CHAPTER XXX.
TETE-A-TETE.
During that close imprisonment at Tixall Cicely learnt to know hermother both in her strength and weakness. They were quite alone;except that Sir Walter Ashton daily came to perform the office oftaster and carver at their meals, and on the first evening his wifedragged herself upstairs to superintend the arrangement of theirbedroom, and to supply them with toilette requisites according to herown very limited notions and possessions. The Dame was a very homely,hard-featured lady, deaf, and extremely fat and heavy, one of the olduncultivated rustic gentry who had lagged far behind the generalcivilisation of the country, and regarded all refinements as effeminateFrench vanities. She believed, likewise, all that was said againstQueen Mary, whom she looked on as barely restrained from plunging adagger into Elizabeth's heart, and letting Parma's hell-hounds looseupon Tixall. To have such a guest imposed on her was no smallgrievance, and nothing but her husband's absolute mandate could haveinduced her to come up with the maids who brought sheets for the bed,pillows, and the like needments. Mary tried to make her requests asmoderate as necessity would permit; but when they had been shouted intoher ears by one of the maids, she shook her head at most of them, asarticles unknown to her. Nor did she ever appear again. Thearrangement of the bed-chamber was performed by two maidservants, theKnight himself meanwhile standing a grim sentinel over the two ladiesin the outer apartment to hinder their holding any communicationthrough the servants. All requests had to be made to him, and on thefirst morning Mary made a most urgent one for writing materials, books,and either needlework or spinning.
Pen and ink had been expressly forbidden, the only book in the housewas a thumbed and torn primer, but Dame Joan, after much grumbling atfine ladies' whims, vouchsafed to send up a distaff, some wool, a pieceof unbleached linen, and a skein of white thread.
Queen Mary executed therewith an exquisite piece of embroidery, whichhaving escaped Dame Joan's first impulse to burn it on the spot,remained for many years the show and the wonder of Tixall. Save forthis employment, she said she should have gone mad in her utteruncertainty about her own fate, or that of those involved with her. Toask questions of Ashton was like asking them of a post. He would giveher no notion whether her servants were at Chartley or not, whetherthey were at large or in confinement, far less as to who was accused ofthe plot, and what had been discovered. All that could be said for himwas that his churlishness was passive and according to his ideas ofduty. He was a very reluctant and uncomfortable jailer, but he neverinsulted, nor wilfully ill-used his unfortunate captive.
Thus Mary was left to dwell on the little she knew, namely, thatBabington and his fellows were arrested, and that she was supposed tobe implicated; but there her knowledge ceased, except that Humfrey'swarning convinced her that Cuthbert Langston had been at least one ofthe traitors. He had no doubt been offended and disappointed at thatmeeting during the hawking at Tutbury.
"Yet I need scarcely seek the why or the wherefore," she said. "I havespent my life in a world of treachery. No sooner do I take a step onground that seems ever so firm, than it proves a quicksand. They willswallow me at last."
Daily--more than daily--did she and Cicely go over together thathurried conversation on the moor, and try to guess whether Langstonintended to hint at Cicely's real birth. He had certainly notdisclosed her secret as yet, or Paulett would never have selected heras sprung of a loyal house, but he might guess at the truth, and bewaiting for an opportunity to sell it dearly to those who would regardher as possessed of dangerous pretensions.
And far more anxiously did the Queen recur to examining Cicely on whatshe had gathered from Humfrey. This was in fact nothing, for he hadbeen on his guard against either telling or hearing anythinginconsistent with loyalty to the English Queen, and thus had avoidedconversation on these subjects.
Nor did the Queen communicate much. Cicely never understood clearlywhat she dreaded, what she expected to be found among her papers, orwhat had been in the packet thrown into the well. The girl did notdare to ask direct questions, and the Queen always turned off indirectinquiries, or else assured her that she was still a simple happy child,and that it was better for her own sake that she should know nothing,then caressed her, and fondly pitied her for not being admitted to hermother's confidence, but said piteously that she knew not what thesecrets of Queens and captives were, not like those of Mistress Susanabout the goose to be dressed, or the crimson hose to be knitted for asurprise to her good husband.
But Cicely could see that she expected the worst, and believed in a setpurpose to shed her blood, and she spent much time in devotion, thoughsorely distressed by the absence of all those appliances which herChurch had taught her to rest upon. And these prayers, which oftenbegan with floods of tears, so that Cicely drew away into the windowwith her distaff in order not to seem to watch them, ended withrendering her serene and calm, with a look of high resignation, ashaving offered herself as a sacrifice and martyr for her Church.
And yet was it wholly as a Roman Catholic that she had been hated,intrigued against, and deposed in her own kingdom? Was it simply as aRoman Catholic that she was, as she said, the subject of a more cruelplot than that of which she was accused?
Mysterious woman that she was, she was never more mysterious than toher daughter in those seventeen days that they were shut up together!It did not so much strike Cicely at the time, when she was carriedalong with all her mother's impulses and emotions, without reflectingon them, but when in after times she thought over all that then hadpassed, she felt how little she had understood.
They suffered a good deal from the heat and closeness of the rooms, forMary was like a modern Englishwoman in her craving for free air, andthese were the dog-days. They had contrived by the help of a diamondthat the Queen carried about with her, after the fashion of the time,to extract a pane or two from the lattices so ingeniously that themaster of the house never found it out. And as their two apartmentslooked out different ways, they avoided the full sunshine, for they hadneither curtains nor blinds to their windows, by moving from one to theother; but still the closeness was very oppressive, and in the heat ofthe day, just after dinner, they could do nothing but lie on the table,while the Queen told stories of her old life in France, till sometimesthey both went to sleep. Most of her dainty needlework was done in thelong light mornings, for she hardly slept at all in the hot nights.Cis scarcely saw her in bed, for she prayed long after the maiden hadfallen asleep, and was up with the light and embroidering by the window.
She only now began to urge Cicely to believe as she did, and to joinher Church, taking blame to herself for never having attempted it moreseriously. She told of the oneness and the glory of Roman Catholicismas she had seen it in France, held out its promises and professions,and dwelt on the comfort of the intercession of the Blessed Virgin andthe Saints; assuring Cicely that there was nothing but sacrilege,confusion, and cruelty on the other side.
Sometimes the maiden was much moved by the tender manner and persuasivewords, and she really had so much affection and admiration for hermother as to be willing to do all that she wished, and to believe herthe ablest and most clear-sighted of human beings; but whenever Marywas not actually talking to her, there was a curious swaying back ofthe pendulum in her mind to the conviction that what Master Richard andMistress Susan believed must be the right thing, that led totrustworthy goodness. She had an enthusiastic love for the Queen, buther faith and trust were in them and in Humfrey, and she could seereligious matters from their point of view better than from that of hermother.
So, though the Queen often felt herself carrying her daughter along,she always found that there had been a slipping back to the oldstandpoint every time she began again. She was considering with someanxiety of the young maiden's future.
"Could I but send thee to my good sister, the Duchess of Lorraine, shewould see thee well and royally married," she said. "Then couldst thoube known by thine own name, and rank as Princess of
Scotland. If I canonly see my Courcelles again, she would take thee safely and proveall--and thy hand will be precious to many. It may yet bring back thetrue faith to England, when my brave cousin of Guise has put down theBearnese, and when the poor stumbling-block here is taken away."
"Oh speak not of that, dear madam, my mother."
"I must speak, child. I must think how it will be with thee, somarvellously saved, and restored to be my comfort. I must provide forthy safety and honour. Happily the saints guarded me from evermentioning thee in my letters, so that there is no fear that Elizabethshould lay hands on thee, unless Langston should have spoken--the whichcan hardly be. But if all be broken up here, I must find thee adwelling with my kindred worthy of thy birth."
"Mr. and Mrs. Talbot would take me home," murmured Cicely.
"Girl! After all the training I have bestowed on thee, is it possiblethat thou wouldst fain go back to make cheeses and brew small beer withthose Yorkshire boors, rather than reign a princess? I thought thyheart was nobler."
Cicely hung her head ashamed. "I was very happy there," she said inexcuse.
"Happy--ay, with the milkmaid's bliss. There may be fewer sorrows insuch a life as that--just as those comely kine of Ashton's that I seegrazing in the park have fewer sorrows than human creatures. But whatknow they of our joys, or what know the commonalty of the joy ofruling, calling brave men one's own, riding before one's men in thefield, wielding counsels of State, winning the love of thousands? Nay,nay, I will not believe it of my child, unless 'tis the base Borderblood that is in her which speaks."
Cicely was somewhat overborne by being thus accused of meanness oftastes, when she had heard the Queen talk enviously of that same homelylife which now she despised so heartily. She faltered in excuse,"Methought, madam, you would be glad to think there was one lovingshelter ever open to me."
"Loving! Ah! I see what it is," said the Queen, in a tone of disgust."It is the sailor loon that has overthrown it all. A couple of walksin the garden with him, and the silly maid is ready to throw over allnobler thoughts."
"Madam, he spoke no such word to me."
"'Twas the infection, child--only the infection."
"Madam, I pray you--"
"Whist, child. Thou wilt be a perilous bride for any commoner, and letthat thought, if no other, keep thee from lowering thine eyes to suchas he. Were I and thy brother taken out of the way, none would standbetween thee and both thrones! What would English or Scots say to findthee a household Joan, wedded to one of Drake's rude pirate fellows? Itell thee it would be the worse for him. They have made it treason towed royal blood without Elizabeth's consent. No, no, for his sake, aswell as thine own, thou must promise me never thus to debase thy royallineage."
"Mother; neither he nor I have thought or spoken of such a matter sincewe knew how it was with me.
"And you give me your word?"
"Yea, madam," said Cicely, who had really never entertained the idea ofmarrying Humfrey, implicit as was her trust in him as a brother andprotector.
"That is well. And so soon as I am restored to my poor servants, if Iever am, I will take measures for sending the French remnant to theirown land; nor shall my Courcelles quit thee till she hath seen theesafe in the keeping of Madame de Lorraine or of Queen Louise, who isherself a kinswoman of ours, and, they say, is piety and gentlenessitself."
"As you will, madam," said Cicely, her heart sinking at the thought ofthe strange new world before her, but perceiving that she must not bethe means of bringing Humfrey into trouble and danger.
Perhaps she felt this the more from seeing how acutely her mothersuffered at times from sorrow for those involved in her disaster. Shegave Babington and his companions, as well as Nau and Curll, up forlost, as the natural consequence of having befriended her; and sheblamed herself remorsefully, after the long experience of the fatalconsequences of meddling in her affairs, for having entered intocorrespondence with the bright enthusiastic boy whom she remembered,and having lured him without doubt to his death.
"Alack! alack!" she said, "and yet such is liberty, that I shouldforget all I have gone through, and do the like again, if the doorseemed opened to me. At least there is this comfort, cruel child, thylittle heart was not set on him, gracious and handsome though hewere--and thy mother's most devoted knight! Ah! poor youth, it wringsmy soul to think of him. But at least he is a Catholic, his soul willbe safe, and I will have hundreds of masses sung for him. Oh that Iknew how it goes with them! This torture of silent suspense is themost cruel of all."
Mary paced the room with impatient misery, and in such a round theweary hours dragged by, only mitigated by one welcome thunderstorm, forseventeen days, whose summer length made them seem the more endless.Cicely, who had never before in her life been shut up in the house somany hours, was pale, listless, and even fretful towards the Queen, whobore with her petulance so tenderly as more than once to make her weepbitterly for very shame. After one of these fits of tears, Marypleaded earnestly with Sir Walter Ashton for permission for the maidento take a turn in the garden every day, but though the good gentleman'scomplexion bore testimony that he lived in the fresh air, he did notbelieve in its efficacy; he said he had no orders, and could do nothingwithout warrant. But that evening at supper, the serving-maid broughtup a large brew of herbs, dark and nauseous, which Dame Ashton had sentas good for the young lady's megrim.
"Will you taste it, sir?" asked the Queen of Sir Walter, with a revivalof her lively humour.
"The foul fiend have me if a drop comes within my lips," muttered theknight. "I am not bound to taste for a tirewoman!" he added, leavingit in doubt whether his objection arose from distaste to his lady'smesses, or from pride; and he presently said, perhaps half-ashamed ofhimself, and willing to cast the blame on the other side,
"It was kindly meant of my good dame, and if you choose to flout at,rather than benefit by it, that is no affair of mine."
He left the potion, and Cicely disposed of it by small instalments atthe windows; and a laugh over the evident horror it excited in themaster, did the captives at least as much good as the camomile,centaury, wormwood, and other ingredients of the bowl.
Happily it was only two days later that Sir Walter announced that hiscustody of the Queen was over, and Sir Amias Paulett was come for her.There was little preparation to make, for the two ladies had worn theirriding-dresses all the time; but on reaching the great door, where SirAmias, attended by Humfrey, was awaiting them, they were astonished tosee a whole troop on horseback, all armed with head-pieces, swords andpistols, to the number of a hundred and forty.
"Wherefore is this little army raised?" she asked.
"It is by order of the Queen," replied Ashton, with his accustomedsurly manner, "and need enough in the time of such treasons!"
The Queen turned to him with tears on her cheeks. "Good gentlemen,"she said, "I am not witting of anything against the Queen. Am I to betaken to the Tower?"
"No, madam, back to Chartley," replied Sir Amias.
"I knew they would never let me see my cousin," sighed the Queen."Sir," as Paulett placed her on her horse, "of your pity tell mewhether I shall find all my poor servants there."
"Yea, madam, save Mr. Nau and Mr. Curll, who are answering forthemselves and for you. Moreover, Curll's wife was delivered two dayssince."
This intelligence filled Mary with more anxiety than she chose tomanifest to her unsympathising surroundings; Cis meanwhile had beenassisted to mount by Humfrey, who told her that Mrs. Curll was thoughtto be doing well, but that there were fears for the babe. It wasimpossible to exchange many words, for they were immediately behind theQueen and her two warders, and Humfrey could only tell her that hisfather had been at Chartley, and had gone on to London; but there wasinexpressible relief in hearing the sound of his voice, and knowing shehad some one to think for her and protect her. The promise she hadmade to the Queen only seemed to make him more entirely her brother byputting that other love out of the question
.
There was a sad sight at the gate,--a whole multitude ofwretched-looking beggars, and poor of all ages and degrees of misery,who all held out their hands and raised one cry of "Alms, alms,gracious Lady, alms, for the love of heaven!"
Mary looked round on them with tearful eyes, and exclaimed, "Alack,good folk, I have nothing to give you! I am as much a beggar asyourselves!"
The escort dispersed them roughly, Paulett assuring her that they werenothing but "a sort of idle folk," who were only encouraged in lazinessby her bounty, which was very possibly true of a certain proportion ofthem, but it had been a sore grief to her that since CuthbertLangston's last approach in disguise she had been prevented from givingalms.
In due time Chartley was reached, and the first thing the Queen did ondismounting was to hurry to visit poor Barbara Curll, who had--on herincreasing illness--been removed to one of the guest-chambers, wherethe Queen now found her, still in much distress about her husband, whowas in close imprisonment in Walsingham's house, and had not beenallowed to send her any kind of message; and in still more immediateanxiety about her new-born infant, who did not look at all as if itslittle life would last many hours.
She lifted up her languid eyelids, and scarcely smiled when the Queendeclared, "See, Barbara, I am come back again to you, to nurse you andmy god-daughter into health to receive your husband again. Nay, haveno fears for him. They cannot hurt him. He has done nothing, and is aScottish subject beside. My son shall write to claim him," shedeclared with such an assumed air of confidence that a shade of hopecrossed the pale face, and the fear for her child became the morepressing of the two griefs.
"We will christen her at once," said Mary, turning to the nearestattendant. "Bear a request from me to Sir Amias that his chaplain maycome at once and baptize my god-child."
Sir Amias was waiting in the gallery in very ill-humour at the Queen'sdelay, which kept his supper waiting. Moreover, his party had a strongdislike to private baptism, holding that the important point was thepublic covenant made by responsible persons, and the notion of thesponsorship of a Roman Catholic likewise shocked him. So he madeungracious answer that he would have no baptism save in church beforethe congregation, with true Protestant gossips.
"So saith he?" exclaimed Mary, when the reply was reported to her."Nay, my poor little one, thou shalt not be shut out of the Kingdom ofHeaven for his churlishness." And taking the infant on her knee, shedipped her hand in the bowl of water that had been prepared for thechaplain, and baptized it by her own name of Mary.
The existing Prayer-book had been made expressly to forbid lay baptismand baptism by women, at the special desire of the reformers, and SirAmias was proportionately horrified, and told her it was an offence forthe Archbishop's court.
"Very like," said Mary. "Your Protestant courts love to slay both bodyand soul. Will it please you to open my own chambers to me, sir?"
Sir Amias handed the key to one of her servants but she motioned himaside.
"Those who put me forth must admit me," she said.
The door was opened by one of the gentlemen of the household, and theyentered. Every repository had been ransacked, every cabinet stood openand empty, every drawer had been pulled out. Wearing apparel and thelike remained, but even this showed signs of having been tossed overand roughly rearranged by masculine fingers.
Mary stood in the midst of the room, which had a strange air ofdesolation, an angry light in her eyes, and her hands clasped tightlyone into the other. Paulett attempted some expression of regret forthe disarray, pleading his orders.
"It needs not excuse, sir," said Mary, "I understand to whom I owe thisinsult. There are two things that your Queen can never take fromme--royal blood and the Catholic faith. One day some of you will besorry for what you have now put upon me! I would be alone, sir," andshe proudly motioned him to the door, with a haughty gesture, showingher still fully Queen in her own apartments. Paulett obeyed, and whenhe was gone, the Queen seemed to abandon the command over herself shehad preserved all this time. She threw herself into Jean Kennedy'sarms, and wept freely and piteously, while the good lady, rejoicing atheart to have recovered "her bairn," fondled and soothed her with softScottish epithets, as though the worn woman had been a child again."Yea, nurse, mine own nurse, I am come back to thee; for a littlewhile--only a little while, nurse, for they will have my blood, and oh!I would it were ended, for I am aweary of it all."
Jean and Elizabeth Curll tried to cheer and console her, alarmed atthis unwonted depression, but she only said, "Get me to bed, nurse, Iam sair forfaughten."
She was altogether broken down by the long suspense, the hardships andthe imprisonment she had undergone, and she kept her bed for severaldays, hardly speaking, but apparently reposing in the relief affordedby the recovered care and companionship of her much-loved attendants.
There she was when Paulett came to demand the keys of the caskets whereher treasure was kept. Melville had refused to yield them, and all theQueen said was, "Robbery is to be added to the rest," a sentence whichgreatly stung the knight, but he actually seized all the coin that hefound, including what belonged to Nau and Curll, and, only retainingenough for present expenses, sent the rest off to London.
Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland Page 30