Frances was sullen.

“How long will it take me to grow up?” she had demanded.

Her mother had laughed at her.

“Two years, three years.”

“It is an age.”

“Time passes, child. Go back to your lessons. You’ll be surprised how quickly you’ll become a woman. Don’t try your eyes with too much learning. We don’t want their brightness dimmed. And when you come to Court, you’ll come as a Countess. Remember that. Farewell, little Countess of Essex.”

And so she had returned. The house seemed like a prison. She hated her servants and her governesses. She did not want to learn lessons … not the sort that came from books.

She wanted to learn from the delicious experience of life.

Her great comfort was Jennet.

She often made the girl come to her bed and talk half the night of spells and potions, and how, by careful use of them, all that one desired could be obtained.

It was her belief in this which helped Frances to live through the time of waiting.


A PAGEANT AT WHITEHALL

During the four years which had elapsed since that day when Robert Carr had fallen in the tiltyard at Whitehall he had been the King’s constant companion, and it was a source of great irritation to many at Court that the young man remained the first favorite.

Robert, although far from intellectual, had proved himself to possess a shrewd intelligence. He was humble in the King’s presence—a welcome change from the manners of some of the petted boys of the past; he admitted that he was no scholar and confessed that he doubted whether he ever would be. But James replied that although he was without knowledge of literature and had had little experience, his dear boy was possessed of a calm, clear mind, which enabled him to reason with logic. He liked well his manners, and his company was the most enjoyable at Court.

Robert made a great effort not to annoy important ministers: he was never arrogant toward them; and when they begged him to lay this or that petition before the King he would always promise to do his best. In time they began to say of him: “There could be worse. And if the King must have a lap-dog this is the best breed.”

Robert was becoming ambitious. He believed that in time he would occupy some of the highest posts in the kingdom. James had as much as promised that he should.

“When ye’ve acquired a little more nous, Robbie.”

In the meantime his doting benefactor had knighted him, had given him a fine estate and promised him a rich wife. The Lady Anne Clifford’s name had been mentioned in this connection.

Robert had not been eager to marry, and he fancied that his reluctance had not displeased his master. Robert was content to wait. He believed that a great fortune could be his and that he must approach it step by cautious step.

When the Earl of Northampton, that wily statesman, had decided to win his friendship, Robert had met him more than half way. Northampton—the secret Catholic—wanted alliance with Spain and believed Robert might help him to it. Robert was flattered by the attention of the old man but was sorry that, because of it, the Queen disliked him more than ever; and because Prince Henry supported his mother, that meant that the Prince was his enemy.

But Robert shrugged aside this unpleasant fact. He knew that Prince Henry would have been his enemy in any case because he hated all his father’s favorites.

The climb was slow but steady; and each week saw the King’s affection deepen.

But one day when they walked together in the gardens of Whitehall, James talked seriously to Robert.

“Robbie,” he said, “I’d make ye my secretary if you were more nimble with your pen. But as you are, laddie, it’s difficult. Now if you had a clever scribe who could answer correspondence in your name … why then ’twould be an easy matter. Ah, how I wish ye’d stuck at your lessons when you were a wee mannie.”

Robert was thoughtful. There was a suggestion behind the King’s words which he might have thought of before.

A great ceremony was taking place at the Palace of Whitehall and the Queen declared again and again that rarely had she been so happy in the whole of her life.