

One day the company assembled to see a play called Ignoramus which was being presented for the pleasure of the King and his friends.

In the play was a youth so handsome, so full of vitality that whenever he was present he attracted the attention of everyone. It was rare that anyone possessed such good looks; there was only one other man at the Court who was so outstandingly handsome; and that was Robert Carr.

The King leaned forward in his chair and watched the play with more interest than it deserved. Or was it the play he watched?

He turned to one of his gentlemen and said: “Tell me, what is the name of yon lad?”

It was impossible to answer the question for the youth was so obscure that his name was not widely known.

“Find out and tell me,” commanded James.

The gentleman of whom he had asked the question hurried off and a few minutes later returned.

“His name is George Villiers, Your Majesty.”

“George Villiers,” repeated James, slowly as though he wished to memorize it.

Many people noted the incident, some with apprehension, others with glee.

Could it mean anything? Could it be made to mean anything?

Perhaps not, for the King did not ask that George Villiers be brought to him; and when he left the Clare Hall, where the piece had been played, he leaned very affectionately on the arm of Robert Carr.

On returning from Cambridge, Lord Pembroke, who had noticed the King’s passing interest in young George Villiers, went to see the Queen.

Anne had always been friendly with Pembroke and when he asked for an audience, it was readily granted.

Pembroke found her playing with her frisky miniature greyhounds, which she held by a crimson cord; the ornamental collars about their necks, embossed in gold with the letters A.R., branded them as royal dogs.

“Ah, my lord,” she said. “I trust I see you well. You are recently come from the Cambridge revels, I believe.”

She pouted with annoyance; she had not been invited to the revels. Rarely had a Queen of the realm been so insulted. But what could one expect when the King gave his attention to handsome young men; and the worst of them all was Robert Carr, who she would always believe had had a hand in the death of her darling son.

She was ready to weep at the thought, and anger shone from her usually mild eyes.

“I came at once to Your Majesty, because I knew you would wish to hear of the revels.”

“I’ll swear you were surrounded by Howards.”

“Your Majesty is right. There were scarcely any women present but Howard women.”

“And Lady Somerset?”

“Flaunting her beauty as usual.”

“I never liked her. They make a good pair.”

“Your Majesty, there was a play.”

“A play. Was it good? They know how I love plays and pageants. Do you not think, my lord, that Suffolk should be reprimanded for so insulting me? Not to ask the Queen! Has any Queen ever been treated thus before, think you?”

“Your Majesty’s good friends were alert in her interests.”

“And what saw they? What heard they?”

“In the play, Your Majesty, there was a very handsome young man.”

“Another?”

“This one was every bit as handsome as Somerset, I swear it.”

“And the pretty’s nose was out of joint?”

“I do not think he noticed, Your Majesty. He has become so sure of himself.”