“Of course, my lord. Wi’ yer permission I shall withdraw from yer company now, and put on my male garb.” She curtsied to him, and walked slowly from the hall.
Jean was beside her as they entered the corridor. “Ohh, the boldness of that man,” she said, outraged. “He appears pious and sedate to all, but when was a royal Stewart ever either? Remarking on yer lack, and then asking about yer breasts!”
“Moray is testing us,” Annabella said. “He would see just how obedient the Fergusons of Duin are. Angus offered the proper amount of outrage to his request, but he did not gainsay me when I offered to show the regent my disguise,” she explained.
The two women hurried upstairs to Annabella’s apartments, where Jean sought out the clothing her mistress had worn during her adventure in France. Soon Annabella had been divested of her burgundy velvet gown and its petticoats. She pulled on her woolen breeks and her boots. Then Jean bound her mistress’s breasts flat with a piece of cloth. Annabella donned her shirt and the sleeveless doeskin jerkin. Jean plaited the dark sable hair, tightly pinning it up. Annabella then put on her cap. The lad she had been was now visible in the mirror, while the Countess of Duin had disappeared entirely.
Standing, she left her apartments, walking downstairs and back into the hall again. No one noticed her at all. She moved stealthily until she was standing near enough to both earls to be seen. But no one said anything.
Finally, after some minutes had passed, Moray said to Angus Ferguson, “How long does it take yer wife to make this transformation, my lord? We hae been waiting close to an hour now.”
“And I hae been standing near ye for many minutes, my lord,” Annabella said.
The Earl of Moray gasped with surprise as he turned to look at the young man now standing by his side. He stared hard. The plain but elegant Countess of Duin was not evident at all in the young man standing before him. But then she looked directly at him, and he recognized her calm gray eyes. “Madam, I am astounded by this transformation,” he told her. “It is quite amazing. I dinna know whether to commend ye on yer disguise or condemn ye for yer boldness.”
“I dinna mean to be bold, my lord. I only wanted to make certain my dear lord and husband was safe from harm. Anyone going to the trouble of making Angus appear a traitor would nae hesitate to kill him should their plan be thwarted,” Annabella said.
Moray nodded. “Obviously someone wished to detract us from some mischief enacted on my sister’s behalf. The letter in yer husband’s saddlebag was quite innocuous, and might hae been sent to Mary directly. That ye and yer husband went to the difficulty of learning what small truths could be learned tells me he is innocent of all charges, as my son, Donal, believes.” Then he turned to Angus. “But, my lord, before we dine I would see proof that ye have no need for gold.”
“Of course,” the Earl of Duin said. “If ye will be pleased to follow me. No one else may come,” he told Moray and his companions. “Only ye, James Stewart.” Moray nodded in agreement, for his curiosity was great. He followed Angus Ferguson from the hall, through a small door hidden behind a large tapestry in the wide hallway outside of the hall, and down several narrow, twisting flights of stairs. Angus carried no torch, for the stairwell was well lighted, and the corridor below as well.
They stopped before a door at the end of the short corridor. The earl took a small ring of keys from his doublet, searched among them, and, selecting one key, fitted it into the lock in the door. The key turned easily without the slightest sound. Angus Ferguson took a torch from the holder nearest the door and flung the door wide. He stepped in, Moray behind him. The torch lit the small stone chamber, whose walls were lined with chests.
The Earl of Duin moved from chest to chest, lifting the lid of each. When the fifteen containers had been opened he waved his torch over them.
James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, gasped in amazement. The small trunks were filled with gold and silver coins. “How . . . how is this possible? Are the stories that are told of yer family’s sorcery true, my lord?”
Angus Ferguson laughed. “Nay, my lord, those tales are false. This wealth comes from mines that I inherited in the New World. They originally belonged to my mother’s sister and her husband, a Spanish lord. They were childless, and I was their heir. This is the secret I harbor, and now you are aware of it, my lord. You see how I live. Simply but comfortably. I could not spend all the coins contained in these chests if I live to be a century old. Why would I risk all that I have and be branded a traitor as well for a wee bag of coins that might to some represent a fortune, but to me is but little?”
He had to be dreaming, James Stewart, Earl of Moray, thought. He had never seen so much gold and silver in his entire life. It was surely enough to support Scotland’s government for years to come. He was tempted to confiscate the chests in this chamber, but he would not. He was a canny man. He had always made certain to keep free of any plots, although he had certainly known about enough of them, and even sanctioned them. But he could not be accused of partaking in them. He had been in England when both Riccio and Darnley were murdered. James Stewart, Earl of Moray, was a careful man.
He was also a leading member of the Lords of the Congregation, a respected member of the Reformed Church of Scotland.Thou shalt not covetwas a commandment he could not break. He took his faith seriously, for the most part. Even his bastard son was the result of a youthful dalliance long before his marriage to his wife. Once wed he had never committed adultery. But God had certainly punished him for that peccadillo. His wife had produced only three daughters. If he had a weakness at all, it was his lasses, Elizabeth, Annabel, and Margaret. But he had always been good to his lad too.
“I will donate two chests of coins to the royal treasury,” the Earl of Duin said.
“Yer secret is safe wi’ me, Angus Ferguson, even wi’out yer generosity,” Moray said. “Perhaps ye will now and again gift the royal bairn wi’ something. A pony. A sword made just for him. A velvet doublet,” he suggested slyly. “As ye did wi’ his curst mam.”
“I will do so gladly,” Angus replied. “And I will gift yer brother John’s laddie, Francis, as well, for Bothwell’s sake. He is his uncle’s heir, and his uncle was my friend.”
Moray nodded. “I understand,” he said, “but dinna ever say his name in my presence again. I canna forgie him for marrying Mary. He brought about her downfall.”
Angus Ferguson said nothing, just nodded. In a sense, he held himself partly responsible for the queen’s behavior. It had been his wealth that had made it possible for the queen of the Scots to have any- and everything she wanted as she grew up in France as the adored and pampered bride-to-be of the young dauphin. She was beautiful, and she was charming. The French court had adored her. She could not be faulted for believing all men would be dazzled by her youth, beauty, and manner. But Scotsmen were different from other men.
To give her credit, she had tried to get on with those hard, cold lords who surrounded her. In becoming members of the Reformed kirk, Scotland’s nobles had lost their joie de vivre. John Knox’s thunderous sermons preached on sin and punishment, hellfire and damnation. And the bishops of Holy Mother Church, with their mistresses, their many bastards, and their lavish living, had not helped their own cause at all.
Knox had grown used to his power, but he could not keep Mary Stuart from returning from France to rule Scotland. Mary, unfortunately, was ruled by her heart and not her head. It was, Angus considered, a great tragedy all around.
“Come,” he said, leading his guest back upstairs to the hall.
Once there Moray gratefully accepted a large goblet of the earl’s good wine, and sat down by the fire to drink it.
Donal Stewart came to stand by his sire’s chair. “Ye’re satisfied that the earl is innocent of any attempts at treason?”
“Aye,” Moray said.
“He showed ye his gold?” Donal pressed.
Moray nodded, but then he said, “Ask me no more, for I am sworn to keep the confidence, and I will.” He drank deeply from the cup in his hand.
