CHAPTER X
A BEVY OF FAIR MAIDENS
Never in all her life had Her Grace of Lincoln experienced anything soawful.
Her very coif, usually a pattern of propriety, looked awry and scarcelysober on her dear old head, whilst her round, chubby face, a beautifulforest of tangled wrinkles, expressed the most dire distress, coupledwith hopeless, pathetic bewilderment.
"Well?" she repeated over and over again in breathless eagerness.
She seemed scarce to notice the pretty picture before her--two younggirls standing with arms linked round one another's waists, eyes aglowwith excitement, and cheeks made rosy with the palpitating intensity ofthe narrative.
Yet was not Her Grace justly proud of the flock of fair maids committedto her charge? What more charming than these two specimens of austereQueen Mary's dainty maids-of-honour, with their slim figures in thestiff corsets and unwieldy farthingales, their unruly curls held inbecomingly by delicate lace coifs, and the sombre panelling of the roomthrowing up in harmonious contrast the vivid colouring of robes andkerchiefs, of lace and of complexion?
But to-day the Duchess of Lincoln had no eye for the charming sight.Leaning well forward in her high, straight-backed chair, her fat,be-ringed fingers were beating a veritable devil's tattoo against itsbrocaded arms.
"Alicia, girl, why don't you go on?" she added impatiently. "La! I vowthe wench'll make me die of choler."
Alicia, in the eagerness of telling her thrilling story, had somewhatlost her breath; but now she made a vigorous effort to resume.
"Well," she said, "Your Grace must remember the night was very dark.Barbara and I were strolling by the low wall, when suddenly the cloudsparted, the river was flooded with light, and just below us, not tenpaces away, we saw----"
But here she broke off suddenly. A look of genuine distress crossed herpiquant little face; she looked inquiringly at her companion, then atthe Duchess, whilst her merry eyes began to fill with tears.
"Oh! I scarce like to repeat it," she said hesitatingly at last, "fortruly I love her so."
But Her Grace was in no mood to pander to girlish sentimentality justnow. Her small round eyes, usually alive with good-nature andkindliness, were looking positively stern.
"Go on, child," she commanded, "cannot you see that I am verily sittingon pins? Was it--was it the Lady Ursula you saw?"
"Nay, madam," protested Alicia feebly, "'twas Barbara saw her--I do notbelieve that it was Ursula."
"She was wrapped in a dark cloak from head to foot," here interposed theother young maid. "When we called she looked up, but, seeing us,immediately fled along the bank."
"Then the clouds obscured the moon again, and we saw nothing more,"resumed Alicia. "Barbara may have been mistaken."
Barbara nodded, quite longing to convince herself that she had indeedbeen mistaken. The two girls were getting more and more confused.Clearly they had no wish to get their absent friend into trouble, and,having been led into relating their experiences of the night before,they tardily realized that they were collecting storm-clouds over LadyUrsula's unsuspecting head.
With all her good-nature the Duchess was a stern disciplinarian, takingherself and her duties very seriously. When the Queen entrusted her withthe formation of her own immediate feminine entourage, she alsoexpressed a desire that her maids-of-honour and ladies-in-waiting shouldbe models of decorum and veritable patterns of all the virtues.
The Court, which had been little else than a name in the old and gloomypalace of Richmond and the simple household at Esher, had seen some ofits old glories revived since Mary's proclamation as sole and royalliege lady, Queen Sovereign of England.
Before and since the coronation, Hampton Court had once more becomealive with merriment and laughter, with tennis and bowling games,jousts, suppers, and balls even, as in the best days of King Harry.Young people, who had been only temporarily sobered through the ragingpolitical conflicts of the past few months, quickly reasserted theirdesire for gaiety and splendour, and the Queen herself, somewhatsoftened with the joy of seeing England's loyalty towards her, tacitlyacquiesced in this return to the ancient magnificence of her father'scourt.
Moreover, there were the foreign ambassadors to entertain, all eager tosecure the Queen's hand for their respective royal masters, and in themeanwhile equally ready to be impressed with the luxuries of the EnglishCourt and the beauty and grace of its ladies.
The Duchess of Lincoln's task was certes no easy one, since it involvedthe keeping in order of a very attractive, pleasure-loving, highlyunruly little flock.
So far, however, nothing serious had occurred to disturb herequanimity. The maids-of-honour placed under her charge had quicklysuccumbed to the charm of Her Grace's kindliness, and were easily ruledwith the rod of good-nature.
Some scoldings and lectures, an admonition now and then, or a threat ofmore severe punishment, had readily quelled any incipientinsubordination.
But since the arrival of Lady Ursula Glynde at the Palace matters hadbecome more serious. The child was so terribly independent, soself-willed and unruly, and with it all so sweet and lovable, that theDuchess found all her scoldings of absolutely no avail.
Ursula defied her, then kissed and fondled her, rendering her absolutelyhelpless and defying her authority.
When it was discovered that the naughty child had, on the very dayfollowing Her Majesty's coronation, visited East Molesey Fair, maskedand veiled, and attended only by weak-willed, silly Margaret Cobham, HerGrace felt nigh to having the palsy. But even that unseemly escapade wasnothing in comparison with the terrible revelations which had recentlycome to Her Grace's ears. One or two rumours had already gained currencythat one of Her Majesty's maids-of-honour had been seen alone and atnight outside the purlieus of the Palace. So far, fortunately, the Queenknew nothing of this, nor had it been talked about among the gentlemenof the Court.
Heavens above! if such a thing were to happen! . . .
"A scandal!" moaned the Duchess piteously, "a scandal in my department!Oh, I shall never survive it! If Her Majesty should hear of it, who isso austere, so pious! . . . And with my lord Cardinal staying in thePalace just now. . . . What would he think of the morals of an EnglishCourt! . . . Oh! the naughty, wicked child, thus to bring disgrace uponus all."
Some of the rumours anent Lady Ursula's mysterious nightly wanderingshad already reached her; she had placed the other girls under severecross-examination, and finally elicited from them the confirmation ofher worst fears.
"Nay, madam," rejoined Alicia, tardily smitten with remorse, "I feelsure she means no harm. Ursula is gay, a madcap, full of fun, but she istoo proud to stoop to an intrigue."
"Aye! but, child, she hath vanity," said the Duchess, shaking her greycurls, "and vanity is an evil counsellor. And, remember, 'tis not thefirst time she has been seen alone, at night, outside the purlieus ofthe garden. The Lord protect us! I should never survive a scandal."
"An Your Grace would believe me," added Barbara consolingly, "I think'tis but a bit of foolish curiosity on the Lady Ursula's part."
But Her Grace would not be consoled.
"Curiosity?" she said. "Alas! 'tis an evil moment when curiosity leads amaiden out of doors at night . . . alone . . . Oh!"
And she made a gesture of such horror, there was such a look of sterncondemnation in her kind old face, that the two girls began to feelreally afraid as to what might befall that madcap, Ursula Glynde.
No one had ever seen the Duchess actually angry.
They were all ready to take up the cudgels for the absent girl now.
"Nay! 'tis harmless curiosity enough," said Alicia hotly. "Ursula isbeing very badly treated."
"Badly treated!" exclaimed Her Grace.
"Aye! she is affianced to the Duke of Wessex."
"Well, and what of it, child?"
"What of it?" retorted the girl indignantly, "she is never allowed tosee him. The moment His Grace is expected to arrive in the Queen'spresence, 'tis--'Lady Ursula, you m
ay retire. I shall not need yourservices to-day.'"
And looking straight down her pretty nose, dainty Lady Alicia Wrenfordpursed her lips and put on the starchy airs of a soured matron of forty.
The Duchess of Lincoln threw up her hands in horror.
"Fie on you, child!" she said sternly, "mimicking Her Majesty."
"'Tis quite true what Alicia says," here interposed Barbara, pouting;"everything is done to keep Ursula out of His Grace's way. And we, too,are made the scapegoats of this silly intrigue."
"Barbara, I forbid you to talk like that!"
"I mean nothing disrespectful, madam, yet 'tis patent to every one. Whyare we relegated to this dreary old chamber this brilliant afternoon,when my lord the Cardinal and all the foreign ambassadors are at thePalace? Why are we not allowed to join the others at tennis, or watchthe gentlemen at bowls? Why were Helen and Margaret kept from seeing thejousts? Why? Why? Why?"
She was stamping her little foot, eager, impatient, excited. The Duchessfelt somewhat bewildered before this hurricane of girlish wrath.
"Because Her Majesty ordered it thus, child," she said in a moreconciliatory spirit; "she hath not always need of all hermaids-of-honour round her."
"Nay! that's not the reason," rejoined Barbara, "and Your Grace is tooclever to believe it."
"You are a silly child and----"
"Then we are all silly, for 'tis patent to us all. 'Tis Ursula who isbeing kept wilfully away from the Court, or rather from seeing His Graceof Wessex, and in order not to make these machinations too obvious, someof us are also relegated in the background in her company."
"And 'tis small wonder that Ursula should wish to catch sight of the manwhom her father vowed she should wed or else enter into a convent,"concluded Alicia defiantly.
Her Grace was at her wits' ends. Too clever not to have noticed theintrigue to which the girls now made reference, she would sooner havedied than owned that her Queen was acting wrongfully or even pettily.
However, for the moment she was spared the further discussion of thisunpleasant topic, for a long, merry, girlish laugh was suddenly heardechoing through the great chambers beyond.
"Hush!" said the Duchess with reassumed severity, "'tis that misguidedchild herself. Now remember, ladies, not a word of all this. I mustlearn the truth on this scandal, and will set a watch to-night. But nota word to her."
The next moment the subject of all this animated conversation threw openthe heavy oak door of the room. She came running in, with her fair hairflying in a deliriously mad tangle round her shoulders, her eyes dancingwith glee, whilst above her head she was, with one small hand,flourishing a small piece of paper, the obvious cause of this apparentlyuncontrollable fit of girlish merriment.
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