“Madam, I bring you the Earl and Countess of Duin,” Riccio said. Then he quickly withdrew back into the crowd of guests.
Angus bowed his best court bow, while Annabella sank into a deep, graceful curtsy, her lavender skirts blossoming out about her.
“Rise, my lord, my lady,” the queen said. Then she stood up. Both Lord Darnley and Bothwell also jumped to their feet, but she waved them away, holding out a hand to Angus Ferguson to help her from the dais. “Remain, my lords,” she said to her husband and James Hepburn. “I prefer to speak with Duin and his wife alone.” She stepped down and, walking slowly, led Angus and Annabella from the hall at Kinloch House and into a private chamber.
“Who arethey?” Darnley demanded of James Hepburn. “Why is she seeing them alone? What is it that I have not been told?”
“Calm yerself,” Bothwell said. “Angus Ferguson long ago and privily rendered the queen’s mother a great service. She invited them to court so she might thank him personally. Duin is in the western borders on the sea. ’Tis nae an important place.”
“I saw him among yer groomsmen,” Darnley said suspiciously.
“Aye, ye did. Angus Ferguson and I were friends growing up. We studied in France together years ago,” Bothwell responded.
“His wife is no beauty,” Darnley noted with a slight sneer.
“Nay, she isn’t, but she hae a good heart, my lord,” was the reply.
“And undoubtedly a fat dower, else why would he have her?” Darnley snickered.
“She hae a sharp tongue,” the bride said. “She spoke rudely to me.”
“Ye spoke rudely first,” Bothwell murmured. “Ye insulted her.”
“I meant nae harm,” Jean Gordon said. “I speak my mind.”
“Ye pride yerself on yer intellect, madam,” Bothwell replied. “Does that quality nae allow ye to form yer words for courtesy’s sake? Annabella well knows her deficiencies, and does nae need reminding of them. She is a good lass.”
“What did he do for her mother?” Darnley demanded to know.
“I was nae ever informed, for it was a private matter,” James Hep-burn lied. “I’m sure the queen will tell ye if ye ask, my lord. Dinna fret. She should not be long.”
But of course they were longer than suited the queen’s husband. When they had reached the small private chamber Mary invited both the earl and his wife to seat themselves near the blazing hearth with her. “Does yer wife know of your generosity to me, my lord?” Mary asked him.
“It was a private matter between yer late mother of blessed memory and myself,” the earl said, crossing himself.
The queen turned to Annabella. “Without yer husband I should not have had the wonderful childhood in France that I did,” she began. “I was not yet six when I departed Scotland for France. It was Angus Ferguson who saw that my household was furnished, my household servants and staff paid, my wardrobe and that of my four Marys supplied. Never once was I allowed to wear clothing that was too short or too small. Everything that I was garbed in was lavish and of the finest quality. I had jewelry and pocket money. I had the finest horses to ride and to hunt with, as well as a fine kennel of dogs. There was nothing I wanted that I was denied. My mother’s mind could be at peace where I was concerned, although the burden of Scotland fell upon her shoulders.”
“She carried that charge very well, madam,” the earl said to her. “Ye should be proud, but remember that I gained something in exchange.”
“A piece of parchment creating Duin an earldom,” the queen replied. “Parchment and ink in exchange for the devoted care ye saw I had, relieving my dearest mother of that worry. Ye had the lands, and ye had the gold. Ye paid dearly for that title.”
“It was my privilege, madam,” Angus responded quietly.
“My lord, I am curious,” the queen said. “There are rumors that yer family practices sorcery. Where does yer gold come from, and so much gold that it could support a queen for over ten years?”
“Madam, I will tell ye what even my wife has not known until now, but I would beg ye keep my secret,” Angus Ferguson said to the queen.
The queen reached into a deep pocket in her skirt and drew out her rosary. Holding it up she said, “I swear that I will keep the secret of your wealth, my lord, unto the grave itself.” She kissed the rosary’s small silver crucifix before slipping it back into her pocket. Then she looked to the Earl of Duin.
“My mother,” the earl began, “was a Frenchwoman, even as yer own mother. She had an older sister who was married into Spain to the Duke of Casarosa. Sadly, the children born of their union died either at birth or before they reached the age of five. They took a great interest in my brother James and my sister Mary. James now serves in Rome, as his monastery was confiscated recently. Mary, a sister of the order of St. Andrew’s, is now in a convent in Spain, as the nuns were driven from Scotland by Knox.”
“That damned man who claims to speak for God,” the queen said sarcastically.
Angus Ferguson chuckled, then continued with his tale. “My aunt and uncle died within a very short time of each other. Plague, I believe. It was then that I learned I had inherited the duke’s wealth. He had great interests in the New World, which are now mine. Two ships a year arrive at Duin to unload barrels of gold coins that have been minted in the Spanish colonies. Some of the gold I retain in my own storehouses. The rest I invest in the East Indies in spices and gemstones. I also export fine woolen cloth and whiskey. That is where my wealth springs from, Majesty. There is no sorcery involved in it at all.”
Queen Mary nodded her understanding. “There are always those anxious to defame others,” she said, “but why do the rumors of sorcery persist where Duin is concerned? There is always a soupçon of truth in rumors.”
He chuckled. “Several hundred years ago a laird of Duin was said to dabble in sorcery. He had a wife reputed to be a witch. Together they are said to have held back a terrible storm that raged across the sea in Ireland and was coming in our direction. It is said that the storm, in sight of Duin’s coastline, suddenly dissipated and was gone, sparing Scotland. That laird’s wife was also a great healer. So the legend began, and we have allowed it because we Fergusons of Duin are very private people. Because it is believed we are magical folk, we are given a very wide berth.”
