Виктория Холт - The Thistle and the Rose

Disconsolate and lonely — Angus was away, engaged on one of his numerous duties — Margaret brooded on the estate to which she was reduced. She was too impulsive where her emotions were involved. She knew this but she could not restrain herself. How could she sit alone at Newark, brooding on the fact that she was not allowed to direct the upbringing of her own son; that when she — the Queen — suggested a post should be bestowed, she was ignored?

As always at such times she found pleasure in making wild plans.

James was the center of these plans.

He was back in Edinburgh Castle and it was going to be difficult to get him out of that fortress, but she was not one to consider impossible that which was difficult.

Then she remembered that one of her husband’s brothers, George Douglas, was the Warden of the Castle.

Now the days had some meaning. George Douglas was eager to serve his Queen and sister-in-law.

He wrote to her. Yes, as Warden he had a certain power within the Castle. He had access of course to David’s Tower, and could give her news from time to time of the King. He implied that he knew it was more than news she wanted; and he was ready to help give her that too.

“Dear George Douglas!” she murmured.

She was determined to be careful. She would take no one into her confidence, and was rather glad that Angus was away because it would have been difficult to keep this secret from him.

She might do what she had intended to do before she went into England. That had been a good enough plan. If only Lord Home had been able to divert the attention of the guards he would have rescued the two princes.

Then, she thought angrily, I should have had two sons today, for I am sure my little Alexander would not have died if he had been with his mother.

It was pleasant there at Newark, making plans, waiting for the secret messenger from George Douglas, assuring herself that she could not be unlucky this time.

Perhaps they could substitute another child for James. It would not be discovered until they were away… almost at the Border. Henry would be eager to welcome his dear sister and her little son who was so like himself. Perhaps James would marry the little Princess Mary; then Henry could be relied on to send an army to Scotland, subdue her enemies and place James securely on the throne, there to rule, when he was of an age to do so, with Mary beside him; but in the meantime his mother would be the Regent of Scotland and the guardian of her son.

It was a pleasant dream. To make it come true she would need all the money on which she could lay her hands.

The forest of Ettrick itself yielded four hundred marks a year, which was no mean sum. She wondered how much of it had come in, and sent for her steward.

When the man stood before her and she made known the reason she had sent for him, he seemed surprised.

“Your Grace,” he said, “the rents have been collected and given to my lord Angus in accordance with his instructions.”

She studied the papers which he had given her, and all the time her anger was rising. How dared Angus appropriate this money! There should have been a goodly sum accumulated by now and she needed it badly.

“I see,” she said; and dismissed her steward.

When she was alone she paced up and down the room. Where was Angus? He must come to her at once. She needed an explanation.

She sent for a man who had been in attendance on her husband.

“Urgent business has arisen,” she told him. “I need the immediate presence of my lord Angus. Do you know where he is?”

The man hesitated and his furtive looks alarmed Margaret.

“Come,” she said testily, “where is he?”

“Your Grace… I cannot say. I do not know… ”

She thought: He knows and he is lying.

She wanted to command him to answer, to threaten him with a whipping if he did not speak.

But no, she thought. Let it wait. I will think on this; and I shall discover all in good time.

That very day news was brought to her which made her forget temporarily Angus’s perfidy over the rents of Ettrick.

A messenger had arrived from Edinburgh and asked to be taken immediately to the Queen.

He fell at her feet breathless, travel-stained from the journey.

“Your Grace, the Warden of Edinburgh Castle has been arrested and thrown into prison.”

She stood still, her eyes half closed. Another scheme foiled!

She said quietly: “Why so?”

“Sir Patrick Crichton declared he could not hold himself responsible for the King’s safety unless the Warden was removed. He had discovered an intrigue… ”

She did not need to ask what. She knew.

“So he is no longer at the Castle, Your Grace, and the Earl of Arran has been set up in his place.”

Margaret did not speak. She was thinking: Did ever a woman have such ill luck as I?

Where was Angus? Never with me, she thought, when I need him.

No wonder he seemed guilty. How dared he appropriate the rents which were hers? Because she had married him, did he think he could rule her… the Queen!

She sent for the servant to whom she had spoken before. “I believe you know the whereabouts of my lord Angus,” she said. “I command you to tell me what you know.”

“Y-Your Grace… ” stammered the man. “I know nothing.”

“I will have the truth!”

The man had turned pale but he did not speak.

Wearily she studied him. What was the use of venting her anger on one who was merely trying to be loyal to his master?

She dismissed the man and for some days she was sunk in despair. Her plot with George Douglas was known — to his cost, and to hers most likely. They would watch her more closely than ever. They would probably prevent her from seeing her son.

She felt desperate and alone.

Then Angus returned. As soon as he came into her presence she opened her attack.

“You have been long absent, my lord.”

“I had business to attend to.”

He came to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, drew her toward him, but she withdrew herself impatiently.

“There are certain matters I wish to discuss with you. First… the rents of Ettrick.”

A faint color showed under his skin. “What of these?”

“I think you are aware of my meaning. I have discovered that these have been passing to you.”

“And why should they not?”

“Because they do not belong to you.”

“You once said that you would give me all I desired.”

She laughed bitterly. “That was long ago. You once said that you would always be faithful to me.”

Had she not been so angry she would have noticed the apprehension leap into his eyes.

“And,” she went on, “I shall never forget how you deserted me when you believed me to be dying, how you ran as hard as you could to make sure of a welcome in the opposite camp. And now I discover that during my absence you have appropriated money which belongs to me.”

“I am sure you gave me Ettrick in those early days,” he mumbled.

“I should have remembered,” she said. “I remember too much of those early days. I know now how ready you are to deceive and desert me, that you give your allegiance to others.”

He misunderstood her, believing her to have discovered more than she had.

He muttered: “I was betrothed to her before we married.”

“Betrothed,” she murmured.

“I would have married her,” he went on sullenly, “had I not been forced to marry you.”

She thought she must be dreaming. What was he talking about? Betrothed? Forced to marry?

“So,” she said, “these absences of yours… ”

“Of course. What do you expect? You ran away, did you not? What was I supposed to do all that time?”

“Some husbands would have accompanied their wives,” she retorted, but she was not thinking of what she said; she was trying to grasp his meaning.

“Most husbands,” he replied, “are masters in their own houses.”

“Not all aspire to marriage with a queen,” was her proud answer.

“In which case they may call themselves lucky.”

He was off his guard now. She would get the truth of what lay behind this. “How long has she been your mistress?” she hazarded.

“Since you went into England.”

“I see,” she said bitterly. “And I’ll dare swear all the Court is aware of this.”

“There are always gossips.”

“And it seems this time there is strong foundation on which to base the gossip.”

“What did you expect?” he cried.

“Fidelity!” she answered. “Respect. Gratitude for all I have done for your family. Affection for your wife and daughter.”

“I look upon her as a wife, and I have given her daughter my name.”

Margaret could find no words to express her grief and rage. She felt as though she had lived through this scene before. She was back in those early days of her marriage with James when she had discovered that he had illegitimate children. She remembered the pain of discovering that he chose the society of other women in preference to hers.

Why must I suffer this disillusion twice? she asked herself. Why must my second husband treat me as did my first!

She looked at him — the handsome Angus with whom she had planned to live in love all her life. She felt cheated now as she never had when he had deserted her at Morpeth.

She could see it all so clearly; his betrothal to a woman with whom he was in love; the pressure of his family when it was known that the Queen delighted in him; his reluctant agreement to follow the wishes of his family and his Queen.

It was too humiliating to be borne.

“Leave me,” she cried. “I would be alone.”

So now she had the details. He had been betrothed to Lady Jane Stuart, the daughter of the Lord of Traquair; he had deserted her to marry the Queen, but he had never forgotten her, and when his wife left Scotland he made haste to rejoin Lady Jane. He took her away from her family; he insisted that she travel with him wherever he went, as though she were his wife; and her family made no protest. This was not merely Archibald Douglas who had made their daughter Jane his mistress; it was the Earl of Angus, the husband of the Queen.

Jane had borne him a daughter who was known as the Lady Jean Douglas, and it seemed that her mother, and he too, would make this child’s position comparable with that of his daughter born in wedlock to the Queen, the Lady Margaret Douglas.

This was not to be tolerated.

Then she made up her mind what she would do.

Angus had been betrothed to Jane Stuart before his marriage to the Queen. Could this be grounds for divorce?

Very soon the news was out, as she intended it should be.

The Queen no longer lives with Angus; she is contemplating divorce.

James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, was on his way to see the Queen. Arran was a proud man; through his mother, Princess Mary, the daughter of James II, he had royal blood in his veins and he never forgot it. It was for this reason that he had been so angered to see the rise of the Douglases through the Queen’s marriage with Angus. That he, Arran, who might become a claimant to the throne of Scotland, should have to take second place to that pretty boy was unendurable. There was one person in Scotland whom Arran hated above all others, and that was Angus.

Thus when he heard of the friction between the Queen and her husband he hastened to plead for an interview with Margaret, that he might place himself and his power at her disposal. He was ready to stake his future on this; and he was determined that if she wanted a divorce from Angus she should know that all the influence of the Hamiltons was behind her.

Margaret received the Earl who wasted no time in opening up the subject which was of such importance to them both.

“I come to commiserate with Your Grace,” he told her, “and to place myself at your service.”

“I thank you, my lord.”

She signed for him to be seated and she marveled that a man who was an enemy one day seemed to become a friend the next.

“It is a matter for rejoicing among those who are Your Grace’s friends that you should have decided to cast off the Douglas. Madam, we have long been aware of his unworthiness.

“I alas have remained blind too long,” answered Margaret; at which Arran bowed his head in assent.

“But now,” went on Margaret, “I see him for what he is and, believe me, my lord, I shall not rest until I can no longer call myself his wife.”