The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean - Страница 64
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He was feeling a little light-headed, and in this unusual state he did not care.
“Come nearer,” he said.
She came, her lips lightly parted showing good teeth; he knew then that he had only to order and she would obey.
He took her hand and drawing her to him kissed it, not with passion, but with gentleness while a soft flush spread from her neck to the roots of her hair.
She knelt beside the bed and pressed her lips against the hand which held hers.
He was aware of a rising passion such as he had never known before; he wanted to seize her roughly, to embrace her, but he knew that if he gave way to such feeling he would be too giddy to stand.
He thought then: She is so young and I shall not always be sick.
There was a sudden clatter of horses’ hoofs below. They were both startled, and the girl rose to her feet.
“You must go and see who has arrived,” he told her. “Come back and tell me.”
She left him and he lay still listening to the clamor below.
IT WAS NOT ELEANOR who came back to his apartment but Bess.
She came in without knocking and was startled to see him lying on the bed. He thought: She might have come thus when I was talking to Eleanor. And the thought made his heart beat fast.
“So you are lying down!”
“I felt unwell.”
“You look a little pale. You do not take enough fresh air. I came to tell you that Leonard Dacre is here.”
The Earl raised himself on his elbow. “Dacre!”
Bess nodded. “I think we should go down to greet him. In view of his connection with Norfolk we cannot know what he may be up to.”
The Earl passed a weary hand across his brow. “Not more trouble, I hope.”
Bess gave her short laugh. “Trouble! There will always be trouble while we have your romantic Queen under our roof. Did you not know that?”
“I am learning it.”
She gave him a sharp look. “And I’ll warrant you think such a beauty is worth the trouble.”
“I’d gladly give the task back to Scrope and Knollys,” he retorted, “for all her beauty.”
She appeared almost arch, but her gaze was searching. “I shall not tell her what you say,” she replied. “It would appear ungallant.”
He thought then that she would be a jealous woman if she discovered infidelity in her husband; and he wondered what form her jealousy would take.
Rising from his bed he tried to fight off his giddiness, and as he followed his countess down to the hall he felt it receding. By the time he was ready to greet Dacre it had left him.
Leonard Dacre would have been a handsome man but for the fact that one of his shoulders was higher than the other. He was very conscious of this as he was that he was the second son of Lord Dacre of Gilsland, and therefore not his heir. His elder brother had died leaving a son George, and George’s mother, Lady Dacre, had become the wife of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. On her death Norfolk had, in Leonard Dacre’s opinion, concerned himself overmuch with the affairs of the Dacre family and, as there was a great deal of money involved, had arranged marriages between his three stepdaughters and his sons. As these girls were co-heiresses with their young brother George, Norfolk thus made sure that a large part of the Dacre wealth did not pass out of the Howard family.
This was a source of great annoyance to Leonard Dacre and he did not feel too kindly toward Norfolk in consequence.
Now he bowed low over Bess’s hand and expressed his hope that he found her in good health.
“My health is excellent,” answered Bess.
“And my lord Earl?”
“Oh, he does not take enough exercise. It is my continual complaint.”
“I have, it is true, been less well of late,” explained the Earl.
“He did not like Tutbury. He will be happier now that we are here at Wingfield Manor.”
“And you look less happy than when we last met,” said the Earl.
“I have had bad news,” Dacre replied. “My young nephew has died. I received the news this day.”
“Young George!” cried Bess. “But he can’t be more than seven! We are truly sorry. My poor Leonard! You must come to my private chamber and I will have wine brought. This is indeed sad news.”
The Earl slipped his arm through that of Dacre, and the Countess summoned a servant and gave orders.
“How did it happen?”
“While he was practicing vaulting at Thetford. A bad fall on his head. He died soon afterward.”
“What tragedy! First the father . . . then the son . . . . So you are now the heir.”
“It is of this matter that I come to talk to you and the Countess.”
When they were all seated in the Countess’s private chamber, Dacre explained why he was angry.
“The barony is one which descends to the female members of the family,” he said. “So that not only do his young sisters inherit the Dacre fortune, but the title also.”
“Norfolk was wise,” commented the Countess, “in betrothing his sons to the three Dacre girls.”
“Very wise, very sly,” added Leonard. “I intend to contest the case.”
Bess nodded. She doubted whether he would stand much chance of winning.
They talked for some time of family affairs and eventually Bess said: “I must present you to the Queen of Scots. She would take it ill if she knew you had been here and not called to pay your respects.”
“I should be pleased to speak with Her Majesty.”
Thus it was that Mary made the acquaintance of Leonard Dacre.
THE YOUNG MAN, Cavendish, had brought Mary a letter from the Duke of Norfolk.
Mary seized on it delightedly. The intrigue with which she seemed to be surrounded since coming to Wingfield Manor had brought new liveliness and she welcomed it.
Taking the letter to her bedchamber, Mary sat at the window and opened it.
The Duke wrote that he was deeply disturbed because he had heard rumors that the Papal spies in London, together with the Spanish ambassador, were planning to marry her to Don Jon of Austria. He needed reassurance. He must have it by return. He was sending her a diamond which was intended to pledge his troth to her and he was asking that a contract be drawn up between them without delay.
Why not? thought Mary. The sooner marriage with Norfolk became a fact, the sooner she would be free of her prison. She had come to see marriage with him as the only way out for her. Moreover she wanted marriage; she was weary of living without a man. She assured herself that she had forgotten Bothwell and that he no longer meant anything to her.
She took up a miniature of herself and a tablet of gold. She would write, sending these to Norfolk as her pledge, and she would ask Lesley to draw up the contract of marriage without delay.
She answered Norfolk’s letter in most affectionate terms and, enclosing the letter with the tablet and miniature, dispatched Cavendish back to the Duke.
Shortly afterward the contract was drawn up between Mary and Norfolk, although those English peers who had given their support to the marriage were not made aware of this.
Norfolk was unsure who was his friend, who his enemy, and was therefore uncertain whom to trust. As he saw it, all that mattered was that the contract had been signed.
He was sure—and so was Mary—that before long she would be his wife.
THE EARL AND COUNTESS were discussing the ill luck of Leonard Dacre.
“It seems to me that he has little love for my lord Norfolk,” said Bess.
“That is easily understood.”
Bess nodded. Both she and her husband agreed on that point. To see title and fortune, to which one felt one had a right, taken by others was intolerable!
“I believe Leonard plans to contest the matter,” said the Earl, “but he’ll not have a chance.”
He walked to the window to look out over the country, and as he did so he reeled slightly.
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