“It was on the high board in the hall, my lady,” he answered her. He was very impressed by her reasoning, and her effort to save her husband. Reaching into his doublet, he drew out the bag of coins, pushing it through the grate for her. “Ye’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned her gently.
“Neither ye nor yer men will be harmed, Donal Stewart,” she told him. “But here ye will remain for the interim. I doubt yer sire will gie ye much thought for a while.”
Donal Stewart laughed. “Nay, he will not. He is far too busy consolidating his position and chasing shadows.”
“Jeannie will keep ye informed as to what is happening when she is able to do so,” Annabella said to him. “Dinna attempt to bribe a servant. They are loyal.”
“Apparently one was nae,” he reminded her.
“A stable lad offered a few coins to take two items from his master’s saddlebags canna be held accountable or considered a spy. Buying men is what the powerful do best, is it nae?” Annabella said cynically. “And the poor are always willing to cooperate wi’ them, especially if they think they do their own loyalty nae harm.”
“Dinna ever allow yer husband or my sire to learn how clever ye are, madam,” Donal Stewart said with a small smile. “I hae nae doubt that ye will see yer husband’s heretofore good name cleared.”
“Oh, I will,” Annabella said. “I will.” Then, without another word, she and Jean returned upstairs from the dungeons, careful not to be seen by any. They hurried into the hall, and there was the packet still lying on the high board. “Thank God!” the Countess of Duin said, picking it up. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment to read what it contained. Her eyes quickly scanned the writing. It was in French, but she knew enough to be able to translate the words.
Chère cousine, your family is most distressed by your decision to flee into England. Believe us when we tell you that the bastard Elizabeth Tudor means you no good. She is popular among her own people and careful of her position. It is very unlikely that she will help to restore you to your rightful place as Scotland’s queen. What she plans, however, we do not yet know, but rest assured that you have an enemy in her secretary of state, William Cecil. We beg that you take the first opportunity to return to Scotland. Accept for the interim your place as the mother of the little king. Make peace with your lords, your brother James Stewart in particular. We will work to assuage his anger toward you so that you will be treated in a more equitable fashion. Too long have you been ruled by your heart, and you were not raised to be so foolish. Take this opportunity to renounce Lord Bothwell. Remember, a weak Scotland is much to England’s advantage. As long as they hold Scotland’s queen they hold the upper hand. We will continue to communicate with you, and we will pray for you.
Annabella folded the letter back up. The signature on the letter had not been important, other than that it had been signed by a de Guise. She suspected it was one of Mary Stuart’s cousins with whom she had grown up. “There is nothing here that cries treason, nor implicates Angus in any plot against Scotland or my lord of Moray,” she said. “But that is not the point. As long as Moray and his ilk believe that Angus carried the letter from France, meant to have it delivered somehow to Mary Stuart, and accepted coins for his service, it will appear that he did something guilty.” She handed the letter to Jean. “Secrete it until we may add it to the rest of our evidence.”
“What evidence?” Jean inquired.
“The evidence we shall obtain in France,” Annabella said with a small smile.
“Ye really mean to go wi’ him?” Jean said.
“I do. I must,” Annabella said.
“Ye love him,” Jean replied quietly.
“Aye, I love him,” Annabella said, “and I’ll nae be left a widow wi’ bairns, like so many other border wives! I will go wi’ him, and I will help him to prove his innocence, to prove that the Fergusons of Duin are an honorable and loyal clan.”
Chapter 12
The servants had begun to bring in the evening meal. Angus had already eaten, Tormod told his lady, and was already sleeping. Aggie was filled with complaints this evening as they sat at the high board. She was close to delivering her first child, and her feet were swollen badly. Annabella attempted to soothe her, to no avail.
“One bairn will be more than enough for me,” she whined. “There is scarce enough to leave one if it’s a lad, but more than enough of a dower for a daughter. I dinna believe ye suffered as much as I do.”
Annabella wanted to laugh. Agnes had never been happy when constrained from physical activity. She had not been able to ride in several months. It was late summer, and the weather had been warm and muggy. “I carried twins,” she reminded her younger sister. “Ye will survive, Aggie. Ye should spend more time out of doors, rather than lying down in yer apartments. How is yer house coming along?”
“I canna walk that far,” Agnes complained.
“Then ye must have the dog cart, and go tomorrow,” Annabella said cheerfully. She turned to Jean. “Ye’ll see to it?”
“Aye,” Jean replied. She wondered whether Agnes would continue to complain after her bairn was born. Well, at least she would be in her own house then, for Matthew, true to his promise to his bride, was having a fine stone house constructed on his nearby property.
The meal over the hall grew empty on this summer’s night. Annabella went upstairs to see that Angus was still comfortable. He was sleeping very soundly, and from the looks of it would sleep until Tormod woke him to dress before the dawn. Poor man, she thought, touching his dark head lightly. To come home to such a welcome and to have to turn about immediately wasn’t fair. Angus Ferguson was not a man who enjoyed adventure, unlike Bothwell, who seemed to live for it. Well, look where it had gotten James Hepburn. A prison cell in Denmark. All Angus wanted was to stay home, shepherd his lands, and watch his family grow.
Annabella sighed. She was mad, she knew, to be following after her husband, but something deep within her told her that Angus was in more difficulty than he realized, and through no fault of his own. Although he could not realize it, or even admit to it, he would need her by his side, seeing what he did not see, hearing what he would not hear.
Jean was waiting in her apartments when Annabella entered them. “I went into the attics,” she said, “and found some of the clothing Matthew wore as a lad. Try them on to see if they fit or if I must seek elsewhere.” She handed Annabella a pair of breeks and a shirt, relieved to see they fit her mistress perfectly. “I’ll pack two more shirts in yer saddlebag, a brush for yer hair, and a few other sundries that ye’ll need. Go to bed now. I’ll wake ye when it is time.”
“How will I get out of the castle wi’out being seen?” Annabella asked.
Jean grinned. “There’s a small back portal that’s rarely used. I used to meet my Douglas outside of it when we were courting.” She chuckled. “I took a horse through that gate earlier and left it at my mam’s cottage. I’ll go wi’ ye to get it, and so ye’ll hae a way around the Duin village so no one sees ye. And I hae the perfect spot for ye to wait for Angus so ye may follow him wi’out his realizing it. Ye’ll hae to be very clever, Annabella, if ye dinna want to reveal yerself to him till ye’re a-sea. If he catches ye he’ll bring ye back.”
“I’ve no experience in such stealthy activities,” Annabella said, “but I cannot fail. He’ll go to Leith, won’t he?”
“Aye, he will,” Jean said. “He’ll take no chances going to Berwick, lest it compound his alleged guilt.”
