But before Patrick could answer she spoke up. "No! We go straight through to Glenkirk!"
He shot her an angry look. "I make those decisions," he said.
"Go to hell, Glenkirk," she replied evenly, and spurred her horse ahead.
When they finally reached Glenkirk Castle she accepted his help dismounting, then walked alone to her apartments, where she collapsed on the floor.
She never knew that it was Patrick alone who cared for her in her delirium but he learned again from her fevered ravings how terribly he, James, and even Bothwell had hurt her. She relived it all, and sitting by her side he was forced to share it all. For a time she was back in the early days before their marriage, when she had shyly given him her innocence and then angrily fought him for her rights.
Far more shocking than he was prepared for was the sudden and intimate knowledge of what the king had done to her. Hearing her plead against performing the perversions that James had forced her into sickened him. And then he found himself reliving the rape through her eyes. Weeping bitterly, she sat straight up in their bed and, staring at him with sightless eyes, held out her hands to him-begging him not to shame her. He was devastated.
But the most painful experience of all for Patrick Leslie that night was to hear once more of her love for Bothwell. When she spoke of him, her face became a totally different face from the one he had always loved. It was a far more beautiful face-serene and mature. That she and Bothwell adored each other was obvious, and he who had loved her since she was a child ached to learn that only Francis Stewart-Hepburn's love could satisfy Cat.
He was touched to learn that she had tried to give Bothwell her wealth, and equally touched to learn that the great border lord had refused her. It was funny, thought Glenkirk, but had they not loved the same woman, he and Bothwell might have been friends. One thing he did not learn, however, was the truth about the paternity of the twins. Even in her great illness she protected her children.
Several days later she came to her senses again, and with a frightened gesture, clutched her belly.
"Dinna fear," Glenkirk said harshly, "ye still hae yer bastard!" And he departed, leaving her in the care of her servants.
Cat was a tough creature, and she quickly regained her strength. Her color returned, and she grew sleek and plump with the passing weeks. She spent her time resting, and with her children. Only Bess was old enough to know that the child her mother carried was not her father's, and Bess wanted no more wars with her mother. She made her peace with Cat by asking to be the child's godmother, and Cat agreed, pleased. Bess had grown up.
Meg could say nothing to Cat, unwilling to choose sides between her stubborn son and her equally implacable daughter-in-law. They were both so proud. The dowager finally resolved her dilemma by going off to visit her youngest son and his wife for an indefinite stay.
The Earl of Glenkirk treated his wife with a cold courtesy. They were bound together by the church and by royal command. Cat responded in kind. It appeared an impossible situation.
In mid-August of 1595, the Countess of Glenkirk was delivered of her ninth child, a daughter. The following day she sat up in bed receiving her family. At her back were lace-edged pillows, and her tawny hair hung loose and shining about her shoulders. It was not until late afternoon that the Earl of Glenkirk visited his wife.
She had given up hope of his coming, and was alone nursing her daughter. He stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching her, and for a moment his eyes softened. Then she looked up, and their eyes met. "May I come in. Cat?"
She nodded. Drawing up a chair by her bedside, he sat down and watched the child suck hungrily on the plump breast. Shortly the baby fell asleep, and before she could stop him, Glenkirk took the child from her. He cradled the infant in the crook of his arm, and looked down at it. It was pink-and-white, with a tiny heart-shaped face and damp auburn curls. Thick, dark eyelashes tipped in gold lay like half-moons on her cheeks. He had seen enough infants in his time to know that this one would be a great beauty.
"What will ye call her?" he asked.
"I had not thought on it yet," she answered.
"Since she is probably the last child we will ever have, I should like to name her," he said.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "What would ye call her?" she asked hesitantly.
"Frances," he said quietly. "Frances Leslie is to be her name."
For the briefest moment she did not believe she had heard him correctly, but his eyes were warm suddenly, and he smiled at her. "I will nae ask yer forgiyeness, Cat, for what I did to ye cannot be erased, or forgotten. But I dinna want James Stewart to destroy us and our family as he destroyed Bothwell. I know ye'll never love me again, but can we nae begin afresh, and be friends? I have never stopped loving ye, sweetheart, and I doubt I ever will."
She drew a deep breath, and felt her heart swell until it ached. A hard lump rose in her throat and tears burned her eyelids. Reaching out, she took his free hand and pressed it to her cheek. Then she looked up at him, and her eyes were like emeralds. "Bothwell was right," she said softly. "He said we would be safe wi ye."
Glenkirk lay the sleeping child in her cradle and then, returning to his wife's side, took both her hands in his. "1 am a luckier man than he, sweetheart. I have been given a second chance." He smiled again at her, and she tremulously returned the smile.
She would make her peace with him for her daughter's sake, and because they would be safe with him. But no matter how long she lived she would not forget Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the great border lord, the uncrowned King of Scotland, and her beloved. He would always live fiercely in her secret heart.
BOOK II
PART V. FLIGHT TO LOVE
Chapter 38
CATRIONA Leslie sat quietly before her bedroom fire watching the dancing flames and trying to absorb the events of the past weeks. Her husband was dead, or so everyone assumed. She could not, however, imagine Patrick dead, nor did she feel he was. Still, she sighed, the facts seemed indisputable.
Eighteen months ago Patrick had sailed from Leith in a six-ship convoy aboard his flagship, the Gallant James. They were bound for the New World on a fur-buying expedition. It was a new venture in the Leslie interests, and the Earl of Glenkirk had gone along to be sure the new business would be successful.
In part Cat blamed herself for his departure. Though they had made their peace after Frances Anne's birth, and there was no enmity between them, neither was there anything else. To all outward appearances the Earl and Countess of Glenkirk were an ideal couple. But Cat pined every waking moment for her exiled lover, the Earl of Bothwell. She said nothing, but Patrick Leslie knew, and continuously cursed himself for the supreme act of stupidity that had cost him his wife's love.
For close to a year now the earl had toyed with the idea of mounting an expedition to the New World. Furs had always been an important part of European fashion, and the quality of skins beginning to trickle in from the New World was quite superior. "Why," asked Patrick, "should our ships carry such valuable cargo for others when we can buy the furs ourselves and sell them in Europe ourselves?"
So it was decided that the first Leslie ships would leave in early spring of 1596, followed three months later by a second group, commanded by the earl's brother, Adam Leslie. In the hope that his absence would give her time to heal and perhaps begin thinking of him in a more loving fashion, the Earl of Glenkirk chose to lead the expedition himself. Cat had even gone to Leith in the company of all their children to bid him a safe journey.
"I will bring ye back enough beaver to make a whole cloak," he promised gaily. "Dark fur shows yer beauty to perfection." And he kissed her tenderly.
"Go safely, Patrick, and return soon," she answered him.
"Ye’ll be all right, Cat?"
She smiled up at him, and for a brief moment he saw her as she had been before life had hurt her so badly. "I'll be fine, Glenkirk!" And the leaf-green eyes twinkled mischievously at him. "I am quite capable of
being on my own-if ye call being wi nine bairns being alone!"
And they had parted. She had had no premonition of disaster, no premonition that she would never see him again. But six weeks ago, in mid-July of 1597, the second convoy of Leslie ships had returned to Leith heavy with a cargo of rich furs, and bringing also the terrible news. Adam Leslie, not even waiting to oversee the unloading, had spurred his horse cruelly to reach Glenkirk with the announcement that Patrick Leslie and his six ships had never reached their destination in the New World.
The king had quickly learned of the tragedy, and without consulting the Leslies, he declared young James Leslie the fifth Earl of Glenkirk. Cat was furious, though Glenkirk needed its lord. Once again James Stewart was interfering in her life. He had written to her this week that her mourning was not to exceed six months. She was to be back at court by spring.
His motive, couched in kindly rhetoric, made her laugh and swear alternately. The young earl was ordered to marry quickly to ensure the Glenkirk succession. Thank God, thought Cat to herself, that Patrick and I had the wit to betroth Jemmie to Isabelle Gordon two years ago-else King Jamie would interfere in that as well!
The king's letter continued. Since Patrick's mother, Meg, still lived, Glenkirk had the unusual distinction of having two dowager countesses. As the elder resided in the dower house, the younger must come to court so the young people might have their marital privacy, and so the older woman would not be disturbed.
Cat snorted. Ye dinna fool me, Jamie! Wi Patrick gone and Bothwell exiled, ye think to hae yer way wi me. Come to court and gie my son and his bride their privacy! Pah! Come to court and gie ye my body. You bastard! Ye say nothing of my other bairns. What would ye say if I arrived wi them all?
She was in a very difficult position and could not ask her young son for protection against the king.
But the young earl knew most of the reasons for~ his parents estrangement. Now, with the king seeking to entrap his mother again, Jemmie sought and found what he believed was a solution to free Cat without openly offending the king.
As he burst into her apartments she looked up, startled. "My God! Ye look so like Patrick," she said with a catch in her voice.
He knelt by her side, saying softly, "I hae the answer to yer dilemma, mother! I know how we may thwart the king wi'out bringing his wrath down on the Leslies!’Tis foolproof!"
She put a hand on his shoulder, and he saw the sadness in her face. "Jemmie, my love, I thank ye, but I am trapped, and I would nae shame yer father's memory by destroying his family-our family. The king wants me as his mistress and there is simply no escape for me. I must obey him."
"Nay! Listen to me! The king is nae aware that I know of his duplicity. What if after Bella and I and Bess and Henry are married this winter, we all troup to court, leaving ye here to complete yer mourning period. We return to find ye gone. Only a note remains… telling us ye've gone to visit our Leslie cousins in France in hopes of overcoming yer depression."
"And," said Cat, excitedly catching his mood, "if as soon as ye leave Edinburgh to return home, workmen arrive at Glenkirk House to completely refurbish it, the king will nae suspect that I dinna intend to return." She chuckled. "I will secretly transfer the deed to Glenkirk House to Bella, and my lodge, A-Cuil, to Bess. That way, when Jamie discovers that the bird has flown, he canna confiscate them. Yer right, my son! If ye play the loyal and loving subject then Jamie dare not touch anything Leslie. His involvement has been wi Bothwell, yer father, and me. If he believes ye know nothing, he can nae punish you or our family. His pride will nae permit it, for he is very anxious the English hae a good report of him. The old queen has never officially declared him her heir, and she might name Arabella Stewart, his first cousin. But, Jamie. Ye must publicly denounce my wicked behavior. Not even Bella must know of our plot."
He grinned at her. "Aye, mother. Ye are indeed a shameful hussy, but I'd hae ye no other way!" Then he became more serious. "Ye'll need money. I’ll ask the Kiras the best way of secretly handling funds for ye."
"Nay, Jemmie, but thank ye for the thought. There's nae been a need for ye to know, but I am a very wealthy woman in my own right. I will hae the Kiras begin to slowly transfer my funds to Europe."
"Where will ye go?" he asked her, knowing in his heart the answer she would give him.
She looked straight at him. "Why, Jemmie, I go to find Bothwell. If Francis will still hae me I will be the happiest woman alive."
"I dinna think ye need fear that Lord Bothwell doesna want ye. I understand he was recently expelled from France for killing a man in a duel. The unfortunate gentleman in question made an unkind remark regarding a lady of quality in Scotland who held Bothwell's devotion."
"And where is Francis now?" she asked evenly.
"Italy. He tried Spain, but the Spaniards are a bit too religious, and their court is quite stuffy. Ye'll find yer border lord in Naples. Go to him, mother, and be happy! Marry him as ye both always wanted. Glenkirk will ever be here for ye, but I dinna think you'll need it."
"Frances Anne?"
"Will remain here until yer safely established. I send her to ye then."
"Ian and Jane also," she said quietly.
James Leslie laughed softly. "I always suspected as much, though, thank God, father never did!"
She flushed under her eldest son's amused gaze. "Ye amaze me, Jemmie. How can ye be so tolerant?"
"I am tolerant because ye were always a good mother to us. I am tolerant because until the king forced ye into his bed ye were always a good and loving wife to my father. I am tolerant because the same hot blood that flows in your veins, mother, flows in mine. I have seen how other men look at ye, and as a page wi Lord Rothes' household I have overheard things. Whatever happened that lost my father yer love I blame on the king. I dinna suppose ye would tell me now, would ye?"
For a moment she was thoughtful, and then she spoke. "When yer father found the king wi me he was shocked and very, very hurt. The king might have saved Glenkirk's pride, but instead he cruelly praised my performance in his bed to your father. He took him into my antechamber and there they spent the next few hours drinking Glenkirk whisky, and talking. Afterwards, when they were both very drunk, they entered my bedroom, and…" She stopped for a minute, her face white with the memory. She resumed quietly, "Yer father and the king spent the rest of the night taking turns raping me. After several years I forgave yer father, Jemmie, but that night killed my love for him. I could understand, and, aye, even sympathize wi him, but for him to believe that I, who was ever faithful to him, had willingly betrayed him…" She stopped, momentarily lost for words. "He was ever stubborn, was Patrick Leslie! I loved him once, Jemmie, but I always questioned our marriage. We were, I suppose, too alike.
"I fled after that night to the only friend I had- Lord Bothwell. I only meant to gain time, to have a little peace, to think. But Francis and I fell in love. The rest ye know.
"As for James Stewart, I despise him! He plays the good Christian king, the perfect husband, the ideal father. Alas, he is a hypocrite, and the greatest lecher I hae ever known!"
"I thought he was nae interested in women, but preferred men," said Jemmie.
"Nay.’Tis a ruse he uses to hide his real desires."
"That father could treat ye sol He deserved to lose ye! If I had known, I would hae killed him myself!"
"Jemmie! Jemmie! Yer poor father suffered terribly for that one extravagant cruelty. He returned from Glenkirk eager to see me, and instead found his half-naked wife being fondled by the king. How would ye nae felt if it had been yer Bella? Nay! 'Tis James who is to blame! Yer father-may God assoil him- is gone. Francis is in the kingdom of Naples, and though I dare not communicate wi him, I will soon be going to him. The old life is almost over, and I will soon be on my way to Bothwell. For now, however, our thoughts must be on planning yer wedding to Isabelle Gordon."
"And yer plans, mother?"
"Will be taken care of, Jemmie.’Tis best ye know not
hing more lest ye innocently gie me away. When I am gone, and until I am out of disgrace wi the king, ye can secretly get in touch wi me through the Kiras." She kissed him on the cheek. "Despite my love for Bothwell," she said, "I would nae leave ye if I dinna think ye could handle yer title and the duties that go wi it Learn a lesson from yer ancestors, Jemmie. Only the first Earl of Glenkirk lived to be a white-haired old man. Most of the others involved themselves wi the Stewarts and died young.
"If I had not been so insistent about going to court, perhaps none of this would hae happened. Yer father -and in fairness to his memory, Jemmie, I tell ye this-yer father warned me nae to get involved wi the Stewarts. I would nae listen, but ye must! Let yer Uncle Adam guide ye in business, and keep as much from court as ye possibly can."
"But what happens, mother, when the old queen in the south dies? What if our king goes to London?"
"He will, Jemmie. He impatiently waits for the day he may leave Scotland. Then yer Uncle Adam must go to London to represent our interests, but ye and Bella must remain here. Glenkirk must never be ruled by an absentee lord. 'Twould be its downfall. Teach yer sons a love of this land so it may never be wi'out a Leslie."
"Ye talk as if ye'll ne'er see Glenkirk again, mother."
"I won't, Jemmie. I dinna think James will ever forgie me the insult I will deliver him. Rest assured that should I ever set foot on English or Scottish soil while our royal cousin rules, I shall be quickly and quietly arrested, imprisoned, and aye, even killed. When I go, I am gone. I only pray that Francis still wants me."
James Leslie snorted. "He does! Of that I hae no doubt. God! How desperately he sought to keep ye! If ye had both been less honorable people… but then ye were not, and ye sacrificed yerselves for us Leslies. No more, mother! Though I will publicly condemn ye, ye go wi my blessing, and with my love."
Love Wild and Fair Page 31