After Frankie’s marriage, there followed eight months of exquisite happiness. Robin recovered from his guilt and grief at Overbury’s death and his love for Frankie returned. He seemed relieved to have one less master. Frankie established her household at Chesterford in Suffolk, and we avoided the Court. Although I remembered Lord Northampton’s warnings, it suited me also to be away from the City and Whitehall. My three younger children ran through fields and gardens, growing strong and clever on fine food and tutoring. I no longer had to work and could be with them always. Servants oversaw our basic needs so that I could spend my time teaching the youngest fine manners and helping them with their lessons. Mary recovered from her illness, a blessing for which I thanked God and Frankie. Old Maggie had been brought into Frankie’s household and had the opportunity to rest for the first time in her life.

Chesterford is near Audley End, where my dear son John was learning the skills of a gentleman, from wielding a sword to carving a goose. Visits from him were a delight, as were those of Mr. Palmer, who came to discuss new purchases more than was strictly necessary. Each time, he requested that I walk with him in the gardens and sit by his side at mealtimes. He was contemptuous of the empty flattery typical at Court; we spoke of ideas and experiences, neither of us attempting to impress the other.

Frankie and I lived like a happily married couple: the one energetic, the other quietly content. Like old Maggie, we were also in need of rest. I was restoring myself, growing smooth and glossy, thinking perhaps Mr. Palmer might soon ask for my hand, as he did not appear to consider me too old and burdened. At the end of five months, he brought me a small painting of flowers and fruit, by his own hand. My initials were wrought in the foliage; that he had been thinking of me all the while he painted it made me blush with pleasure.

Frankie’s father became Carr’s close companion as they sought to free themselves from the control of Lord Northampton, who demanded great efforts from them to maintain networks of clients and patronage. The younger Howards were convinced that, following Frankie’s marriage to the favorite, they were unassailable; “The Dominican” became an embarrassment, whose suspicious nature was dismissed as a failing of great age. He was a relic of the old Queen’s time, too sensitive to the tides of power, having swum long against them. He pestered Frankie and Carr with matters they found dull and was increasingly unhappy that his influence on the Privy Council was eclipsed by his nephew’s alliance with Robert Carr.