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

“And the boy who confessed to poisoning the clyster?”

“I paid him twenty pounds to do it,” said Frances wearily.

“Oh, my God,” cried Robert.

“You may well call on God to help us. No one else will.”

“So you are … a murderess!”

“Don’t look at me like that, Robert. I did it for you.”

“Frances … !”

“Yes,” she cried passionately, “for you! For this life of ours….” She beat on her body with frantic hands. “That I might bear you children. That we might grow in power. That we might be together for the rest of our lives.”

“And Overbury?”

“He was in the way. He was trying to stop us. He knew that I had obtained spells from Dr. Forman.”

“Spells?”

“To rid myself of Essex.”

Robert covered his face with his hands. What a fool he had been not to see. Fools paid for their folly. And then he began to think of those months when Overbury was in the Tower. He himself had sent in tarts and delicacies to him. Had those tarts been poisoned? Had he not arranged that Overbury should be sent to the Tower? Had he not wanted it because he was angry with him on account of his attitude to Frances? Frances! It all came back to Frances. But how deeply was he involved?

He was trying to look back to those months of the imprisonment. Had the knowledge been with him that all was not as it seemed? Did he not prevent Overbury’s family from seeing him? Was he too ready to listen to Northampton’s advice?

He would never have condemned to horrible death a man who had once been a friend. But had he thrust the thought of murder from his mind because it was convenient to do so?

How much was he to blame?

He looked at Frances—her eyes enormous in her pale face. She was talking wildly, missing no detail. The letters she had written to Forman, the images he made—the lewd obscene images—the efforts to bewitch Essex; all those horrid practices which had culminated in the murder of Overbury.

And now the story was out, and the Lord Chief Justice would be taking his findings to the King.

The King! thought Robert, with whom his relationship this last year had become strained, the King whose eyes dwelt too fondly on the handsome features of Sir George Villiers.

But James was a loyal friend. He must see James; he must protest his innocence in the matter.

Frances was clutching at his coat with shaking fingers; he wanted to throw her off. He could not bear to look into her face.

Murderess! he thought. She murdered poor Tom Overbury. And she is my wife.

“Robert,” cried Frances, “remember this always: I did it for you.”

He turned away. “I would to God,” he said bitterly, “that I had never set eyes on you.”

James looked sorrowfully into the face of his old friend.

“Your Majesty believes me?” said Robert, his face contorted with emotion.

“My dear Robbie, how could I ever believe that you would take part in such a dastardly plot!”

“Thank you. With Your Majesty’s confidence in me I can face all my accusers.”

“Are they accusing you, Robbie?”

“There is talk of nothing else in the Court but this hideous affair.”

James laid his hand on Robert’s arm. “Don’t grieve, lad,” he said. “Innocence has nothing to fear.”

Sir Edward had had many people brought in for questioning. Weston, Franklin, Helwys and Anne Turner would be obliged to prove their innocence, although Sir Edward did not believe they would be able to do this. The servants of these people had been questioned so thoroughly that they had betrayed what he wanted to know.

Northampton was dead and could not be brought to justice, although Coke believed he had had a hand in the murder. But there were two who were living and whom he believed to be at the very center of the plot: The Earl and Countess of Somerset.

Coke, bowing to none in his determination to lay the guilt where it belonged, summoned Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset, to appear for examination in connection with the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury.

When Robert received the summons he was horrified. For so long he had been treated as the most important man in the country. Did Coke think that he could summon him as he would an ordinary person?

Robert went to the King and angrily told him what had happened, showing him the summons.

James took it and shook his head sadly.

“Why, Robert,” he said, “this is an order from the Lord Chief Justice of England and must be obeyed.”