Slowly Elizabeth put her nightgown to one side and came back to bed beside him. At last she spoke to him, the first words she spoke in their bedroom, the first words she said naked before him: ‘Never take the Lord’s name in vain, husband. It is His own commandment. I want our house to walk in His ways.’

John flung himself back on the bed, deserted by desire, as soft as a gelding. ‘I shall sleep,’ he declared sulkily. ‘And then I shall avoid offending you.’ He humped all the bedclothes around him, turned his back on her and closed his eyes. ‘You can pray again if you like,’ he added spitefully.

Elizabeth, robbed of the blankets, lay in silence on the cool sheet, humiliatingly naked, her new nightgown spread across her breasts and belly. Only when she heard his breathing deepen and she was certain that he was asleep did she move close to his broad back and wind her arms around his sleeping body, pressing her cold nakedness against him. She wept a little before she finally fell asleep. But she did not wish her words unsaid.

June 1607

Next day, before Elizabeth had done more than stir the fire in the new grate and set the morning porridge on to heat, there was a knock on the door and a messenger from the earl.

‘His Grace wants you in London,’ the man said shortly.

Elizabeth glanced at her new husband, half-expecting him to refuse, but John was already seated in his chair at the fireside pulling on his riding boots.

The man doffed his hat to her but looked beyond her to John. ‘At the docks,’ he said. ‘You’re to meet him at Gravesend.’

Another swift bow and he was gone. Cecil’s servants were not encouraged to linger and gossip. The common belief was that Cecil had ears everywhere and an indiscreet servant would not last long.

Elizabeth took John’s travelling cloak from the press where she had laid it in lavender. She had thought then that it was worth protecting it against moths for months of storage.

‘When will you be back?’ she asked quietly.

‘I can’t say,’ John replied briskly.

Elizabeth flinched at the coldness of his tone. ‘Am I to join you at Hatfield?’ she asked. ‘Or come to Theobalds?’

He looked at her and saw the coat she was holding for him. ‘I thank you,’ he said courteously. ‘I’ll send you word. I don’t know what is happening, I don’t know what he wants me for. These are dangerous times for him. I must go at once.’

Elizabeth felt her village-based view of the world shudder under the weight of great events which would now impinge on her life. ‘I didn’t think these were dangerous times. How are they dangerous?’