She escaped at least one danger this autumn—infection from the plague. In spite of all her duties and dangers she was in close touch with her relatives. Naturally there were difficult moments. Now she displeases her tremendous grandmother, and now her pugnacious aunt. Again and again she tries to act as go-between, and at odd times secures favours for one or the other—a barony for William Cavendish, a bride for his son. At intervals she visited her grandmother, but generally with a view to making peace between Gilbert and the hostess of Hardwick. To him she wrote in a very touching manner after a visit to the old lady: “I found so good hope of my grandmother’s good inclination to a good and reasonable reconciliation betwixt herself and her divided family that I could not forbear to impart to your Lordship with all speed. Therefore I beseech you, put on such a Christian and honourable mind as becometh you to bear to a lady so near to you and yours as my grandmother is. And think you cannot devise to do me greater honour and contentment than to let me be the only mediator, moderator, and peacemaker betwixt you and her. You know I have cause only to be partial on your side, so many kindnesses and favours I have received from you, and so many unkindnesses and disgraces have I received from the other party. Yet will I not be restrained from chiding you (as great a lord as you are) if I find you either not willing to be asken to this good notion or to proceed in it as I shall think reasonably.... If I be not sufficient for this treaty never think me such as can add strength and honour to your family.”

Such matters were hard for both sides, and one’s sympathy inclines to the ageing, fighting, building Dowager. “Your unkindness sticks sore in her teeth,” wrote one of Gilbert’s informants. To Gilbert, however, she managed to maintain a proud front, and busied herself about a fresh building enterprise.

This project was partly the outcome of her extraordinary pugnacity. Her neighbour, Sir Francis Leake, had designed and was building in the county a fine house, Sutton, which rivalled Hardwick in magnificence. Invidious comparisons were evidently drawn, and she declared scornfully that she would build as good a house “for owls” as he for men. The mansion she built was therefore called Owlcotes, and was not far from Hardwick.

The first year of Arabella’s royal post was certainly one fraught with peril, for it closed with the trial of Sir Walter Raleigh, accused, as all will remember, of plotting to dethrone James in favour of Arabella. Even Henry Cavendish was suspected of complicity. It is not necessary here to go into the details which proved Arabella’s innocence. It was quickly proved and her Court life went on as before, gaily, with masques, drawing-rooms, ballets, and even the nursery games in which it pleased the ladies of the Danish Anne to indulge.

At the close of her second year at Court (1605) another proposal, this time from the King of Poland, reached Arabella and was refused. She does not yet seem to have tired of the frivolous and exhausting life, though her letters—whimsical, affectionate, quaintly sententious, often highly graphic—are shortened at times, and, though loyal, she complains roundly of “this everlasting hunting.” For in their passion for sport King and Queen dragged their courtiers hither and thither, and the latter were often miserably housed and served during these expeditions.