Chapter 13
‘WE’LL HELP YOU,’ DOROTHEA SAYS firmly. ‘Although it won’t be easy.
The King is suspicious of new people at the best of times, and who can blame him given the amount of duplicity that man has had to deal with?
But the Queen does have the power to choose her own ladies-in-waiting.
She’s never submitted to his will in that matter. ’
‘Well, then.’ Jean inhales thoughtfully on her pipe.
‘The key is to come up with a convincing identity for Mistress Balfour. You Ruthvens are a constant presence at court. But I’ve been absent for many years.
Mistress Balfour could easily be my ward, a family member of ambiguous parentage I have taken under my wing.
It would be entirely in keeping for me to ask for such a ward to spend time at court. ’
‘Would you do that, Lady Jean?’ Margaret asks.
‘Of course,’ Jean says with a dismissive wave. ‘This’ll be the best sport I’ve had for a long time.’
‘I’ve no doubt she would be accepted on those grounds,’ Dorothea says.
‘You may be a distant presence, but your power cannot be disputed. The King knows your husband is an invalid, and that you run most of the Highlands single-handedly. Taking your ward into court is an excellent way for him to maintain good relations with you while matters with the Catholic lords hang in the balance, and without . . .’
‘Without actually having to deal with me personally,’ Jean finishes for her friend.
Dorothea laughs. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that, my dear.’
Of course, nobody can guarantee her safety, and Elspet kens by entering the court of a King who has presided over the executions of many folk for much lesser crimes than her spae-craft, she will be risking a great deal, perhaps even her life. But she’s glad these women are on her side.
‘What about that dreadful man who dared send soldiers to Lady Jean’s door, the Earl of Orkney?’ Dorothea asks. ‘Do they know your true identity, Mistress Balfour? Might they warn the King?’
Despite her fear, Elspet is glad Dorothea raised this issue. If the Earl of Orkney sends word to the King, this whole scheme will be over before it has begun.
‘He does indeed,’ she says quietly.
‘It is our understanding,’ Beatrix says, ‘that the Earl of Orkney, the man they call Black Patie, accuses Mistress Balfour of witchcraft.’
On hearing these words said out loud, Elspet flinches. Jean coughs on her pipe.
‘Dear God,’ Dorothea exclaims. ‘You’re saying not only has the Queen asked you to bring a woman with . . . controversial skills to court, but this woman is already labelled a witch?’
‘Mistress Balfour has committed no crime,’ Beatrix says firmly. ‘It seems the King has been applying pressure to the Earl of Orkney in the matter of witch hunting. The islands are known for the skill of their spae-wives and Mistress Balfour is simply a conveniently placed target.’
‘This runs deeper than I imagined,’ Lady Jean says darkly.
‘I also suspect,’ Margaret says stiffly, ‘that our journey to the islands prompted the Earl of Orkney to act as he did. He sent his soldiers to arrest Mistress Balfour on the very day we arrived to ask for her help.’
Elspet had been wondering about the coincidence of these fine women from court travelling to Orkneyjar and the Earl breaking years of peace to send his soldiers after her.
She feels a surge of anger, that these women brought such trouble to her door.
But it passes in a moment. There would always be something, some reason for him to come after her.
If it hadn’t been this, he would have found another reason one day.
‘He heard of your visit to his islands, and decided to finally join the King’s campaign?’ Jean asks.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Margaret says, ‘and for that, I am sorry, Mistress Balfour. You understand we had to charter a boat, ask about your whereabouts.’
‘Not much happens on the islands without him knowing about it,’ Elspet whispers.
‘So you see why we must succeed,’ says Beatrix. ‘It is not only the Queen and her child we are protecting, it is also Mistress Balfour.’
Lady Jean turns her penetrating gaze onto Elspet again. ‘You agreed to help the Queen in order to escape persecution in your homeland.’
It’s a statement, not a question, and there’s no point denying it. She returns Jean’s gaze. This is a woman who requires straightforward answers. ‘You’re right. I’d never have left my homeland by choice. But now I’m here, I’ll do everything in my power to help the Queen.’
‘The Queen will protect you from the Earl of Orkney,’ Beatrix says fiercely. ‘I know she will. In the meantime, it will not serve his purpose to expose you at court. He’d look like a fool.’
Elspet wishes she could share Beatrix’s confidence.
Yes, the Earl would look foolish if the King discovers she has escaped from Orkneyjar.
But she kens the Earl of Orkney is not a man whose cruelty should be underestimated.
And now Henry Colville has turned up at Dunrobin Castle, they must assume the worst. Elspet looks at the floor of the sitting room.
It’s covered with a patterned rug of red and black curlicues and she traces its curves with her eyes, trying to ground herself.
‘There is something else at play here.’ Beatrix looks at Margaret. ‘May I tell them?’
‘You may as well.’ Margaret rolls her eyes. ‘You’ve told them everything else.’
‘The Earl of Orkney is one of the men who expressed a desire to make Lady Margaret his bride.’
‘Really?’ Dorothea says. ‘Does he have dire need of your fortune? I mean . . .’ She hurriedly tries to make up for her tactless comment. ‘Not that you don’t have many qualities to recommend you to a husband, Lady Margaret.’
Margaret gives a bitter laugh. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think for a moment anything other than my purse interests the Earl of Orkney.’
‘Good God,’ Jean says. ‘I know better than most the misery of having an unwanted husband foisted upon you. I should not have turned those men away. It would be more useful to know their orders, what this man’s intentions are.’
‘Colville will hate to have been bested, especially by a woman,’ Elspet says. ‘I suspect he’ll return.’
‘Then we will be ready,’ Jean says. ‘I’ll post men around the grounds – ensure we have advanced warning next time.’
Elspet kens the cruelty of which Colville is capable but, looking at the grim expression on Jean’s face, and remembering the crossbow pointed at his head, she wonders if he may have met his match.
‘And nobody else must know the truth about Mistress Balfour,’ Beatrix adds. ‘You haven’t told Mary anything, have you, Mother?’
‘Of course not, do you think me a fool?’ Dorothea shakes her head.
‘Mary’s even worse than you are at keeping a secret, my dear.
No, persuading Mary and Atholl of her new identity will be a good first challenge for Mistress Balfour here at Dunrobin.
We’re all eating as well as hunting together for the season. ’
Elspet takes a deep breath, remembering Lady Mary Ruthven’s scrutiny, the eyes that slid over her as being someone of no value. Perhaps she’s already failed this challenge.
Beatrix clears her throat. ‘What about . . . your husband, Lady Jean? Will you tell him of our plan?’
The countess raises her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think we need bother him with this. In the light we smile and acquiesce. What we do in the shadows is our own business.’
Dorothea gives a short laugh. ‘I hardly think you smile and acquiesce, even in the light.’
Jean nods at the truth of this. ‘I’m fortunate enough to have gone beyond that now. It’s an important lesson for a woman to learn, dear Beatrix. It is possible to live our own lives, as long as we do it away from scrutiny.’
In the silence that follows, Elspet looks around at this group of women gathered in the luxury of Jean’s sitting room.
She takes a deep breath, stands and walks over to the window, feeling their eyes follow her.
The window faces east, looking over the castle gardens and down to sea of the Moray Firth, crashing onto the rocks beyond.
She stares into the moving white tips of waves, and the sight of the sea settles a blanket of calm upon her.
Beatrix walks over to join her at the window. She clears her throat. ‘Lady Alvah Gordon. Delighted to make your acquaintance.’
‘Alvah Gordon,’ Margaret repeats. ‘I like it.’
Elspet tries it on for size. This is the new skin she must wear. Something about the name feels right and although Lady Jean is intimidating, she feels proud to be related to her, if only with a false identity.
‘That will do nicely,’ Jean says. ‘If anyone enquires as to your precise parentage, you must blush and say I am a mother to you now. I have over ten siblings, you know, many of whom are on their second or third marriage, as well as siring God knows how many illegitimate offspring. Not even I can keep track of all my relatives.’
‘We’ll send word to the Queen,’ Beatrix says. ‘When she sent us on our mission to Orkney, we devised a code only we understand. It is most thrilling.’
Margaret gives another frustrated sigh.
‘And I shall send a formal letter to the King,’ Jean says, ‘requesting that you are taken into court for a spell as a lady-in-waiting to the Queen.’
‘The King will have to ask the Queen for a special favour to take on your ward as one of her ladies,’ Dorothea says. ‘He will believe Lady Alvah Gordon to be a lady-in-waiting of his own selection. Yes, that is a nice touch.’
‘You may have the run of my wardrobe, Lady Alvah,’ Jean continues. ‘We will select some suitable clothing before this evening’s meal. And as for how to pass as a convincing lady-in-waiting, I will leave that to Beatrix and Margaret.’
Something else occurs to Elspet. ‘Will I . . .’ she begins. ‘Will I need to read and write?’
‘A little,’ Beatrix says. ‘We can teach you here – the library at Dunrobin is marvellous.’
Elspet’s face must betray how daunted she feels as Margaret leans forward. ‘Don’t worry, Mistress Balfour, there’s plenty a nobleman who can do little more than write his own name.’
‘It’s more important to learn how to carry yourself,’ Jean says. ‘There is a softness in the way you stand, the way you move, that must be overcome. A lady holds herself upright at all times. Just look at Lady Margaret.’
Margaret’s gaze flies to Jean, eyes narrowing as though she senses she is being mocked.
Jean laughs. ‘I only mean you shall be a superb example to our new lady.’
‘When shall we return to court?’ Beatrix asks. ‘The Queen will be anxious to meet Lady Alvah as soon as possible.’
‘Her Majesty’s pregnancy shows all signs of strength,’ Dorothea says. ‘I believe we may safely stay for the final week of the hunts. Then we shall return together.’
‘Well then,’ Jean says, looking at Elspet. ‘Hold yourself up straight, spae-wife. You have one week to become Lady Alvah Gordon.’