The Tudor Princess. Darcey Bonnette

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СКАЧАТЬ a deep bow and kissing my hand. After a series of bows and curtsies, he departed with some of his courtiers, leaving me to my pups and my play.

      ‘I suppose we should begin overseeing the details for our return,’ remarked Lord Surrey.

      Startled, I raised my eyes to him. Return. Of course my English court must leave. They could not stay forever. I knew that. Why did my heart lurch in surprise? I turned toward Lady Surrey and Aunty Anne. Would I see them again? A lump swelled my throat.

      ‘Would that you could all stay a little longer,’ I lamented in soft tones.

      ‘There will be visits,’ Aunty Anne reassured me.

      I bowed my head. Though I appreciated her attempt to cheer me, I knew the likelihood of visiting to be very slim. This was a long, arduous journey; few ever took it twice. I would receive English ambassadors, perhaps an occasional border lord. No friends, no family. They were leaving.

      ‘Come, Thomas,’ Surrey commanded in his gravelly tone. ‘Let us commence.’

      Lord Thomas turned to Aunty Anne, offering a gentle smile as he leaned in to press his lips against hers. For a brief moment I was allowed a glimpse into her world; his face emanated love in its form most pure and I was swept up in it. Would Jamie ever look at me that way? He looked upon me with fondness and affection already, but not quite love. Not yet. Soon, I hoped.

      Lord Thomas’s expression was fleeting, converting to the stony mask that I had come to associate with him. He offered a bow, kissing my hand as was required, then departed with Surrey.

      Though they were soon out of sight, their voices carried on the wind and I heard Surrey mutter, ‘I’ve sent word to the king about his new son-in-law.’

      ‘What did you tell him?’ asked Lord Thomas.

      ‘Ah, that he’s a little too hungry for a Crusade – thinks he’s a regular King Arthur. Doesn’t see things as they are – a hopeless romantic. But I think he’s trustworthy enough for a Scot.’ He sighed. ‘Well, let’s hope he gets a babe on her soon, before one of his bastards gets any ideas.’

      I rose, clutching the pups to my chest, my flat, childish chest. My face was hot, my breathing shallow. Tears burned my eyes.

      ‘Your Grace—’ Lady Surrey reached for my shoulder.

      ‘Hush!’ I commanded, straining my ears.

      ‘At least someone had the good sense to remove the Drummond girl or Scotland very well could have had another Margaret as queen,’ Surrey went on. His voice was growing softer as he grew further out of earshot.

      ‘A pity the sisters went down with her,’ Lord Thomas said. ‘Three girls poisoned at breakfast.’

      ‘What’s three girls?’ Lord Surrey retorted with a brief, joyless laugh.

      ‘Ask their father,’ Lord Thomas returned, his tone bitter.

      Surrey’s reply could not be heard. I whirled upon his wife. ‘Make me understand, for love of God!’ I breathed, tears filling my eyes.

      Lady Surrey’s face was wistful. ‘It was cruel of my husband to speak of such things when he clearly knew you would hear him.’ She pursed her lips a moment. ‘I suppose in his own strange way he means well – in true Howard manner he is trying to prepare you for the situation before the court leaves.’ She drew in a wavering breath, closing her eyes. ‘Lady Margaret Drummond was King James’s mistress for many years. To remove the possible threat of her usurping your rightful place as queen she was poisoned at her breakfast. Unfortunately, two of her sisters ingested the poison as well and—’

      Margaret, sweet Margaret. It was not me he cried for in his sleep but her. Was that why he called me Maggie? Because he could not bear to utter the name of his lost love? Oh, God, my handsome prince … Was there any hope that he would ever love me?

      With effort I stilled my quivering lip. ‘Wh-who did it?’

      Lady Surrey shook her head. ‘No one knows, Your Grace. Likely, those who had the interests of Scotland at heart. Someone who did not want the Douglases or the Drummonds to rise to power through the girl. Some even suspect—’ She lowered her eyes, biting her lip.

      ‘Who, Lady Surrey?’ I demanded through gritted teeth.

      ‘No one, Your Grace,’ she said quickly.

      ‘I command you to tell me!’ I ordered, so angry I was unable to derive pleasure in the fact that I was commanding someone about.

      She averted her head, her voice a whisper so soft it was barely audible. ‘Some suspect your father may have arranged it, Your Grace, to clear your path of obstacles.’

      I shook my head. I refused to believe this; I could not bear to have my vision of my father, my stoic, honourable father, altered in any way. In firm tones I said, ‘Careful you do not speak treason against your king. He is not capable of ordering such cruelty. It was not he; do not even suggest it.’

      ‘I was not going to until you commanded me, Your Grace,’ she replied.

      ‘You must not think of it, dearest,’ Aunty Anne urged in her soft voice. ‘You are the queen, the only queen, and none can take your place.’

      ‘What’s more important is I am his wife. His wife.’ My voice was heated with fervency. ‘His Mistress Stewart. And I will never let him forget it.’

      But my confidence was forever shaken. Three girls were poisoned, one for daring to love a king and two because they were in the wrong place at the worst of times. If three lives could be extinguished with such ease and lack of conscience then what could become of me should a party among these wild Scots decide I was less than worthy of sitting beside James IV?

      I laid a hand upon my flat belly. A baby. I would have a prince and soon. My throne would be secured. Panic gripped me as another thought assaulted me.

      Bastards. Plural.

      Jamie, my sweet, handsome Jamie, had children.

      With supreme effort, I went through the motions for the rest of the day. I played with my new pups, I ate heartily at supper and laughed at the fools, ever in competition with each other. I played my lute and led the courtiers in song. It would have been a most merry sport were my mind not viciously taunting me with the afternoon’s revelation.

      When Jamie and I were alone my temper could no longer be controlled. The moment he entered our chambers I burst into tears.

      ‘Maggie, child, what is it?’ he cried, approaching me to place his hands on my shoulders. His face was stricken at my distress and I was glad of it, reminding myself that this could prove a useful technique in future encounters.

      ‘How many, Your Grace?’ I seethed, unable to discern his features through my tearful haze.

      ‘How many …?’ His face was wrought with confusion. ‘Maggie, please, child, calm yourself. Tell me what has happened.’

      ‘How many children have you sired?’ I sniffled, wiping my cheeks with my palms.

      Jamie dropped his hands СКАЧАТЬ