“The King has visited them in their new home at Chesterford and the country air does her good. She had the merest sniffle in March and you would have thought she was sick unto death, the way the King and Carr doted on her.” I pictured not Frankie as I spoke, but the way my own body had slowly unclenched the further I was from Court; a single glimpse of George Villiers in Larkin’s studio had coiled me up again.

“This city’s too crowded with traffic and foreigners,” Weston grumbled, looking more ancient than his sixty-five years. “It’s all gone mad.”

We reached The Swan and Weston found us a table and bought two cups of ale.

“Move back home,” I said, taking a sip and grimacing. I was habituated to the good French wine and well-spiced ale of Frankie’s household.

“My William and his child are here. Does she not want children?” Weston said, steering the conversation back to Frankie. He seemed to think a divorced woman would not have natural urges.

“Of course,” I said, not mentioning how much effort was spent in trying to make them.

“She has all but what she most desires, eh? ’Tis a common complaint at Court, it seems. It’s a strange thing to leave your husband for another one. When she meets them both in heaven, by whose side will she stand?”

“Carr’s, I would think, for his company was ever the more agreeable.” Weston’s smile dropped quickly.

“How much did they get?”

“I have no idea,” I lied. The wedding celebrations had cost ten thousand pounds and the gifts had been valued at more than twice that. Yet the Earl’s expenses that year had amounted to ninety thousand pounds; a maid lives on a pound a month and could no more imagine the Earl’s way of life at Court than she could if he lived on the moon. I unbuckled the purse at my waist and gave it to Weston. “One hundred guineas. You will need to have patience for the rest and a position.”

“Overbury died,” he whispered. “Why do I not receive all that was promised for my part in it?”

“It took so long, it could have been from natural causes.”

I noticed that Weston did not defend himself against this suggestion.

“Did Northampton pay you for services beyond delivering letters?” The directness of my question surprised me. This was a misgiving I barely knew I had. Had our attempts failed and Weston then been paid by Northampton to finish off Overbury? The Earl could be confident of hiding his crime under ours.