The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean - Страница 101

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Seton shook her head.

“How obstinate you are!” sighed Mary. “There will come a day when I shall have to nurse you. You suffer more than I.”

“Do not ask me to leave you,” pleaded Seton. “While I can still walk I wish to serve you.”

They were silent for a while; then Mary said: “I knew Jacques Nau would do well at Elizabeth’s Court.”

Seton nodded. “She has an affection for all handsome men.”

“And Jacques is very handsome. I could not have chosen a better advocate.”

“Let us be thankful that he has persuaded the Queen that you are innocent of the Shrewsbury scandal.”

Mary laughed. “It all seemed so ridiculous, did it not? Yet there were so many ready to believe. But now, thanks to the good work of my French Jacques, the Countess and her sons have been made to swear I have been slandered.”

Seton nodded, but she was less sure than the Queen. She was thinking that scandal, once sent on its rounds, could live on forever.

“It would seem,” said Mary, “that we are arriving at a house. What is it?”

Seton looked ahead to the gabled mansions. “It is Babington Hall, Your Majesty. We are to rest here for the night, I believe.”

“Babington . . . the name seems familiar.”

“That is very likely. Your Majesty will remember Anthony.”

“Anthony Babington . . . why yes. He is that earnest and handsome young man who called on me at Sheffield and was so eager to serve me.”

“A Catholic gentleman,” murmured Seton; “and Your Majesty is right, he is a handsome one.”

“A charming person,” replied the Queen, as the cortege rode up to Babington Hall.

SIR RALPH SADLER was not going to allow Mary to forget that she was a prisoner; he immediately set his guards about the house and, summoning the chief citizens of the town, told them that Queen Elizabeth would be ill pleased if they allowed her prisoner to escape while lodging in their district. So the citizens posted their own guards in the streets of the nearby town as well as about the house.

The housekeeper, an old widow named Mrs. Beaumont, came forward to greet the Queen on behalf of her master and mistress.

Mary graciously embraced her, kissing her on both withered cheeks, a gesture which enchanted the old lady.

“My master will be delighted that Your Majesty has honored his house,” she said.

“You must tell your master that I remember him well and think of him often,” Mary answered.

Sir Ralph, watching suspiciously, demanded that the Queen be taken to her apartments; and the widow nodded, saying she would lead the way.

It was not easy to have any communication with strangers while Sir Ralph was near; but Mrs. Beaumont did manage to speak to Mary. She told her that if there were any letters the Queen wished delivered to her friends she could safely leave them with her. Her master was the Queen’s most ardent servant and he would think ill of his housekeeper if she did not serve her in every way possible while she was under his roof. He would be sorry that he was absent from his home during the Queen’s visit; but he was at this time abroad. Mrs. Beaumont knew, though, that he lived to serve the Queen.

That night in Babington Hall, while the noise of her guards below her window prevented her from sleeping, Mary thought of handsome young Anthony Babington; and she felt young again because hope had come back to her.

TUTBURY was even more unpleasant than Mary remembered it. Robbers had entered it since she had last stayed there, and much of the furniture and bedding had been stolen.

The cold was intense; the foul odor more pronounced.

Mary went to her old apartments and saw at once that many of the hangings with which her servants had once covered those walls, were missing.

Seton came in looking doleful. “There are scarcely any blankets in the place; and there are only nine pairs of sheets. I’ve counted them myself.”

Mary shivered. “And how many of us are there?”

“Forty-eight. They have even stolen the feathers from many of the bolster cases. I fear we are going to be most uncomfortable until we can obtain supplies.”

Sir Ralph Sadler came into the Queen’s apartment looking worried. There was no need for him to say that he was heartily weary of his task. He longed to pass over the guardianship of the Queen to someone else. He had quickly realized that it was a dangerous and thankless task.

“I will write to Lord Burleigh at once,” she told Sadler. “If we are to stay here, either he or the Queen must send us some comforts.”

Sadler agreed with her. Every day he was revising his opinion of Mary, for previously he had believed her to be fractious and demanding; now he realized all that she must have been made to suffer over the years.

During the next weeks his attitude toward her changed still more. She was a Catholic—a fact which he, a stern Protestant, deplored; she was a danger to his Queen; but at the same time he had to admire the patience with which she bore hardship and her unfailing concern for those who served her.

Soon after their arrival Mary became ill; as for Seton, she was scarcely able to move; both women bore their infirmities with fortitude; but when one of Mary’s oldest servants, Renee Rallay, a Frenchwoman who had come with her when she left France, fell sick and died, Mary’s grief overflowed, and she demanded of Sadler how long the Queen of England intended to keep her in this state.

Sadler decided then that when the spring came he would allow her to ride out with him and watch the hawking. He saw no harm in that, provided she was surrounded by guards.

SO ONCE MORE with the coming of more clement weather Mary’s health improved; and it was a great pleasure to be allowed to ride out even in the company of Sadler and Somers, and accompanied by guards.

With her on these occasions rode Bessie Pierpont, now a blooming beauty of sixteen.

It was one day when they returned from such an excursion that they found Jacques Nau was in the castle, having come straight from Elizabeth’s Court.

Mary was so delighted to see him that she did not notice the flush of pleasure which rose to Bessie’s cheeks, nor did she intercept the ardent looks which passed between the girl and the secretary.

“My good friend,” cried Mary, “how it delights me to see you.”

Jacques kissed the Queen’s hand, but even as he did so he could not prevent his eyes straying to the lovely young girl who stood beside Mary.

“Pray come to my chamber with all speed,” said Mary. “I can scarce wait to hear your news.”

As they made their way there, Bessie walked close to him and when his hand reached out for hers, and pressed it, Bessie could have wept for joy. She would tell him when they were alone that she had lived in great fear that he would have met some fair lady at the English Court who would have made him forget all about simple little Bessie Pierpont. But it did not seem so, and she was exultant because she believed that Jacques was as pleased to be with her as she was to see him.

At the door of the Queen’s chamber, Bessie must leave them, but the look which Jacques cast in her direction told her that soon he would be seeking her out.

When they were alone together Mary complimented Jacques on the manner in which he had accomplished his mission. She saw at once that there was a change in the young man’s manner. There was a new air of confidence; she believed she understood. Elizabeth had a fondness for handsome young men, and Jacques was undoubtedly handsome. Elizabeth would have been enchanted by his French manners, for there was no doubt that Jacques knew how to turn a pretty compliment. Yes, the visit to the English Court had changed Jacques in some way. He was full of assurance having become an ambassador, whereas before he had been a mere secretary.

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