To Serve a Queen

by Josephine Bell

  Francis did his part in this clearing and cleansing process, as he considered it. Where in Spain his unsoldierly following had blamed him for their excessive suffering, his wild Scots, used to hard living and the fierce rivalry of their native clans, admired him for his abundant energy and quick decision and cunning. Those few reports he was able to send out to Colonel Ogilvy showed his present joy in success, his deep satisfaction that his service with King Gustavus Adolphus was helping so gloriously the cause of his beloved Queen.

  He was totally unaware of the enemy behind him, implacable, sure now of his identity and hoping at the right moment to kill, or at least ruin him by exposing what he imagined to be a criminal imposture. For Alan Carr had no knowledge of the lieutenant’s adoption and a natural habit of suspicion. Overall he longed to discredit him with the Queen.

  She, resilient as always, was finding abundant hope and renewed courage from the new successes in spite of those family trials and misfortunes that always attended her. Less than a year after the drowning of Prince Frederic Henry she gave birth to a fifth daughter named Sophia; but the baby girl Charlotte, born in that former unhappy year, died before she was able to walk. Moreover, there was continued trouble between the Elector Palatine, whose hopes for his lost country had been so wonderfully revived, and King Charles, who even at this late hour was trying to arrange a Treaty of Peace with the Emperor.

  Poor Frederic, who had long bitterly regretted his subservience to his father-in-law King James, was maddened by the crass stupidity of a brother-in-law he had always regarded as a child. His wife fully agreed with him. She wrote one of her long, brisk letters to Charles, complaining that he owed her husband help, since he had not for some time now even paid her marriage allowance. At such a favourable time, she insisted, it would be absurd on his part to fail them.

  But Charles had no money to send, so the quarrel went on. As did a more serious dispute between the Prince of Orange and the Swedish king. It had become clear that Sweden demanded the fullest possible control of his allies. This was plain good sense from a military point of view, but a cause for some suspicion. However, victory was the order of the day and as long as the fortune of war prospered and the Emperor’s forces were still retreating, still giving up their conquests to return across the Rhine, still pursued there by strong determined action, no great harm came of the wrangles over command and payment for services.

  It was about the time Colonel Ogilvy visited Lord Aldborough at his country manor house that Francis, summoned to Lord Craven’s headquarters, was ordered to deliver a message to the Elector in person.

  ‘In person and in private,’ Lord Craven said. ‘And do not imagine you are particularly favoured in this mission.’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  Francis controlled his inward mirth. Lord Craven was known for this habit of discouraging young men when he imagined they were developing ambitions above their achievements.

  Lord Craven looked up sharply. He had heard an unlooked-for note in the young officer’s voice, a note of – could it be ribaldry? But the face above the tall stiff figure was grave, the lips firm. ‘Curse his Scot’s humour,’ Craven said to himself.

  Aloud he said, with careful explanation, ‘Colonel Ogilvy attended upon Madam, as I think you did too for a time?’

  ‘I had that honour, my lord.’

  ‘Then I look you be discreet at all times.’

  ‘You may trust me, my lord.’

  So he might, Lord Craven thought, so he might. He despatched another note, still more privately, to the colonel of the Scottish regiment, explaining his action and apologising for going over the colonel’s head to secure Lieutenant Ogilvy for his mission.

  The colonel acknowledged this message without comment. But he complained of it to Lieutenant Ian Munro and ordered two troopers to be sent with Francis as escort to Rhenen where the Elector and his wife were staying at the villa. Lieutenant Munro, who had already been granted a week’s leave and was waiting to go to Holland, added himself to the party. So the friends set off together.

  When they arrived at Rhenen they found the Elector and his lady were out hunting. But they were encouraged to dismount at the guard room beside the double gate, while their horses were watered by the troopers, together with the men’s own mounts. As they were being given refreshment for themselves by the guards they heard the hunting horn blow not far away and going outside again saw the deer spring across a clearing in line with the road by which they had come, followed at once by the huntsmen, the dogs, the Elector and the eager figure of the Queen herself, drawing on her crossbow.

  Francis waved his hat in the air in his excitement. Had he not been dismounted he would have ridden off himself in pursuit.

  ‘It is the Queen herself!’ he cried, overjoyed to see the beloved figure so happily engaged.

  ‘What Queen?’ Munro asked, astonished at his friend’s antics.

  ‘The King and Queen of Bohemia, exiled but still hoping to be restored. The Queen of Hearts, all call her.’

  ‘They make a fine pair,’ the lieutenant said, curtly, ‘though a most unlucky one.’

  The two young men waited at the guard house for the return of the hunt, which came a half-hour later, bringing the deer’s carcass with them, hung by the feet from a horizontal pole.

  As the royal couple came to the gates the sergeant of the guard went forward to report the arrival of messengers to Frederic.

  ‘Ogilvy? Ogilvy? A lieutenant with Craven? That person who waits yonder? He reminds us of one who would scarce be welcome here. But see that he presents his message in audience later.’

  ‘It is a private message, is it not?’ the Queen leaned down to ask the sergeant, as her lord passed on. ‘Bring him to us in the small library before His Majesty is ready for him.’

  To her lady-in-waiting she murmured as she rode on, ‘This is a face and form I know well, though the name be changed. We must know the reason for it. Solve this riddle, madam, and bring us the answer immediately.’

  When the hunt had passed by, the royal pair and their attendants to dismount before the villa’s main door, the rest to the stables, the sergeant of the guard delivered Francis and his friend to the housekeeper at the side door of the villa and then disposed of the two troopers with his own men at the gates.

  By this time word from the lady-in-waiting had reached the housekeeper, who stood waiting to receive them in order to satisfy the Queen’s curiosity. But since Her Majesty had suggested there was some mystery concerning the taller visitor, she asked for their names in such a low voice that none but herself could hear her, and receiving the answers in like fashion roused the curiosity of Mistress Louise Mayerne, who never failed to concern herself with other people’s business in order, if possible, to expose their deceits. She followed this practice now.

  She kept behind the lady-in-waiting, but found herself shut out from the library. An attendant did however tell her that the newcomer was a certain Lieutenant Ogilvy, in the employ of the Lord Craven to fight with Gustavus Adolphus, and had brought a message from his lordship. So the rumour already circulating that Francis Leslie was come again must be false, she concluded. She need not scheme to keep Anne Wolmer away from the Queen while the visitors stayed. But she could not resist spreading a little false rumour about the two young Scots who had come from Lord Craven and how they were fighting for the Cause, unlike a certain young profligate who she had been told had abandoned them two years since for the pleasures of London and his old doting uncle. When they reminded her that one of the visitors’ names was Ogilvy, she said the family was a wide one, she had no doubt, and mostly military.

  Anne in her turn was filled with curiosity about the new arrivals, though she understood they were come as messengers to the Elector and therefore did not expect to meet them. Anne had been back in Holland for nearly two years now and very thankful to be there. Her father no longer spoke to her of early marriage. She thought she knew the reason, for her mother had explained it
to her. The death of the Duke had destroyed Lord Aldborough’s hopes of continued reward for service. In fact there was talk of confiscating much of the wealth George Villiers had already distributed among his tribe of relations. They must fade into quiet retirement for a time.

  ‘But if you prefer it and he allows it, you may return to the Winter Queen’s Court, but not, I fear, to that of the Prince of Orange. The haughty Princess Amelia still makes a great show of her station.’

  ‘I would much prefer to serve our Queen of Hearts,’ Anne answered. ‘She has a truly regal manner and besides is most marvellously brave, cheerful, charming –’

  ‘Oh aye, a paragon indeed!’ laughed Lady Aldborough. ‘I will admire her equally if she will recommend your father a husband for you of high breeding and good fortune.’

  ‘Which two attributes seldom go together,’ said Anne, ruefully. ‘Until old age, from which God defend me!’

  Seeing her daughter was serious, though she spoke as if half in jest, Lady Aldborough was almost persuaded to confide in her some news of the hopeful offer that had been put forward by those two worthy elders on behalf of the newly adopted son. But caution restrained her, so Anne returned to Rhenen still ignorant of Francis’s new name and raised position.

  The young man was summoned to the Queen’s presence very soon after the return of the hunt. He was taken to her in the small library as she had ordered, where he went forward with eyes for no other face, to bow low and kiss most ardently the hand she at once held towards him.

  ‘You have filled out remarkably,’ she said in a laughing voice. ‘A great lusty man, no boy now! But the same bright eyes and hair, the same honest face! You have letters for us from my Lord Craven?’

  Francis had blushed scarlet at her words, but now he paled again.

  ‘I ask Your Majesty’s pardon,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But my orders from my commander when he entrusted me with the sealed packet were to place it in His Majesty’s hands and no others.’

  ‘Which you intend to do however we countermand you?’ she asked keenly, watching him.

  ‘My duty –’ he began, and stopped, white-faced now.

  She struck the arm of her chair with her hand, but said nothing. Indeed she did not have time, for the door flew open, the Elector marched in, his face furious, went swiftly to Francis and shouted, ‘Impostor, what have you done with Lieutenant Ogilvy? I know you! You are Francis Leslie! You killed my son! You betrayed …’

  He stopped, out of breath, staring about him, keeping his eye from the Queen, who sat perfectly still, looking steadily at Francis.

  He was appalled, but since he still had his message to deliver, sealed, intact, he managed to bow formally and present it as ordered. Then he stepped back a pace and waited, erect, wary, ready to defend himself.

  ‘Your Majesty has been misinformed,’ said the Queen. She jumped up from her chair and going close to the Elector said quickly and brightly, ‘I had a letter come to me this morning from old Camel-face.’ She meant her old friend and tutor, Sir Thomas Roe. ‘Lieutenant Ogilvy is this young man’s new name, for his uncle has adopted him. I commanded his presence for I thought you would not wish to see him so soon. But he would not give up his mission. He is very faithful.’

  The Elector’s rage and fuss evaporated. He turned the packet over and back. Without looking at Francis he said to a lord-in-waiting, one of his group that had pursued him breathless to the library, ‘Bring Lieutenant Ogilvy to me in half an hour. Find and bring to me at once the knave that spoke to me of an impostor, a possible harm to my messenger.’

  He turned to march away, but a figure stepped into his path, dropped a deep curtsey and said in a breathless voice, ‘If I may speak, Your Majesty. It was no knave. It was a much-mistaken lady who thought to protect …’

  The Elector stared at her. He glanced round at his wife, to find not only her keen eyes, but six pairs more belonging to her ladies, all fixed upon him. Into the silence two small dogs darted forward, barking. A monkey chattered from a window curtain, another threw a nut that fell at his feet.

  The Elector’s face collapsed; he laughed, he roared with laughter. The courtiers followed. The Queen thrust a hand under her husband’s arm.

  ‘I will tell thee the whole history,’ she said, as they walked away. ‘And then you must forgive our faithful and devoted friend who saved your life for my sake rather than your own.’ But she said these last words so low he did not hear them and would not have believed them if he had.

  In the library, as the courtiers and attendants crowded out to follow the royal pair, Francis made his way with difficulty to Anne’s side, stopping her and drawing her back into the room.

  ‘They told me you were gone to England, then that you were married to some English lord.’

  ‘They!’ she cried, nodding fiercely. ‘The same that told me you were a murderer, a coward, mixed up in some way with the Duke’s death, an ill-liver …’ She broke off, turning her face away to murmur, ‘Since I had but one letter from you and that all of soldiering …’

  He could not tell her yet why he had thought himself unworthy to approach her.

  ‘I wrote to you fully in my heart, but could never send it on parchment!’ he cried passionately. ‘My uncle, that is, my father he is now, did tell me you were here again, but I was not free to come, nor invited. I have been with my Lord Craven’s Scottish troops.’

  ‘Fighting?’ The concern in her voice was unmistakable.

  ‘It is my profession.’

  She was more beautiful than ever, Francis thought.

  ‘Anne,’ he said. ‘My lovely Anne! It was because I thought of you night and day that I dare not write to you. Never from neglect.’ He went on wildly, ‘I have a name now to offer you, my dearest! But I must win me a fortune in these wars or I cannot approach your father. Will you wait, do you care, can I hope –’

  His voice was getting desperate and loud. She put up a hand across his mouth and said with laughing eyes, ‘Why yes, sir, I will wait as long as need be, if you will have patience, which I much misdoubt is not in your nature.’

  He drew her to him, but as he did so they heard the rustle of a gown behind them and turning found the Queen of Hearts standing at the door.

  She was alone. She smiled and said in her clear voice, ‘Lieutenant Ogilvy, the King awaits you.’

  He bowed and hurried away. Then the Queen turned again to her maid-of-honour. ‘Anne, my dear child,’ she said, ‘come sit on my footstool and tell me this whole story of your love. For that you are as besotted as that poor young man is very clear and I think I shall have to take your part to bring about any success to his suit.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anne was very willing to open her heart to her kind mistress.

  ‘Dear Madam,’ she said, ‘I have been the victim of a most unkind deceit which I had never suspected had it not been made obvious in today’s misleading accusation given to His Majesty to his very great displeasure.’

  ‘Go on,’ the Queen encouraged her. ‘I can imagine how the mistake arose and also the jealousy behind it. Oh, do not hesitate to name Louise Mayerne. You are not the only member of my Court to suffer a kind of persecution by that unfortunate girl. But the others have complained and the complaints have been passed to me. Only you have shown this estimable patience and I shall reward you for it.’

  Anne was ready now to describe the whole interrupted course of her friendship with Francis, pitifully little excuse for its survival, but none the less genuine for that. The Queen was delighted.

  ‘You deserve to prosper,’ she assured the girl. ‘You deserve to enjoy a blessed union like my own. Go now and when His Majesty has done with this young man of yours you may speak to him alone, you may hear the declaration I have no doubt he wishes to make and you may bring him to me again to confirm it and to seek my permission to lay his request for your hand before my Lord Aldborough. For should he succeed with your father he would need our permission to take you from o
ur service,’ she added formally, but on a cheerful note that promised the permission would not be withheld.

  ‘And now,’ the Queen concluded, ‘find us that dishonest girl, Mayerne, or rather see she be sent to us at once, unless His Majesty has already found her and pronounced punishment.’

  Anne could not fail to carry out this order, though she avoided giving it to Louise herself, but instead went with it to the chief lady-in-waiting. After which, feeling very unhappy about the outcome, she decided to warn Louise if she could find her in time.

  At first she did not succeed in this, but after being wrongly directed several times, she came across her in a passage that led to a small side door used chiefly by the servants. She was standing talking to a man whose figure was familiar though his face was hidden by a wide and very dirty hat. Also by the fact that his head was lowered to speak softly and rapidly to Louise. Anne heard the words as she came quickly towards them.

  ‘So it is the same,’ the man hissed. ‘That would-be murderer has wheedled himself a name and a position. Tell me more.’

  ‘Louise!’ Anne cried, for she would not be caught eaves-dropping. ‘The Queen has sent –’

  She broke off as the pair who had been too much occupied with one another to notice her coming, started away from each other, staring.

  In a second the man had gone, down the passage, through the door. He might never have been there at all. Louise gave a little harsh laugh.

  ‘Think you it was a ghost here with me?’ she said, making no effort at concealment or explanation.

  ‘That was Captain Alan Carr,’ Anne said. ‘What did he want? Surely he is in dire peril to set foot here in this house?’

  ‘This is the County Palatine, this house, no part of the Prince’s province where he is proscribed,’ Louise answered coolly. ‘Would the Palgrave betray him? Would you?’