The Manner of Amy's Death (22 page)

       My face is red with shame.  “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.  How stupid of me to pry so.  Now I’ve spoiled everything.
”

       Owain catches my sleeve as I get up to leave the Hall.  “No, don’t leave,
Mistress Kat.  It’s not your fault.  You were trying to be helpful.  And don’t worry for me as I’m learning to manage and I have very good kin who help me with the farm and the children.  They’re glad for me to be here at Cumnor for they know that a young man has to have an interest outside his work and his family and they know I love my music and story telling.”

       A tear rolls down my cheek as I feel
my humiliation is complete; he’s so kind hearted and the fact that he uses the familiar form of address to me makes me appreciate his kindness even more.

       “Well then,” says the irrepressible Rhoddri, “Skittles tomorrow then.  But first ….. time for a jig.”  He jumps up and begins a lively tune.  Owain picks up the drum to accompany him and the others caper around, acting the fool. 

       “And now,” says Owain, “If we are all assembled again, we will have the story of the Lady of the Fountain.”

       The servants gather
at the back of the hall and Sir Anthony’s company of ladies seat themselves by the fireside as Owain begins his strange tale.

       The snow stays for almost a week and, by the end of this time, we have a merry company of friends.  Amy and I have not enjoyed ourselves so much for many years but all good things must come to an end.  We awake one morning to the sound of dripping water
; the weather has warmed a little, the snow has thawed and our musicians have to take the road out of Cumnor Place while they can. We go with them to the roadside and sadly wave goodbye.

       “Do you think that we’
ll see them again in the summer,” I ask, cautiously, a week later.  I don’t want Amy to realise my warm feelings for Owain and tease me.

       I need not have worried.  Amy’s thoughts are with Robert again.

       “Maybe, Kat, but first we have Easter and I’m quite sure that Robert will visit me again as he did last year and then I’ll go to London with him and live at Christchurch House while he attends court.  Of course I cannot go with him on the Queen’s progress, no wife can go, but it may not be long before we find a manor house in Warwickshire and, when we do, I know that Robert will want to spend more time there with me.”  Amy chatters on.

       My p
oor innocent friend!  She hasn’t heard the latest gossip about the goings on at court.  Sir Anthony has forbidden all talk about Robert and Elizabeth in front of Amy and has said that he will dismiss any servant who does so.  But this doesn’t mean that they cannot talk when I’m there and the talk is shocking.  Rumours abound even to the extent that the Queen is pregnant with Sir Robert’s child, a shocking calumny, and it’s difficult to separate truth from fantasy. 

       Robert sends his wife some embroidered slippers but Easter
comes and goes and still there’s no sign of him at Cumnor.

Humours of the Spleen

As a wet and cold sp
ring passes into summer, there’s still no longed-for reunion between Amy and her husband.  He seems to have forgotten her very existence and Amy’s mood becomes darker and darker.

       Sir Anthony loves gardening and tries to interest Amy in the tiny young plants he is settling in the ground
of the terraced garden but she’s in a world of her own.  We begin to worry about her health again as she loses weight and looks frail so Sir Anthony decides to send Bowes to Sir Robert in the hope that he, Robert, will take pity on his wife and pay her a visit.  Unfortunately Sir Robert is obviously too busy with the Queen and sends his representative in the unwelcome personage of Thomas Blount, who is accompanied by his ruffian followers.

       Blount offers a solution.  “Sir Anthony, I am of the belief that Lady Dudley is melancholy and suffering from humours of the spleen.  However I know of a certain doctor in the city of
Oxford who has the best reputation in all England when it comes to dealing with such cases.  Perhaps it would be wise if I were to ask this man for potions and powders to help my Lady …. before she wastes away and succumbs to death.”  He adds the last part when he sees Sir Anthony hesitate.  No gentleman, Blount knows, will want to have the wife of a famous person die in his household.

       Sir Anthony is completely taken in.  “Yes, cousin Blount, this is a very good course of action.  We must do all we can to effect a cure for the poor lady.”

       To my horror Blount gives a smile of satisfaction and sets out with his men for Oxford.  The following day he returns in a vile mood. 

      
I am not the only one to suspect a plot.  The good doctor has not felt it wise to entrust any powders to Blount and his men.  He has heard the gossip and realises that he’s being set up to take the blame if Lady Dudley is poisoned.  I breathe a sigh of relief and attempt to find other ways to lift Amy’s black moods.  Maybe I can reawaken her interest in fine clothes again.

       I mention my plan to Sir Anthony and he says that he will write to Sir Robert and ask him to send some small gifts for his ailing wife.  Surprisingly Robert responds with generosity sending several pairs of embroidered slippers and some new hoods.  Amy’s spirits lift when she thinks that her
husband still cares for her.  But her mood sinks again and the black dog of depression returns when she hears that the Queen has sent William Cecil from court to manage the situation at Leith in Scotland where the French are holding the fortress and where the English and Protestant Scottish lords have suffered a humiliating defeat.  Without Cecil to caution Elizabeth about her relationship with Robert, the Queen is free to do as she wishes. 

       There’
s a rumour that Cecil is at the end of his tether over the scandal at court and may resign.  He’s finding it impossible to help the Queen to govern while her attention is completely taken up by her romantic attachment to Amy’s husband.  Sir Robert Dudley is so hated by the aristocracy that a civil war is feared if the Queen continues to favour him and the talk is now all about Robert divorcing his wife so that he and Elizabeth can be married. 

      
Even Robert’s greatest opponent has been dealt with by the Queen - the Duke of Norfolk was effectively ‘banished’ by being sent to command the garrison at Berwick in Northumberland when it was first feared that the French de Guise family, Mary Stuart’s in laws, would try to invade England via Scotland.  Mary sees herself as the rightful Queen of England as well as of France and Scotland but Elizabeth, while seething over this, can think of nothing and no one but Robert.

       Blount and
his men are back at Cumnor in late summer and are now trying another tactic – one that they have used before.  They wait until Sir Anthony is not with Amy and then pretend to be taking a casual walk wherever Amy is located.  Within earshot they discuss Robert’s relationship with Elizabeth in small tantalising snatches.  Elizabeth is on her summer progress again with Robert by her side, behaving as if he is her prince consort and without the disapproving presence of Cecil, so there is plenty of rumour and scandal to report.

       “My L
ord Robert is sending to Spain for some very fast horses,” says Blount.

       “Oh, and why is this?” says his man, feigning ignorance.

       “So that the Queen can ride even faster when she’s out hunting.  She’s a wonder, they say, and only my Lord Robert can keep up with her.”

       “Well that must be very convenient for them, everyone being left behind and the two of them heaven knows where …. all alone and deep in the forest
like the stag and the doe.  No wonder they want faster horses!”

       Much sniggering and male laughter from Blount’s men follows this.  Amy’s face is a picture of pain as she turns away from her tormentors.

       But there’s no escape.  Like it or not Amy and I are going to be treated to a running account of her husband’s unfaithfulness.  And there’s not a thing we can do about it.

       I see
another problem too.  Amy’s chamber at Cumnor Place is separated from all the others.  It was given to her by Sir Anthony with the best of intentions because it’s so much larger than any other but I fear for her now in her isolated state with only Mrs Picto for company each night. Were either of them to call out it’s doubtful that anyone would hear.

       By mid August Am
y’s mood changes again and she’s suddenly very happy but won’t say why.  She writes a letter to her tailor, Mr Edney, in London requesting that he alter one of her favourite gowns so that the neckline will be as pretty as the one on the gown he made for her previously.  This is indeed progress!  I’m so happy that her spirits have lifted once more.  And the fair at Abingdon is only a short while off so we have something to look forward to.

       Later in the month Amy
becomes very secretive and seems to be avoiding my presence for some reason.  I see her sitting on the bench in the garden, looking out over the terraces and apparently enjoying the sweet scents of lavender and roses but her eyes are vacant and empty.  When she sees me approach, she jumps up and walks off elsewhere, back to the seclusion of her chamber shutting the door firmly behind her, or into the churchyard and towards the church, or across the courtyard to our own little chapel where Mrs Picto says she often finds her praying, hands clasped, eyes tightly closed and on her knees.  Something is going on; something that Amy has no wish to share with anyone.

       Eventually September arrives and with it the day of Abingdon fair.  Everyone in
Cumnor Place has been looking forward to this for weeks.  Everyone that is except Mrs Owen who says that Sunday is no day for a fair and that she will go the following day instead!  Mrs Odingsells says that she will stay at Cumnor to keep the older lady company but that they will not spoil the day for the servants who are free to go.  And Amy?  No one knows what Amy wishes to do but the fair is such a rare treat that we all assume she will go with the rest of us.

       What a surprise lies in store as we sit that
morning in the Great Hall, eating breakfast and anticipating the pleasures of the day ahead.

Abingdon Fair

Everyone’
s scurrying round.  The servants are clearing away the dishes from the table as fast as they can because no one wishes to waste a minute of this delightful holiday.  There’s no time to lose and the weather promises a lovely sunny day. Mr Bowes goes to help the men with the horses. But where’s Amy?

       My friend walks into the Hall and looks around with astonishment at all the clamour and excitement.

       “Come quickly Lady Dudley.  The carriage will be here soon and you need to eat some cold meat and bread before the journey,” says one of the serving girls.

       “Carriage?  Journey?” says Amy.

       “Don’t worry, Amy,” I offer an explanation although I cannot for the life of me think how Amy could have forgotten the fair.  “We’re not going on another long journey.  She means the carriage to take us to the fair in Abingdon.  Had you forgotten?”

       “Fair?  Abingdon?”  Amy seems in a trance and her thoughts are a world away.

       “Yes indeed it will be a wonderful treat.  Think of all the ribbons we can buy and the musicians and jugglers.  All the nice food to buy too!  We may see our friends from Christmas again – you remember?  Owain and his troupe may be there with their merry tales and romances.”

       “I’m not going.  I don’t want to go.”

       “Of course you do!  You said some weeks ago, when you sent your dress away to be altered, that you would wear it to the Abingdon fair.”

       “Didn’t you hear me?”  Amy’s voice rises to screaming pitch.  “I said I’m not going and I mean I – am – not – going!”

       The clamour in the Hall has stopped now as all eyes are on Amy.

       “Are you expecting a visitor my lady?” asks one of the servants trying to be helpful.

       “No I am NOT!” screams Amy which makes me wonder if she is.

       “Shall I stay and keep you company?”  I venture warily.

        “You most certainly will not,” shouts Amy.  “It’s none of your business what I choose to do.  Go,” she glares round at the astonished company of servants and gentlewomen, “Go away, all of you and LEAVE ME ALONE.”

       After a shocked silence, Mrs
Odingsells says, “Well I for one will not be going away, Lady Dudley.  I intend to stay here with Mrs Owen.  So you will have at least two other people to keep you company and that is an end to the matter.”  She draws herself up to her full height and stalks away.  Amy runs after her and a fearsome argument develops.

       “Amy …” I begin, softly holding out my hand in fr
iendship and trying to pull her to one side.  This is so unseemly and the servants are gawping, open mouthed.

       “Oh go away, Kat,” she says in
a tiny tired voice after all her shouting.  She snatches her hand from mine. “I want to be left on my own.”

       With this Amy turns on her heel and walks out of the Great Hall across
the courtyard and up to her bedchamber, slamming and bolting the door behind her.