That net of words and meanings, cast with little self-pity and great faith in my discretion, ensnared me. I was fascinated that the most appealing young wife at Court remained a virgin; nosiness is another of my failings. Frances kicked at the clothes forming soft piles on the floor, like molehills. She was a most disheveled creature, but not defeated.

“Has he not suffered from the pox since his return?” George had told me this.

“He is not too ill to whip me. I am of the new way of thinking about marriage, in which man and wife are friends, the wife is not slave to the husband,” said Frances.

“Of course,” I replied, “but husbands rarely are.” I looked at the clock on the mantel, an elaborate confection of golden mermaids who rode their dolphins valiantly but could not steer back time. There was less than an hour ’til midday.

“I advise you to dress. It seems you will be unhappier if you refuse.”

“I will kill myself,” she said, pausing for a response, but I felt only embarrassment at her irreligion. I busied myself with picking up clothes and laying them on the bed. Her mother dressed her in fungal hues, perhaps to dampen her allure.

“If you take your life you will go to hell, which is worse than marriage,” I said.

“It will be hot, otherwise the differences will be few.”

“A woman should not decide her future.”

“I am deciding against a future.”

“That is the same. If you obey your husband, he might be kinder,” I said, knowing that she would already have been told that a hundred times. Indeed, she snorted.

“He only cares for horses and dogs. Even those he thrashes. He says women are parasites, like ticks.” She sat abruptly on the edge of the bed, head bowed. “I am very unhappy,” she whispered, and slipped her hand into mine.

A powerful memory rose to the surface. I had taken my older children to see a baby elephant in the Tower. The dejected creature was so thin its skin hung off its bones and it kept its eyes to the ground as though ashamed. Yet, even in dejection, the animal placed its trunk in the hand of its keeper, as if its trust were not broken. The keeper, long hardened to the prolonged deaths of his charges, had no clue what to do with it. We left that place quickly, our hearts sore. The fantastical nature of the beast had not brought us the pleasure we had anticipated. I felt the same that moment with Frances Howard. The wealth and distance in rank of this young woman were not sufficient to shield me from her anguish, and I could not remain unmoved by the soft weight of her hand in mine.