The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean - Страница 17

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“My dear sister,” Moray replied coldly, “what has happened to change you? When we last met you were loving and prepared to trust me.”

“Because I did not know you then, my lord Moray. While I have been in captivity my eyes have been opened. I have been thinking of the past . . . and the present . . . and the future. James Stuart, how many times have I given you my sisterly affection? How many times have you been disloyal to me, and have I accepted your excuses? When I had power I did not forget you. You were my bastard brother, but I could not have given you more honors if you had been a brother without the stain of bastardy upon him.”

“My dear, dear Mary, my sister, my Queen,” said Moray, “you have been listening to idle gossip. I am your friend now as I always have been. I come to discuss with you the possibility of your freedom. I come to lay certain conditions before you.”

“Conditions!” she cried. “You would offer me conditions! Let me tell you this: I would rather remain in this prison for the rest of my life than accept any conditions you might lay before me, for I know full well that those conditions could only be for the good of Bastard James and not for Queen Mary. I know that you have hunted Bothwell from this land because you feared him. I know that all those who are friends of mine are no friends of yours. Do not imagine that, because I am your prisoner, because you hate me and seek my destruction, all are of your mind. I have friends, James Stuart, and one day they will free me from this castle and then . . . there will be no conditions . . . .”

She walked past them to her own private apartments.

James Balfour, his color heightened, his lips tight, spoke the thoughts which were in all their minds: “It is clear that she has a friend within the castle . . . someone who is in touch with her friends outside and brings her news.”

Moray and Morton looked at each other.

“Have no fear,” said Moray angrily, “we shall soon discover the traitor.”

MORAY, ALONE WITH Sir William, expressed his displeasure. “Not everyone in this castle is with us,” he snapped. “Someone here brings information to the Queen.” Sir William flinched. “Why brother,” he said, “it is the wish of us all to please you.”

“Yet the Queen has information which could only have been given to her by traitors in our midst. Someone is talking too freely, and, it would seem, is more eager to serve her than me.”

“I have noticed that Ruthven is casting languishing glances in her direction,” said Sir William.

“I too was aware of that. Ruthven is to leave at once for Edinburgh.”

Sir William did not mention the matter of the boat. He had no wish to incense Moray against George, particularly as he himself was inclined to shrug aside George’s devotion to the Queen. Calf love, he thought. It happens in the very young and George often seems to be young for his years.

Later when they were at supper—the Queen supped in her own room and refused to join the family and their visitors—Moray was aware of the expression in his young half-brother’s face when Mary was mentioned.

Lady Douglas, alert where her sons were concerned, realizing that the very manner in which George spoke the Queen’s name betrayed his feelings, was very uneasy. Moray was the son of whom she was most proud of course—son of a King, Regent of Scotland—what more could a mother ask! But she loved wee Geordie too, and fervently hoped the lad was not going to fall into trouble.

Her hopes were vain. Moray left the supper table quickly and summoned his young brother George, with his mother and Sir William, to a private chamber.

He came straight to the point and, looking into George’s face, he accused: “I believe you are concocting some foolish plot to rescue the Queen.”

“There is no such plot,” answered George; which was true, for try as he would he had found nothing satisfactory.

“But if you saw your opportunity you would be ready to serve the woman?”

“Do not speak of the Queen so disrespectfully in my hearing,” retorted George.

An oath escaped Moray, which was rare with him. He was really shaken.

“You lovesick fool!” he muttered. “So it is you, is it? It is because of you that I find her so changed. You have fed her with news and promises of help. You fool! And you call yourself a half-brother of mine!”

Lady Douglas, distressed to witness conflict between her loved ones, said: “Geordie meant no harm, Jamie.”

“No harm!” cried Moray, turning on his mother. “This is not a boy’s game. Remember that. This Geordie of yours could plunge Scotland into civil war.”

“’Twas nothing but a little flirtation, Jamie. What can you expect of young people?”

“Young people! That woman is old in sin, Madam.”

“Geordie would never go against your interest any more than I or William would.”

Moray was impervious to her distress. He glared at his half-brother through narrowed eyes. “You will get out of Lochleven,” he said. “When next I call here I shall expect to find you gone.”

“This is my home,” insisted George.

“It was. It is no longer.”

“Mother . . . ” said George, turning to Lady Douglas; but what could she do? Moray had spoken.

George strode out of the room and Moray, who disliked scenes of this sort, signed to his mother and brother that he wished no further reference to the matter.

That night Moray left the castle.

LADY DOUGLAS watching him go was sad. Where would Geordie go? she was asking herself. It had been a favorite dream of hers that Moray would find some place of honor for George. Families should stand together. And now they had quarreled. Oh, how distressing!

Sir William understood her feelings: he laid his hand on her arm. “James is right,” he said. “Young George is playing with fire.”

“He has been so happy since she came. Oh, William, he has become a man through his devotion to her. He is different from the rest of you. He was always so gentle and affectionate. And where will he go? We cannot drive him from his home.”

“You heard what James said.”

She sighed. “But James will not be back for some time. Let George stay awhile . . . until he has made plans. I’m sure James did not mean him to go away at once . . . just like that. It is monstrous.”

Sir William gave her a look of affection. It was so like her to try to please all her sons. How distressing for her when they ranged themselves on opposite sides! As for Sir William himself, he did not see what harm George could do. It was hard on the boy to be banished from his home merely because he had done the most natural thing in the world—fallen in love with a beautiful woman.

James had gone. So there was no hurry for George to leave.

GEORGE WENT TO his own chamber and began to pace up and down there. He was angry. How dared James order him from his home! He was shocked to realize how much he hated James. All his life he had been taught to admire his half-brother. James Stuart had been as a god to the Douglases. Lady Douglas had made sure of that; and George had never been envious of his mother’s preference for her bastard son, because it was not in George’s nature to be envious. He had no great opinion of himself, and it was only since he had become obsessed by his love for the Queen that he had rebelled. Now his pride made him long to leave the castle; but any personal feelings would be swamped by his desire to do what was best for the Queen.

If he could stay in Lochleven for a week . . . two weeks . . . he might be able to perfect some plan of escape. What a pity that the weather was so bad. If he were exiled from the island, how could he keep in touch with the Queen?

His door opened slowly and a mischievous face appeared to grin at him.

“Oh, Willie, go away.”

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