Elizabeth (23 page)

With all this in mind, Robert and Amy’s intimates would have grasped at the notion of an accidental death with almost frantic single-mindedness, since the alternative, as they saw it, was too
hideous to contemplate. A verdict of suicide might also have been damaging to Robert, as his opponents would claim he had driven her to it. The best possible outcome was a verdict that Amy had been ill and had accidentally fallen. As the Cumnor house has since been demolished, it is unknown whether this is a realistic explanation for Amy’s death. The records refer to a ‘pair of stairs’: that is, a short flight to a small landing, then a second short flight to an upstairs landing. The bottom set of stairs was reported to have 8 steps; even if there were more, the whole number was unlikely to exceed 14 treads.

If Amy had planned to take her own life, throwing herself down such narrow, short stairs would have been more likely to result in injury than death. They would be suitable for an attempt that was essentially a cry for help, but in that instance it would be important for someone to find her quickly, in case she really did hurt herself. Ordering her servants to leave the house would tend to support the idea of a deliberate suicide attempt, however, the design of the staircase tends to preclude this as a convincing explanation. An accidental fall would be plausible, but in that case, how would Amy’s neck have broken on a short flight of stairs?

Another possible explanation for Amy’s death emerged through research conducted in the 20th century, which would support a theory of accidental death. If Amy did indeed have advanced untreated breast cancer, she might have developed brittleness in her bones that possibly resulted in a spontaneous break. Professor Ian Aird, in 1956, demonstrated that breast cancer can cause secondary deposits in the bones, making them brittle (the deposits occurred in 50 percent of fatal cases studied; 6 percent of these showed deposits in the spine). If in a fall down a flight of stairs, as Aird explains, ‘… that part of the spine which lies in the neck suffers … the affected person gets spontaneously a broken
neck. Such a fracture is more likely to occur in stepping downstairs than in walking on the level.’
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Only an examination of Amy’s skeletal remains would be able to confirm or refute such a hypothesis, however.

After his wife’s sudden death, Robert retired from Court to his house at Kew. He awaited news of the inquest from Blount. His mind was set somewhat at rest when Blount informed him that, in his opinion, the death had been a tragic accident: ‘… I have almost nothing that can make me so much as think that any man should be the doer thereof, as, when I think your lordship’s wife before all other women should have such a chance, the circumstances and as many things as I can learn doth persuade me that only misfortune hath done it and nothing else.’
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After weighing up all the testimony and evidence, the jury formally determined a verdict of accidental death. The foreman wrote to Robert to let him know, who in turn wrote to Blount, stating that the verdict ‘doth very much satisfy and quiet me.’
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And so the matter would have rested had not the Spanish Ambassador intervened. In a dispatch to Philip dated 11 September 1560, de Quadra (after meeting with Cecil, who was disgruntled with Robert at the time), stated that after promising him that he would keep anything he told him secret, Cecil had told him that he was going to withdraw from the Queen’s service and that he perceived that the Queen was facing ruin over her ‘intimacy with Lord Robert’. Cecil also claimed that the realm would not tolerate Elizabeth’s marriage to Robert:

De Quadra’s letter, dated 11 September, also stated that he had come to Windsor five days before (the 6th), and that on the next day (the 7th), Elizabeth had told him that Amy was dead, or ‘nearly so’ and had asked him not to say anything about it. He continued:

This letter was a blow to Robert, and also to Elizabeth. If it were to be fully believed, Cecil had as good as said that Amy was about to be murdered, and that not just Robert was implicated in such a plot, but the Queen as well.

Similarly, if de Quadra’s letter was accurate and Elizabeth had, in fact, informed him that Amy was dead or ‘nearly so’ on 7 September, this would have been the day before it actually happened (the death occurred 8 September and news reached Windsor on 9 September). This odd behaviour was compounded by the Queen asking him not to mention what she had said
to anyone. The report seemed to lay bare a plan drawn up by the Queen and her lover to murder his wife, leaving them free to marry.

However, the letter is not as incriminating as it first seems. The story that Robert and Elizabeth were waiting for his inconvenient wife to die and that Robert would eventually use poison to kill her was an old one and often repeated. In fact, poison was the one thing never mentioned in connection with Amy’s death.

The remarks made by Cecil are more of a puzzle. He was quite capable of using the ambassador as a means of transmitting his opinion to the Queen, but is highly unlikely to have said anything that reflected badly on her. Given the use of ‘spin’ in modern-day politics, it is possible to imagine that Cecil might have spoken to de Quadra in secrecy expressly to make sure the latter did, in fact, convey the information to Philip. Cecil may have felt it was diplomatically wise to complain about Robert and the negative impact on England if he and Elizabeth were to marry. As for the Queen’s remark about Amy being dead ‘or nearly so’, Elizabeth could well have been referring to Amy’s terminal illness and adding, rather sadly, that it would be better not to talk about it.

This letter confirms one thing: that in September 1560 Amy’s death was now expected to happen at any time. On 17 September, Robert’s brother-in-law, Henry Hastings, 3rd Earl of Huntingdon, wrote him a letter in which he added a brief postscript: ‘… As I ended my letter I understood by letters the death of my lady your wife. I doubt not but long before this time you have considered what a happy hour is it which bringeth man from sorrow, to joy, from mortality to immortality, from care and trouble to rest and quietness and that the Lord above worketh all for the best to them that love him …’
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The very fact that Hastings felt he could add his condolences at the end of a mundane letter, as well as their tone,
suggest that Amy’s death was not only expected, but perhaps even welcomed as an end to her ‘care and trouble’.

Evidence seems to suggest that those close to Amy were waiting for her ordeal to end. She had been settled at Cumnor for nine months and seemed content. She was close enough to London that Robert could visit or send messengers and was under the watchful eye of Lady Anne Forster, Mrs Odingsells, Mrs Owen and Amy’s ever-present maid, Mrs Pirto. All that was needed to allow Robert and Elizabeth to marry and produce an heir to the English throne was for Amy to die naturally, surrounded by friends, family and physicians, without a word of scandal. Yet, in the end the manner of Amy’s death left the whole affair open to conjecture, enabling the already circulating rumours of a murderous plot to flourish at Elizabeth’s Court.

If Amy was murdered, the most logical question to ask would be who would have benefited from the timing and manner of her death? It is hard to argue that Robert and Elizabeth did. Had Amy lived a few weeks or months longer and died of natural causes, Robert would have had a real chance of becoming King of England. They had no reason to rush; Elizabeth had successfully held off her various suitors for two years and showed few signs of giving in to any one of them. She and Robert had waited so long; a little longer would not have mattered.

Furthermore, if Robert had genuinely wanted his wife out of the way, he had another option. He and Amy had no children and, with her ill health, were not likely to. A lack of children was a lawful reason for divorce at that time, and it was held to be the wife’s fault unless she could prove otherwise. If Robert had wanted his freedom at any cost, he could have divorced Amy at any time.

Later writers, wishing to denigrate Robert, often refer to his imagined penchant for killing his enemies with poison. If Robert had wanted to kill his wife, poison would, indeed, have done the trick. Small doses, ending with a sufficiently large one, would have caused Amy’s death in a way that mimicked a natural illness. But Robert would not have benefitted from Amy suffering a suspicious and unnatural death. Thus, if the timing, method and result of Amy’s death all acted against Robert, is it possible that someone else might have had a motive to kill her in such a way as to tarnish Robert, making it impossible for Elizabeth to marry him?

There were certainly members of the Privy Council who feared what would happen if Robert became king consort, including William Cecil, Henry Fitzalan, Thomas Howard and Thomas Radclyffe, 3rd Earl of Sussex. The timing would fit this hypothesis. Amy was in the final stages of her illness and any day might die in her bed, freeing Robert to woo the Queen in earnest. It was crucial that she die in a way that pointed the finger at her husband, but without the investigation of an open murder that would risk the true perpetrators being discovered.

If Amy’s death was the result of this type of plot, the plan worked perfectly. It could have been suicide, or an accident, or murder. In the end, the verdict was accidental death; however, the rumours of murder were damaging enough, spreading through England and the Royal Courts of Europe in a matter of days. If it could not be proved, it also could not be disproved. Robert’s reputation was irretrievably blemished: with Amy’s tragic death, the chance of Elizabeth and Robert marrying died as well.

The trouble with trying to identify a murderer among the English nobles is that so many of them might have had a motive. William Cecil, who, after falling out with the Queen over the Scottish negotiations, stood to lose his position in her Court and
possibly lose his life in the Tower, was certainly doing everything he could to prevent a marriage between Robert and Elizabeth. Then there was Thomas Radclyffe, a member of the Court who was vehemently opposed to Robert, yet who, after Amy’s death, stated that he would love and serve whoever Elizabeth married. Had he engineered the death and its aftermath, he could utter such sanctimonious sentiments, secure in the knowledge that the husband would certainly not be Robert. Similarly, cousins Thomas Howard and Henry Fitzalan both hated Robert and they could have acted together in a Catholic-led conspiracy to end Robert’s chances of marrying the Queen.

However, it is hard to see how any noble or alliance of nobles could have managed such a plot without discovery. Although none of them would have committed the deed himself, no matter how carefully a plot is laid, there is always the risk of being caught. If one of the nobles arranged it, he would have used a servant, friend or co-conspirator, although any of these options carried the risk of someone turning informer. There were no successful plots against Elizabeth during her lifetime because her intelligence service was extremely vigilant and one of the plotters usually betrayed the plan, wittingly or unwittingly.

Nevertheless, Amy’s actions on the day might actually support the theory that she was the victim of a murder plot designed to look like an accident. She seemed to go to great lengths to make sure that everyone in Cumnor Place was out on that particular day, and when Mrs Owen and Mrs Odingsells declined, her angry outburst against Mrs Odingsells appears to have resulted in them not dining together. That meant Amy only had one dinner companion, and when she left the room to go down the stairs she was on her own. One reason for Amy to wish to be alone was that she was expecting a visitor.