“My brothers will make him sorrier still for his speeches against us.”

Overbury’s lack of courtesy toward Frankie was unusual, but his assumption of her impotence was not. When first we met, her sleeves were so tight she could not bend her arms and the long fingers of her gloves rendered her hands useless. Attire speaks for us; what says incarceration? It is an unpleasant truth that a wife of high rank must sacrifice speech and independence of thought to her husband, and permit servants to perform every task, bar the procreation of heirs.

“Tomorrow we will shop at the New Exchange,” said Frankie with a huge sigh, flopping back on the bed beside her puppy. “There must be some compensations.”

Two months later, in early summer, Frankie took me on an extraordinary mission. Rain dripped from the velvet window curtains onto the floor of her carriage as we turned sharply under a gatehouse into a bustling courtyard. I had passed the Queen’s palace on the Strand countless times, but never before been allowed entry.

Approaching the inner court, we were forced to a standstill by a vehicle coming in the opposite direction. The drivers argued as to who had precedence. Minutes passed and a queue built up behind us. Frankie ordered her footman to talk to the passenger in the other coach. After the briefest of exchanges, he ran back, trying to keep his wig dry in the downpour.

“The coach belongs to Sir Robert Carr,” he said.

“Is the King in there?” Frankie asked, perplexed. As a countess, she had unarguable precedence over a knight, even a favorite knight.

“No. Nor Sir Robert. It is Sir Thomas Overbury inside.”

“Does he know whose way he blocks?” asked Frankie, amazed.

“He did not ask.”

“Tell him to make way,” she ordered, sitting back in her chair. “That man’s insolence is beyond crediting!”

It took some time for Carr’s coach to back up and there was a riot of shouting and cursing by the time it was accomplished. Frankie opened the curtains fully as we passed through the gate. She waved graciously to Sir Thomas but he was reading papers and took no notice of us. We looked at each other, astounded by his incivility, then burst into laughter that I hope he heard. Why we found it so funny is hard to explain; nerves were surely part of it (I had hopes of the occasion and had hired expensive apparel to wear for it), and watching a cock strut around his little kingdom is comical to those who can put him in the pot whenever they choose. Frankie had told her father and brothers about Overbury’s meeting with Essex and they had assured her that he would be taught to show her respect. It seemed the lessons had not yet started.