Dagger in the Crown (Tam Eildor mystery no.1)

by Alanna Knight

  'She has never returned to Scotland to see her son?'

  Dorothy gave him a strange look. 'There was another child, a girl, conceived shortly after William was born and when Anna still had hopes of being his acknowledged wife. The little girl was frail and she took ill. Anna implored his help. She was alone in a strange city where she knew no one. She made the journey from her lodging to the court at Holyrood, but he refused to see her or the babe, or even to get help from one of the royal physicians. He turned her from the door and the child died.' She was silent for a moment and then she shook her head. 'That was the cruellest blow of all. Anna blames him for their daughter's death. She will never forgive that.'

  An appalling story, right enough, but Tam thought that the child might have died anyway. Infancy was a tenuous business, mortality in the first two years of life common evidence in any kirkyard.

  'Do you hear from your sister?'

  'She keeps in touch with me by letter, but Scotland has bad memories for her.'

  'When did you last see her?'

  Dorothy frowned, remembering. 'We used to meet while she still had hopes of Lord Bothwell being true to his vows. When she visited Scotland, he would put her on a Norwegian ship that briefly sailed into port at Lerwick. She would visit us then.' She sighed. 'But there is no reason for her to come here now.'

  'She has not been back in Scotland?'

  'Not since our father died and our mother, who is something of an invalid, needed Anna to look after her and run the household. She was very good at that, and had helped our father with his business dealings during his illness.' Pausing she gave him a shrewd glance. 'You have asked me at least twice if Anna has been back in Scotland. Is there some reason for your curiosity?'

  Tam considered whether he should tell her about the mysterious woman who had attacked Bothwell. He decided there was nothing to be lost and that in fact there might be something to be gained by this confidence.

  'There have been several attempts on Lord Bothwell's life - here in Stirling and earlier at Craigmillar Castle. We suspect that they were the work, or at the instigation, of some person who knew him and his habits intimately.'

  She looked at him wide-eyed and laughed. 'And you suspect Anna? How incredible!'

  Tam shrugged. 'Not so. A thwarted woman seeking vengeance.'

  But the idea that the two gently reared sisters, Dorothy and Else, had a sibling capable of plotting murder did not seem so plausible any more.

  Again Dorothy laughed. 'What a strange idea! Anna would have to be a very clever woman indeed. Tell me, how did you arrive at such conclusions?'

  A description given to Lord Bothwell by a young man who rescued him at Craigmillar from a woman who was about to plunge a knife in his back. He showed Bothwell the dagger he had seized from her hand and Bothwell thought he recognized it.'

  Dorothy smiled. 'It does not sound a very likely story. Daggers are not unique, not even a lover's special gift.'

  Their conversation was interrupted by Else's arrival and, under that cold watchful stare, they parted, with hopes from Dorothy that he might visit her in Edinburgh before he returned to Branxholm with Lady Buccleuch.

  ‘I have recently rented a small house on the outskirts of the town. I feel the air will be purer for William, and if it suits me I will consider taking up permanent residence there.'

  'Will he not miss his grandmother?' said Tam, remembering the bond between them.

  Dorothy nodded. ‘I will make certain that there is room for her too. Morham is too large, too cold and isolated, for her poor health. Else suggested this arrangement and I saw immediately the advantages of a small, comfortable house. I am taking Lady Morham to see it on our return. I think she will be charmed with the idea. And perhaps you, Master Eildor, will come with us?'

  When Tam said he would be delighted, she continued, 'Doubtless a man's hand will be needed.' She laughed impishly and touched his arm. 'And you need have no fears that I will not be adequately chaperoned.' she regarded him seriously. 'For I should not like to feel that this was to be the end of our acquaintance. You can be free with me, Master Eildor. We are experienced people and visiting a widowed lady will not do irreparable damage to either of our reputations.'

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Monday 6 January 1567. Morning

  As Janet prepared to leave for Fleming's wedding in the Chapel Royal, Tam realized that this serene and happy time at Mar's Lodging, undisturbed by plots or counterplots and with the pleasing addition of Dorothy Sinclair's company, was almost at an end.

  Splendid in russet velvet, happy and excited, Janet sighed. 'Next week at this time we will be home in Branxholm. This is my last social occasion and I am not sorry.'

  'Will Lord Bothwell be at the wedding?'

  Janet scowled. 'I doubt that. Matters at Liddesdale keep him fully occupied. He's a Borderer, like myself. Glad to be free of the court and all its intrigues.' Adjusting her coif, framed in pearls and garnets, she considered her reflection and added, 'Have you heard that Lord Darnley was taken ill on Christmas Eve, the very day he reached his father's house in Glasgow? It is said he has smallpox, but that I fear is an innocent diagnosis of the disease.'

  Tam frowned. 'Innocent?'

  'Aye, Tam. It is syphilis. And all things considered, God may relieve Her Grace of this loathsome burden of a husband without the necessity of a scandalous divorce, if she has patience to bide her time a little.' At the door she turned and smiled. 'You had best say farewell to Mistress Sinclair, Tam, for there will be little opportunity of meeting her once we get back to Branxholm. Ye'll have plenty there, I dare say to keep yer mind off any budding romance.'

  Tam's eyebrows raised. 'I was not aware—'

  Janet laughed shortly. 'Then ye're a fool, man. Anyone can see that the lady is smitten with ye. Look at the way she seeks out your company.' And with a coy smile, Aye, and ye're not averse to that, I fancy.'

  She put a hand on his shoulder. 'It's a grand thing for a young man like yerself to have a mistress.'

  'Madam,' said Tam indignantly, 'we are far from that.'

  Janet shook her head. 'Not too far - yet, Tam. Anyway, a widowed lady like Mistress Dorothy Sinclair is a better prospect than Seton. I'm pleased that ye didna take advantage of her infatuation. And that ye kept her at a distance - at least most o' the time,' she added with a laugh.

  'No fault of mine,' Tam grumbled. 'I had little option in the matter. You have my word that I am deeply fond of Marie Seton and, had we been equals in social standing, I would have wished to make our relationship a lasting one.'

  Janet smiled at this self-righteous pronouncement as he went on, 'But there are promises I might not be able to keep, as you well know.'

  'Aye, Tam, better than most.'

  'I cannot commit myself to any woman, only to find in the fullness of time that I am a bigamist.'

  'Perhaps a father too, Tam, although I have noticed little paternal about you,' said Janet as, leaning over, she kissed him gently. 'Such sentiments do ye credit. It doesna worry some men - Jamie Hepburn included,' Janet added bitterly and sighed. ‘I ken only too well that our time together is limited. That is all that concerns me, but Seton has no experience in the ways of the world. Poor lass. Although, her betrothal to Adam Drummond would be an excellent move and would receive the blessing of both Setons and Drummonds. They're a fine family, well thought of and close to the Queen.'

  'And yourself, Janet. Would you approve?'

  'Aye. Not that my opinion would be sought.' Sighing, she stretched her arms above her head. 'But let's get Fleming's wedding over and leave as quickly as we can.'

  A quick kiss and she was gone.

  Tam had time to deliberate on Janet's words. With no opportunity to talk to Marie alone since he watched the royal party ride in two days past, he had not been at all surprised to see Adam Drummond riding at her side. The young couple looked happy, totally involved with one another. Tam was glad for them both. And rather more selfishly for himself.
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  Matters had moved swiftly since Marie went away and he had spent a great deal of time in Dorothy Sinclair's company. A remarkable woman, clever, intelligent and attractive.

  He recognized that here was the kind of woman he could love and respect. Her Viking inheritance, her life in Shetland, had bred a stronger version of womankind than he'd encountered at Mary's court.

  He spent the evening playing cards at Bow Street. Neither of the sisters had been invited to Fleming's wedding and Else seemed a little distracted, her attention constantly wandering from the cards. At last, complaining of a headache, she excused herself and retired.

  He had given up trying to understand Else, who remained an enigma. The very opposite of her sister, she was nervous and ill at ease in his company. He wondered why she disapproved of him. Despite Dorothy's assurances that she had an attachment for him, this was not the behaviour of a love-smitten female. That idea did not ring true. There was something else, deeper and more disconcerting, about her behaviour in his presence.

  This was not the first time she had left them together on the flimsiest excuse and Tam exchanged a glance with Dorothy who merely smiled knowingly. Had Else's action been kindly meant or even suggested by Dorothy? For both realized this was to their advantage, aware that once Tam settled in the demanding atmosphere of Branxholm, as Janet had warned him, he would have little excuse to visit Edinburgh and their meetings would be few indeed.

  When their ways parted Tam would be truly sorry, his memories of Stirling as a pleasant interlude of warm friendship with Dorothy Sinclair.

  He would carry in his mind the vivid picture of her riding fearlessly, and alone, never afraid to be solitary, scorning dependence upon anyone, a free spirit unshackled by the strict rules and conventions dictated for well-born females of the time.

  Also in her favour was her total disregard for the superstitious beliefs and fears that dominated so many lives, from which even the Queen of Scotland was not immune.

  'We make our own destiny, Tam. We are not playthings of the gods. We all have it in us to fulfil our ambitions and desires, if we are strong enough to take fate by the throat. When we are young, young as the Queen, we are vulnerable. But later, we discover that life itself shapes us.'

  Tam smiled, said teasingly, ‘And yet even you did not wish to have your fortune told?'

  She turned and stared at him, remembering the evening they had spent together and her indignant outburst when Lady Morham had been eager to have Tam read the cards or her hand.

  'I know my fortune,' Dorothy had said shortly. 'I know what life holds for me. Why should I be confused by the foolish revelations of a pack of cards?'

  'Do you not believe, then, that our lives might be mapped out in our hands?' Tam asked.

  'That our lives are written the day we are born?' She made a gesture of dismissal. 'I think it is highly unlikely and totally against my rigid Protestant upbringing. Our dear father, the Admiral, taught us by his own example to be practical people.'

  'Your sister Anna was hardly a good example,' Tam reminded her gently.

  'Anna was very young, very foolish. She had a soft heart and could not recognize a man who wanted only her fortune. Nay, Tam, superstitions are only for ignorant peasants. For those of us who use our heads, not our hearts, we know differently. We know that we can shape our destinies.'

  'Yet even our Queen is swayed by omens.'

  She shrugged. 'Incredible, is it not? As a Catholic and one who regards herself as God's anointed, she should surely have more faith in His divine will.' Without awaiting his reply, she smiled: 'Let us trust that time will teach her better wisdom, or I fear it will be the worse for us.'

  When he told her about the Queen wishing to turn back after encountering the drowned man at the Nor' Loch, and how glad he had been that she had not counted thirteen riders as they crossed to Inchmahome Priory, Dorothy's reaction was one of incredulous amusement. 'I wish I had been there, Tam. It must have been a remarkable day. Did you ever discover the identity of the missing page?'

  Tam shook his head and Dorothy, like Janet, suggested that the thirteenth rider had some better prospect in mind than riding home in stately fashion with the Queen.

  ‘And on such a cold day too, who could blame him?'

  Loving islands, even the small ones, she wanted to hear more about Inchmahome and talked enthusiastically of Norway and the fjords and the ancient sagas.

  Tam knew he would miss her conversation most of all. She had an amazing knowledge, doubtless based on her earlier travels with her husband. It extended beyond travel, to literature and art. She also dabbled, she said, in painting.

  When he expressed a desire to see some of her work, she laughed. 'Some day, when I have leisure, I shall paint you.'

  He was sorry when the evening was over and Lady Morham returned to Mar's Lodging in a flutter of happy exhaustion. As Dorothy hovered over her anxiously, the romantic sentiments she carried from Fleming's wedding were again satisfied at finding her dear friend alone with the personable Master Eildor.

  Tam fancied she was already hearing another peal of wedding bells, although she sighed and said, 'My dears, I am just tired - and too old for such great events. At one time I could have danced with the best of them.' She sighed. 'But that was long ago.'

  Dorothy removed her old friend's shoes and set her feet upon a stool. 'Tell us about the wedding.'

  'A splendid occasion, but somewhat pale and insignificant after the wonders of the little Prince's christening. A little lack-lustre, I fear, if unfair comparisons should be made. It had the appearance of a purely family event, for close friends and kin.' Then, sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward excitedly. 'But I must tell you, Marie Seton was there with that delightful young man Adam Drummond. He had come to Stirling especially to escort her to Fleming's wedding. Now, what do you think of that?' she asked, her eyes gleaming. 'Watching them together, I think we might well have high hopes of another wedding soon. Perhaps when she takes him to Seton, he will ask her brother for her hand.'

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wednesday 8 January 1567. Morning

  Tam was pleased that as soon as opportunity permitted, Marie came to Mar's Lodging in search of him.

  'Tam, I can only stay a moment. Adam is waiting for me,' she added breathlessly. 'We are riding out to Stirling Bridge.' She smiled, took his hands. 'It is good to see you again. I missed you at Drummond.'

  'Did you indeed?' Tam's eyebrows rose at that. 'But you had young Adam, who has not been far from your side since your return to Stirling.'

  'He came only for Fleming's wedding.'

  But Marie blushed prettily as Tam asked gently, 'And have you news for me?'

  She frowned. 'News, Tam? What sort of news?'

  He held her hands. 'The best possible, Marie. Are you not to be betrothed to Adam? There have been hints—'

  'From Lady Morham, no doubt. She is most anxious to marry all of us off as speedily as possible.' But her smile suggested that such rumours were not entirely displeasing. A moment later, suddenly solemn, she sat down on the window-seat. 'I know not what to do, Tam. Adam wishes us to marry, but I am not certain. I think I love him enough and he would be a most suitable choice, since my family regard him very favourably.' She sighed. 'But I am in no hurry. As I told you, the Queen will always come first with me, and I cannot leave her service until her divorce is complete and I see her life settled more happily.'

  She looked up at Tam, who made no reply. 'You will have heard that Lord Darnley is ill. I wish I could find it in my heart to pity him, for something brought about by his own folly.' She shook her head. 'His illness, serious in other men's eyes, is not enough to keep him from plotting. As you know, the Queen restored Archbishop Hamilton's powers. The Protestants took this as a dangerous threat and even Lord Moray warned her that she must immediately revoke his powers. The Hamiltons are the hereditary enemies of the Lennoxes, since time immemorial, rivals over the fiefdom of Glasgow. And so Lord Darnley r
egarded this and any favour bestowed on them as a personal insult.'

  She sighed. 'What a Christmas this has been, Tam. One not easily forgotten, this time of peace and goodwill to all men. A joyful celebration of Christ's birth indeed, with news constantly arriving of the King stirring up plots against Her Grace. He wrote to His Holiness the Pope, to the King of Spain and to the King of France, saying that she was dubious in the faith for showing preference to Protestant nobles and clergy in her court. He complained about the state of the country, which was out of order, he said, all because the Mass and Popery were not again elected. And giving the whole blame to Her Grace for not managing the Catholic cause aright.'

  Marie looked around nervously, as if afraid of being overheard. 'She read us a letter from her ambassador in Paris that it was openly spoken of by persons who loved her that the King, with assistance of some of the nobility, should take the Prince their son and crown him. And being crowned, his father should take upon him the government. We all recognized that it was in her own interests and those of Scotland to forgive Morton and the Scottish lords she exiled for poor Davy's murder, and to recall them, when she would have preferred never to set eyes on them again.'

  'A practical move,' said Tam. 'Easy to see, from her point of view, that they would be safer out of England and the web woven by Queen Elizabeth, who would use them for her own ends.'

  'I agree,' said Marie. She hesitated, then added, 'Alas, there is a matter even more hateful to her than recalling poor Davy's murderers, Tam.' And wrinkling her nose in a gesture of distaste, she explained. 'It seems that she has no other option but to seek a reconciliation with her husband and resume their marital relations. How she wept, our poor lady, when she received news from France that on no account must she proceed with the divorce, as this would alienate the English Catholics, who would then transfer their support to Lord Darnley.' She shuddered. 'And then, because she is Queen first and woman second, she realized that this drastic measure, however repellent to her personally, would make certain that she could extend her influence over Darnley once more. And destroy her enemies' power to use him against her, as she did after Davy's murder.'