The Spitfire (32 page)

“‘Tis nae the time to approach Jemmie,” he roared at the serving woman, who was not in the least intimidated.

“There is nae a time that is quite right in this matter, my lord. The king is a good man, but ye’ve spent yer entire life worrying about his delicate sensibilities. If the king is as soft as they say he is, it is because everyone hae treated him so, yet he doesna treat others wi’ the same care. He hae always been like a great clumsy beastie where men were concerned, an ye know it. He offends those who could help him and favors those who but seek the advantage for themselves. He doesna hae any common sense. Yer lady was right to go to Edinburgh and seek yer child’s rights. In the spring the feuding will begin, and there will be nae time for the king to show kindness toward any.”

“Indeed, Flora, and how do ye know this?” the earl inquired.

“All the common people know it, my lord. Has it nae always been like this?”

Her words gave Tavis Stewart food for thought, and upon reflection he realized the truth of those words. His nephew was almost grown, and if not fully mature, was certainly old enough to be successfully used against his father, though not old enough to rule alone without strong guidance. The Earl of Dunmor knew from where that guidance would come. It would come from Archibald Douglas, from the Homes, from the Hepburns of Hailes and other border families. It would become necessary to choose sides, Tavis Stewart knew, if an attempt was made to overthrow his half brother. And what would he do? He didn’t honestly know at this moment.

He contemplated going after his wife, but then realized chasing after Arabella would make him look foolish, and she had probably considered that very fact when she decided to seek out the king herself. He was angry at her for going, and at the same time he worried about her reception at court. Since his sister-in-law had died, the court had been very much, and quite exclusively, a man’s world. Would Arabella, sheltered and so unversed in such a world, be able to cope?

Arabella, however, by her very inexperience, had contended quite well. She had traveled up to the capital city with only Lona and a troop of her husband’s clansmen for protection in her train. She had gone immediately to Edinburgh Castle and sought an audience with her brother-in-law, who, for lack of anything else to do, was delighted to see a friendly face.

“Arabella, lass,” the king said, beaming at her as she curtsied to him. “Where is my brother? Hae he nae come wi’ ye?”

“Tavis is hunting wolves, my liege,” Arabella said sweetly, “and I have come up to Edinburgh alone to beg a favor of your majesty.”

“I am deeply fond of Tavis Stewart,” the king replied, “and I would nae do anything that would displease him, lass, even for ye. Yer not at odds wi’ him in this matter ye would raise wi’ me, are ye?”

“Nay, Sire,” Arabella said. “My husband and I are in complete agreement regarding this matter, but Tavis feels that we should not disturb your majesty at this time. I, on the other hand, feel that the matter, though important to us, will be such a slight thing in your majesty’s eyes that you cannot possibly be disquieted by it. So I have come to Edinburgh to beg a boon of you, Sire.”

“ Wi’ out yer husband’s knowledge, madame?” the king gently inquired.

“I left him a note, Sire,” Arabella said innocently.

The king burst into guffaws of genuine amusement. In the months since his wife’s death he had not found anything so humorous. “She left him a note,” he cackled, poking his favorite, John Ramsey, the Earl of Bothwell, in the ribs. “Why, I’ll wager even now my brother is spurring his horse for Edinburgh! Hee! Hee!”

“Indeed, my lord,” Ramsey of Balmain replied in a bored tone.

“Well, lassie,” the king finally said, regaining control of his emotions, “what is it that ye want of me?”

“You know the story, Sire, of how my husband abducted me from my home. If the truth be known, I have not been unhappy with my marriage, despite its unorthodox beginnings, but I was, Sire, the heiress of Greyfaire Keep. I am the last of the Greys of Greyfaire, and although Tavis has never complained, I brought him no dowry, for Greyfaire was my dowry. When my lord stole me away, the man I was to have wed married my mother instead. She died in childbed several months later, and now, I am told, this man is petitioning King Henry for possession of Greyfaire Keep. It is neither his right nor his heritage. He is a wicked man.

“I would have my home back, your majesty. Oh, I know I can never again really possess Greyfaire, for I am wed to a Scot and King Henry is no fool to give an English border keep to a Scots earl, but if my daughter Margaret might have Greyfaire, I should rest content. I would allow King Henry to match my child with a bridegroom of his own choosing, and I should send my daughter into that bridegroom’s house to be fostered after her sixth birthday. Greyfaire Keep would then remain in the hands of a descendant of the Greys, which is as it should be, your majesty. Will you not intercede with King Henry for your niece, my lord? Surely he will listen to you, for I am of little importance myself.” Arabella looked up trustingly into the king’s eyes.

“Och, lassie,” Jemmie Stewart replied, “‘tis indeed a slight request in the scheme of the world, but I can see how important it is to ye that ye would come through late winter weather to see me and ask my aid. Of course I will gie ye that aid! King Henry will see the advantage to such a match, even as I do. Having the current King of Scotland’s niece and the future King of Scotland’s first cousin in his power canna be but a pleasant thought to him. I approve of an English marriage. If I can but negotiate a match for myself and my lads, I will regain Berwick back as part of the bargain. What think ye of that, lassie?”

“Ye will surely silence Bell the Cat, my lord, if you do.” Arabella chuckled. “What will he complain about then, I wonder?”

“I’m certain he will think of something,” Ramsey of Balmain interjected sharply. He was dressed in garments striped yellow and black, and Arabella thought how very much the slender man resembled a wasp.

“I think not, my lord,” she replied. “Rather he will be surprised to learn that diplomacy is every bit as successful as war, and far less damaging to both property, not to mention life and limb.” She turned to the king. “You will write to King Henry, my lord?”

“Aye, lassie, I will, and this very day, I promise ye. Where are ye staying?”

“At the house on the High Street, Sire. I will but remain the night, and then I must hurry home, for I have left Maggie with a wet-nurse, and she has never before been without me.”

“Stay wi’in the castle, Arabella, until I hae had my secretary make a copy of the letter I will dictate to him for ye. Then ye may take it back to Dunmor to show my brother that ye didna anger me by yer innocent request. Tell me, lass, is yer bairn named in honor of my own Margaret?”

“Aye, my lord, she is.” Arabella answered simply. Jemmie Stewart nodded silently, and then with a slight wave of his hand, indicated that she might leave him.

Arabella curtsied to the king, and dismissed, backed from the room. In the antechamber she found herself face to face with the prince. He had grown even taller in the months since she had last seen him, and although she knew him to be somewhat younger than she was, he had all the appearance of a grown man now.

His eyes raked her boldly. “Madame, it is good to see ye back at court.” He swept her a bow, catching her small hand up in his and kissing it.

“My lord,” she said politely, and disengaged her hand from his, to his open amusement.

“How long will ye be staying, my lady of Dunmor? I hae missed seeing yer lovely face.”

She ignored the compliment. “I return home tomorrow, my lord.”

“So soon?” His look was one of disappointment, and then he said, “My uncle is nae wi’ ye?”

“My husband hunts the wolves that have been terrorizing our villages. I came to Edinburgh on an errand for him, and as my mission is complete, I will return home tomorrow,” Arabella answered the prince.

“Then ye will take supper wi’ me tonight,” Jamie Stewart said.

“Certainly not!”

“Ye canna refuse me,
Aunt,”
he said softly. “I am the heir to Scotland’s throne. Insult me, and ye do yer family a disservice.”

Arabella suddenly found herself in a quandary. Was Jamie telling her the truth, or was he merely attempting to gain his own way in this matter? She honestly did not know, but she also found she did not like the idea that he would bully her with his royal position in an effort to gain his own way.

“I will have my supper in the hall with the rest of the court, my lord,” she told the prince. “I cannot refuse you if you wish to sit with me.”

“There are no women at court since my mother died, madame,” the prince answered. “I would have ye take supper wi’ me in my private apartments.”

“Surely, my lord, you understand that to have supper with you in your apartments, no matter how innocent such a meeting between us would be, should certainly compromise my reputation. I know you would never do that to either me or to your uncle, who is so fond of your highness.”

The prince laughed. “Ye may attempt to elude me, Arabella Stewart, but I will nae let ye. ‘Tis lonely and dull here at court now that there is no queen or pretty maids. All that I have are my studies and the company of my younger brothers and our tutors.”

For a moment he almost sounded like the boy he should have been, but the Countess of Dunmor, wary, saw the mischievous light lurking in the prince’s eyes behind the pitiful look of innocence he was attempting to turn on her. She was in a complete quandary as to what to do, when the Earl of Angus joined them.

“My lord,” she said brightly, “the prince is having a supper party in his apartments this evening, and I am certain he wants you to come! Is that not so, my lord?”

“I shall be delighted to join ye,” Archibald Douglas said with a grin before the prince might tell him nay. “I hae best go and tell my servants to prepare for us then.”

Jamie Stewart said, realizing that he had been bested in his attempt to seduce the Countess of Dunmor this day. “If I ever go to war, Aunt,” he told her, “I can only hope that ye are on my side.” Then with a bow he was gone. The Earl of Angus chuckled.

“Madame, ye must, indeed, hae been desperate to call upon me for my aid.” He took her arm in his and they began walking. “He’s a braw laddie, our wee prince.”

“He’s a wily young lecher and should have his ears boxed,” Arabella said furiously. “He has been most outspoken in his desire to take me to his bed. How dare he, my lord! I have certainly not encouraged him, nor would I ever betray my husband or put the horns of a cuckold upon his head.”

The Earl of Angus could see that she was very upset, and so he did not tease her. Instead he said, “The prince is at least a real man, unlike his father. It pleases us to see that that is so, for we must look beyond the day when James III rules in this land.”

“The king is far different than any man I have ever known,” Arabella admitted, “but I see no reason for you to dislike him so greatly, my lord. Like you, he prefers the company of men. The difference is that the men he likes are not always of the nobility, and are men whose interests and tastes are more refined than yours. You suggest some unnatural relationship between the king and his friends; and yet the king fathered three sons, and Queen Margaret openly adored and respected her husband. I suspect you now dabble with the idea of setting the son above his father. I think you are wrong.”

Archibald Douglas, who was not normally respectful of a woman’s intelligence, suddenly found himself respecting the young Countess of Dunmor for speaking bluntly, even if she was wrong. She could influence her husband, and Tavis Stewart would certainly be of help to their cause. “Madame,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words, “I dinna dislike the king, but he is a weak man, and no matter how deep yer friendship wi’ him may be, ye must admit the truth of that. England now has a strong king. The kings before Henry Tudor had other problems. Richard spent most of his reign fighting to maintain his tenuous hold upon his throne. His brother before him, Edward, was involved wi’ not only threats to his kingship, but was forced to contend wi’ serious family problems as well. And before him, poor feeble-minded Henry of Lancaster, a pawn to his lords, a pawn to his wife’s ambitions. But now, Arabella Stewart, now England has Henry Tudor, and the Yorkists hae nothing left but a boy-earl in the Tower and a pretender in the king’s kitchens.”

“There are King Edward’s sons, Edward and Richard,” Arabella said faintly.

“Those poor laddies are surely dead, madame, if nae at their uncle’s hand, then certainly at Henry Tudor’s. He will hae no serious threat to his kingship left living. Not for himself, and nae for his son. King Henry Tudor is England’s king for as long as he shall live. Now Scotland needs a strong king,” Archibald Douglas told her.

“Perhaps you are correct, my lord, but perhaps you are not. A king is anointed with God’s own holy oil at his crowning, and it is not for us, mere mortals, to question God’s judgment. This king will reign in Scotland until God wills it otherwise. To think treason is to go against God’s own order, my lord.”

“Divine Right,”
Angus said with a smile. “Aye, a king rules by
Divine Right,
but sometimes we mere mortals must gie God a wee bit of a helping hand, madame.”

Arabella was forced to laugh. “My lord,” she said, “you are incorrigible, but what’s worse, you are wrong and refuse to acknowledge it. Still, I cannot argue with you, as you have rescued me from a most difficult position. You may admire the prince’s manly behavior toward women, but I know you would not want the wife of a friend forced into a compromising situation.”

Now it was Archibald Douglas’ turn to laugh. “Madame, ye made it impossible for me to refuse ye. I dinna think young Jamie was pleased to have found his cleverly planned rendezvous turning before his own eyes into a supper party for three.”

“Do you mean he would not even have fed me?” Arabella demanded, outraged.

“Why prepare supper when ye dinna mean to eat it?” Angus said with a grin. “Jamie is a careful young fellow wi’ his gold. He can be generous when he chooses, but I’ve nae known him to be deliberately wasteful.”