“I will send word for them to join us in three weeks.”
That meant he had a lot to do in a short time, but at least it would keep his mind off a particular lady.
Chapter Nine
The days bledinto one another as Marion’s parents carted her around from one social gathering to another, and though she tried to smile and be polite, her heart was not in it. While she did appreciate the solitude in the evenings with her parents, she had hoped to hear from the queen by now. The queen’s parting words rolled over in her mind like crashing waves on a beach. An agenda had been present the whole time, of that Marion was certain. She could not entirely fault the queen for wanting to know more about a subject of which no one would speak in front of her. But still, Marion would have a care in the future when dealing with people in more powerful positions than she. She would be far more attentive to what was happening around her.
Just when she’d given up hope, an invitation had come from her majesty. In it, she was cordially invited to the midday meal with the queen in her apartments. She would be collected by the king’s guard shortly before. That gave Marion little time to select a gown and make herself ready.
She didn’t have to think long to decide which gown to wear, for the gowns her mother had ordered upon arrival at Linlithgow had arrived the day before. In the selection was a soft lavender one with soft edges and butterflies stitched into the delicate, multi-layered, nearly sheer fabric. Marion had been itching for a reason to don it andthis would be the perfect occasion.
Having seen all the young ladies with their fancy head dress over the past weeks, Marion had worn hers down but was in a different mood today. She spoke with her maid and was pleased when the lass agreed emphatically. What resulted was a loose pin up with curled tresses hanging down the sides and some on the back. Her hair was so thick that it looked like she had added more once her maid had finished pinning it all. She was very pleased and insisted tiny hawthorn blossoms be added all around to finish the effect. Between the butterflies and flowers, Marion was sure she looked like the queen’s garden had spat her out.
Before long she was whisked away to the palace in an ornate carriage with her father in tow who had been invited to the king’s afternoon hunt. Once there, they separated and bid the other a fond day. Marion followed the servants to the same hall where she’d last seen her friend whom she hoped would be pleased to see her.
“My dear Lady Marion,” she said upon her entry. Her expression was pleasant and genuine. “I have missed your company. Do come and sit with me for I have much news to share.”
“Your Majesty, I have missed your company as well.”
They sat at the table which was, as usual, adorned with elaborate floral arrangements and more food than one could consume in a week.
“Pray tell me what you have been doing since we last met? I confess, I have been consumed with entertaining my husband’s endless rotation of guests. It seems the man requires his days to be filled with entertainment.”
The queen prattled on for a spell about the various dignitaries from Italy, France, and Spain who had come to see the impressive Linlithgow Palace and all its glory, and her husband was all too ready and willing at any point to exhibit.
“Listen to me, asking you a question and not giving you a chance to answer it.”
She stopped talking and paused, giving Marion her cue. While nowhere near as exciting as the queen’s account, Marion told of strolls along the loch with her family and dinners with other families in the area. She told of her brother falling from a tree and breaking his leg which she was not sure her mother would survive. Aye, her mother who wailed day and night at the need for the culprit tree to be destroyed. All in all, it had been busy, but quiet.
“You could use some distraction, I believe, Lady Marion.”
If it was anything like the last time, Marion would pass. She’d had quite enough of that kind of excitement for a while.
“What do you mean?”
“I have an invitation to discuss with you.”
“Aye, Your Majesty?”
“My husband and I plan to tour the west Highlands and will be leaving Linlithgow in some days.” She paused for a moment then continued, “I would like you to be my companion. We will be gone for a few weeks to return before the summer is fully out. What do you say? Will you join us?”
Marion wasn’t sure how to react. ’Twas not like anything she’d ever done. Besides Edinburgh and Linlithgow, she’d only been to her home, and she had always wondered about the much acclaimed west Highlands.
“I must ask my parents,” she said, having quite easily made up her mind to accept.
“No need. My husband will speak of it to your father on their hunt this day.”
The queen had thought of everything as usual. There was only one thing left to discern.
“And which places shall we visit, Your Majesty?” It might be a bold question. She should be grateful to be invited at all, let alone as personal friend of the queen. But her curiosity was piqued, for she had been of the understanding that the royal couple would spend theentire season at Linlithgow, hence why her father had moved the family part and parcel to their manor there.
“That will depend upon my husband, but we have had one very specific invitation I feel you will find amusing.”
“Aye, Your Majesty? I do not believe I know anyone who lives in the west Highlands.”
“Your memory is short then, Lady Marion, for our first destination will be that of Inverary Castle which is the home of the Earl of Argyll. I know it has been some weeks, but I do believe you would remember him.”
The queen’s attempt at jest was ill favored, though Marion attempted to mask it. What did she remember of the earl? Besides the mortification she still harbored over their parting, there was yearning for his company, his affection, his kisses. She was conflicted at every turn when thoughts of him entered her mind, and they had quite frequently since their parting. There had not been many nights when the torment of her encounter with him had not played upon her mind.
