“Aye, I think I do, though I try to deny it to myself, but there is no going back, Lona. Disabuse yourself of any such notion. If you think my pride great, the Stewart pride is greater yet. I have dealt Tavis Stewart’s dignity a mortal blow, and he will never forgive me.” Her light green eyes filled with tears and she turned away from Lona in an effort to hide her sadness.
Lena’s own eyes grew moist with sympathy, but before either of them might indulge themselves in a good cry, FitzWalter joined them.
“The matter of the men is settled, my lady, but eight of the lads, including the young Scot, will go with us. I realize your funds are less than generous, but these men need little to survive. The others will leave at first light for Greyfaire.”
Arabella nodded and said sadly, “Would that we might go with them.”
“We must fetch little Lady Margaret,” Lona said. “You must prepare her for this separation. What we will do about her clothing I do not know, for we brought little, and she must remain with the court for many months.”
“There is an open market in the nearby village, and today is market day,” FitzWalter said to Arabella. “Give Lona some coins, and I will send her with one of the men to see if she can find any clothing for the child.”
“Make certain it is clean and free from vermin,” Arabella instructed her servant, giving her a silver piece and several coppers.
Lona hurried off, and FitzWalter, after appointing one of his men to accompany her, returned to Arabella’s side.
“You’re certain that you wish to do this,” he asked, and when she nodded, he said, “What of Sir Jasper?”
“The king will refuse his request for Greyfaire, tell him he is confiscating it, and send him packing back to Northby,” Arabella told her captain.
“What of our good Greyfaire lads?”
“The king will offer them the choice of returning home or remaining in Sir Jasper’s service. It is the same choice we would have offered them.”
“Aye,” he agreed, “‘tis fair.”
“Mama! Mama!” Lady Margaret Stewart came running through the orchard on fat little legs, her short skirts flying.
Arabella’s mouth trembled, but FitzWalter admonished her sharply.
“You must be brave for the wee lass’ sake, my lady.”
Arabella nodded, quickly brushing away an errant tear.
“Ahh, poppet,” she said, lifting her daughter up into her arms and kissing the child’s neck, “where have you been?”
“Cook gave me an apple,” replied Margaret, “and the old lady says I may have a kitten.” She then popped her thumb in her mouth, the effort of her vast communication having exhausted her. Her eyes were heavy with a sudden need for sleep.
“Stay here with her beneath the trees,” FitzWalter suggested. “There is time enough to tell her, my lady, when the queen’s woman arrives. The less time she has to ponder the situation, the better it will be.”
Taking his advice, Arabella laid her now half-sleeping daughter upon the sweet grass beneath the apple trees and sat next to her. Margaret was quickly asleep as her mother watched over her, memorizing every little nuance of her sweetly plump baby’s face. The child had hair like her father, and it curled damply over her head and at the nape of her neck. Soft, dark eyelashes spread themselves like small silken fans across her pink cheeks. Margaret’s eyes, when revealed, were the lovely blue of Arabella’s mother. She was altogether a most pleasing child to look upon, with plump and dimpled limbs and natural grace. The thought that she must leave this small creature behind was breaking her mother’s heart, but Arabella knew that the king was actually wise in his judgment that the little girl remain in England. Margaret made her vulnerable, and Arabella knew she could not be vulnerable in this dangerous game she was to play in France for England. Reason told her that Margaret would be safe and well cared for in the royal nurseries. Her mother’s heart resisted it all. She dozed, her hand protectively upon her daughter, only to be awakened by Lena’s voice calling her.
“My lady. My lady.”
Arabella’s eyes opened and focused slowly.
“I have found some suitable garments for Lady Margaret,” Lona said, “and I have packed everything in anticipation of her departure. The queen’s lady is here and awaits your pleasure.”
Arabella scrambled to her feet, careful not to awaken her sleeping child. “Give me a few minutes with the lady,” she instructed Lona, “and then bring Margaret to us.” She hurried away through the orchards and back to the convent guest house, where a cloaked woman awaited her in the dayroom. As the lady threw back the hood to her cape Arabella gasped and curtsied low. “Your grace!” she said, surprised.
The queen laughed softly. “The king explained to me that you have volunteered to go to France and aid our friend Lord Varden in return for his majesty’s kindness to you. I think you wonderfully brave, Lady Grey! I should not have the courage for such a venture. When he told me that you feared to take your little girl along, and asked that we look after her, I knew you to be a good and caring mother. He asked that I send one of my women to fetch the child, but I could not allow that, Lady Grey. I knew that you would rest more easily if we spoke together as one mother to another. I give you my word that Lady Margaret Stewart will be cared for even as my own son, Arthur, and this new child I will birth before year’s end. I am the eldest of my siblings, and like my mother I involve myself in the daily running of my nursery. I will see Margaret almost every day, and I promise to love and cuddle her even as you would. I will not let her forget her brave mama, I promise you.”
“Madame…” Arabella was rendered almost speechless, and she burst into tears.
“Oh dear!” the queen said nervously. “I did not mean to distress you, Lady Grey. I only meant to help.”
Arabella quickly regained control of her emotions, for she did not wish to offend the young Elizabeth of York. “Madame, I am indeed overwhelmed by your kindness! If I weep, it is because it is so hard to leave my little one.”
“Oh, of course,” the queen said earnestly, her own lovely blue eyes filling with sympathetic tears. “I hate it when we travel from place to place in the warm seasons and my son must be left behind.”
