The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean - Страница 13

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“Yourself, James?” she asked gently.

He frowned and pretended to be reluctant.

“I? Our father’s bastard!”

“The people do not hold that against you.”

“’Twas truly no fault of mine. Had I been consulted I should have asked to be born in wedlock!”

“You are the man, James. Our father’s son. Sober and religious in a manner acceptable to the people, strong, firm, destined to rule.”

“You are asking me to take over the Regency until that time when you are allowed to assume the crown?”

“Why yes, James, I suppose I am . . . if I have any say in the matter.”

“You ask a great deal,” he said, and there was no hint in his voice or manner of the exultation which was his. The purpose of his visit was achieved, and he saw no reason why he should dally longer with his sister. It was true she had no power to bestow the Regency, but being the man he was he preferred to have her approval.

They were silent for a while, looking over the lake. It would soon be dark and Mary gazed longingly at the mainland. The biggest of the boats, which brought household articles from the mainland, creaked on its chains. Suppose he were to take me away in that boat, she thought; who would be waiting on the mainland to help me? Some of my friends, surely.

Moray was thinking how gullible she was. How fortunate for him that she had committed folly after folly which had brought her to Lochleven. Here must she remain. There was so much he might have told her. Many of her cherished possessions had been given away as bribes by the Protestant lords; he had helped himself to horses from her stables. He might have told her a very interesting piece of news which could have caused her serious alarm. But not yet. He and Morton had not yet decided what use they would make of the silver casket which was in Morton’s possession. Morton declared that George Dalgleish, a servant of Bothwell’s, had discovered this after Bothwell had fled; and in this casket were letters and poems which left no doubt of Mary’s guilt as murderess and adulteress.

No, as yet that little matter was a secret to be brought to light when it could be most useful.

Mary had turned to him questioningly. In the dusk she seemed to see him more clearly than she ever had before.

James, who was never on the spot when there was trouble. Was it accident or design? What calculation went on behind those cold passionless eyes?

Standing there by the lakeside Mary was suddenly aware that Moray’s purpose in coming to Lochleven had not been to soothe her, not to assure himself of her comfort, but to persuade her to persuade him to accept the Regency.

The Regency! It was what he had always set his heart on.

She wanted to laugh loudly and bitterly. But James was saying: “The air grows chill. Let me conduct you to your chamber. Then I must say farewell.”

“Ah yes, James, there is no longer need for you to stay, is there?”

He appeared not to have heard as silently he conducted her into the castle which struck her as chill and forbidding; it seemed to her now as much a prison as it had in those first days.

He is no friend to me, she thought. Once I am free the Regency would pass from his hands.

How alone she felt! How deserted!

As she went toward her apartments escorted by James she saw George Douglas. His eyes went to her at once and became alight with the longing to serve her.

Not entirely alone! she thought as she went into her apartment. Not entirely deserted.

SIR WILLIAM VISITED Mary the next day and said: “My lord Moray is disturbed on your behalf, for he is eager that you should have as much freedom as is possible in the circumstances. He says your apartments are dark and possibly damp. He thinks that you should be given the apartment you occupied on previous visits to Lochleven.”

Mary was delighted for since she had furnished those apartments herself they were the most elegant in the castle.

“I shall be delighted to move into them immediately,” she told Sir William; and smiling he conducted her to them.

They were in a more modern part of the castle which was known as the New House, and situated in the southeastern tower. Mary gave a cry of pleasure as she saw the presence chamber which was a circular room with a low ceiling; and from the windows she had a magnificent view of the surrounding country. First she went to a window and looked out across the loch to the mountains.

From the presence room she went into the bedroom and it was comforting to notice that the beautiful pieces of tapestry with their hawking and hunting scenes were still hanging there. There was the bed which she had had brought here; it was shaped like a chapel and made of green velvet; the counterpane was of green taffety. There was the regal canopy and her sofa and chairs of crimson satin fringed with gold.

As she looked from her bedroom window, she could see the other three islets of the loch; and she could almost imagine that she was staying here after a hawking expedition, as she gazed at the ruins of the priory on that islet known as St. Serf’s Inch.

Then she saw the town of Kinross on the mainland and immediately began to wonder how many of her friends were nearby, in the hope that they might come to her aid.

Lady Douglas came into the apartments and Mary expressed to her the pleasure she felt.

“And,” went on Lady Douglas, “my lord Moray fancies you did not look as healthy as he would have wished you to look.”

“Was he surprised?” Mary asked with faint sarcasm.

“He was indeed,” replied Lady Douglas, “and he has said that you should take more exercise. He does not see why you should not ride about the island if you wish.”

“He is most thoughtful,” murmured Mary.

Lady Douglas bore the look of a proud mother; she knew that very shortly she would be hearing that her son was the ruler of Scotland. It was something to make a mother proud. Ruler he would remain for as long as this woman was in captivity. She would see that there were no means of escape.

Sir William was thinking of his half-brother’s words: “Give her more freedom within the limits of the island, but double the guard, particularly at night, and make sure that the boats are securely moored when not in use.”

So under the semblance of greater freedom Mary’s imprisonment was in fact to become more rigorous.

Moray had added: “Watch Ruthven. I fancied I saw a certain fondness in his eyes when they rested on my sister.”

Sir William was therefore far from easy in his mind.

IN HER NEW APARTMENTS, Mary set to work on her tapestry, using the canvases, wools and silks which Melville had provided. It was a great pleasure and relaxation to be doing such delicate work again, and both Jane and Marie Courcelles shared her enthusiasm. Mary could forget her irritation with her imprisonment as she planned the design, which was a series of pictures of ladies and gentlemen richly dressed in brightly colored costumes and jewels. With the glazed flax thread which Melville had had the foresight to send she worked the jewels in satin stitch using white dots for the pearls. So as she worked out her schemes with these elaborately dressed men and women in their backgrounds of castles, bowers, terraces and country scenes, she was able to imagine herself free of her prison.

Melville could not realize how he had served her; he had in fact, on receiving her thanks, sent her another box containing more of her clothes and her working materials.

There was yet another joy. Now that he had achieved his end Moray, anxious to appear her friend and to make her believe he had no wish that her term of confinement should be one of rigorous imprisonment, ordered that she should have more servants. She should have her own cook in her suite of rooms and two domestic servants whose duties should be to wait on her alone.

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