BooksBarbecue
Back A Net for Small Fishes Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. The Principal Actors, 1609
  4. Epigraph
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. PART TWO
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. PART THREE
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. EPILOGUE
  37. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. Also by Lucy Jago
  40. Praise for A Net for Small Fishes
  41. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  42. Newsletter Sign-up

Since Lord Salisbury’s death, Robert Carr was acting as the King’s Secretary of State, to the fury of all those who considered themselves better qualified for the role. I curtsied very low before beckoning him to follow. As harsh sunlight reveals every wrinkle on a face, the brilliance of Carr illuminated the poverty of my dwelling. I was acutely aware of the narrow staircase and the cracks in the plaster.

I knocked at my own chamber door and heard Frankie bid us enter. As Carr passed me, his strong, sweet perfume filled my nose and I had a wild urge to touch him. His nearness to King and throne was as a saint’s to God. His glamour, the richness with which he was encased, the houses in which he lived, the beauty with which he himself gleamed, the deference with which he was treated—I wanted these. Although I felt nothing for him, I understood the love between him and Frankie; they were as perfectly matched as Carr’s earring to his clothes. Even before I closed the door they had reached for each other, full of their own daring, so fully occupying each other’s sight that the risks were nothing but little chittering creatures on the far horizon.

I showed Lord Rochester’s groom to the kitchen where beer was waiting, but I myself sat in the parlor, on George’s chair, which I had redeemed from the pawn merchant with a brooch of Frankie’s, the cat upon my knee, a cup of wine at my elbow. The children were with Eustace, and the smell of the wild rose that grew on the back wall released its scent into the room and banished less pleasant odors coming from the street. I opened the jewelry case Frankie had brought. Inside was a gold chain that would keep my household afloat for three months at least, more if autumn was warm, and showed Arthur’s thin offering to be the shameful shortcut that it was.

Some will judge me and say I was a pimp, a bawd. Others know that they would have done the same, faced with their children’s hunger. Sometimes, as I am remembering, I cannot picture myself at all. I see Frankie and my children with clarity, but I am a cloud-person, ever-changing, seen not as I am but blown about by the force of others’ judgment. How stupid we are, not just us women, but all people. We think we act with nobility when in truth we run in circles too low to the ground to see which path leads to heaven and which to hell.

13