The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

Bess sniffed and looked blank. “I smell nothing unusual, Your Majesty.”

“It is most unpleasant. Seton, what is it?”

Seton who was looking out of the other window, turned and said: “It seems, Your Majesty, that the privies are situated immediately below this window.”

Mary looked sick, and indeed felt so.

“One soon becomes accustomed to the odor, Your Majesty,” Bess consoled her.

“I never shall.”

“But I assure Your Majesty that you will. It would be advisable on Saturdays, when the privies are emptied, to keep away from the windows. That is a day when the stench is really strong.”

Mary put her hands over her eyes in a gesture of horror, and Seton turned to the Countess. “Her Majesty is very tired. I am going to help her to her bed. Perhaps you would be good enough to have her food sent up.”

Bess bowed her head. “If that is Her Majesty’s wish, so shall it be. We wish to make her comfortable here.”

Then she left the apartment. Mary did not look at her; she was studying her new prison, and there was desolation in her heart.

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE to keep warm during that first long night.

“Oh Seton, Seton,” Mary moaned. “This is the worst that has happened to us.”

Seton had covered her with all the clothes she could find, and lay beside her hoping to keep her warm. She had noticed Mary’s fits of shivering on the journey, and the fact that they had not abated on their arrival worried her.

“The weather is so bitterly cold,” soothed Seton. “It cannot last. Also I think that the Earl and his Countess were not prepared for your coming.”

“I think they were well prepared, Seton. Shall I tell you what else I think? Elizabeth no longer makes the pretense that I am her guest. I am nothing more than a state prisoner. You see, they did not have to make special preparations for my coming; I may be put in damp, cold and evil smelling rooms. It is of no importance because to them I am of no importance.”

“That is not so, Your Majesty. I am sure, if I speak to them and tell them that you must have some comfort, they will be ready to help.”

“The Earl looked kind,” Mary admitted.

“And the Countess too,” Seton added. “She appears to be sharp tongued but I am sure she has a kind heart. I will see what can be arranged tomorrow. You will feel better then.”

“Oh yes, Seton, I shall feel better.”

“Do not forget the message from Northumberland.”

“You are right, Seton. I have some good friends in England. Norfolk will not forget me. Nor will Northumberland.”

“Tomorrow, everything will seem different,” said Seton. But it was a long time before they slept.

THE NEXT DAY Mary was not well enough to leave her bed. She had a fever and her limbs were stiff and painful.

Seton announced that the Queen would spend the day resting, and while she lay in her bed her women came into her chamber and set out some of the tapestry which they had brought with them from Bolton. These were inadequate to cover all the cracked walls, but they did add a little comfort; and Mary felt happier to have them, and also to see her women.

Knollys and Scrope came to say goodbye to her; and she was deeply sorry to see them go. She sent affectionate messages to Margaret Scrope through her husband; and she was sorry to see Knollys looking so sad. Poor Knollys! His was not an enviable fate. He had lost the wife he loved, and his Queen’s favor at the same time. Yet he had been a kindly jailor. She would always remember that.

“I trust Your Majesty will be happy under the care of the Earl and Countess,” said Knollys.

“Thank you,” Mary replied. “I hope you have explained to the Earl that I am allowed certain privileges—for instance, my own servants and my friends to visit me when they come to Tutbury.”

Knollys answered gravely: “The Earl will make his own rules, I fear, Your Majesty. You know that those of myself and Lord Scrope were not considered to have been adequate.”

“It is bad enough to live in this cold and dreary prison, to endure that perpetual odor. I do not know how I shall go on living here if those small privileges are to be taken from me.”

“Speak to the Earl about these matters,” Knollys advised.

“Not to the Countess,” Scrope added.

“Certainly I should speak to the Earl. I suppose he is in charge here.”

Scrope and Knollys exchanged glances and Scrope said: “I have heard that Bess of Hardwick is always in charge wherever she finds herself.”

Mary smiled. “I believe that I shall be able to win their friendship,” he said confidently.

Then Scrope and Knollys took their leave. Mary heard their departure but she did not go to the window to watch them. She felt too emotional, too weary, and she knew she had a fever.

DURING THE FIRST WEEK at Tutbury, Mary scarcely left her bed. At the end of that time the fever had left her; she still suffered acutely from the drafts, but she fancied she had grown a little accustomed to the smell. She had seen little of the Earl and Countess; her servants brought her food, of which she ate very little, and looked after her as well as possible. She supposed the Earl and Countess were waiting for her to leave her bed, or perhaps for instructions from Elizabeth.

One day, when the wind was slightly less keen, several heavily laden packhorses lumbered into the courtyard. Eleanor Britton who had seen them arrive ran out to discover what they were.

A man who had leaped from his mule called to her: “Hey, girl. Take me to the Earl of Shrewsbury without delay.”

“And who are you then?” asked Eleanor.

“Never you mind, girl. Do as you’re told.”

“But I must say who you are,” Eleanor insisted.

“Then say we come on the Queen’s business.”

Eleanor, suitably impressed, ran into the castle, eager to carry this important message to the Earl before anyone else could do so. Already some of the grooms had appeared and were asking questions of the newcomers.

Eleanor did not go to the Countess’s apartments although she had to pass these to reach the Earl. It was so much easier to talk to the Earl than to the Countess, because he was a kind man and had a smile which seemed to say that he was aware of her even though she was only a lower servant. Whereas the Countess . . . Well, one did not speak to the Countess if one could avoid doing so.

The Earl was in his apartments and he was alone, so that Eleanor was not made to pass on her information to one of the servants.

“My lord,” she stammered, “there are men in the courtyard with laden horses. They come on the Queen’s business.”

The Earl strode toward her and stood looking at her as though he had not quite heard what she had said.

“The Queen’s business, my lord,” she repeated.

“They have come heavily laden?” he asked; and he smiled suddenly. “Ah, if this is what I believe it to be I shall be very pleased.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He put out a hand as though he would grip her shoulder but he changed his mind and his hand fell to his side. “Comforts for the Queen of Scotland,” he murmured. “Poor lady, I fear she suffers much from the cold. I sent for them but I did not expect to receive them so soon.”

Eleanor smiled with him. It was pleasant to feel she shared a secret with him. How strange that he should have told her what the messengers had brought!

“Come,” he said, “we will go down and see what they have brought, and then, my child, you can help carry the comforts—if this they be—to Her Majesty’s apartments.”

He signed to her to go before him. It was an odd sensation going on ahead of the Earl, aware of him, close—very close behind. Eleanor hoped that none of her fellow servants would see her. They would think it so strange. And what if the Countess saw!

Eleanor quickened her pace, and very soon she was in the courtyard where now several servants had gathered. They were chattering, until they saw the Earl, and then fell silent. But they did not realize that he had come down with Eleanor.