“I am getting married,” I said, fury provoking a reply when normally I would have stayed silent.

“In truth?” said Carr, surprised enough to forget Overbury for a moment, even though the man was still jerking his arm. “Then I insist you take my coach,” he said, pleased for me even in the midst of Overbury’s tirade.

“You give suck to the gadabed’s bawd?” Overbury shouted, dropping Carr’s arm. His pale face flickered in the torchlight like a malevolent devil, his black clothes disappearing into the shadows. The injury he did me pricked like a spur, perhaps because there was truth in it, but I replied to Carr as if I had heard nothing. Frankie had taught me the power of being inscrutable.

“Thank you, my lord, I will take it gladly.”

A strange noise escaped Overbury, something between a snort and a squeal. He snatched up his gloves, leather with stiff cuffs, and slapped Carr hard across the face with them. Carr was so astonished it took him a while to speak.

“You hit me now?” he said, incredulous.

“Behave as a child, be chastised as one.” Overbury’s arrogance had swollen fit to burst since his being readmitted to Court, even though it was only Carr’s intervention with the King that had brought it about. “If you’d rather demean yourself with that doxy than work on the King’s business, agree to what you owe me and I’ll leave you to truck with the whore’s servant,” he spat.

“You’d not have a penny were it not for me!” shouted Carr, finally riled. He snatched the gloves from Overbury’s hand and threw them as far as he could across the courtyard.

“You won’t manage without me. You’ll crawl back.”

“I have legs of my own to stand on,” retorted Carr.

“Did you think you could keep it secret from me? You are bewitched, there can be no other cause for your madness. Be rid of her.”

“You think you’re the King now? He’s the only one can tell me what to do!”

As they insulted each other, the watchful servants memorized every word. In the morning, the whole Court would know that Sir Thomas Overbury had accused the Countess of Essex of being a base whore. Had Overbury stabbed Frankie, he would not have inflicted greater damage. The only return from such defamation was to be offered a full and public apology or else for her to kill herself. Even without evidence, and in full knowledge of the accuser’s spite and jealousy, he could ruin Frankie with those two words.

17