Born into the esteemed family of Sir John Robsart and Elizabeth Scott,
she led a remarkable life that continues to captivate historical enthusiasts
to this day.
Hailing from the serene countryside of Norfolk,
our lady inherited a substantial estate
and was nurtured within a Protestant household,
instilling in her a strong faith.
Her path took a momentous turn when she met Robert Dudley,
son of the influential Earl of Warwick,
leading to their marriage on the eve of her 18th birthday.
Their union was shadowed by whispers of a “carnal marriage,”
emphasizing the significance of their love match.
From their early days marked by family support and political entanglements,
to the mysterious circumstances surrounding her untimely demise,
her life remains an enigmatic tapestry of love, intrigue, and solitude.
So join me now as we look back on the unsolved life of Amy Robsart.
Born to the respectable gentleman farmer Sir John Robsart and his wife,
Elizabeth Scott,
in the tranquil Norfolk countryside, Amy Robsart found herself heir
to a substantial estate.
Under the influence of their Protestant household,
she was instilled with faith and robust education.
A meeting with Robert Dudley,
a son of the influential John Dudley, Earl of Warwick,
approximately ten months before their nuptials set the course for their future.
As they wed three days before Amy's 18th birthday,
whispers of a “carnal marriage” circulated.
Yet, they were underscoring the significance of their love match.
The couple's early days were dependent on their families,
with their fathers generously extending support.
Robert's father, the Duke of Northumberland,
reigned as the most influential man in England.
His approval of Amy stemmed from her enhancing his foothold in Norfolk.
The couple was often at court
or Ely House with Robert's parents,
their lives entwined with the country's political sphere.
But their circumstances drastically changed
with Robert's imprisonment following Lady Jane Grey's brief rule as Queen,
leaving Amy to visit her husband in the dreary confines of the Tower of London.
Upon Robert's release, financial
strife cast its shadow on their lives, softened only by their families support.
The death of Amy's parents led to their inheriting the Robsart estate, a lifeline
in their struggle.
Despite the dilapidated state of Amy's ancestral manor and the ownership
complications of her childhood home, the couple found solace
in Throcking, Hertfordshire, in the house of William Hyde.
Robert's martial involvement in the Battle of St.
Quentin in France under Philip II of Spain drew him away,
leaving Amy to attend to his debts and their affairs.
The following year, their quest for a permanent residence was interrupted
by the ascension of Elizabeth I to the throne,
catapulting Robert into a position of prominence as Master of the Horse.
Rumours of the Queen's affection for Robert swirled around the court,
leaving Amy alone to nurse her illness.
1559 Amy visited London, with her health showing signs of improvement.
But her subsequent move to Compton Verney, Warwickshire, brought her further away
from her husband.
Rumours of Elizabeth's romantic interest in Robert were further fuelled by
speculations of his plans to divorce Amy and whispers of plots to assassinate her.
Amy, meanwhile, spent her time from December 1559 until her death at
Cumnor Place, a 14th-century complex owned by their friend, Sir Anthony Forster.
On the morning of September 8, 1560,
she forcefully sent her entire household to a fair,
leaving her alone at Cumnor Place.
Her peculiar insistence on solitude raised eyebrows,
with household staff recalling her furious outbursts at those reluctant to depart.
Alone in the grand house, she perished at the foot of a staircase,
her death reported to her husband, Robert Dudley, the following day.
With a chilling sense of dread and urgency,
Dudley implored his steward, Thomas Blount, to investigate.
The circumstances were suspect, and the dead woman's maid, Mrs Picto,
wove an odd tale of her mistress’ erratic behaviour and depressive tendencies.
However, she maintained that neither murder nor suicide was at play.
Her insights fuelled Blount’s suspicions,
as he found it bewildering that such a tragedy could occur to his master.
Lady Amy Dudley had risen early
and would not that day suffer the staff to stay at home
and was so earnest to have them gone to the fair.
And that with any of her options
she would have made the reason of loitering at home.
And then she came to Mrs Odingsells, who refused that day to go to-the fair.
Lady Amy was very angry with her also.
Because Mrs Odingsells said, it was no day for gentlewomen to go.
It was then that my lady answered and said she might choose
and go at her pleasure, but every house member should go.
Again spoke angrily.
They asked who should keep her company if they all went;
she said Mrs Owen should keep her company at dinner;
the same tale said by Mrs Picto, the lady's maid who dearly loved her.
Indeed, my Lord, as little time as I have been here,
I have heard numerous tales of her
that make me judge her to be a strange woman of mind.
However, Mrs Picto said later, do not judge some of my words;
if you should so gather, I am sorry I said so much.
A jury comprised of local note men commenced a thorough investigation.
They deemed Anthony Forster, a close associate of the Dudleys,
uninvolved, stirring relief in Blount, who had assumed the worst.
Despite hushed whispers of foul play,
the consensus veered towards accidental death.
The decision relieved Dudley, who insisted on another probe by a new panel,
including Amy's kin, to shed more light on her inexplicable death.
Eventually, a coroner's inquest deemed her death a tragic accident.
Amy suffered a fall down the staircase, resulting in two injuries to her head
and a lethal injury to her neck.
The weight of her body in the fall was speculated to cause her instant death.
She was accorded a grand funeral in August 1560 at St.
Mary's, Oxford, costing Dudley an equivalent of £1 million today.
Dudley himself wore mourning attire for half a year but, as was customary,
didn’t attend the burial. Court, too, went into mourning.
Robert retreated to his Kew residence,
perhaps to grapple with the bizarre circumstances shrouding his wife's death.
Amy Dudley’s demise under mysterious circumstances sent shockwaves
through the kingdom, arousing grave suspicion amidst
swirling rumours about the Queen and her favourite, Robert Dudley.
Dudley feared the inevitable slander that would follow this tragedy.
At the same time, William Cecil, the Queen’s Secretary,
utilized the scandal to stave off Dudley's potential ascendancy as king consort.
Nicholas Throckmorton, English ambassador in France, echoed Cecil's sentiments,
bringing the scandalous gossip to the fore in the French court.
However, neither truly believed Dudley had engineered his wife's death.
And amidst this storm, Dudley returned to court, fuelling speculations
of his aspirations to wed the Queen, whose affection for him remained unabated.
Despite her defence of Dudley, the scandal threatened to topple
Elizabeth's reputation, domestically and internationally,
forcing her to abandon any prospects of a union with Dudley.
Lamenting his ruined reputation, Dudley even wished for a humbler existence
that would have saved him from this calamity.
After the coroner's verdict, his adversaries
sought evidence against him, further entrenching the controversy
surrounding Amy's death.
By the early 1560s, tales implicating Sir Richard Verney,
a close associate of Robert Dudley, began to emerge, fanning the flames of scandal.
A chronicle penned by the likely Protestant activist John Hales in 1563,
notorious for its bias against Dudley, stoked rumours of a sinister murder plot.
The first written account of Amy Robsart's
alleged murder surfaced in the defamatory work “Leicester's Commonwealth” in 1584.
Penned by Catholic exiles, the narrative vividly paints Verney as the orchestrator
of Amy's demise, positioning her at the stair foot after breaking her neck.
Subsequent versions of the tale added the secret reburial of her body
and a vengeful end for Verney.
Fueled by the widespread reach of “Leicester's Commonwealth”,
tales of Amy's death evolved into embellished folklore.
As early as 1608, her story was alluded to in “A
Yorkshire Tragedy” as a handy strategy to rid oneself of a wife.
In the 19th century, her tale gained widespread popularity
via Walter Scott's bestselling novel “Kenilworth”.
Despite the fanciful nature of these narratives,
Victorian historian James Anthony Froude
lent credence to the murder theory, firmly convinced of Dudley's complicity.
Following this, Walter Rye’s “The Murder of Amy Robsart”
presented a narrative of failed poisoning and subsequent violence.
However, another theory was covertly suggested by George Adlard
in “Amy Robsart and the Earl of Leycester” Finally by 1910, A.F.
Pollard surmised that any hint of foul play
would make a marriage between Dudley and Elizabeth impossible.
The coroner's report from 1560, discovered in The National Archives
in 2008, indicates that Amy Dudley's death
could have resulted from an accidental fall, suicide, or violence.
However, this finding challenges the prevailing view
that a mere accident could not account for her death.
This belief is rooted mainly in narratives
suggesting Amy was found at the base of a short staircase, her neck broken.
Yet, her headdress was still immaculately positioned,
an odd detail first referenced in the scandalous “Leicester’s Commonwealth”.
To reconcile these puzzling details,
Professor of Medicine Ian Aird proposed in 1956 that Amy Dudley
might have had breast cancer.
Cancerous growths in the spine could have made her neck susceptible
to breaking under minimal strain, such as a shortfall or walking downstairs.
Since, this particular explanation has gained considerable traction.
There's also speculation that Amy may have taken her own life,
possibly due to illness or depression,
supported by references to her melancholic disposition
and “desperation” in various sources.
Further bolstering the suicide theory,
she reportedly insisted on sending her servants away
on her death, and her maid, Picto, Thomas Blount,
and perhaps even Robert Dudley himself hinted at this possibility.
Despite these theories, some contemporary historians
have proposed that Amy's death was murder.
Alison Weir suggests that William Cecil,
who benefited greatly from the ensuing scandal,
might have been involved in her demise.
Others, including George Bernard and Chris Skidmore,
have revived the notion that Sir Richard Verney may have killed Amy
after numerous failed attempts at poisoning her.
However, many dismiss these speculations as mere gossip.
Questions also exist regarding whether Robert Dudley manipulated the jury.
It has been noted that the foreman, Sir
Richard Smith, was a former household servant of Princess Elizabeth.
He is also identified as a “Queen’s man” in Hales’ 1563 chronicle.
However, there's no concrete evidence linking Smith to Dudley.
In hindsight, most historians today acquit Robert Dudley of both murder
and cover-up.
Alternatives to the murder plot and his distraught correspondence
following Amy's death indicate his innocence.
Moreover, it's deemed highly unlikely
that he would orchestrate his wife's demise in such a manner, exposing himself
to inevitable scandal.
Amy was laid to rest in the sanctity of St Mary's Church’s chancel in Oxford,
but her final resting place was lost to time over the centuries.
As observed by Professor Ian Aird,
the precise location of Amy's tomb remains a mystery.
He noted that contemporary accounts suggested
her grave was located towards the eastern end of the holy ground of St.
Mary the Virgin's church in Oxford.
But Amy's memory is not entirely lost
within the church despite her grave's disappearance.
A commemorative tile serves as a lasting homage to her,
its inscription reading: “Amy Robsart, the wife of Lord Robert Dudley K.G.,
was interred on Sunday 22nd September AD 1560 in a brick vault
located at the upper end of this quire.”
The life of Amy Robsart, a woman shrouded in mystery and intrigue,
came to a tragic end, leaving behind a legacy that continues to fascinate.
Amy's journey was marked by love
and sorrow, from her idyllic upbringing in the Norfolk countryside
to her marriage to Robert Dudley,
a man entangled in the intricate web of court politics.
Rumours of her husband's ambitions and the Queen's affections
swirled around her, casting a shadow of uncertainty and loneliness.
And then, on that fateful day,
she met her untimely demise alone in the grand halls of Cumnor Place.
The circumstances surrounding her death ignited speculation,
with theories ranging from accident to suicide to murder.
To this day, the truth remains elusive, leaving us to ponder the enigmatic life
of Amy Robsart—a woman whose story serves as a testament to the captivating allure
of history's unsolved mysteries.