“A’ve more than a thousand pounds for ye and a wee present for the Countess,” said the King, waving forward a page. The boy carried a cushion to which was pinned a golden cross, set with precious stones and suspended from a thick chain. James pulled it off, ignoring the pins cascading to the floor, and leaned across Robin to drop it over Frankie’s head.

“The jewel cost three thousand pounds,” he announced to thespian gasps from the crowd. Frankie and Carr smiled their gratitude, but I kept watch on the onlookers from my position behind the bed on Frankie’s side. I knew that the King’s public show of generosity would unite a good number of the Court against the new Earl and Countess of Somerset. Those who had hoped that the scandals surrounding Mary Woods and the annulment would reduce the couple in the King’s eyes were being told by this gesture that they had not.

The King leaned forward and kissed Robin full on the lips. Then he climbed from the bed and left the room, trailed by his flimsy dog. The moment the doors closed behind him, the starlings fell to earth. Wave after wave of them pressed close to see the jewel on Frankie’s chest.

“I can bear no more kissing,” she said to Robin. He laughed, the first I had heard from him in weeks, although he was not looking at Frankie but greeting and embracing the well-wishers come to pay court. Frankie had concluded that it was grief and remorse for Overbury’s death that had caused Robin’s reluctance to marry her once it was possible. He had assured her of his love, but I sensed that something between them had been lost; they had not made love on their wedding night, exhausted by the ceremonies and a tedious masque that had dragged on until the early hours, but perhaps also because the memory of Overbury stalked them both.

“He might as well have lain between us,” said Frankie. “I think I see him sometimes and so does Robin.” We rarely mentioned him by name.

I too thought I saw him. His death had been protracted and terrible. From April to September he had languished in the Tower, isolated from every contact except with his jailer, Weston, and the Lieutenant of the Tower, Elwes, who was charged by Northampton with persuading him to apologize to Frankie. Our first attempt to poison him had little effect on his already sick body. Dr. Mayerne’s remedies further complicated the picture, for it was unclear whether Overbury’s condition later worsened through our efforts or those of the royal physician. We resorted to sending in tainted tarts and jellies, but still Overbury struggled on.