The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗
“And you think she will agree?”
“I have every hope that she will. I long to see Chatsworth and show Your Majesty the house which I built with Cavendish.”
Chatsworth! mused Mary. It would be good to escape from Tutbury. The summer was coming and there would not be the bitter cold to be borne; but the odors were more objectionable in the warm weather. And a move was always a matter of interest.
Then she was alarmed, wondering whether it would be as easy to keep up her correspondence with the Duke of Norfolk at Chatsworth as it was at Tutbury.
XI
Chatsworth
BESS WAS IN HIGH SPIRITS because her household was leaving Tutbury for Chatsworth. Not only was that mansion one of the most beautiful in England, but she herself had created it. Of course her second husband, William Cavendish, had been of some assistance, but Bess thought of Chatsworth as hers. Had she been a woman for regrets she would have regretted the death of William Cavendish because he had been the most satisfactory of her husbands. Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that he had provided her with her six children, whose affairs were of the utmost importance to her, and made her life so interesting. No, it was more than that. William had been a good husband in every way—far more so than George Talbot who, Bess must confess, was the least commendable of the four.
Of late he had changed toward her; he seemed somewhat absentminded; he accepted her reproaches almost with indifference, as though he were brushing away a fly which only mildly irritated him.
He was often in the company of the Queen of Scots. Could it really be that she reciprocated his admiration? Bess would not say that her George was the most likely man to attract a Queen who, all her life until she had been taken into captivity, had been a magnet for the flattery and attention of the opposite sex. But Mary was now a prisoner; her retinue was restricted; it was true she had her faithful friends, and Bess believed that many of the male members of the suite entertained romantic feelings for Mary. But the Earl was the most powerful man in her circle; and there was attraction in power. Mary was a woman who needed men about her. Could it really be possible?
Bess laughed aloud at the thought. She had often teased her husband about Mary, but she had not really taken the matter seriously. And if it were true, how would he feel? Jealous? Certainly. Bess desired to possess every member of her family completely. She wanted absolute obedience from them, and all the admiration and affection of which they were capable.
No. This was no love affair. It was one of those airy romantic relationships because the Queen, who was very beautiful, was also a helpless woman.
It did not go beyond that and Bess would make the Earl understand that it should not do so. She herself would spend more time with Mary when they were at Chatsworth; she was going to be the Queen’s best friend . . . not George.
And she would not hesitate to ridicule George’s devotion. She would let him—and Mary—see that although the Earl was ostensibly in charge, in truth that was a role which fate had assigned to Bess of Hardwick, wherever she found herself.
IT WAS A BRIGHT MAY DAY when the Queen and her household, accompanied by the Earl and Countess and theirs, set out from Tutbury, their destination being Chatsworth.
Mary could not help being charmed when she saw the lovely manor of Chatsworth. She had ridden through country which was both wild and grand, and when she saw the house she understood Bess’s pride in it. It was situated on the east bank of the Derwent almost at the base of a thickly wooded hill. As she approached the quandrangular and turreted building Mary was asking herself for how long it would be her new prison.
Riding up to the mansion they were joined by a party of horsemen, and the Countess told Mary that this was made up of the nobles of the neighborhood who, hearing of the Queen’s expected arrival, had come to pay their respects to her.
Mary was delighted by this attention and asked that the visitors be presented to her; and in the hall of Chatsworth she learned that these were led by two sons of the Earl of Derby, Thomas and Edward Stanley, and a certain Sir Thomas Gerard, a Mr. Rolleston and Mr. Hall, landowners of the district.
Because the weather was benign, because she had left the hateful Tutbury behind her, Mary was in high spirits; and it was obvious to all how much she had charmed the young men.
When they had left, Mary was conducted to her apartments, and she was grateful to Bess who had arranged that she should have a suite of rooms in accordance with her rank.
Bess, determined to win Mary’s confidence, accepted the Queen’s thanks with a show of pleasure.
“I would that I could offer Your Majesty a horse to ride,” she said, “but you know that to do so would be to ignore Queen Elizabeth’s express command. However, there is a little garden, not far from the house, which I can offer you and in which I think you will be able to spend some happy hours while you must remain at Chatsworth.”
Mary asked to be shown this garden and Bess led her out of the manor to a small lake which was almost concealed by thick foliage. In the center of this lake was a tower and to approach it it was necessary to cross a stone bridge. With Bess, Mary entered the tower and climbed the spiral staircase to a flat roof. On this flowers, and even trees, had been planted. About the garden was a balustrade, beautifully carved, and from it there was a superb view of the surrounding country.
“It is very beautiful,” Mary murmured.
“Then while Your Majesty stays with us, it shall be your garden.”
“Thank you. I shall enjoy it.” Mary smiled ruefully. “I doubt not that when I visit it I shall be accompanied by guards. They will wait for me at the bridge, but perhaps they will not come with me to my tower-top garden, because it would be impossible for me to escape from there.
“I beg Your Majesty not to despair,” Bess comforted. “Now that we have rid ourselves of the zealous Huntingdon, I shall sue the Queen for favors for you. I know she will agree to what I ask, in time.”
Mary laid her hand on Bess’s arm.
“At least,” she said with a smile, “if I must have a jailor, I could not have a more kindly one.”
And in a very short time she became attached to her garden and planted flowers of her own choice. She and Seton or Jane Kennedy and Marie Courcelles went there often. It was exhilarating to look across the country from the top of the tower, even though she knew that guards were stationed at the bridge, that they would take their stand all around the lake, that they would accompany her back to the manor when she went, and that they would be posted at all important spots.
She was a prisoner, but she could live more comfortably at Chatsworth than she had at Tutbury.
SHE HAD NOT BEEN LONG at Chatsworth when Seton brought a letter to her.
“It was given to me by one of the servants who is a friend of a butler in the house of the Earl of Derby,” she was told.
Mary read the letter which contained an impassioned appeal from Thomas and Edward Stanley, who declared themselves ready to die in her cause. They were making plans for her escape. Other gentlemen who had had the honor of seeing her on her arrival were with them, and they proposed to write to her in cipher which was being worked out for them by a priest in the house of Mr. Rolleston. Would she allow them to make plans? They could arrange for letters to be smuggled in and out of the house.
Mary in her reply thanked them for their good efforts on her behalf; she was, however, affianced to the Duke of Norfolk and could do nothing without his consent. She would however write and tell him of their proposals, and they would be hearing from her in due course.
