At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to Cumnor, the Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned.  But when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of excuse did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid apartments which love had once fitted up for beauty.  Her answers to Leicester conveyed these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more naturally than prudently that she might be relieved from the obscure and secluded residence, by the Earl’s acknowledgement of their marriage.

“I have made her Countess,” Leicester said to his henchman Varney; “surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she should put on the coronet?”

The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.

“What signifies,” she said, “that I have rank and honour in reality, if I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance, and suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced reputation?”

Leicester, high in Elizabeth’s favour, dared not avow his marriage, and Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that would overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur his ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.

Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pass as Varney’s wife, lest Elizabeth’s jealousy should be aroused, and this suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he made no secret of his passion), drove the Countess to escape from Cumnor and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to her father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.

“No, Janet,” said the lady mournfully; “I left Lidcote Hall while my heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return thither till my lord’s public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me to my native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on me.  I will go to Kenilworth, girl.  I will see these revels—­these princely revels—­the preparation for which makes the land ring from side to side.  Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband’s halls, the Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest.”

“Dearest madam,” said the maiden, “have you forgotten that the noble Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he may preserve his Court favour?  And can you think that your sudden appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence, will be acceptable to him?”

“I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet.  I will be protected by him alone.  I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for my future conduct.  Do not argue against my resolution.  And to own the truth, I am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband’s own mouth; and to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my purpose.”