“How clever!” The queen laughed, clapping her hands. “I wish I might do something like that and make most of the earls and their contentious lords disappear.”
“I think, madam, I should first make Master Knox disappear if I could,” Angus Ferguson said with a smile.
The queen laughed again and then turned her gaze on Annabella. “What is it like being married to such an amiable and clever man, madam?” she asked her.
“He is the best man in the world, to my mind, Majesty,” Annabella said. “I consider myself a fortunate woman. But Yer Majesty has greater good fortune in that she carries Scotland’s next king. May he be born safe and strong. I will pray for it.”
“Thank ye, my lady of Duin,” the queen said. “Perhaps ye will join me and my ladies during the next few days. Do ye play games?”
“I do, Majesty,” Annabella said, “and I am honored ye would accept me into yer circle of great ladies.”
The queen nodded graciously, then looked to Angus. “Duin, I have spoken much, but not yet said those simple words that can hardly serve for the great kindness ye did for me. Thank ye, my lord. Thank ye.”
“Madam, I would beg a simple boon of ye,” the earl said to her. “Tell no one of my part in yer childhood, for I would keep my wealth a secret. Wealth draws envy. My wife and I will shortly return home, where we live quietly. It is best that Duin be forgotten, and no one be drawn to it, for all our sakes.”
“I will keep the secret, but I must tell my husband something, else he grow suspicious,” the queen said.
“Tell him, then, that I arranged a loan for yer mother through my own French relations so ye might have the necessities when ye went to France,” the earl suggested.
“Aye, ye’re clever,” the queen replied. “I am glad Bothwell has ye, my lord of Duin. He has few real friends, but ye, I believe, will always be loyal to him.”
“I will, Majesty,” Angus said, “if for no other reason than the evenings we spent together roistering about Paris in our youth.”
“Ohh, I should have liked to have been with ye!” the queen exclaimed as there came a knock upon the door of the chamber. “Come!” she said.
A little page appeared. “The fireworks are scheduled to begin, madam, and the king would like ye by his side.”
“Of course,” Mary said, and she hurried out with the page.
“I thought Darnley was not king,” Annabella said, confused.
“She allows him to be called such, but he has not the crown matrimonial,” Angus explained. “Without that, he is not really king of anything. She does it, I suspect, to soothe his ego, but is clever enough to withhold it until he proves worthy, which he has not.”
“He is a pretty fellow,” Annabella said, “but he drinks too much. I watched him in the church, all proper and dutiful, but once he reached the high board he was swilling from his cup, which was being refilled quite often. He doesn’t look particularly intelligent, Angus. In fact, I think there is a sly look about him.”
“He’s ambitious without the intelligence to back it up,” the earl said. Then he asked her, “Were ye surprised to learn the source of my wealth, Annabella?”
“I will admit to wondering where yer gold came from, but I have seen no one taking coins from the air or spinning straw into gold at Duin. I might hae asked ye eventually, my lord, but I know the only sorcery about ye is that which ye weave about me, Angus,” Annabella told him.
He chuckled. “Ye flatter me, madam. ’Tis ye who have enchanted me.”
“I hae never seen fireworks,” she said blushing. “I dinna believe we are meant to remain in this wee chamber.” She took his hand, and together they went from the room, hurried to the hall, and took their places by the tall windows to watch the sparkling reds, blues, silvers, and golds of the exploding fireworks celebrating the marriage of James Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, to Lady Jean Gordon, sister of the Earl of Huntley.
Chapter 7
True to her word, the queen welcomed Annabella into her small circle of ladies. The winter was bitter and long. The women spent their days sewing and gossiping, for the queen’s pregnancy kept them from other pursuits, such as riding, hunting, and hawking. Three of the queen’s Marys were still with her. The Italian secretary, Riccio, kept them amused, but the truth was that Annabella found the days boring.
It was obvious that the queen and her husband were not on particularly good terms. The more Annabella saw of Darnley, the less she understood why Mary had married him. True, he was handsome, and she heard that in days past he had been considered quite charming. She saw none of that charm, however. What she saw was an ignorant young man with a thirst for power, who, had he been actually made king, would not have been capable of ruling anything, as he was incapable of ruling even his own emotions. And he was jealous of his wife’s friendship with David Riccio.
Annabella didn’t think a great deal of the Italian either. He had charm, she was forced to admit, but no common sense. He delighted in being the queen’s favorite, and used his small position to flaunt himself before the rough and mostly dour powerful Scots lords. His manner of dress was fashionable to the nth degree but did little to alleviate the fact that he resembled a small and very self-important toad. But Mary was deeply fond of him, and foolishly overlooked his faults, for he amused her. And little else did these days.
Annabella’s days among the mighty were numbered now as March came. She and Angus would leave court by the middle of the month to return to Duin. Hopefully the weather would turn toward the spring by then. Two nights before they were to leave, she finally shared her happy secret with her husband. They lay abed after a particularly satisfying bout of passion. Cradled in his arms, she spoke softly.
“We will have an heir by Michaelmas, my lord. Does that please ye?”
At first he was not certain he had understood her, and then he said, “Ye’re with child?”
“Aye.” She snuggled closer to him.
