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From an engraving by W. T. Ryall, after the painting by Mark Gerard WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURGHLEY Page ssss1

Like all the schemes of Elizabeth the aforesaid treaty hung fire. Suspense and disappointment had their usual result upon Mary. Once more she fell ill. Had she died on their hands Earl and Countess would have been open to the worst suspicions. They found themselves always out of pocket in regard to her maintenance; they were themselves, obviously, more or less prisoners in their own house; they had begged to be released from “this charge.” In an age when poisonings were rife and assassinations common they would have been suspected by all parties of all sorts of foul play. Mary’s loyal gentleman, John Beton, the prægustator, must have had enough to do at this time in tasting the dishes for the daily menus. Shrewsbury meanwhile kept a sharp look-out and at once suggested change of air. Mary, in spite of the pain in her side, symptom of a chronic malady, and one which always attacked her when she was the least out of health, was only too ready to move. This time the destination was Sheffield—the castle.