Reluctant Accomplice

By Judy Woods

Little does ANNE TURNER suspect when she applies for a position as companion to FRANCES HOWARD, daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, that she will become the unwitting accomplice in one of the most publicized poison cases in British history. Anne’s deceased husband, court physician to Elizabeth I, had a gambling addiction, which has left Anne and her three children in dire financial straits. She expects that her long time lover, Sir Arthur Mainwaring, will soon marry her and legitimize their children, but hope fades when he temporizes even after inheriting a considerable sum of money.
Anne becomes chaperone to young Frances, who is engaged to marry the Earl of Essex. Anne ultimately realizes that her charge has no intention of remaining faithful to her spouse when Frances conducts an illicit affair with Prince Henry and later with King James’s favorite, Scotsman ROBERT CARR.
Frances obtains an annulment of her marriage to Devereux on the grounds of his impotence and plans to marry Carr. There is one impediment: Carr’s best friend, satirist SIR THOMAS OVERBURY, who doesn’t approve of Frances, spreads rumors about her lack of virtue, thereby angering her.
She and Carr convince the king to imprison Overbury in the Tower on the charge of insubordination. When he continues to make trouble for Frances by writing letters threatening exposure of affairs, Frances enlists the help of her uncle, the powerful Earl of Northampton. She persuades Anne to obtain poison and arranges to have it administered to Overbury.
Anne believes she has no choice but to help Frances, who is contributing to the support of Anne’s children. She obtains small doses of the poison instead of the lethal amount ordered by Frances. Anne hopes to frighten the satirist, not kill him, but Frances has other plans. Unbeknownst to Anne, Frances convinces her uncle to hasten Overbury’s demise by ordering his suffocation.
Frances and Carr marry with the king’s blessing, but in time Carr loses favor with King James. A foppish Frenchman replaces Carr in the King’s inner circle. Two years later, when Overbury’s poisoning is investigated, the minor players to the deed including Anne are found guilty and hanged, while the king pardons the chief perpetrator, Frances. Anne goes to her death believing that she was an accomplice to Overbury’s murder.
It is only years later that Overbury’s father learns the truth and searches out Anne’s daughter to reveal her mother’s innocence and make financial restitution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judy Woods
• Release date: May 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310525742

Judy Woods

Judy Woods is a former French and English teacher now enjoying retirement in New Mexico. She pursues her keen interest in history through European travel. Her first novel, MOTIVE’S MIRROR, involves an eleventh century noblewoman and a medieval studies professor. A trip to Sicily prompted her to write SICILIAN ENIGMA, a sequel. Currently she is writing a novel set in the court of James I.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

1 October 1605, Charterhouse on the Strand, London

Anne Turner shivered as she hesitated before the imposing oak gate of Charterhouse. So this was the London residence of Lord Howard, Earl of Suffolk. The walled stone mansion looked intimidating, but she straightened her shoulders, passed through the unlatched gate and approached the carved door. The polished brass lion’s head doorknocker glared down, daring her to use it. With a trembling hand, she grasped the knocker and tapped three times. The blustery wind tugged at her garments, threatening to rearrange her appearance. She secured her new hat and tightly clutched her threadbare wool cloak.

Minutes passed as she fidgeted with her purse strings. No one answered, and she began to fear that she had mistaken the date. What if the interview was to have taken place yesterday? Hadn’t Arthur said the first of October? Christ’s Blood, she murmured. If she had missed her chance for employment, she wouldn’t have enough pounds to pay the rent.

She rapped again, more firmly this time. Abruptly, the front door swung wide to reveal a boy in red livery. Yes, miss? the servant queried, sounding irritated by her presence.

I’m expected. Anne’s words tumbled out, fearful the boy might mistake her for a vendor and slam the door in her face. Prithee tell your mistress that Mrs. Anne Turner is here for her interview.

The servant opened the door wider, and Anne stepped into a large reception hall. The boy asked her to wait and disappeared through an interior door. She surveyed the room, tugging at her brown calfskin gloves. The floor gleamed, its fashionable black and white checkerboard pattern creating an air of grandeur.

She fretted that she was unsuitably attired for the interview. Should she have worn something more subdued rather than her peacock-blue gown? A large gold-leaf framed mirror across the vast hall tempted her to cross over to see if her new feather-trimmed felt hat tilted at a fashionable angle, but then she heard a laughing voice coming closer.

A door flew open, and a petite girl of perhaps thirteen years with lustrous reddish-blond hair, followed by the same servant boy, burst into the hall and came toward Anne, her hands outstretched. Mrs. Turner, we’ve been expecting you all morning. You are just in time for refreshment. Do join us. The girl’s wide green eyes twinkled, enhanced by a rosy complexion. Oh, I quite forgot to introduce myself. I am Frances Howard. Pray remove your cloak and bonnet.

When Anne had done so, the boy stepped forward to receive them.

Like a whirlwind, Frances grasped Anne’s hand and led her down a long portrait-lined corridor and into a sumptuous parlor, its walls covered with a deep blue and rose damask scrollwork pattern. Three chairs, upholstered in matching rose velvet, clustered on a Turkish carpet woven with floral designs. It had been a long time since Anne had been in such luxuriant surroundings. Only once or twice when she had accompanied her husband to a reception at the home of an important client.

A slender, bewigged woman in pale blue silk perched in a carved oak armchair, a fluffy white and brown dog seated on her lap. By the mullioned window, an oval table was set with a white damask cloth adorned with a silver pot, china cups and saucers. A comforting fruity aroma filled the air.

Anne hovered on the threshold, unsure whether she should enter. The young Frances took her by the hand and led her to the refreshment table. The spaniel leapt from its mistress’s lap and wagged its tail at Anne. Frances scooped up the pet and tousled its floppy ears.

After Anne was introduced to the mistress of the manor, Lady Katherine Howard said, Sit here beside me, Mrs. Turner. Will you join us for some warm pear cider?

Thank you, your ladyship. She felt like an honored guest instead of a potential employee. How fortunate that Sir Arthur Mainwaring had referred her to the Howard family. He had assured her that the couple required a companion for their daughter, Frances, until her marriage to the Earl of Essex. The young noblewoman needed a chaperone, and Anne desperately needed money.

Lady Katherine poured the steaming perry into a delicate porcelain cup and handed it across the table to her visitor. Anne inhaled the spicy aroma before sipping the warm liquid. Her hostess continued. Tell me, Mrs. Turner, do you have children?

Anne cleared her throat and smiled perhaps a trifle too cheerfully. Why, yes, milady. I have three.

Lady Katherine’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose slightly. I see.

Anne thought she detected a faint tone of disapproval in her hostess’s voice so she interjected, I am fortunate to have a maidservant who takes good care of them. She lives in our residence, which will allow me freedom to be a companion to your daughter, should you wish it so. She set down her cup and saucer, which had begun to rattle in her hand.

Frances leaned forward from her window seat, clutching the wiggling spaniel. Oh, yes, mother, I would adore to have Mrs. Turner’s company. It would be such fun to have a companion, especially one nearer to my age. We could go shopping together and attend social events when you are too fatigued. That way, I shall always have a proper chaperone. Smiling gaily, Frances turned to Anne. Mrs. Turner, we are not strangers. I believe that we are acquainted with some of the same people.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief at the encouraging words. Yes, Miss Howard. I recall that we have been introduced on at least one occasion. She turned back to the older woman. Perchance, my lady, you are aware that my late husband, Dr. Turner, was one of the physicians who attended Queen Elizabeth. At the time of his illness and unfortunate death, he was honored to be the Treasurer of the College of Physicians.

Lady Katherine sipped her cider and then patted her lips with a lace-edged napkin. Yes, we know of your husband’s service to the Crown. How tragic that you lost him when you were so young.

It is indeed. A silence followed as Lady Katherine sipped her perry. Anne sat up straighter anticipating the next question.

Perhaps you could tell me a bit more about yourself and explain your suitability for this position. The earl and I are concerned that Frances be adequately chaperoned to all public places until her marriage to Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex. The older woman’s eyes appraised Anne.

Yes, Your Ladyship. Do not doubt that I am well qualified to escort your daughter whenever she goes out. I have, after all, had the experience of raising three children.

Ah, yes. What are their ages?

Samantha is seven, Sally is five, and Frederick is three. Anne watched Lady Katherine’s expressionless face, then quickly added, They are lovely children.

The noblewoman sniffed. Yes, of course. The joy of our existence, but they can also be an enormous responsibility. Out of the corner of her eye, Anne observed Frances shift in her seat and cross her arms.

Then too, I accompanied Dr. Turner to court functions, so I am comfortable in such a milieu. I would be honored to provide companionship for your daughter.

Lady Katherine took up a small ivory painted fan, waved it slowly back and forth and gazed out the window while Anne sat stiffly, her hands tightly clutched in her lap.

Abruptly the noblewoman snapped the fan shut. Methinks you will do quite well, Mrs. Turner. You may accompany Frances to a fitting tomorrow. She is to have a new gown to wear to Whitehall. We shall attend the queen’s ball this weekend in honor of the Spanish ambassador. Frances’s fiancé, the Earl of Essex will be presented as well.

Frances rose from her seat. Well, Mother, I hope you don’t expect me to spend the entire evening with Robert. I want to enjoy all my friends.

Lady Katherine’s cup clattered into the saucer. But my dear, it is only proper that you spend time with your fiancé. In little more than two months, you will be a married woman. You must act with decorum.

Frances stamped her foot. Tis not fair, Mother. I am but thirteen. I’ve had little chance for fun. Most of my friends have loads of suitors and attend parties several times a week.

Yes, but your friends haven’t received a fine proposal of marriage. The Earl of Essex will be an upstanding addition to the Howard family. I’m certain your friends secretly envy you.

I doubt it. Frances’s voice grew shrill. They don’t want to be tied down any more than I. Parents may wish their daughters had made a prestigious match, but not the girls themselves.

Remember, Fanny, her mother soothed, even though you will wed the earl in a few months, Robert leaves for France directly after the ceremony to complete his education.

Thank heavens! Frances sprang from her seat, flinging down her pet, and began pacing back and forth. I’m too young to settle down. I trust I’ll be able to return to court and enjoy myself.

Your father will allow you to do so, provided you are chaperoned.

In response, Frances grimaced and stormed out of the room.

Lady Katherine flushed, apparently embarrassed by her daughter’s sullen behavior. She turned to Anne. I fear that Frances will require a firm hand in the months ahead. I expect you to rein her in and prepare her for married life. Anne nodded. You should plan to arrive about three o’clock tomorrow to collect Frances for her fitting. She rang a bell to summon the servant, who escorted Anne to the door.

CHAPTER 2

As Anne descended the manor steps, she recalled the words that had changed Frances’s mood from cheerful to irate—her mother’s reminder that erelong she would be a married woman.

Frances had behaved like a willful child, accustomed to having her way. And Anne had just been charged with making sure Frances conducts herself with decorum. Anne shuddered at the prospect.

She turned left after she passed through the oak gates of the Howard mansion and wended her way through narrow lanes until she reached the Fleet Street Bridge. Beyond, the road widened, and Anne breathed a sigh of relief at not being crowded by passers-by. She quickened her pace, knowing she had numerous errands to perform before returning home.

She turned onto the Strand and saw ahead of her the twin stone gatehouses of Durham House. She had only been inside once—the evening she had first met Arthur Mainwaring.

Nine years ago, Anne and her husband attended a wedding feast given for the son of one of George’s clients—Sir Walter Raleigh of Durham House on the Strand. Raleigh had renovated the house to the tune of two thousand pounds, and he was eager to show it off. It was a grand party, which Queen Elizabeth herself attended.

After George and she had paid their respects to the queen and Sir Walter, they retired to the balcony overlooking the Thames to admire the view. A dark-eyed, broad shouldered young courtier leaned against the balustrade, smoking a clay pipe. When he noticed them, he bowed. I do hope my smoke does not bother you.

George answered, Certainly not. I’m a pipe smoker myself.

Quite right. Allow me to introduce myself. Sir Arthur Mainwaring.

An honor, Sir Arthur. He bowed. I am Dr. George Turner and this is my wife, Anne Turner.

Anne curtsied and presented her hand. Mainwaring bowed, his lips barely brushing her fingers.

A shame Sir Walter’s party includes no gambling—only dancing. George frowned. I must say, I find that strange. The queen used to love card games, especially Primero. What say you, Sir Arthur? Do you enjoy games of chance?

Indeed I do. Especially any of the dice games. Mainwaring smiled at the doctor, but his eyes kept straying to Anne. At first, she looked away, but each time she looked back, he still watched her, a slight smile upon his face.

George laughed and said, Well, well, dice is my personal favorite as well.

In that case, allow me to invite you to a small party at my apartments next week. We shall have several avid gamers there.

George beamed and promptly accepted Mainwaring’s invitation.

And now perhaps you will permit me to dance with Mrs. Turner?

It’s fine with me if my wife assents. Mainwaring looked at Anne and gave a slight bow.

Anne nodded, and he put her arm through his and escorted her gallantly inside to the ballroom where the musicians were just beginning to play a pavane. Throughout the dance, Sir Arthur’s eyes never left her face.

The next day Arthur called upon the Turners unexpectedly at their house on Paternoster Lane.

George rose from his chair and slapped Mainwaring on the back. I say, it’s good to see you. Why don’t you join us for dinner? After several polite protests, he accepted.

When they finished the dessert trifle, Sir Arthur looked from one to the other. That was a fine repast. You must allow me to repay you, not with a meal at my apartments—a bachelor such as I knows nothing of cooking—I take all my dinners at the Inn of Courts. Instead, I would like to invite you both to join me at court this evening. The queen will entertain the Spanish ambassador.

George leaned back in his chair and sighed. Most kind of you, Sir Arthur, but I must decline. It is almost my bedtime, and I admit I’m tired.

Ah, what a shame! Sir Arthur made a long face, and then, as if he had just conceived the idea, said, Would you allow me to escort Mrs. Turner?

Anne started to shake her head, but George responded, What a splendid idea! My dear, I know how you love to dance, and you so rarely have the opportunity. He chuckled and added, I have two left feet when it comes to dancing. Run along upstairs and change into a ball gown, my dear.

Arthur and Anne had gone to Greenwich Palace where they danced for hours.

When they retired to the garden to catch their breaths, Arthur took Anne’s hands and drew them to his lips. I have never met a woman as ravishing as you.

She had to admit to herself that he captivated her as well. Sir Arthur was handsome—tall with black, curly hair and flirtatious blue eyes. He was only twenty-two, whereas her husband was forty-seven. She couldn’t help but admire his appearance and fine manners. With the aristocratic upbringing she knew he had enjoyed, Arthur possessed all the refinements that were not part of her own childhood.

Tell me, Madame, how did you come to marry Dr. Turner?

Anne flushed. Well, you see, George was a friend of my family. One summer day during a visit to our home, he asked my father’s permission to court me. I told my parents that I found him to be a kindly gentleman, but too old for me. My mother insisted that he would be a fine husband. She vowed I would always be well provided for since Dr. Turner had already developed an eminent clientele in London. Anne lowered her eyes. And so, I wed him, not out of love but because it was expected of me.

Anne’s reverie of her first evening with Arthur was interrupted when a carriage rumbled by, and she hurriedly stepped closer to the building to avoid being splattered with mud. She was reminded that once she too had ridden through London in a fine caroche, that is, until George’s gambling debts forced him to sell the rig and the two matched geldings.

She entered a stationers shop and purchased a few sheets of paper and a new quill pen so she could write a plea for an extension of credit on her rent. When she left the shop, she turned back toward Cheapside where she could market.

If only Arthur would marry her, she’d not be forced to seek employment with the Howard family. She failed to understand why he kept postponing the nuptials. Sometimes she thought it might be wise to break off their liaison, but in his presence, she invariably succumbed to his charms.

* * *

By the time she’d stopped at the green grocer and the butcher shop to buy the ingredients for a stew, the sun had set, and it had begun to drizzle. Paternoster Lane was deserted except for a crippled beggar to whom she gave four pence. Even with an almost full moon, it was difficult make her way along the dark street. Nevertheless, she arrived at her doorstep without stepping in either horse dung or discarded refuse.

She unlatched her door and went inside. Peals of laughter from the parlor echoed down the hallway. When she reached the threshold, she saw Arthur sitting on the settle surrounded by her two daughters. Each time she saw him his handsome features struck her.

Her three-year-old son tried to stand on his head and toppled over with each attempt. The girls clapped their hands and shrieked, Once more, Freddy. You’ve almost got it!

Sir Arthur’s eyes met Anne’s. Children, your mother is home. He detached himself from the girls, stretched his tall frame and moved toward Anne. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

She smiled up at him until Freddy interrupted by tugging on her skirt. Mama, Mama, you see me? I stand on my head. Watch. I do it again. With that, his sisters applauded his efforts. After several more attempts Anne said, A very good try. By tomorrow, I believe you’ll accomplish it. Then we shall take you to court to perform for His Majesty.

When the servant girl, Joyce, came in, Anne glanced at the mantle clock. Time to sleep, children. Each child came and kissed her. The sisters gave a curtsey while Freddy attempted a bow.

When the door closed, Anne collapsed into a chair by the hearth. Arthur brought them each a sherry and sat across from her. Where have you been, my love? I was beginning to wonder if you had met with an accident.

I went to call on Lady Katherine Howard as you suggested. She engaged me as a companion for her thirteen-year-old daughter, Frances. I believe the real reason she hired me is to act as chaperone, or should I say, spy—to make sure their daughter causes no scandal until her marriage to the Earl of Essex, Robert Devereux.

He chortled at her cynicism. Does their daughter seem the type to get into trouble?

She sipped her wine. Frances is a willful girl who isn’t ready for marriage, but her parents are convinced she will make a good match with the earl.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. A union of two of the most powerful families in England.

I only hope that I can keep Frances from doing anything foolish. Anne closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them and looked pensively at her lover. Arthur, it has been more than a year since George’s death. A long enough period of mourning. She gazed at him expectantly.

His expression revealed no reaction to her comment.

We are free to marry now, as you promised. It was George’s deathbed wish that we do so. He even left you ten pounds in his will to buy me a ring.

Arthur did not respond at first. Then he said, I am not financially stable enough to do so just yet, my love. You must give me time to clear up my debts. The king has promised to reward me for my service as his Chief Carver. He resolves to make me a gift of a large plot of land in Wiltshire.

What will you do with the land?

I’ll sell it for a handsome profit. Then we’ll finalize our plans. He stood and, pulling Anne into his arms, embraced her tenderly at first, then as she responded, with more passion. Moments later, she pulled back and gazed up at him. We should marry for the children’s sake, dearest. He nodded, then took Anne by the hand and led her toward their bedchamber.

CHAPTER 3

7 October 1605, Anne Turner’s residence, London

Anne anticipated accompanying Frances to Whitehall Palace from the moment she awoke on the morning of the event. As she went about her daily activities, she could scarcely keep her attention on the supervision of Joyce’s household chores and seeing to her children’s meals and lessons. She discovered a ball gown from a year ago when she had attended a function with Arthur. Will it still be in fashion? she wondered. She donned the burgundy velvet dress with the gold brocade insert in the skirt. Joyce helped her to attach the matching velvet sleeves. She debated about whether to add a golden ruff but decided to do without and add a strand of pearls instead. She sighed as she recalled that George had presented the pearls to her on their fifth anniversary. How much longer would she be able to keep them, given her reduced circumstances?

Joyce braided her blond hair and coiled it on top of her head, then crimped the front into tight curls. Does Madame wish any face color?

Just some vermillion on my cheeks and lips, Joyce. And perhaps some kohl around my eyes.

When her maid had finished, Anne stood and surveyed herself in a mirror. There. My appearance will have to do, she thought.

* * *

A footman dressed in red livery and polished boots arrived at the stroke of nine and handed her into a gilded carriage, imprinted with the Howard family crest. She leaned back into the cushioned brocade and savored the ride across London to the Howard residence.

As Frances Howard glided down the manor house steps, the footman removed his plumed red felt hat with a flourish. Frances responded with a fluttering of her eyelashes.

After both women had settled themselves into the green brocade interior of the carriage, the footman folded the steps and secured the door.

As they clattered along the cobblestone streets, Anne peered through the curtained window and saw pedestrians staring at their passing coach. Small wonder—the green and gold carriage embossed with the Howard family crest, drawn by four black horses, could not help but attract attention.

Frances, on the contrary, seemed not at all interested in the stir they caused. If anything, she appeared rather bored. Anne attempted to make polite conversation. You look beautiful, Frances. The fur-trimmed cape is a lovely shade of blue. Did you have it made for the occasion?

Oh, no. This is not new—just my gown, which you saw at my fitting. But the cape keeps me warm in this inclement weather. And please, Anne, call me Fanny. I prefer it.

A short time later, they pulled up in front of Whitehall. Anne could scarcely believe that she was about to enter the royal palace. She recalled the countless times she had strolled down High Street past the gilded gates expressly to admire the King’s Guard. Never in her wildest imaginings did she think she would pass through these portals. Indeed, she might not have, except as a companion to Frances Howard.

When they alighted from their carriage, they took a few steps and entered through the golden doors. Inside the reception hall, a blaze of candlelight greeted them.

The two women removed their cloaks and handed them to servants before entering the ballroom. Frances’s whisper interrupted Anne’s spellbound gaze at the luxuriant surroundings. Do look to the right of the orchestra. A group of young men is gathered, and they’re glancing this way.

When Anne surveyed the ballroom, Frances admonished, No, don’t stare. It would not do to be so obvious. Frances fluttered her feathered fan, giggling softly.

Why, yes, Fanny, Anne responded. I did indeed take notice of the gentlemen as we arrived. And I quite agree, she thought. It is improper to acknowledge their appreciative glances, as you appear to be doing. Do you think we should first pay our respects to Their Majesties?

Oh, yes, I suppose we must. With a swirl of her silk dress, she turned in the direction of the throne room with Anne trailing dutifully along.

When Frances reached the entrance, she handed their calling cards to the court crier who announced in a sonorous voice, Lady Frances Howard, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Suffolk, and her companion, Mrs. Anne Turner.

The two women advanced down the burgundy carpet and arrived at the foot of the royal dais. Anne followed Frances’s lead and curtsied, not daring to look up until a high-pitched male voice said, Welcome, ladies. She lifted her head and laid eyes on His Royal Highness, James the First of England, and his Scandinavian queen.

Several months ago, Anne had seen England’s monarch ride by in a coach, taken notice of his short reddish hair and pointed beard. Since most nobles wore their hair shoulder length, she wondered if the thirty-five-year-old king of Scotland and England would set a new fashion.

The first features Anne noticed now were the monarch’s oddly bulging blue eyes. He appeared stocky except for rather spindly legs set off by white hose. Rumor had it that James disdained elaborate dress and jewels,