In May, the King of France was fatally stabbed by a Catholic fanatic. In response, sentiment in the City of London against Papists grew as fierce as ever I had known it. Broadsheets were posted on every available surface, with woodcuts depicting the punishment meted out to the assassin. He was tied, by each limb, to four horses; the distressed animals were then walked away in different directions until the man was torn to pieces. I could not wipe this death from my thoughts and dreams. I could imagine the terror of those poor beasts, by instinct careful of life, how they must have been whipped and yanked to pull that man’s limbs from their sockets. The blood, the screaming of man and horse, the baying of the crowd—the horror of it woke me many nights and made me feel less safe in a City that was Puritan by inclination. Visiting foreigners disguised themselves as Englishmen, whether they hailed from Catholic countries or not, to avoid Londoners’ violent hatred of outsiders. Our King’s doublets were reinforced with yet another layer of canvas.

It was unclear how my children and I would live until the mourning period was over and I could marry Arthur. George had seen death too often to want to face it himself, the consequence of such weakness being a rushed and inadequately considered Will. Arthur promised to execute it in a manner that would keep us respectable, but I had been left only the usual Widow’s Third in addition to the use of several rooms in the house for my lifetime and bequests of furniture, items of jewelry and so forth. George had been as generous as he could because he knew that Thomas would not be, but there were many debts to discharge. My eldest son insisted that the younger children and I quit all rooms in the house except for those specified in the Will. We crammed ourselves into three chambers while he filled the rest with paying lodgers. He banned Arthur’s visits and forbade me to work. Arthur went to court on my behalf, and I did nothing to annoy Thomas while waiting for the lawyers to pronounce my worth. I was not unduly worried; the Will barred Thomas from marriage until the age of thirty and what father would put this in writing unless he feared for his son’s state of mind? I had three young children to care for while Thomas had none. What judge would put such a son in authority over a good wife and mother?