Jean clasped a necklace of purple amethysts and pearls about her neck. She affixed large pearl ear bobs in her mistress’s ears. Finally she set a heavy, dark violet velvet cloak lined in rich marten on Annabella’s shoulders, and handed her a pair of soft silk-lined leather gloves dyed the same color. “Matthew is waiting in the hall.”
She found Duin’s steward in sober black and white waiting for her. The horses were waiting for them outside of the house. They mounted and rode the distance to the kirk at the Canongate.
“I canna go inside wi’ ye,” Matthew said. “’Tis a sin, and I hae enough sins on my conscience.”
“Then ye hae another,” Annabella told him. “If yer brother can serve as one of Bothwell’s groomsmen, then ye can enter this Reformed kirk. Ye canna expect me to go inside unescorted, Matthew. I am the Countess of Duin.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue.
“The queen is coming, and is she nae the first Catholic in the land?” Annabella said. “And her husband will be wi’ her too. If the queen can sin, and yer brother can sin, then so can ye sin, Matthew Ferguson.”
He made a grimace but, handing the reins of their horses to a liveried lad, escorted Annabella into the dark stone church. “I’ll hae good company in hell,” he muttered, looking about the church and seeing more than one Catholic nobleman. The queen and her husband were already in the royal box. An official stepped forward, blocking the way. He glared at the couple.
“Give way for the Countess of Duin,” Matthew said.
“I dinna know the earldom of Duin,” the official replied.
“Well, Lord Bothwell does. The Earl of Duin is among his groomsmen. I am the earl’s brother, and this is his wife. Now step aside, ye officious Edinburgh man, so we may find a place before the bride arrives.”
Before the official might argue further, a little page hurried up and murmured something to him. The official nodded, saying, “The lad will bring ye to yer places, madam, sir.” Then he turned away from them to question another pair of arrivals.
They followed the young boy and were given places. The church was abuzz with chatter, for this new kirk frowned on music. There was a small foreign-looking gentleman sharing their space. The bishop of Galloway, who was to marry the couple, appeared before the altar. Then James Hepburn came forth garbed in his wedding finery, his groomsmen surrounding him. The chatter ceased suddenly as Lady Jean Gordon came down the aisle in a gown of white silk and cloth of silver.
“From the queen’s own stores,” the man next to them said softly.
The bride was pretty, with brown-blond hair and light eyes, but she was no beauty. Annabella didn’t think she looked wildly happy, but then she remembered that this marriage had been arranged by the queen herself, with the purpose of uniting an important border family and an important Highland family. Mary Stuart knew that she could trust James Hepburn. She hoped this marriage and the honors she had lavished upon both him and his bride’s family would bring the Gordons back into the royal fold.
The church was filled to overflowing. The bridal couple’s vows could scarcely be heard by most. But then the bishop in a loud voice pronounced that they were man and wife. The church quickly emptied as the guests poured outside to find their horses and make the short ride to Kinloch House, where the wedding feast would be held. It was there that Matthew left her as Angus came to claim his wife’s company. Together they went to congratulate the newlywed couple.
“Ye have caused quite a stir among the court,” the new Lady Bothwell said to Angus.
“I would hardly think the court would concern themselves with an unimportant man from the west,” Angus answered.
“The handsomest man in the borders and his plain wife, my lord, aye. Everyone is fascinated as to how such a union came about, for as beautiful as the lady of Duin’s clothing and jewels are, she is still very plain, while ye are very handsome.”
“Love, I am told, madam, is often blind,” Angus Ferguson said, squeezing his wife’s hand, for Annabella had gone pale at Lady Bothwell’s thoughtless words.
But while she was shocked, Annabella was perfectly able to defend herself. She smiled sweetly at the bride and said, “Yer husband said he thought I should like ye, madam. Alas, he was wrong.” Then with a curtsy she moved on, with both Angus and Bothwell containing their laughter, for the look on Jean Gordon’s face was quite amazing.
“I shall be careful not to quarrel wi’ ye, wife,” the Earl of Duin said.
“She is arrogant!” Annabella fumed.
“She is a Gordon of Huntley,” he replied. “They are all apt to be arrogant.”
“She has no manners. I pity Jamie Hepburn having to wed her.”
“The queen wished it, and James is loyal wi’out question. Besides, the bride has brought him a very large dower portion, and the queen has gifted him for his unquestioning obedience with more lands,” Angus said.
“He can’t possibly love her,” Annabella replied, still fuming.
Just then, the gentleman who had sat next to them in the kirk came up to them. He bowed politely. “I am David Riccio, the queen’s secretary,” he introduced himself. “I have come to take ye to the queen. She tells me that long ago ye rendered her mother a great service.” His voice was tinged with a slight accent when he spoke. He was a small, elegant man with just a touch of hauteur about him, but his quick smile was friendly.
“My service to the late Marie de Guise has never been made public,” Angus said, “nor would I want it to be known, Master Riccio. Some of us prefer to perform our good deeds in private rather than seek acclaim.”
Riccio chuckled. “Ye are a wise man, my lord, to avoid the scrutiny of those who believe themselves more powerful, and use violence to maintain their positions.”
They had now reached the high board where Queen Mary, her husband, and the bridal couple were seated. The queen was dressed in scarlet velvet and cloth of gold far overshadowing the bride in her silver and white. Annabella had the oddest feeling that Mary had planned it that way.
