“Mistress Turner came to see my husband many times and oft went to his study, being there closeted with him several hours at a time.” The audience hissed its disapproval.

“Was the Widow Turner always alone in her visits to your husband?”

“On one occasion she came with the Countess of Somerset, the Countess of Essex as was.”

“Let us be clear,” Coke said. “You saw with your own eyes the Countess of Somerset, Lady Frances Howard, previously the Countess of Essex before the annulment of her first marriage, daughter of the present Lord Treasurer of England, at your house by Lambeth Marshes, there to consult with your husband?”

“Yes, sir … My lord.” To declare Anne Forman a liar, because she only saw Frankie masked, would be to prove I had been there.

“To what purpose?”

“She hated her husband—her last one, I mean, not this one—and wanted rid of him.” The noise from the onlookers was too great for her to continue. Lord Coke did not stifle the crowd’s disapproval. Eventually, Mistress Forman was able to continue. “I have a letter here from her to my husband.” The clerk stepped forward to read it but Coke beckoned him over and took the letter himself. It was clear from the ease with which he read Frankie’s hand, and the exaggerated outrage of his expression, that he had seen this before. He read it aloud.

“‘Sweet Father, I crave your love although I hope I have it and shall always deserve it. Please send me what you promised, for it remains as ever here. My lord is merry and drinks with his men; he abuses me as doggedly as before and I begin to think I shall never be happy in this world. Please, keep the Sweet Lord unto me and, if you can, send me some good fortune, for truly I have need of it and be careful you name me not to any body, for we have so many spies, that you must use all your wits, for the world is against me, and the heavens favor me not. If I be ungrateful, let all mischief come unto me. Give Mistress Turner warning of all things but no one else for fear others may tell my father and mother, and fill their ears full of tales.

‘Your affectionate, loving daughter, Frances Essex.’

“Who is ‘the Sweet Lord’ that Lady Frances would have Forman keep faithful to her? Of course, the man to whom she is now married, Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset. And who the gentleman she claims ‘abuses’ her? Her then husband, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. See how she signs herself? Daughter!” thundered Coke. “She calls Forman ‘Sweet Father,’ she who is daughter to the King’s own Lord Treasurer, and all because the woman standing here introduced Lady Frances to a user of black magic and sorcery. I say to you, this woman is a witch!”