Surely in the light of day the queen would see the folly of her plan. It was unthinkable that Mary would permit herself to be abducted by a nobleman for the sake of a romantic interlude. She must realize the risk to her reputation if her secret was discovered. Further, could not the queen see how impossible it was for an imposter to assume the throne? Even for one day?
Meredith’s head swam with questions as she turned to watch the flurry of activity. Several servants were busy laying out a gown of regal scarlet velvet, along with a tiara of diamonds and rubies, and a necklace of ornate gold filigree and matching rubies.
Meredith’s mouth rounded in an O of appreciation. “Oh, Majesty, it is breathtakingly beautiful. You will look magnificent.”
The queen smiled indulgently while her friends giggled like children.
“I will not be wearing it,” Mary said without a trace of regret. “The gown is for you, Meredith.”
“Majesty.” Meredith drew back. “I could not. It is too fine.”
“But you will be presiding over Court this day. You must look every inch the queen.”
Meredith crossed her arms over her middle, feeling her stomach churn. “Please, Majesty. I beg you. Forget this foolish dream. You must not do this thing you plan.”
“But I shall.” The queen stood and walked to her, grasping her cold hands and forcing her to meet her steady gaze. “For so long now I have dreamed of being, not the queen, but an ordinary woman. I want to experience what other women have, Meredith. I want to be loved like a woman. And you are going to make this dream possible.”
“Majesty,” Meredith whispered, forcing the words from a throat that had gone suddenly dry. “What will become of the people who come to the queen for solace, and find me instead? What of the pronouncements I make this day in your name? Are they all to be withdrawn on the morrow?”
“Nay, Meredith. Have no fear.” Mary brought her arm about the trembling woman and drew her close. “When you sit upon the throne this day, you speak for the queen. You are the queen. Whatever you declare, it is law. And whatever you rescind, it is rescinded for all time. Is that clear?”
A violent tremor rocked the young woman’s slender frame. “Oh, Majesty. That makes it even more difficult to bear. I am not worthy to pass judgment on others. I have not the right.”
“I give you the right,” the queen said sternly. “Am I not your queen?”
“Aye, Majesty.”
“Then kneel, Meredith, and accept the edict of your queen.”
Meredith knelt and the queen touched a hand to her shoulder. In regal tones she pronounced, “I, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, do declare you, Meredith MacAlpin, the bearer of my name and seal this day. All that you proclaim on this day shall be law. Let no man rescind your orders.”
Meredith swallowed down the little knot of fear that rose in her throat. When the queen caught her hands and drew her to her feet, she was startled to see that the Maries were no longer laughing. For the first time they realized what a dangerous scheme had been set in motion.
“Now,” the queen said regally, “go to your sisters and the rogue who carries his heart on his sleeve. Confide in no one. And when it is time to dress for Court, you must do so without drawing undue attention to yourself.” As Meredith prepared to make further protest, the queen gave her a friendly shove. “Go. I command you to put aside your fears.”
Even though it was a royal command, Meredith knew it was impossible to obey. Her fears for what was to come could not be ignored.
~ ~ ~
The preparations for Court were a blur of activity. Meredith stood in the queen’s chambers, staring at her reflection in a looking glass, while servants dressed her hair and helped her into her gown and jewels. When the crown of diamonds and rubies was placed upon her head, she felt as if the weight of the entire world had suddenly been thrust upon her.
She turned to where Mary stood, surrounded by her Maries. Wearing a flowing gossamer gown of palest pink, with her hair loose and falling in soft waves to her waist, the queen looked for the first time like the young girl she was. Her cheeks were flushed with the thrill of her adventure. Her eyes sparkled. With a little laugh she crossed the room and took Meredith’s cold hands.
“Meredith MacAlpin. You have earned the undying gratitude of your queen.”
“Majesty.”
As Meredith began to curtsy Mary stopped her. “You will bow to no one this day. Remember. You are the queen.”
As tears misted Meredith’s eyes Mary called, “Flem, take Her Majesty to meet with Lord Aston.” To Meredith she said softly, “He will go over your appointments this day, which have already been scheduled. If there is time he will ask you to read the list of petitioners.”
So that the others could not hear, Meredith whispered, “Majesty, there is still time to end this charade.”
“Look at me,” the queen commanded.
Meredith stared into her eyes.
“Would you ask me to give up this one chance to live as others do?”
Meredith slowly shook her head. “I am unworthy to ask anything of you, Majesty.”
“God bless you,” the queen said with feeling. Then, hugging Meredith to her, she turned away.
Mary Fleming took Meredith’s arm and led her to a small council chamber where the queen met daily with her advisers.
~ ~ ~
The keeper of the gate at Holyroodhouse strode toward the crowd of elegantly dressed men and women who gathered at the entrance of the castle. Unrolling his scroll, he began to read the list of names who would be granted an audience.
From their position in an upper window, Brenna and Megan watched the spectacle with avid interest. When Meredith had told them that they would be permitted to attend Court this day, they nearly fainted. Had it not been for the strong arms of the men who accompanied them, they would not have been brave enough to walk through the hallowed halls and follow the gnarled old man who led the procession to the throne room.
As they were ushered into the elegant great hall, they stared at lush tapestries depicting the royal lineage from the time of the first great Scottish king. The floors were covered with rich carpets bearing the royal seal. Around the room were chairs covered in regal red velvet. And on a raised dais stood a throne, covered in rich scarlet brocade. Slightly behind the throne to either side were chairs for the queen’s advisers.
The petitioners were escorted to chairs in a gallery section set on either side of the throne. Brenna and Megan had hoped to find chairs in front, but most of the gallery was already filled. They were forced to take seats in the far corner of the gallery behind rows of spectators. Brice and Angus stood behind them.
A flurry of trumpets heralded the arrival of the queen. Brenna and Megan strained to see over the heads of the spectators, but all they caught was a glimpse of scarlet velvet and the glint of rubies and diamonds that adorned the royal crown.
For his part, Brice was completely disinterested in the pomp of the royal Court. He had had his fill of such things in his youth. His thoughts centered on only one. Meredith. To know that she was safe, and spending the day in the security of the queen’s palace, filled his heart with peace.
Their brief meeting after morning meal had been unsatisfying. Though they had talked about her journey from the Highlands, and the perils they had both faced, there had been no time alone.
Tonight, he thought with a rush of heat. Tonight he would go to Meredith’s chambers. And at last they would be reunited.
When the queen ascended the throne, Brice glanced at the two young women who actually trembled with excitement. For all his disenchantment with royalty, he realized he would enjoy watching the proceedings through the eyes of Brenna and Megan. If only Meredith could have joined him. Or better, if they could have slipped away during these long hours. But she had insisted that there were pressing matters that she must attend for the sake of the queen.
Brice’s eyes narrowed. When he and Mary Stuart were alone on the morrow
, he would confide his fears about Meredith’s safety. And he would officially ask the queen to look into the mysterious murders taking place along the Border. It had never mattered to him before. Let others think what they wanted about him. But now it was time to clear his name. So that he could ask Meredith MacAlpin to share it.
~ ~ ~
Meredith’s heart swelled as she walked up the aisle and lifted her hand to the masses of people who bowed and curtsied as she passed. She was experiencing her first taste of what it was like to be loved and revered by so many. And yet the nagging thought persisted. How could it be that none of them noticed that she was an imposter? Even Lord Aston, the queen’s aide, had gone over the list of activities without so much as a pause to glance directly into her face. Did she dare to hope that she could get through the entire day without being found out?
As she took her seat upon the throne, she cast a benevolent smile over the crowd.
Lord Aston began reading the first petition. As he read from the scroll, Meredith allowed her gaze to scan the spectators. They were staring at her with such awe, she felt her throat go dry. What was she doing here? God in heaven. This was not some silly game being played out so that the queen could experience romance. This was, for many of the people seated before her, a matter of life and death.
As Lord Aston’s voice droned on she lost her sense of concentration. It no longer mattered what the petitioner was requesting of his queen. She was an imposter. An ordinary woman who was being asked to make decisions that would affect the lives of the people she loved.
As Lord Aston finished his speech, Meredith waited for the voice of doom. Surely God would strike her down for such arrogance. She waited for the sound of thunder. Instead there was an ominous silence.
Meredith felt Flem’s hand upon her arm and gave a guilty start, bringing her out of her reverie. What had just been requested of her? She couldn’t think. Could not even recall the words that had just been spoken.
The crowd shifted uneasily as Lord Aston repeated the petition a second time. Forcing herself to pay attention, Meredith spoke in halting tones.
“I shall take the petitioner’s request under advisement. Proceed with the next, Lord Aston.”
The crowd gave a murmur of disapproval. They had come here to watch the high- and lowborn among them spar with the queen. They did not wish to have any controversial topics set aside.
Her aide seemed perplexed as he uncurled the second scroll and began to read. This one was easier. A petitioner requested that his neighbor’s land be given to him because the neighbor had allowed the land to go fallow.
“What would you do with the land if I were to give it to you?” Meredith asked.
The portly man stood and bowed his head respectfully. Beside him, his wife beamed with pride at her husband’s moment of glory.
“I would plant it with crops, Majesty. I have a fine, healthy herd and they have need of more food.”
“And who would do this planting?”
“I have four strapping sons.”
“You are truly blessed,” Meredith said. She looked into the crowd. “Who owns this land?”
A plump woman, her gray hair pulled into an untidy knot, stood. “I do, Majesty.”
“Do you have a husband?” Meredith asked.
“He died a year ago.” The woman fingered a sash at her waist, too humble to look at the regal figure on the throne.
“Are there any sons who can work the land?”
“I have a son, Majesty. A bonnie lad he is. But he is off fighting the English who raided our Border.”
“No other children?”
“There is a daughter, Majesty. Her husband was killed by the English, and she and her three bairns are now living with me. She and I have tried to till the soil but it is more than we can manage.”
Meredith studied the woman, then glanced at the neighbor who desired her land. If only, she thought, life could always be equitable. But some were born with health, or acquired wealth, while others seemed always beaten down by the trials of this life.
“Until this woman’s son returns and is able to work the land I will grant you permission to plant your crops on her land.”
The man smiled, enormously pleased at his good fortune.
“Provided you give half your crops to your neighbor in payment for the use of such land.”
The man’s mouth dropped open. “But it is my labor, Majesty, that produces the crops.”
“Aye. And her land. Furthermore, when her son returns, the land reverts to him and his mother.”
“But, Majesty...”
“That is the judgment of your queen.”
During this entire exchange, the crowd had grown very quiet. It was obvious, from the smiles on many of the faces, that they were pleased with the queen’s decision.
At the queen’s first words, Brenna and Megan stared at each other in shock. Though the clothes and jewels were those of a queen, the voice was Meredith’s. There was no mistaking it. But though both girls craned to see over the crowd, they could not see their queen’s face.
As distracted as Brice was, he, too, knew that the voice he was hearing was not that of Mary. From his position at the back of the gallery he studied the regal figure upon the throne.
By all that was holy. Meredith. Disguised as the queen.
A smile touched his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. So that was why she had been so unnerved this morrow. The rumors about the queen’s tryst with Lord Bothwell were the truth. And once again his little firebrand was being shamelessly used by Mary.
Brenna and Megan tugged at his sleeve, eager to share their secret. But he put a finger to his lips and nodded. Puzzled, they turned around and continued to watch as this amazing charade was played out.
The petitions dragged on and Meredith handled those that were within her realm. Any that seemed too complicated, or too politically explosive, were “taken under advisement.” Each time Meredith made a decision her voice grew stronger, her mannerisms more regal, until she found herself thinking and acting like the queen.
When a nervous old woman in a shabby dress petitioned to force a nobleman to pay her for the clothes she had made him, Meredith turned to study the finely attired man.
“Did the lady make the clothes you are wearing?”
He bowed slightly before his queen. “Aye, Majesty. But one of my own servants had to strengthen the seam here,” he said pointing, “or I would not have been able to wear it.”
“Has she made other clothes as well?”
“Some, Majesty. But all of them needed additional work.”
“And you have paid this woman nothing?”
“Her work was shoddy.”
“Yet you continue to wear the clothes she made.”
The man fell silent.
“You will pay her the sum you promised her, and ten gold sovereigns more.”
“More! Why, Majesty?”
“Because you did not live up to the terms of your agreement. If the clothes needed further sewing, they should have been returned immediately for repairs. The fact that you accepted them, and wore them, proves that they were adequate.”
The look on the man’s face told the spectators that he was not happy with the judgment. But the dressmaker saw the smiles on the faces of the crowd as she passed.
“I would take a moment,” the queen said to Lord Aston as he prepared to read the next petition.
He paused.
Seeing the dressmaker’s dilemma had reminded her of a debt she owed. This may be her only chance to repay it.
In regal tones Meredith said, “I decree that the official dressmaker to the queen shall be Rowena, a woman from the Highland clan Mackay. See that she is brought to Edinburgh this day in the queen’s own carriage.”
Lord Aston recorded the edict on a scroll, then stood and cleared his throat before proceeding with the next petition.
In the back of the gallery, Brice watched the woman he loved with a mixtur
e of humor and awe. What an amazing woman she was. She was handling affairs of state as if she had been born for this task alone. He chuckled. Mary Stuart would feel the results of her charade for many years to come.
Lord Aston’s voice rang through the chambers.
“Gareth MacKenzie of the Borders, in the matter of the death of Meredith MacAlpin.”
At his words Meredith felt her throat go dry. At the sudden movement in the gallery, she turned to watch as the figures parted and one stepped forward. As she sat on the throne, she found herself face-to-face with the man she most feared and hated. Gareth MacKenzie.
Chapter Twenty-four
Gareth was feeling supremely confident. Standing in the presence of the queen, with his men around him, he intended to paint a heroic picture of himself. He was aware, of course, that his golden hair and handsome face endeared him to most people. And in front of this young queen he would be the most charming man in all of Scotland.
He had rehearsed his speech until he was certain there was nothing he had forgotten. With characteristic boldness, he began.
“My younger brother, Desmond, was to have wed the lady Meredith MacAlpin. On his wedding day Desmond was brutally murdered by the Highland Barbarian, Brice Campbell. His young bride was carried off to Campbell’s Highland castle.”
Meredith was aware of the gasps from many in the crowd. Scant months ago she, too, would have feared for the life of anyone abducted by Brice Campbell. His reputation as a scoundrel and murderer had been carefully established throughout the land.
In the back of the gallery Brice listened with a look of intense concentration to this man who had set out to destroy his reputation and who had nearly succeeded in ending his life as well.
“To avenge my brother’s death and to save the young innocent from this savage, my men and I attacked Campbell’s Highland home, Kinloch House, and though we were outnumbered, managed to kill Brice Campbell. But the lady, probably fearing for her life at the hands of that barbarian, fled into the Highland forests. My men and I searched for days but found no trace of her. It is our belief that the lady perished in the Highlands.”
“Could she not have taken refuge in a cottage?”
“We inquired of many Highlanders, Majesty. No one has seen her.”
“But if you have no proof of her death, why do you wish to have her declared dead?”
Highland Barbarian Page 23
