Not so Elizabeth. In a series of letters to Edinburgh, she castigated him for not having secured the return of Calais, or for not forcing the French to reimburse the money she had spent fighting them in Scotland. Cecil's elation soon faded; he believed Dudley was behind her complaints and was out to discredit the Secretary. This might have been the case, but equally well Elizabeth had been pessimistic about the outcome of Cecil's mission, and may have been put out at being proved wrong.

Elizabeth was, in fact, enjoying the most glorious summer of her life. Freed from the threat of of war, she now gave herself over to a season of revelry in the company of Dudley, neglecting her state duties in the process. At the end of July, she left Greenwich to go on progress, travelling by slow stages along the southern shores of the Thames and staying at great houses along the route. Dudley, as Master of the Horse, was much in evidence, but he was also to be seen at Elizabeth's side long after his official duties were done. They rode and hunted nearly every day, Elizabeth choosing the most spirited horses, and in the evenings there would be dancing and music-making. Whereas before she had flirted with other men besides Dudley, she now favoured him with all her attention to the point of being accused of being a wanton or an adulteress. The gossips reported that they spent whole days closeted alone together, and one courtier expostulated, 'Not a man in England war, she now gave herself over to a season of revelry in the company of Dudley, neglecting her state duties in the process. At the end of July, she left Greenwich to go on progress, travelling by slow stages along the southern shores of the Thames and staying at great houses along the route. Dudley, as Master of the Horse, was much in evidence, but he was also to be seen at Elizabeth's side long after his official duties were done. They rode and hunted nearly every day, Elizabeth choosing the most spirited horses, and in the evenings there would be dancing and music-making. Whereas before she had flirted with other men besides Dudley, she now favoured him with all her attention to the point of being accused of being a wanton or an adulteress. The gossips reported that they spent whole days closeted alone together, and one courtier expostulated, 'Not a man in England 92.but cries out at the top of his voice, this fellow is ruining the country with his vanity!'

There was, reported a Spanish envoy in Antwerp, much grudging on the part of the English nobles 'to see someone in such special favour, and the little regard the Queen hath for marriage'.

It was this 'little regard' that so worried Cecil: the related subjects of the Queen's marriage and the succession were never far from his mind, and even in Edinburgh, he took the trouble to write and express his hopes that 'God would direct your heart to procure a father for your children, and so shall the children of all your realm bless your seed.' Many of her subjects believed that Elizabeth was doing exactly as Cecil advised, but they deplored her choice.

At the end of July, after an absence of nearly two months, Cecil returned to court, expecting perhaps to receive a grateful welcome from his sovereign. But while his fellow councillors were warm in their congratulations, Elizabeth was cool and distant, and Dudley all-powerful and - contrary to his avowed principles - courting the goodwill and support of de Quadra, hoping to enlist Spanish support for himself in a bid to counter the Secretary's influence - all with the Queen's knowledge and approval. She had even declared that she wanted 'a swordsman' who would equal her 'scribes'.

Cecil realised with a sinking heart that he had been away too long. He apparently concluded that, during his absence, the relationship between the Queen and her favourite had undergone a fundamental change. Whatever he imagined this was alarmed him, but not so greatly as did the change in the Queen's attitude towards himself. She had shown no gratitude for his work in Edinburgh, and she had made it plain that she would not defray all his expenses, even though he was out of pocket on her account. Now, when he needed to consult her on state affairs, he would be told that she had gone out riding with Dudley. All the signs indicated that she meant to marry him, if he could be freed from his marriage.

Rumours of divorce - and worse - were still prevalent. A royal torchbearer was happily spreading a report of how the Queen, returning one evening from visiting Dudley at Kew, spoke warmly to her attendants of Dudley's praiseworthy qualities, and declared that she intended to bestow further honours on him. This led to speculation that he, would have a dukedom conferred upon him, or that the Queen meant to marry him once he was free. It was all reported to the Privy Council and caused Cecil grave concern. He had no idea how far Elizabeth's relationship with Dudley had progressed and he could see her recklessly ruining her reputation and courting disaster.

The councillors debated the matter amongst themselves, deploring to 93.a man the Queen's failure to marry one of her princely suitors. Some suggested that this was because she would brook no master; others believed she intended to use her marriage as a means of bargaining with her European neighbours; but most felt that it was of little use to contemplate a foreign marriage alliance, because they believed that Elizabeth had already decided to marry Dudley. The situation seemed so desperate that de Quadra expected a palace coup, and commented, 'The cry is, that they do not want any more women rulers, and this woman may therefore find herself and her favourite in prison any morning.'

Cecil, seeing his own career at an end, quickly became very depressed and, within a month, was seriously considering tendering his resignation, hinting as much in a letter to the Earl of Bedford. He planned to recall Sir Nicholas Throckmorton from Paris to replace himself as Secretary, and wrote to him, 'You must needs return. I dare not write that I might speak. God send Her Majesty understanding of what shall be her surety' - in other words, a prestigious foreign marriage alliance.

The Secretary also regaled Throckmorton and other English ambassadors abroad with a highly-coloured version of what was going on between the Queen and her favourite, intimating that it would be helpful if they could convey the disapproval of foreign governments, which might give Elizabeth pause for thought.

On 30 August, the court moved to Windsor. A week earlier, the Scottish Parliament had abolished the authority of the Roman Catholic Church and made the celebration of the mass in Scotland a capital offence. Instead, with the tacit approval of Queen Elizabeth, the Calvinist form of Protestantism became the official religion. The Scottish lords now hoped to consolidate their settlement by uniting Scotland with England through the marriage of Elizabeth to the Earl of Arran, notwithstanding the fact that Elizabeth had made it clear she was not interested in the match. The Scots were determined 'with tooth and nail' to bring it about, but before negotiations could proceed, something happened which brought state affairs in England to a near standstill.

Robert Dudley had never maintained a private establishment for himself and his wife. He had his house at Kew, given him by the Queen, but Elizabeth had made it clear that any reference to Amy Dudley was unpleasing to her, and was given to calling on her favourite unannounced, so Amy never came to Kew. Instead, she spent her time on long visits to the houses of relatives and friends.

Dudley and his wife had now been married for over eight years, but they rarely saw each other. The Queen insisted upon him being at court and he could only manage rare visits home. There is evidence that Amy made at least one visit to court, but it is unlikely that her presence was 94.welcome. It was not unusual in those days for the wives of courtiers to remain in the country while their husbands served at court; it was possible for wives to reside at court, but the cost was enormous and the Queen discouraged the practice. She liked her male courtiers to dance attendance on her, not on their wives.

In the winter of 1558-9, Amy Dudley stayed with friends in Lincolnshire and Bury St Edmunds. In the spring, she travelled to Camberwell, south of London, to visit her mother's kinsfolk, the Scotts. Thereafter she seems to have stayed mainly at the house of William Hyde at Denchworth, near Abingdon, which still stands today, although it bears little resemblance to the house Amy knew. Dudley sent gifts to her there, all of which are listed in his account books: a hood, gold buttons, spices, venison, sewing silk, hosiery, a looking glass, and Holland cloth for ruffs. She was never in want of material things, and Dudley saw to it that her needs were provided for. Occasionally, he came himself to see her, although during 1560 those visits became less and less frequent.

We can deduce little of the relationship that existed between the couple from the records that remain. They had no children, nor is there any evidence that Amy was ever pregnant. Like most wives of her class, she diligently looked after matters of business concerning his lands and farms whilst her husband was away. She must have heard the gossip about his relationship with the Queen, but we do not know for certain how much it affected her.

Before midsummer 1560, Amy had moved again, for reasons that are obscure, this time to Cumnor Place, a house leased by Dudley's former steward, Anthony Forster, now the treasurer of his household and MP for Abingdon, from William Owen, the son of the late royal physician, Dr George Owen, who had served Henry VIII, Edward VI and Queen Mary. Mr Owen still lived in the house in his own apartments.

Situated near the road connecting Oxford with Abingdon, near a large village, Cumnor Place, which has long since disappeared, was a relatively small medieval house. Built of grey stone in the fourteenth century, it had once been part of a religious foundation, the summer retreat of the Abbots of Abingdon and an occasional sanatorium for its monks, and was a rambling, quadrangular building surrounding a central courtyard. Some accounts describe Cumnor Place as being a singlestoreyed house, but at least three of its residents had rooms above the hall, so there must have been an upper floor. Set in pretty formal gardens, the building was in a good state of repair, thanks to the renovations made by Mr Forster - who later purchased it and is buried in the nearby church - and offered comfortable accommodation.

Amy brought with her some servants, as well as her personal maid, 95.Mrs Pirgo (or Pirto, or Pinto), and her companion, a Mrs Odingsells, the widowed sister of William Hyde, Amy's former host at Denchworth. Once they were all installed the house was rather crowded, for it also sheltered not only Mr and Mrs Forster (who was the niece of Lord Williams of Thame, who had been a friend to the Queen during Mary's reign) but also William Owen's elderly mother, Mrs Owen. Amy and Mrs Odingsells were assigned rooms in the west wing above the great hall, next to the apartment of Mrs Owen, whilst the Forsters had their own separate suite of rooms, as did Mr Owen. The Forsters, Hydes and Owens had long been acquainted with the Dudleys, were all related by marriage and were prominent in local society, into which they introduced Lady Dudley. Anthony Forster was a congenial host, being a cultivated and much-travelled man who loved music and could sing and play on the virginals with skill.

De Feria and de Quadra had both referred at different times to rumours that Amy Dudley was suffering from a 'malady in her breast' that was believed to be terminal. This may have been true, but all that we know for certain about her health is that, early in September 1560, she was very depressed. This depression could have been the result of hearing that her husband was only waiting for her to die so that he could marry the Queen, or it could have been caused by the knowledge that she herself was mortally sick.

The evidence for Amy's depression comes from two sources, the first being a statement by her maid, of which more later, and the second being the infamous tract Leyccster's Commonwealth. Leyccster's Commonwealth. This was a virulent attack on Dudley made by an anonymous Catholic writer in 1584, and was the chief source for most of the damaging - and often erroneous - stories that became attached to his name over the centuries, which are only now being refuted by modern scholars. This was a virulent attack on Dudley made by an anonymous Catholic writer in 1584, and was the chief source for most of the damaging - and often erroneous - stories that became attached to his name over the centuries, which are only now being refuted by modern scholars. Leycester's Commonwealth Leycester's Commonwealth gives a highly embroidered account of the events of September 1560 that must be followed with caution. However, parts of what it recounts may be true, such as its claim that the Forsters and other members of the household at Cumnor Place were so concerned when they saw that Lady Dudley was 'sad and heavy' that they wrote to a Dr Bayly, the Queen's Professor of Physic at Oxford University, asking him to prescribe some medicine for her. Bayly refused absolutely to do so: he had heard the rumours, and, 'seeing the small need which the good lady had of physic, misdoubted (as he after reported) lest, if they poisoned her under the name of his potion, he might have been hanged for a cover of their sin'. In 1584, when gives a highly embroidered account of the events of September 1560 that must be followed with caution. However, parts of what it recounts may be true, such as its claim that the Forsters and other members of the household at Cumnor Place were so concerned when they saw that Lady Dudley was 'sad and heavy' that they wrote to a Dr Bayly, the Queen's Professor of Physic at Oxford University, asking him to prescribe some medicine for her. Bayly refused absolutely to do so: he had heard the rumours, and, 'seeing the small need which the good lady had of physic, misdoubted (as he after reported) lest, if they poisoned her under the name of his potion, he might have been hanged for a cover of their sin'. In 1584, when Leycester's Commonwealth Leycester's Commonwealth was published and quickly became notorious, Dr Bayly was still alive and renowned for his work, but he took no steps to deny that he had acted as the tract daimed. This indicates that the episode may indeed have happened, and, if so, it was published and quickly became notorious, Dr Bayly was still alive and renowned for his work, but he took no steps to deny that he had acted as the tract daimed. This indicates that the episode may indeed have happened, and, if so, it 96.confirms just how widespread - and widely believed - was the gossip about the Queen and Dudley.

On Friday, 6 September, Bishop de Quadra arrived at Windsor Castle. On the 7th he wrote for the Duchess of Parma, King Philip's sister, a report of what had taken place that weekend, but nowhere in it did he state the actual days on which the events he related occurred; however, it is possible to work out their chronology from the evidence in his report.

Saturday the 7th was Elizabeth's twenty-seventh birthday, and the ambassador hoped to be able to convey his master's congratulations, but she had something less felicitous to discuss. 'The Queen told me, on her return from hunting, that Lord Robert's wife was dead, or nearly so, and begged me to say nothing about it.' Her Majesty gave no details, and de Quadra seems to have assumed that Amy was dying of the breast cancer she had long been rumoured to have contracted. Because of the speculation that would naturally arise out of such a circumstance, it was natural for Elizabeth to enjoin de Quadra to silence.

On Sunday, the day after this interview, William Cecil dispensed with his usual caution and unburdened himself to de Quadra. That he should confide in the Catholic ambassador of Spain was unusual, and possibly significant, as will become clear shortly.

'After my conversation with the Queen', wrote the Bishop, 'I met the Secretary Cecil, whom I knew to be in disgrace. Lord Robert, I was aware, was endeavouring to deprive him of his place. With little difficulty I led him to the subject, and after my many protestations that I would keep secret what he was about to tell me, he said that the Queen was conducting herself in such a way that he was about to withdraw from her service. It was a bad sailor, he said, who did not make for port when he saw a storm coming, and for himself he perceived the manifest ruin impending over the Queen through her intimacy with Lord Robert. The Lord Robert had made himself master of the business of the state, and of the person of the Queen, to the extreme injury of the realm, with the intention of marrying her, and she herself was shutting herself up in the palace to the peril of her health and life.

What Cecil meant by this is not clear, since Elizabeth was out riding daily at this time - on her birthday, Dudley had reported that she was hunting with him every day from morning until night - but the Secretary may have been referring to the danger she was placing herself in by spending so many hours closeted alone with Dudley.

97.That the realm would tolerate the marriage, he said, he did not believe. He was therefore determined to retire into the country, although he supposed they would send him to the Tower before they would let him go. He implored me, for the love of God, to remonstrate with the Queen, to persuade her not utterly to throw herself away as she was doing, and to remember what she owed to herself and to her subjects.

Of Lord Robert, he said twice that he would be better in Paradise than here. He told me the Queen cared nothing for foreign princes. She did not believe she stood in any need of their support. She was deeply in debt, taking no thought how to clear herself, and she had ruined her credit in the City.

This was an exaggeration, but Cecil wanted to impress on de Quadra how Elizabeth was ruining herself and her realm for the love of her favourite.

Last of all, he said that they were thinking of destroying Lord Robert's wife. 'They had given out that she was ill' - did de Quadra at this point recall the Queen's conversation of the previous day? - 'but she was not ill at all, she was very well, and taking care not to be poisoned. God, he trusted, would never permit such a crime to be accomplished, or so wretched a conspiracy to prosper.'

At the very least, Cecil was stirring things up; at the worst, he was deliberately planting in the ambassador's fertile mind the notion that the Queen - whom he had served, and was to continue to serve, with loyalty and devotion - and her lover were plotting murder. The Secretary knew full well that his words would be reported and then repeated throughout the courts of Europe; the Queen and Dudley themselves would soon hear of them. If Cecil was so concerned about Elizabeth risking her reputation, he could not have done more to ruin it completely. But to de Quadra he appeared distraught, aware of his peril, and apparently bereft of his usual caution. In fact, what he was trying to do was bring the Queen to her senses, by fair means or foul. Not only his career, but the future of England and the Protestant settlement were at stake.

Cecil knew that, if Amy Dudley were to be murdered, her husband would be a free man; he also knew that the public outcry would be so great that Robert could never marry the Queen, since most people would believe he had killed his wife, even if he had not. And what Cecil wished to prevent was Dudley marrying the Queen. It was ironic that the one thing that could free the favourite for a royal marriage should be the same thing that would prevent him from achieving it.

De Quadra, having listened in astonishment to what the Secretary had 98.to say, decided that there was no reason to disbelieve him, and undertook to raise these issues with the Queen, even though she had never taken his advice in the past. But before he had a chance to request an audience, events overtook him.

What was traditionally known as 'Our Lady's Fair' opened at Abingdon on Sunday, 8 September, and Amy Dudley gave all her servants permission to go. Indeed, she seemed unduly anxious that they should do so, for when some protested that it was not fitting to attend a fair on a Sunday, she sharply insisted that they obey her order. Nevertheless, Mrs Odingsells remained stubborn, declaring that it was unseemly for her to go to a place where she might have to rub shoulders with servants and ill-bred persons. Amy grew very angry at this, whereat Mrs Odingsells reasoned with her that, if she herself went to the fair, there would be no one at Cumnor Place with whom Amy could dine. Amy petulantly retorted that, as Mrs Odingsells was not a servant, she could do as she pleased; old Mrs Owen could bear her [Amy] company at dinner'. At this, Mrs Odingsells retired to her room and Amy's servants went off to Abingdon.

Around eleven a.m., dinner was served to Amy and Mrs Owen. The house was not otherwise deserted because, apart from Mrs Odingsells, Mrs Forster was also there at the time, and both these ladies had servants on duty. But the place was quiet, and everyone seems to have kept to their rooms or quarters.

When her servants returned to Cumnor Place late that afternoon, they were shocked and bewildered to find Amy Dudley's body at the foot of a shallow flight of stone steps that led from her rooms to the hall, with her neck broken. The author of Leycester's Commonwealth Leycester's Commonwealth asserted much later that her head-dress and clothing were still in place and not disarranged, but this information appears nowhere in the contemporary records. The same author refers to the body being discovered at the foot of 'a pair of stairs', i.e. a staircase with a landing in the middle, which corroborates contemporary accounts. asserted much later that her head-dress and clothing were still in place and not disarranged, but this information appears nowhere in the contemporary records. The same author refers to the body being discovered at the foot of 'a pair of stairs', i.e. a staircase with a landing in the middle, which corroborates contemporary accounts.

A manservant, one Bowes, was dispatched at once to Windsor to convey the news to Dudley. The following morning, by a coincidence, he met on the way an important officer of Dudley's household, Thomas Blount, travelling in the opposite direction. Blount, whose tomb may still be seen in Kidderminster Church, was a distant relation of the Dudleys and had sometimes carried messages from husband to wife; he had been sent from Windsor that morning by Dudley on an errand to Cumnor Place.

When Bowes told him that their lady was dead 'by a fall from a pair of stairs', he did not turn back, but decided to continue his journey, 99.proceeding at an unhurried pace and stopping for the night at an inn at Abingdon. He could have gone on to Cumnor but, as he later informed his master, he wished to discover 'what news went abroad in the country'.

At supper, he fell into conversation with the landlord, pretending to be a stranger en route for Gloucester, and inquiring 'what news was thereabout'. His host could talk of nothing but 'the great misfortune' which had taken place on the previous day less than a mile away. However, it was obvious that the man knew few details. Blount said he supposed that some members of Amy's household might be able to say what had happened, but the landlord replied that they would not, since they had all been away at the fair at the time she died, 'and none left with her'. He had heard how Amy had commanded them to go 'and would suffer none to tarry at home'.

Blount thought this sounded odd, but he kept his opinions to himself and asked the landlord for his views on what had happened, asking, 'What was the judgement of the people?'

'Some are disposed to say well, and some evil,' was the guarded reply. 'For myself, I judge it a very misfortune [i.e. accident] because it chanced at that honest gentleman's house: his great honesty doth much curb the evil thoughts of the people.' Blount realised that others might not be so charitable.

Meanwhile, Bowes had arrived at court on the morning of Monday 9 September, and, finding Dudley with the Queen, broke the news to them both. De Quadra recorded that Elizabeth was so shocked that she was almost speechless.

Dudley appeared genuinely bewildered at what had taken place. Learning from Bowes that Blount had gone on to Cumnor, he dispatched that evening a courier after the latter, with a letter for him and instructions to find out more details of his wife's death.

'Cousin Blount,' he wrote, 'the greatness and suddenness of the misfortune doth so perplex me until I do hear from you how the matter standeth, or how this evil should light upon me, considering what the malicious world will bruit, as I can take no rest. And, because I have no way to purge myself of the malicious talk that I know the wicked world will use, but one which is the very plain truth to be known, I do pray you, as you have loved me, and do tender me and my quietness, and as now my special trust is in you, that you will use all the devices and means you can possibly for learning of the truth, wherein have no respect to any living person.' He wanted a full inquiry into Amy's death, and he wanted it carried out by 'the discreetest and most substantial men, such as for their knowledge may be able to search thoroughly the bottom of the matter, and for their uprightness will earnestly and sincerely deal 100.therein. As I would be sorry in my heart any such evil should be committed, so should it well appear to the world my innocency by my dealing in the matter.'

At the same time, Dudley sent another messenger to Norfolk, to inform his wife's relatives of her death. Amy's half-brother, John Appleyard, soon afterwards visited Cumnor Place to make his own enquiries.

On Tuesday, 11 September, de Quadra reported, in a postscript to his letter to the Duchess of Parma, that Elizabeth had ordered the news of Lady Dudley's death to be made public, the tragedy officially being attributed to accidental causes. The Queen then confided to the ambassador, in Italian, that Amy had broken her neck, adding, 'She must have fallen down a staircase.'

Anticipating what her subjects' reaction would be to the news, the Queen wasted no time in ordering an inquest to be held, and guessing that Dudley would be suspected of foul play, she immediately distanced herself from the tragedy and insisted that he leave court and go to his house at Kew, there to remain while he awaited the coroner's verdict.

Robert Dudley was devastated at what had happened, and fearful for his future. Like most people, he believed that Amy had been murdered, and although he exhibited few signs of grief at the loss of his wife, he was zealous in his efforts to uncover the truth surrounding her death, not only because he wished to see justice done, but also because he wished to clear himself - the prime suspect - of any complicity in it. To this end, he continued to insist that the most rigorous enquiries be made, knowing that the only way to exonerate himself would be in finding the real culprit.

But this was easier wished for than accomplished. On 10 September, Thomas Blount arrived at Cumnor Place to find not only his master's letter awaiting him, but also the coroner and his jury inspecting the scene of death. Blount told them of Dudley's earnest wish that they should carry out their investigation thoroughly and without respect of any person. He informed Lord Robert that the chosen jurymen seemed to be 'as wise and as able men, being but countrymen, as I ever saw. And for their true search I have good hope they will conceal no fault, if any be; for as they are wise, so are they, as I hear, part of them very enemies to Anthony Forster. God give them, with their wisdom, indifferency.' Already there were whispers that Forster had been Dudley's accomplice.

Blount then discussed the tragedy with the people living in the house. All he could report to Dudley was that they told the same story as the landlord, averring that her ladyship 'was so earnest to have her servants gone to the fair, that with any that made reason for tarrying at home she 101.

was very angry'. The quarrel with Mrs Odingsells was recounted, and it was clear that the servants felt that Amy's behaviour had been out of character. Blount wrote: 'Certainly, my lord, as little while as I have been here, I have heard divers tales of her that maketh me to judge her to be a strange woman of mind.'

Blount made a point of questioning Amy's maid, Mrs Pirgo, 'who doth dearly love her', and in asking Pirgo what she might think of this matter, either chance or villainy, she saith by her faith that she doth judge very chance, and neither done by man or by herself. Lady Dudley was a good, virtuous gentlewoman, and daily would pray upon her knees, and at divers times Pirgo hath heard her pray to God to deliver her from desperation. Then, said I, she might have an evil toy in her mind.

In other words, she might have committed suicide.

'No, good Mr Blount', declared Pirgo, 'do not judge so of my words; if you should so gather, I am sorry I said so much. It passeth the judgement of man to say how it is.' Suicide, in those days, was regarded as a mortal sin leading to eternal damnation: truly the last refuge of the desperate. Blount seems to have felt that Pirgo was not denying that Amy had taken her own life, but regretting that she had confided in him. He himself apparently believed that suicide should not be ruled out, and he concluded his letter to Dudley by urging him to turn from sorrow to joy in his innocence, which fearless enquiry would soon reveal, and then 'malicious reports shall turn upon their backs'.

Whilst the coroner's investigation was being carried out, the Queen rarely appeared in public, but confined herself to her apartments, concealing her anxieties from her courtiers. On the few occasions when she did emerge, she appeared pale and agitated.

At Kew, Dudley fretted with anxiety, agitating helplessly over the coming coroner's verdict, while at a court throbbing with speculation his enemies drew the obvious conclusion and settled back to enjoy his discomfiture. Aware of what was being said about him - for he was allowed to receive visitors, among them his tailor come to fit him out in mourning - Dudley found the long hours of enforced idleness mental torture. His greatest fear was not that the finger of suspicion would be forever pointing at him, although that was bad enough, but that the Queen would decide never to admit him to her presence again. It was one thing to conduct an affair with a married man, but quite another to associate with one reputed to have murdered his wife.

Blount's letter reached Dudley on the 12th, and around the same time he received a surprise visit from William Cecil, who had been restored 102.

to the Queen's confidence almost as soon as the favourite was out of the palace door: it was natural that, at a time of crisis, Elizabeth should turn to her wise and reliable Secretary for advice and support. Cecil concealed his triumph well; he had come, he said, to offer his condolences on Lord Robert's sad loss, and he spent the visit murmuring the platitudes demanded at such times by convention and good manners.

Dudley was touched by Cecil's solicitude, and grateful for his apparent support, and soon afterwards he hastened to write to express his thanks for such kindness on the part of his rival and to enlist his help in asking the Queen if he could return to court: Sir, I thank you much for your being here, and the great friendship you have showed toward me I shall not forget. I am very loath to wish you here again, but I would be very glad to be with you. I pray you let me hear from you what you think best for me to do. If you doubt, I pray you, ask the question for the sooner you can advise me [to travel] thither, the more I shall thank you. I am sorry so sudden [a] chance should breed in me so great a change, for methinks I am here all this while, as it were, in a dream, and too far, too far from the place where I am bound to be. I pray you help him that sues to be at liberty out of so great a bondage. Forget me not, though you see me not, and I will remember you and fail you not.

Around the same time, Dudley wrote again to Thomas Blount, begging for news: 'Until I hear from you again how the matter falleth out in very truth, I cannot be quiet.' Then he wrote to the coroner's jury, urging them to do their duty without fear or favour.

On 13 September, Blount replied with the encouraging news that the jury, having taken great pains to uncover the truth, could find 'no presumptions of evil. And, if I judge aright, mine own opinion is much quieted.' Blount was now persuaded that 'only misfortune hath done it, and nothing else'. Dudley, anticipating the verdict, felt impelled to write to the foreman of the jury, Mr Smith, to see if he could glean any idea of how the official enquiry was progressing. Mr Smith's reply was noncommittal.

Around this time Dudley received a sympathetic letter from the Earl of Huntingdon, his brother-in-law, who wrote: 'I understand by letters the death of your wife. I doubt not but long before this time you have considered what a happy hour it is which bringeth man from sorrow to joy, from mortality to immortality, from care and trouble to rest and quietness, and that the Lord above maketh all for the best to them that 103.

love Him.' These were conventional expressions of comfort for the bereaved, which may have expressed the family's view that Amy's death had been a merciful release from suffering.

Dudley's torment did not last long: a few days later the coroner pronounced a verdict of accidental death - we do not know the exact wording because no document relating to the inquest survives. The Queen's opinion, as expressed to a secretary, was that the verdict left no room for doubt, an opinion with which Cecil and others, including Robert's brother-in-law, Sir Henry Sidney, heartily concurred.

But for Dudley himself, this was not enough. He had hoped that the coroner's enquiry would expose Amy's murderer and thus clear his own name. Now, fearing that there was still room for others to draw malicious conclusions, he pressed for a second jury to be empanelled, so that the investigation could be continued. The Queen, however, whose relief was palpable, felt that one verdict was sufficient, especially since the coroner had acquitted Dudley from all responsibility for the tragedy. She did not hesitate to invite him back to Windsor, restoring him to full favour and making it clear that, as far as she was concerned, the matter was closed. As a mark of respect, she ordered the court into a month's mourning for Amy Dudley.

Others were not so certain of Dudley's innocence. While most people had been shocked at the news of his wife's death, many had not - given the rumours - been surprised. It was generally felt that the evidence laid before the coroner had been insufficient to exonerate the favourite from guilt, and that 'the very plain truth' remained to be exposed. On 17 September, a renowned Puritan minister, Thomas Lever, Rector of Coventry and Master of Sherborne Hospital, wrote to the Council to inform them that 'in these parts' the country was full of 'grievous and dangerous suspicions and muttering of the death of her which was the wife of my Lord Robert Dudley, and there must be an earnest searching and trying of the truth'.

This feeling persisted even after Dudley arranged a lavish ceremonial funeral for his late wife. Many had believed that her body had been buried with almost unseemly haste at the parish church near Cumnor Place, but there is no proof of this, as the church registers are lost. On 22 September, Amy's body was lying in state at Gloucester Hall in Oxford, and it was taken from there, on that day, and laid to rest beneath the choir of the Church of St Mary the Virgin in Oxford. The Queen sent her friend Lady Norris to represent her. Dudley did not attend, since custom decreed that the chief mourners at a funeral be of the same sex as the deceased. In 1584, in Leycester's Commonwealth, Leycester's Commonwealth, it was alleged that the preacher, in his sermon, referred to 'this lady so pitifully slain' but contemporary sources do not refer to this. In the twentieth century it was alleged that the preacher, in his sermon, referred to 'this lady so pitifully slain' but contemporary sources do not refer to this. In the twentieth century 104.

Amy Dudley's coffin was exhumed and opened, but was found to contain only dust.

During the fraught days between her death and funeral, de Quadra had found it difficult to find out what was happening. Few courtiers would talk to him, and he heard only damning rumours and wild speculation, which led him to conclude, as did many other people, that the Queen had colluded in murder. 'Assuredly it is a matter full of shame and infamy. Likely enough a revolution may come of it. The Queen may be sent to the Tower, and they may make a king of the Earl of Huntingdon, who is a great heretic, calling in a party of France to help them.' It was obvious that if Elizabeth married Dudley now, she would launch herself on a headlong course to disaster. As for Dudley, rumour had condemned him of plotting to kill his wife even before Amy's death; predictably, few accepted that she had died of accidental causes.

How did Amy Dudley meet her death?

There is no dispute that she died as a result of a broken neck. She was found at the bottom of a staircase, and the obvious conclusion would have been that she had fallen down those stairs, and that her death was due, as Dudley's supporters asserted, to an act of God. Yet it was claimed at the time that the steps were too shallow to have caused a fatal injury, and this led many people to deduce that someone, with malice aforethought, broke her neck and then placed her body at the foot of the stairs to make her death appear accidental. Her husband, as we have seen, was the chief suspect.*

Leycester's Commonwealth openly accused Dudley of the murder, alleging that he hired an assassin to do the deed, and names this man as Richard Verney. Verney, who was Mrs Owen's nephew, had once been Dudley's page, and was staunchly loyal to him. openly accused Dudley of the murder, alleging that he hired an assassin to do the deed, and names this man as Richard Verney. Verney, who was Mrs Owen's nephew, had once been Dudley's page, and was staunchly loyal to him. Leycester's Commonwealth Leycester's Commonwealth asserted that, by Lord Robert's 'commandment', Verney remained with her [Amy] that day [8 September] alone, with one man only, and had sent perforce all her servants from her to a market two miles off.' This was incorrect, as it was Amy herself who had sent her servants away, and they went to a fair. Nevertheless, the anonymous author claimed that asserted that, by Lord Robert's 'commandment', Verney remained with her [Amy] that day [8 September] alone, with one man only, and had sent perforce all her servants from her to a market two miles off.' This was incorrect, as it was Amy herself who had sent her servants away, and they went to a fair. Nevertheless, the anonymous author claimed that * Amy Dudley's half-brother, John Appleyard, would later let it be known that he possessed secret information about her death, but 'had for the Earl's sake covered the murder of his sister', hinting that Dudley, by then Earl of Leicester, was in some way implicated. But his motive was clearly the desire to profit financially, either from Dudley in return for remaining silent, or In the form of monetary rewards from the Earl's enemies. In 1567, suspected of fraud. Appleyard was committed to the Fleet Prison with orders to produce any relevant evidence concerning Lady Dudley's death, the Council having furnished him with a copy of the coroner's findings. Immediately, he backed down and stated he was fully satisfied that his sister's death had been an accident.

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Verney, and the other man who was with him, could 'tell how she died.' Conveniently, Verney had since died himself, in London, raving incoherently about demons 'to a gentleman of worship of my acquaintance', and the mysterious accomplice was sent to prison for another offence and later murdered there because he had 'offered to publish' the truth about Amy's death.

It is impossible to check many of the details in this account since they are so vague. Verney's movements and whereabouts on 8 September cannot be traced. The only contemporary mention of him in connection with Dudley dates from the previous April, when the latter sent for Verney and Verney had to write and apologise for not being able to come. He added, 'I and mine shall always be to my best power advanced in any your affair or commandment where opportunity offereth.' It would be unwise to read too much of significance into these words.

It is, of course, possible that Verney's aunt Mrs Owen was privy to a murder plot; it was she with whom Amy dined on that day, and she who was the last recorded person to see Amy alive. Possibly Amy had already arranged to dine with Mrs Owen when she ordered her servants to go to the fair. Could Mrs Owen have persuaded her that there was a good reason why they should be alone? It is perhaps significant that there is no record of Amy being angry with Mrs Owen for staying at home.

Amy was certainly unusually anxious to be rid of her servants. Was she expecting a secret visitor? Could that visitor perhaps have been someone sent by her husband to discuss an annulment of their marriage? Such a development had been rumoured that year, and in view of the damage such rumours could do, it would have been natural for Robert to insist that Amy receive her visitor in private, with perhaps the discreet Mrs Owen present as a witness or chaperone. Or was Amy led to believe that a visitor was coming, when something more sinister was planned? On the other hand, one could also speculate that she was so depressed, and possibly so ill, that she was desperate for some peace and quiet with a sympathetic friend to whom she could confide her fears, without the constant presence of servants about her.

We should consider the behaviour of Mrs Odingsells, who stoutly refused to go to the fair, much to Amy's chagrin. Was she in league with those who sought to do Amy harm, or even with Mrs Owen? Had these two ladies, about whom we know very little, conspired to help an assassin? Was Mrs Odingsells deputed to let him in, while Mrs Owen kept Amy occupied at table, or with the game of backgammon that she was said to have been playing before she died? There are no answers to these questions, for they are mere speculation and theory.

If Amy was murdered before being laid at the foot of the stairs, how was it done? When Cumnor Place was converted into a gentleman's 106.

house after the Dissolution of the Monasteries, some building work was carried out and several doors were blocked up. There was a tale current after Amy's death that she had been persuaded - by whom is not clear - to lodge in a room that had a secret doorway behind the bedhead. It was through this doorway, it was claimed, that her murderer came into the room. Or perhaps the killer came upon her as she sat at table with Mrs Owen.

Some time after Amy's death, Anthony Forster was rewarded for good service by Robert Dudley, who gave him lands in fifteen counties, enabling Forster to purchase Cumnor Place and virtually rebuild it. Some believed, then and later, that Forster had been Dudley's accomplice in the murder, and that this was his reward, but there is no other evidence for this. When Forster died in 1572, Dudley bought the house from his heirs, having been given the option to do so in Forster's will. Why he should have wanted Cumnor, with its unpleasant associations, is not clear.

Several people, notably Blount, attributed Amy's death to suicide. She had been depressed and, according to her maid, in a state of near desperation before she met her end. Robert's neglect and his very public relationship with the Queen could have accounted for this, or Amy could have been in the last stages of breast cancer, suffering pain for which there was no palliative then, as well as the resulting emotional trauma. The theory that she took her own life is therefore a credible one, and would explain why she was so anxious to get her servants out of the house.

No one at the time thought to attribute Amy's death to natural causes, but since 1956, when a new theory was suggested by Professor Ian Aird, most modern historians have done so. Aird considered the possibility that Amy was suffering from breast cancer; the 'malady in one of her breasts' had first been referred to by de Quadra in April 1559. This disease, as it progresses, causes in about fifty per cent of sufferers a weakening of the bones due to cancerous deposits that break away from the original tumour and are carried through the bloodstream to settle on the bones, particularly the spine, which becomes unnaturally brittle. Thus, if Amy was in the last stages of the disease, even the slight exertion required to walk down a flight of stairs could have caused a spontaneous fracture of the vertebrae. However, if this theory is correct, it offers no explanation of Amy's unusual behaviour on the day of her death. Nor does the less commonly accepted modern theory, that she suffered from an aortic aneurism, the terminal enlargement of an artery from the heart, which causes pain and swelling in the chest, and mental aberrations - including depression or fits of anger - resulting from erratic blood-flow to the brain. Sudden slight pressure can cause the bursting of the 107.

aneurism, bringing instantaneous death. The resultant fall could, in Amy's case, have caused her neck to break.

Whether due to natural causes or not, Amy Dudley's death was certainly convenient, but not, ironically, for the person whom many supposed expected to benefit from it. Most people believed that her husband had killed her in order to marry the Queen, and thus far he had a motive for doing so. Yet even he, thick-skinned as he often was, could not have been so stupid as to think he would get away with it, and if she were indeed dying of cancer, he had no need to do anything. On the day before her death, the Queen told de Quadra that Lady Dudley was dead, or nearly so. If Elizabeth was involved in a murder plot, she was hardly likely to announce the death of the victim before she was certain that it had happened, or even refer to it - she was far too clever for that. Yet her announcement would make more sense if she had been told by Dudley that the end was near. The behaviour of the Queen and Dudley after the event suggests that they were both shocked and bewildered by the news, and both did their utmost to ensure that Amy's death was thoroughly and objectively investigated.

That Dudley's chief concern was to clear his own name is understandable, given what people were saying about him, and it proves that he was well aware of what the consequences would be, and what was at stake if a credible explanation was not arrived at. It was in his interests that his wife should die a natural death, and the evidence suggests that she might shortly have done so. He was hardly likely to have gone to the trouble of having her killed, or allowing her body to be left in such suspicious circumstances.

The Queen did not interfere in the coroner's enquiry, and if she appeared to be initiating a damage limitation exercise after the verdict, that was understandable, since tongues had not been stilled and were deeminq her guilty by association because of her intimacy with Dudley. If she had had any real wish to marry him now that he was free, it was unlikely that she would be able to do so and hold on to her throne. Some of her courtiers, knowing how she had so far shied away from marriage, were of the opinion that the news of Lady Dudley's death was not welcome to her, since Lord Robert might now begin to press his suit in earnest, and even though she loved him, she might not be prepared to surrender her independence. Such an iinpasse could only cause conflict, and the courtship dance that she had so perfected with her foreign suitors might not serve her so well when it came to a man with whom she was emotionally involved.

The fact remains that there is no factual evidence whatsoever to implicate either the Queen or Dudley in his wife's death. Neither gained anything but trouble and ill-fame from it, and the almost universal belief 108.

in his guilt was to bedevil Dudley until the end of his days.

One man did profit from the death of Amy Dudley, and that was William Cecil. He was swiftly restored to favour as soon as the news was known and his rival banished from court, and when he visited Dudley at Kew he did so in the comfortable knowledge that their positions had been reversed and that he now had the upper hand. In such circumstances he could afford to be magnanimous.

Of all those involved in the power struggle in 1560, Cecil was the one with the strongest motive for wishing Amy Dudley dead. He was a perceptive man, and he could foresee that if she died in suspicious circumstances, as many people expected her to do, then the finger of suspicion would point inexorably to her husband - as indeed it did. Cecil also knew that Elizabeth, who was very conservative at heart, would be unlikely to risk her popularity and her crown to marry a man whose reputation was so tainted.

In September 1560, Cecil had seen Dudley in the ascendant and his own future in ruins; he feared not only for his position, which he had attained only after years of hard work and loyalty to the Tudor dynasty, but also for the future of England and the Anglican Settlement. If the Queen married Dudley it would irrevocably weaken her tenure of the throne, and could even lead to her deposition, or, worse, a bid by foreign powers to replace her with the Catholic Mary Stuart. Cecil had tried to warn Elizabeth that she was plunging headlong into disaster, but she had not listened, and he was afraid for her, afraid that she would marry Dudley and so wreck everything that Cecil had struggled to achieve. It is not, therefore, inconceivable that it was William Cecil who decided upon a course that, although regrettable, would force Elizabeth to stop and think.

Cecil was a realist and a pragmatist. It is possible that, when he heard Dudley and the Queen giving out that Amy was very ill he decided to act quickly; it would be essential for people to believe that she had been murdered. Cecil was not a cruel man, and could have reasoned that, since she was dying of a painful disease, cutting short her sufferings could only be an act of mercy. Having laid his plans, he told de Quadra on the morning of 8 September that it was not true what Elizabeth and Dudley were saying: Amy Dudley was quite well. Then, knowing that his words would echo around Europe, he confided that Dudley was plotting to kill her, thus planting the seeds of suspicion before the deed was done. He begged the Bishop to dissuade Elizabeth from marrying Dudley, but of course, there would be no need for this, and nor did de Quadra get the opportunity.

It would have been easy for Cecil, with the co-operation of an 109.

accomplice at Cumnor Place - perhaps Mrs Owen or Mrs Odingsells -to invent a pretext to keep Amy at home on the afternoon of the 8th. Given her perilous state of health, it would have been the work of a moment for a hired assassin to break her neck and then lay her body at the bottom of the stairs. Cecil did not normally resort to violence, but he might have felt that such an act would have been more than justified by its beneficial consequences.

There is, of course, no direct evidence to support such a theory, but the fact remains that Cecil had a compelling motive for doing away with Amy, and was the person who profited most from her death. He himself, being a patriotic man, dedicated to the service of the state, would have said that it was his country and his Queen who had been the chief beneficiaries.

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chapter 6.