CHAPTER XXIII
CHECK TO THE QUEEN
How long they stood thus, heart to heart, they themselves could neverhave said. The sound of many voices in the near distance roused themfrom their dream. Ursula started in alarm.
"Holy Virgin!" she exclaimed under her breath, "if it should be theQueen!"
But Wessex held her tightly, and she struggled in vain.
"Nay! then let the whole Court see that I hold my future wife in myarms," he said proudly.
But with an agitated little cry she contrived to escape him. He seemedmuch amused at her nervousness; what had she to fear? was she not hisown, to protect even from the semblance of ill? But Ursula, now fullyawakened to ordinary, everyday surroundings, was fearful lest her owninnocent little deception should be too crudely, too suddenly unmasked.
She had so earnestly looked forward to the moment when she would say tohim that she in sooth was none other than Lady Ursula Glynde, the womanwhom every conventionality had decreed that he should marry, andwhom--because of these conventionalities--he had secretly but certainlydisliked.
Her woman's heart had already given her a clear insight into thecharacter and the foibles of the man she loved. His passion for her now,sincere and great though it was, was partly dependent on that atmosphereof romance which his poetical temperament craved for, and which hadsurrounded the half-mysterious personality of exquisite, irresistible"Fanny."
Instinctively she dreaded the rough hand of commonplace, that ugly,coarse destroyer of poetic idylls. A few hastily uttered words mightshatter in an hour the mystic shrine wherein Wessex had enthroned her.She had meant to tell him soon, to-morrow perhaps, perhaps only after afew days, but she wished to find her own time for this, when he knew herinner soul better, and the delicate cobwebs of this greatlove-at-first-sight had fallen away from his eyes.
She could not altogether have explained to herself why a suddendisclosure of her identity at this moment would have been peculiarlyunpleasant to her. It was a weak, childish feeling no doubt. But such asit was, it was real, and strong, and genuine.
Barely a minute had elapsed whilst these quick thoughts and fears wentwildly coursing through her mind. There was no time to tell himeverything now. The voices came from the next room, within the next fewseconds probably the great door would be open to admit a group ofpeople: the Duchess of Lincoln and the ladies mayhap, or the Queen onher way to chapel. And His Grace of Wessex looked terribly determined.
"No! no! no!--not just this moment, sweet Grace," she entreated, "byyour love! not _just_ this moment. . . . The Queen would be so angry. . . oh! not _just_ now!"
She looked so genuinely disturbed, and so tenderly appealing, that hecould not help but obey.
"But you cannot send me away like this," he urged. "Another word, sweetsaint. . . . Faith! I could not live without another kiss. . . ."
"No, no, no, I entreat Your Grace . . . not to-night," she protestedfeebly.
He thought, however, that he detected a sign of yielding in her voice,although she was already beginning to mount the steps ready for flight.
"Just one tiny word," he whispered hurriedly: "when the Queen has passedthrough, linger up there for one brief minute only. I'll wait in there!"
And he pointed to a small door close behind him, which led to an innercloset at right angles with the gallery. Before she had time toprotest--nay! perhaps she had no wish to refuse--he had disappearedbehind its heavy panels, quickly calling to his dog to follow him. Butin that one moment's hesitation, those few brief and delicious wordshastily exchanged, she had lost her opportunity for escape.
The next instant the door at the further end of the room was thrownopen, and the Queen entered followed by some of her ladies. She wasaccompanied by the Duchess of Lincoln, and His Eminence the Cardinal deMoreno was on her left.
As chance or ill-luck would have it, the first sight which greeted HerMajesty's eyes was the figure of Lady Ursula, midway up the steps whichled to the gallery, some mysterious imp of mischief having contrivedthat the light from the wax tapers should unaccountably and very vividlyfall upon the white-clad form of the young girl. An exclamation of sternreproval from Her Grace of Lincoln brought Ursula to a standstill.
Flight now was no longer possible; she could but trust in her guardianangel, or in any of those protective genii who have in their keeping thespecial care of lovers in distress, and who happened to be hoveringnigh.
It was not seemly to be half-way up a flight of stairs when Her Majestywas standing on the floor below. Ursula, with her cheeks aflame withvexation, slowly descended, whilst encountering as boldly as she couldthe artillery fire of half a dozen pairs of eyes fixed steadily uponher.
Mary Tudor looked coldly severe, Her Grace of Lincoln horror-struck, HisEminence ironical, and the ladies vastly amused.
"Ah, child!" said Her Majesty, in her iciest tone of voice, "all alone,and in this part of the Palace?"
She looked the dainty young figure disdainfully up and down, then hereye caught the sheaf of roses lying in a fragrant tangle close to thefoot of the stairs. There was a quick flash of anger in her face, then afrown. Ursula wondered how much she guessed or what she suspected.
But the Queen, after that one quick wave of passionate wrath, made anobvious effort to control herself. She turned composedly to the Duchessof Lincoln.
"Your Grace is aware," she said drily, "that I deem it most indecorousfor my maids-of-honour to wander about the Palace alone."
The wrinkled old face of the kindly Duchess expressed the most heartfeltsorrow.
"I crave Your Majesty's humble pardon . . ." she stammered in an agonyof misery at this public reproof. "I . . ."
"Nay, Duchess, I know the difficulty of your task," rejoined Mary Tudorbitingly, "the other ladies are docile, and their behaviour is maidenlyand chaste. 'Tis not always so with the Lady Ursula Glynde."
Mary's voice had been so trenchant and hard that it seemed to Ursula'ssensitive ears as if its metallic tones must have penetrated to everycorner of the Palace. She gave a quick, terrified look towards the door,longing with all her might for the gift to see through its massivepanels--to know what went on within that inner closet, where Wessex waswaiting and must have heard.
One pair of eyes, however, had caught that swift glance, and noted thesudden obvious fright which accompanied it. His Eminence had not takenhis piercing eyes from off the young girl's face; he had seen everymovement of the delicate nostril, every quiver of the eyelid.
What Mary Tudor only half suspected, what the good old Duchess could noteven conjecture, that His Eminence had already more than guessed.
The delicate, rosy blush which suffused the young girl's cheeks, thatindescribable something which emanated from her entire personality, thehalf-withered roses, all told their tale to this experienceddiplomatist, accustomed to read his fellow-creatures' thoughts. Thenthat quick, apprehensive look towards the door had confirmed his everysurmise.
"She has seen His Grace. . . . He is closeted in there!" were hisimmediate mental deductions. And whilst Ursula met Her Majesty's coldglances with as much boldness as she could command, and Her Grace ofLincoln lost herself in a maze of abject apologies, His Eminence,seemingly unconcerned, edged up to the low door, keeping the lock andhandle thereof well in view.
"I crave Your Majesty's indulgence for the child," the Duchess ofLincoln was muttering. "She meant no harm, I'll take my oath on that,and she will, I know, return at once to her room, there to grieve overYour Majesty's disapproval of her. She----"
"Nay, Duchess," interrupted the Queen sternly, "repentance is far fromLady Ursula's thoughts, and her behaviour is not the thoughtlessness ofa moment."
"Your Majesty . . ." protested the Duchess, whilst Ursula threw her headback in token of proud denial.
"The rumour has already reached us," continued Mary, "of amaid-of-honour's strange wanderings at night and in disguise outside thepurlieus of the Palace, and that the maiden who so far forgot her rankand her modesty was no
ne other than the Lady Ursula Glynde."
Again that quick apprehensive glance directed towards the closet door atmention of her name, a glance unseen by any one present save by HisEminence's watchful eyes. To him it had revealed all that he wished toknow, whilst the Queen, blinded by her own jealousy, saw nothing but arival whom she desired to humiliate.
"Wessex is behind that door . . ." mused His Eminence. "She starts everytime her name is uttered . . . ergo, he made love to her without knowingwho she is."
It was natural and simple. The very logical sequence of a series ofco-ordinated thoughts, together with a shrewd knowledge of human nature.
How this little incident would affect his own immediate plans HisEminence had not yet conjectured. That it would prove of vastimportance, he was never for a moment in doubt. Therefore, at a momentwhen every one's eyes were fixed upon the Queen or Ursula, he quietlyturned the key in the lock of that closet door, and slipped the key inhis own pocket.
After that he rejoined the group of ladies, feeling that he could waitin peace until the close of the dramatic little episode.
"The rumour, if rumour there was," Ursula had retorted defiantly, "is afalse one, Your Majesty."
"Indeed, child," said the Queen coldly, "did you not, then, some daysago leave the Palace with no other companion save weak-willed MargaretCobham?"
"Verily, I . . ."
"In order to visit, in disguise, or masked, or cloaked--we knownot--some public entertainment, a country fair, methinks?"
"Of a truth, but . . ."
"You do not deny that, meseems."
"I do not deny it, Your Majesty. I meant no harm."
"No harm! hark at the girl! Was there no harm then in your meetingcertain gentlemen of our Court, under circumstances not altogethercreditable to the fair fame of our English maidens?"
"Has the Marquis de Suarez dared. . . ."
"Nay! We did not name the Marquis, girl. Of a truth a gentleman willdare all, once a maid forgets her own dignity. But enough of this. Ispoke a word of warning in your own interests. The Marquis--saving HisEminence's presence--has all the faults of his race. We warn you tocease this intercourse, which doth no credit to your modesty."
"Your Majesty . . ." retorted Ursula, proud and rebellious at thisslight put upon her, and forgetting for the moment even the invisiblepresence of the man she loved.
But Mary Tudor, though at times capable of noble and just impulses, wasfar too blinded by her own passion to give up the joy of this victoryover the girl who had become her rival. At any rate, Fate had done onegreat thing for her: she was the Queen, ruling as every Tudor had ruled,by divine right, absolutely, unquestionably.
She would not let the girl speak, she would see her go, humiliated, withhead bent, forcibly swallowing her tears of shame. Mary only regrettedthis: that Wessex could not be witness of this scene.
She threw back her head, drew herself up to her full height, and pointedperemptorily up towards the gallery.
"Silence, wench!" she commanded. "Go!"
And Ursula could not help but obey.
Slowly she mounted the stairs, her heart burning with defiance. To haveangered Mary Tudor further by renewed rebellion would have been worsethan madness; it would inevitably have brought more ignominy and worseperchance upon herself.
But the tears, which she tried in vain to suppress, were not caused bythe Queen's harsh words, but by the terrible doubts which assailed herwhen she thought of Wessex.
Had he heard?
What would he think?
Would he understand the cause of her innocent deception, or would hebelieve--as indeed he must if he heard them--the evil insinuations sobasely put forward by the Queen.
As she found her way along the gallery she heard Mary's voice once more.
"Duchess, I pray you see that in future more strict surveillance is keptover the young maids under your charge. Lady Ursula's conduct has put meverily to shame before the ambassadors of foreign Courts."
With a sob of impotent revolt Ursula disappeared within the upper room.
The Cardinal watched her until the door closed upon her and he was quitesure that she was well out of hearing. Then he approached the Queen andsaid in his most suave manner--
"Nay! Your Majesty, methinks, takes this trifling matter too much _auserieux_. You deigned to mention the Marquis de Suarez just now. Believeme, he is far too proud of the favours bestowed upon him by Lady Ursulato look on England with any reproach."
The Duchess of Lincoln would have spoken, if she dared. Her loyal oldsoul rebelled against this insinuation, which she knew to be utterlyfalse. But to tax His Eminence with the uttering of unfounded gossip andin the presence of the Queen of England--that task was quite beyond theworthy Duchess's powers.
But in her motherly heart she registered the resolution to takeUrsula's part as hotly as she dared whenever Her Majesty would give herleave to speak, and in any case she would not allow the Cardinal'simputation to rest long upon the innocent young girl.
The Queen, on the other hand, had visibly brightened up when HisEminence himself mentioned the name of the young Spaniard in such closeconnection with that of Ursula. She seemed to drink in with delight thepoisoned cup of thinly veiled slander which His Eminence held sotemptingly before her.
She wanted to think of Ursula as base and wanton and had, until now,never quite dared to believe the many strange rumours which certainlyhad reached her ears.
With all her faults, Mary was a just woman and above all a proud one;she would never have allowed her rival to suffer long and seriouslyunder a false calumny. The name of the Marquis de Suarez, when sheuttered it, had been but a shaft hurled at random.
But since His Eminence so palpably hinted a confirmation of her hopes,she was more than ready to give his insinuations the fullest credence.So pleased was she that she gave him quite a pleasant smile, the firsthe had had from her since the afternoon.
"As Your Eminence justly remarks," she said graciously, "the matter isperhaps not of grave moment. But our interest in the young maidens whoform our Court is a genuine one nevertheless. I pray you let itpass--Duchess, we'll speak of it all on the morrow. My lord Cardinal, wewill wish you good night."
She was about to finally pass him and to leave the room when hercuriosity got the better of her usual dignified reserve.
"Is it the last night Your Eminence will spend at our Court?" she askedpointedly.
"I think not, Your Majesty," replied the Cardinal blandly. "'Tis manydays yet which I shall hope to spend in Your Majesty's company."
"Yet the skein is still entangled, my lord."
"'Twill be unravelled, Your Majesty."
"When?"
"_Quien sabe?_" he replied. "Perhaps to-night."
"To-night?"
She had allowed herself to be led away by the eagerness of her desire toknow what was happening. Shrewd enough where her own wishes and planswere concerned, she could not help but notice the air of contentment,even of triumph, which the Cardinal had worn throughout the evening. Hecertainly did not look like a man about to be sent back discomfited, toan irate master, there to explain that he had failed in the taskallotted to him.
Mary's curiosity was very much on the alert, but His Eminence'smonosyllabic answers were not intended to satisfy her, and perforce shehad to desist from further questioning him. Obviously he did not mean totell her anything just yet. She bade him good night with moregraciousness than he could have anticipated, and his bow to her was fullof the most profound respect.
A moment later she had passed out of the room, followed by Her Grace ofLincoln and her maids-of-honour.
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