Mistress of Hardwick Read online

  His next question told her how slim were her chances of success. Did she know one Dodderidge? he asked. If the Queen and the Council knew about Dodderidge, then they probably knew it all. Obviously something had gone badly wrong, but Arbella still managed to keep up an appearance of indifference. Yes, she knew Dodderidge well and had last seen him before Christmas. She thought he

  was now with his friends in Berkshire.

  Brounker felt the time had come to play his ace. Typically enough, Arbella had never considered the most probable effect of her ingenuous message upon the Earl of Hertford who, as Catherine Grey's unauthorised husband, had spent a large part of his life under the shadow of royal displeasure. When John Dodderidge had brought him an open invitation to run his head into the noose a second time, the Earl had not hesitated for a moment. Dodderidge found his ^entertainment' very different from the one he had so optimistically been promised. The unfortunate messenger had been bundled out of Hertford's presence and shut up by himself to write out a full account of the affair. On the following day, he had been brought before Robert Cecil by a badly frightened Hertford. Henry Brounker had brought his confession to Hardwick, and now he produced it from his pouch. He could draw the matter at length, he told Arbella, and ^trouble her with many questions', but 'seeing she was resolved to be wilful' he would show her something 'against which there could be no exception'.

  Arbella recognised Dodderidge's handwriting at once. Obviously there was no point in further denials, but she did not surrender immediately. Something might yet be saved from the wreck of her plans. It was true, she admitted, that she had once had a meaning to send Dodderidge to the Earl of Hertford, but 'upon better advice' she had revoked her instructions. Anyway, Dodderidge was 'a bold, lewd fellow' who would do anything for gain. It was no use. Brounker pressed home his advantage and finally Arbella broke down, but 'so confusedly and with words so far from the purpose' that Sir Henry could make nothing of it. She would do well to deal plainly, he said sternly. She could not have been alone in a matter of such importance, and therefore every person concerned in the business must be made known. Arbella promised that she

  would 'deal plainly and sincerely' but first Brounker must promise to conceal it from her grandmother. Brounker, who knew something of Bess's reputation, could sympathise with this request and agreed to the bargain, but only on condition that 'all might be set down in writing' and nothing left to his report.

  Feeling that he had done enough for one day, Brounker left Arbella alone to write her confession - she might prove more forthcoming and more coherent on paper. He kept his promise not to tell Bess anything about his errand and she was left in agonising suspense, not knowing whether all her hopes for 'her jewel Arbelle' were now in ruins, or even whether her grand-daughter was in imminent danger of arrest on a charge of treason. Queen Elizabeth might be growing old, her physical powers might be failing, but with her own personal experience of the Queen's wrath in the past, the Countess of Shrewsbury had no illusions about her continued ability to strike if it were even suspected that Arbella was involved in a plot to seize the throne. Bess had no illusions either about the hkely reactions of the rival heir, whose claim to the succession, even she had to admit, was rather better than Arbella's. King James of Scotland, now a vigorous, self-opinionated man of thirty-six, had been waiting more or less impatiently for the last fifteen years to be recognised as Elizabeth's heir. He would show no mercy to anyone who made a bungling attempt to cheat him of so rich a prize as the EngHsh crown. While she waited for somebody to tell her what was going on under her own roof, Bess could only pace the exquisite, tapestried rooms of Hardwick - outwardly as erect and formidable as ever, inwardly afraid to the marrow of her old bones.

  When Brounker read Arbella's confession, he was seriously disappointed, finding it to be 'confused, obscure and in truth ridiculous'. It was not a letter fit for him to carry, he told her, nor for the Queen to read. She would

  have to try again. But her second effort turned out to be little better than the first. It contained none of the names and details the government would be expecting. In fact, the only explanation Arbella seemed able to offer for her ^disobedience' was that she had wanted to reach the Queen's presence and, despairing of getting her grandmother's permission for even such 'a small ordinary liberty', had chosen this roundabout method of achieving her object. Brounker really began to wonder if she was quite right in the head - whether perhaps *her wits were somewhat distracted either with fear of her grandmother or conceit of her own folly'. But after some more fruitless sessions with the tearful young woman who seemed ready to tell him everything except what he wanted to hear, he decided the time had come to take Bess into his confidence. It was a painful interview. *The old lady', reported Brounker, 'was wonderfully afflicted with the matter and much discomforted'. Although he assured her again and again of the Queen's favour and 'gracious good opinion of her faithfulness' which, he said, he had heard from Elizabeth's own mouth, Bess 'took it so ill as with much ado she refrained her hands'.

  Brounker's visit to Hardwick prolonged itself over several days, while he struggled to soothe Bess's rage and alarm and to extract some sense out of Arbella's flow of verbiage. Finally, exasperated by her 'often and idle writing' and 'to conclude this endless business', he had yielded to her entreaties to set down what he would and she would subscribe it. He therefore made 'a collection of all the particulars wherewith she was charged' which Arbella 'willingly confessed' and humbly begged the Queen's pardon for all her offences. Difficult though she had been, Brounker seems to have felt a certain sneaking sympathy for Arbefla. She had been led astray, he thought, 'abused' by base companions who had made her believe that the Earl of Hertford would welcome her overtures. As a hard-

  headed man of the world, he probably found it impossible to take her monumental ineptitude very seriously. He had not found 'any strange company' at Hardwick or any evidence of a dangerous conspiracy.

  When at last Brounker took his leave, Bess attempted, perhaps not very wisely, *to fasten a purse full of gold' on to him in honour of the Queen. Sir Henry virtuously refused to accept a gift which might have been interpreted as a bribe and rode away from the seething atmosphere of the great house with what can only have been a profound sense of relief. He was not to know that he had by no means seen the last of Hardwick.

  The strain of the past few days and the shock of discovering that her docile, dutiful little grand-daughter had turned into a passionate woman who would apparently stop at nothing to get her own way, had left Bess physically and emotionally exhausted. But before she could allow herself the luxury of a rest, there was something she had to do. Calling for pen and paper, she sat down to write a letter to the Queen.

  'Most gracious sovereign. I cannot sufficiently in words express the infinite and great comfort I have continually received by your Majesty's most princely favours to me and now by your most gracious letter and message sent by Sir Henry Brounker, who will particularly inform your Majesty of all things here . . . These matters were unexpected of me, being altogether ignorant of Arbell's vain doings, as on my salvation and allegiance to your Majesty I protest. Notwithstanding her vanity, I rest most certain of her loyal and dutiful mind to your Majesty. But seeing she hath been content to hear matters of any moment and not to impart them to me, I am desirous and most humbly beseech your Majesty that she may be placed elsewhere, to learn to be more considerate, and after that it may please your Majesty either to accept of her service about your royal person or to bestow her in marriage, which in

  all humility and duty I do crave ... for I cannot now assure myself of her as I have done.'

  It was a hard decision to take - virtually to disown the much-loved ^jeweP round whom the dreams of half a lifetime had been woven, but Bess of Hardwick had not risen to pre-eminence in her generation by shirking hard decisions. Seventy years had passed since she had left her father's house at the age of twelve to seek her fortune in a world which gave no quarter to
the weak and shiftless - a world where only the strong and fortunate survived. Bess had fought her way to the top by her own brains and guts and will-power. She had little sympathy to spare for those who shrank in the face of adversity or who gambled away their chances by futile scheming. Arbella had disappointed her bitterly and put at risk everything she had worked so hard to achieve, but Bess of Hardwick had never given way under danger or disappointment. She would not give way now.

  ^ Royal Prisoner

  After studying Brounker's report, Robert Cecil came to the comforting conclusion that Arbella did not represent any serious danger to his plans. But Cecil, who had staked his political future on accomplishing the peaceful transference of power to James of Scotland, was particularly anxious to avoid a scandal at this stage and 'idle talks and rumours, whereof there is aptness in most men to take liberty at this time'. Officially, therefore, Arbella's regrettable lapse was ascribed to those convenient 'base companions' who, 'thinking it pleasing to her youth and sex to be sought in marriage', had attempted for devious purposes of their own to lead her astray 'with a device that the Earl of Hertford had a purpose to match his grandchild with her'. Arbella was, however, to be warned that in future she must 'content herself to live in good sort with so dear a parent and so worthy a matron' as the Dowager Countess of Shrewsbury. If she dabbled in 'such like plots and practices' again, she might not get off so lightly, for 'being of that blood she is, her Majesty will look for an extraordinary account of her proceedings'. Cecil was also anxious to avoid promoting the impression that Arbella was a prisoner in case it encouraged rescue attempts, and he instructed Bess to 'avoid any such manner of guarding your house, or excluding resort, as may continue the fond bruits that are raised'. He quite understood that Bess, because of her age and sickness, could not be always in her grand-daughter's company but, he suggested hopefully, she might 'impose some care upon some discreet gentlewoman . . . and some honest gentlemen to attend her amongst the rest, who, without using any extraordinary restraint, may have eyes sufficiently unto her if she do anything unfit for her, either in

  duty to the Queen or in prejudice of her own honour or well-doing'. 'To conclude, Madame', he wrote, *we must again reiterate unto you her Majesty's gracious acceptation of your dutiful care and affection to please her. Only you must receive this answer for your suit to be freed of her (Arbella), that her Majesty cannot think of any other place so fit for her as this is, and therefore desireth you to remain contented and to look to your health that God may give you a comfortable life, which her Majesty wisheth you as much as any friend you have.'

  If Cecil hoped he had now disposed of the problem of Arbella, he had greatly underestimated her tenacity and the desperation of her resolve to escape from Hardwick whatever the cost. She now began openly to defy her grandmother and to drop hints about a mysterious 'lover'. Bess's next letter to the Queen, dated January 29th, shows how rapidly their relationship had deteriorated. 'I understand some part of your Highness' pleasure touching this unadvised young woman here, and do most humbly desire that I may know your Majesty's further pleasure . . . I will not respect my trouble or charge to do your Majesty any service that shall lie in me during life, but I doubt it is not in my power now to do that service to your Majesty in this matter as I desire, for the bad persuasions of some have so estranged her mind and natural affection from me that she holds me the greatest enemy she hath, and hath given herself over to be ruled and advised by others, so that, the bond of nature being broken, I cannot have any assurance of her good carriage. I cannot but doubt there is another match in working, but who the party should be, I cannot conjecture . . . She is borne in hand, as I gather, that she shall have your Majesty's good liking and allowance of anything she doth, and have liberty to have resort to her and herself to go or ride at her own pleasure. For my own part, I should have little care how meanly soever she were bestowed so as it were not offensive to your

  Highness. So far as my credit doth extend with her, I advise her to attempt nothing without your Majesty's pleasure first known. She saith she will do all duty to your Majesty, but desireth me to forbear to examine her. Her vain speech puts further doubts into me of her folly . . . Sometimes she will say that she can be taken away off my hands if she will . . .'

  When Cecil's letter reached Hardwick and Arbella realised that the government did not intend to remove her from her grandmother's custody, she composed a long letter to Bess, promising to set down the *true reasons' for her approach to Hertford. This 'declaration fraught with vanity' was promptly forwarded to Cecil by Bess. 'Such as it is, I have sent it hereinclosed', she wrote, 'but I could not by any possible means prevail with her to set down the matter plainly, as I desired she would in few lines. These strange courses are wonderful to me, and cannot but greatly grieve me . . .' Bess no longer knew what to make of Arbella. 'What truth there is in this new matter, I know not', she wrote. 'It may be the matter is not so far proceeded as she makes show, and that it is but a practice as the former was, but I cannot but doubt the worst.'

  Arbella's letter was full of references to her 'dearest and best trusted'. 'As I may compare the love of this worthy gentleman (which I have already unreservedly accepted and confirmed and will never deny nor repent, whatso- | ever befall)', she wrote, 'to gold which hath been so often i purified that I cannot find one fault, jealousy only excepted, so I have dealt unkindly, shrewdly, proudly with him, and if any living have cause to think me proud or shrewish, it is he whom I have loved too well (ever since I could love) to hide any word, thought or deed of mine from him, unless it were to awe him a little when I thought his love converted into hate.' No wonder Bess was alarmed and mystified. According to Arbella, it was this 'worthy gentleman' who had urged her to approach the Earl of Hertford.

  He had taught her 'by the example of Samuel that one might plead one errand and deliver another with a safe conscience'. He had assured her that the Queen's offence 'would be converted into laughter, when her Majesty should see the honest cunning of the contriver'. 'He told me he would have me enter into some great action', she went on, 'to win myself reputation, try her Majesty's love to me, though neither of us doubted of it, try what my friends would do for me, and how I could employ my friends and servants.' Arbella was not ashamed of her choice, she could find it in her heart to reveal his name, but dared not without his consent.

  On February 6th Bess was writing to Cecil again. Arbella had now agreed 'to make the party's name she favoureth known to her Majesty by any that shall please her Highness to send hither'. But 'for that Sir Henry Brounker hath been employed before in these matters, her humble suit is that he may be sent again'. Matters were, in fact, building to a crisis. Towards the end of the month Arbella became ill 'with extreme pain of her side', so that Bess 'was in great fear for her'. A 'doctor of physic' had been summoned but, wrote Bess, 'I see her mind is the cause of air. This letter is dated February 21st but before it was despatched Bess was obliged to add a postscript. 'Arbell is so wilfully bent that she hath made a vow not to eat or drink in this house at Hardwick, or where I am, till she may hear from her Majesty, so that for preservation of her life I am enforced to suffer her to go to a house oi" mine called Oldcotes, two miles from here. I am wearied of my life and therefore humbly beseech her Majesty to have compassion on me. And I earnestly pray you to send Sir Henry Brounker hither.'

  So once more Sir Henry Brounker took the road to Derbyshire and at the beginning of March he once more confronted Arbella at Hardwick. He brought with him a long list of questions, based on her own letter to Bess, and

  all designed to uncover the identity of her mysterious gentleman friend. But when Arbella found that Brounker had not come to take her away, she deliberately obstructed the interrogation. Every time she was asked who the 'noble gentleman' was who had tried to win her love, she would only answer *the King of Scots'. Eventually, of course, she broke down in tears and was obliged to admit that the noble gentleman had no existence outside her own imagination. B
rounker got a written declaration from her which began: 'I take Almighty God to witness, I am free from promise, contract, marriage, or intention to marry, and so mean to be whilst I live.' She withdrew all her boasts about her 'lover' and added pathetically that experience had taught her that there was no other way of getting the Queen to take some notice of her 'but by incurring some suspicion and having no ground to work but this, and this being love'. But if the Queen would only show her some favour and grant her her 'dear and due liberty' she would make a solemn vow never to marry while she lived.

  Brounker left Hardwick the following day, carrying with him yet another letter from Bess to Cecil in which she apologised for having wasted his messenger's time and begging once again that Arbella should be speedily removed. 'She is so wilfully bent and there is so little reason in most of her doings, that I cannot tell what to make of it. A few more weeks as I have suffered of late', added the old lady, 'will make an end of me.' As for Arbella, when her second attempt at escape ended in failure, she lost her head completely and began to bombard Brounker in London with long, rambling, incoherent letters - so much so that certain people began seriously to doubt her sanity.

  If Arbella hoped to move the Council by her endless scribbling, she was mistaken. Robert Cecil remained implacable in his determination to keep her safely out of the way at Hardwick. He instructed Bess to deal mildly with

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  her grand-daughter, 'howsoever she may offend you in this time of her passion'. He also asked that she should, if possible, be prevented from sending any more of her 'strange and inconvenient letters'. But Arbella's flow was unstoppable and Bess's patience, after weeks of intense nervous strain, had reached its limit. Soon violent scenes between the old woman and the young re-echoed through the high tapestried rooms and galleries. Bess, followed by William Cavendish, had burst in on Arbella while she 'sat scribbling till twelve of the clock at night' and hurled volleys of'most bitter and injurious words' at her. Arbella, battered she wrote by a 'contemptible storm of threaten-ings', fled down to the great chamber to find a messenger to carry her latest tale of woe to Brounker. The household had been warming themselves at the fire and no doubt listening fascinated to the sounds of battle raging above, but when Arbella appeared they drew away. All the same, she found one young man 'who stood with his hat in his hand and my glove in his hat' ready to be 'my undaunted and most trusty servant'.