Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  IN THE WEB.

  It was a beautiful bright summer day, and Queen Mary and some of hertrain were preparing for their ride. The Queen was in high spirits,and that wonderful and changeful countenance of hers was beaming withanticipation and hope, while her demeanour was altogether delightful toevery one who approached her. She was adding some last instructions toNau, who was writing a letter for her to the French ambassador, andCicely stood by her, holding her little dog in a leash, and lookingsomewhat anxious and wistful. There was more going on round the girlthan she was allowed to understand, and it made her anxious and uneasy.She knew that the correspondence through the brewer was activelycarried on, but she was not informed of what passed. Only she wasaware that some crisis must be expected, for her mother was ceaselesslyrestless and full of expectation. She had put all her jewels andvaluables into as small a compass as possible, and talked more thanever of her plans for giving her daughter either to the ArchdukeMatthias, or to some great noble, as if the English crown were alreadywithin her grasp. Anxious, curious, and feeling injured by the want ofconfidence, yet not daring to complain, Cicely felt almost fretful ather mother's buoyancy, but she had been taught a good many lessons inthe past year, and one of them was that she might indeed be caressed,but that she must show neither humour nor will of her own, and theleast presumption in inquiry or criticism was promptly quashed.

  There was a knock at the door, and the usher announced that Sir AmiasPaulett prayed to speak with her Grace. Her eye glanced round with therapid emotion of one doubtful whether it were for weal or woe, yet withundaunted spirit to meet either, and as she granted her permission, Cisheard her whisper to Nau, "A rider came up even now! 'Tis the tidings!Are the Catholics of Derby in the saddle? Are the ships on the coast?"

  In came the tall old man with a stiff reverence: "Madam, your Grace'shorses attend you, and I have tidings"--(Mary startedforward)--"tidings for this young lady, Mistress Cicely Talbot. Herbrother is arrived from the Spanish Main, and requests permission tosee and speak with her."

  Radiance flashed out on Cicely's countenance as excitement faded onthat of her mother: "Humfrey! O madam! let me go to him!" sheentreated, with a spring of joy and clasped hands.

  Mary was far too kind-hearted to refuse, besides to have done so wouldhave excited suspicion at a perilous moment, and the arrangement SirAmias proposed was quickly made. Mary Seaton was to attend the Queenin Cicely's stead, and she was allowed to hurry downstairs, and onlyone warning was possible:

  "Go then, poor child, take thine holiday, only bear in mind what andwho thou art."

  Yet the words had scarce died on her ears before she was oblivious ofall save that it was a familial home figure who stood at the bottom ofthe stairs, one of the faces she trusted most in all the world whichbeamed out upon her, the hands which she knew would guard her througheverything were stretched out to her, the lips with veritable love inthem kissed the cheeks she did not withhold. Sir Amias stood by andgave the kindest smile she had seen from him, quite changing hispinched features, and he proposed to the two young people to go andwalk in the garden together, letting them out into the square walledgarden, very formal, but very bright and gay, and with a pleached alleyto shelter them from the sun.

  "Good old gentleman!" exclaimed Humfrey, holding the maiden's hand inhis. "It is a shame to win such pleasure by feigning."

  "As for that," sighed Cis, "I never know what is sooth here, and whatam I save a living lie myself? O Humfrey! I am so weary of it all."

  "Ah I would that I could bear thee home with me," he said, littleprepared for this reception.

  "Would that thou couldst! O that I were indeed thy sister, or that thewriting in my swaddling bands had been washed out!--Nay," catching backher words, "I meant not that! I would not but belong to the dear Ladyhere. She says I comfort her more than any of them, and oh! sheis--she is, there is no telling how sweet and how noble. It was onlythat the sight of thee awoke the yearning to be at home with mother andwith father. Forget my folly, Humfrey."

  "I cannot soon forget that Bridgefield seems to thee thy true home," hesaid, putting strong restraint on himself to say and do no more, whilehis heart throbbed with a violence unawakened by storm or Spaniard.

  "Tell me of them all," she said. "I have heard naught of them since weleft Tutbury, where at least we were in my Lord's house, and the dearold silver dog was on every sleeve. Ah! there he is, the trusty rogue."

  And snatching up Humfrey's hat, which was fastened with a brooch of hiscrest in the fashion of the day, she kissed the familiar token. Then,however, she blushed and drew herself up, remembering the caution notto forget who she was, and with an assumption of more formal dignity,she said, "And how fares it with the good Mrs. Talbot?"

  "Well, when I last heard," said Humfrey, "but I have not been at home.I only know what Will Cavendish and my Lord Talbot told me. I sentDiccon on to Bridgefield, and came out of the way to see you, lady," heconcluded, with the same regard to actual circumstances that she hadshown.

  "Oh, that was good!" she whispered, and they both seemed to feel acertain safety in avoiding personal subjects. Humfrey had the historyof his voyage to narrate--to tell of little Diccon's gallant doings,and to exalt Sir Francis Drake's skill and bravery, and at last to letit ooze out, under Cis's eager questioning, that when his captain haddied of fever on the Hispaniola coast, and they had been overtaken by atornado, Sir Francis had declared that it was Humfrey's skill andsteadfastness which had saved the ship and crew.

  "And it was that tornado," he said, "which stemmed the fever, and savedlittle Diccon's life. Oh! when he lay moaning below, then was the timeto long for my mother."

  Time sped on till the great hall clock made Cicely look up and say shefeared that the riders would soon return, and then Humfrey knew that hemust make sure to speak the words of warning he came to utter. Hetold, in haste, of his message to Queen Elizabeth, and of his beingsent on to Secretary Walsingham, adding, "But I saw not the great man,for he was closeted--with whom think you? No other than CuthbertLangston, whom Cavendish called by another name. It amazed me themore, because I had two days before met him in Westminster with AntonyBabington, who presented him to me by his own name."

  "Saw you Antony Babington?" asked Cis, raising her eyes to his face,but looking uneasy.

  "Twice, at Westminster, and again in Paul's Walk. Had you seen himsince you have been here?"

  "Not here, but at Tutbury. He came once, and I was invited to dine inthe hall, because he brought recommendations from the Countess." Therewas a pause, and then, as if she had begun to take in the import ofHumfrey's words, she added, "What said you? That Mr. Langston wasgoing between him and Mr. Secretary?"

  "Not exactly that," and Humfrey repeated with more detail what he hadseen of Langston, forbearing to ask any questions which Cicely mightnot be able to answer with honour; but they had been too much togetherin childhood not to catch one another's meaning with half a hint, andshe said, "I see why you came here, Humfrey. It was good and true andkind, befitting you. I will tell the Queen. If Langston be in it,there is sure to be treachery. But, indeed, I know nothing orwell-nigh nothing."

  "I am glad of it," fervently exclaimed Humfrey.

  "No; I only know that she has high hopes, and thinks that the term ofher captivity is well-nigh over. But it is Madame de Courcelles whomshe trusts, not me," said Cicely, a little hurt.

  "So is it much better for thee to know as little as possible," saidHumfrey, growing intimate in tone again in spite of himself. "She hathnot changed thee much, Cis, only thou art more grave and womanly, ay,and thou art taller, yea, and thinner, and paler, as I fear me thoumayest well be."

  "Ah, Humfrey, 'tis a poor joy to be a princess in prison! And yet Ishame me that I long to be away. Oh no, I would not. Mistress Seatonand Mrs. Curll and the rest might be free, yet they have borne thisdurance patiently all these years--and I think--I think she loves me alittle, and oh! she is hardl
y used. Humfrey, what think'st thou thatMr. Langston meant? I wot now for certain that it was he who twicecame to beset us, as Tibbott the huckster, and with the beads andbracelets! They all deem him a true friend to my Queen."

  "So doth Babington," said Humfrey, curtly.

  "Ah!" she said, with a little terrified sound of conviction, thenadded, "What thought you of Master Babington?"

  "That he is half-crazed," said Humfrey.

  "We may say no more," said Cis, seeing a servant advancing from thehouse to tell her that the riders were returning. "Shall I see youagain, Humfrey?"

  "If Sir Amias should invite me to lie here to-night, and remainto-morrow, since it will be Sunday."

  "At least I shall see you in the morning, ere you depart," she said, aswith unwilling yet prompt steps she returned to the house, Humfreyfeeling that she was indeed his little Cis, yet that some change hadcome over her, not so much altering her, as developing the capabilitieshe had always seen.

  For herself, poor child, her feelings were in a strange turmoil, morethan usually conscious of that dual existence which had tormented herever since she had been made aware of her true birth. Moreover, shehad a sense of impending danger and evil, and, by force of contrast,the frank, open-hearted manner of Humfrey made her the more sensible ofbeing kept in the dark as to serious matters, while outwardly made apet and plaything by her mother, "just like Bijou," as she said toherself.

  "So, little one," said Queen Mary, as she returned, "thou hast beenrevelling once more in tidings of Sheffield! How long will it take meto polish away the dulness of thy clownish contact?"

  "Humphrey does not come from home, madam, but from London. Madam, letme tell you in your ear--"

  Mary's eye instantly took the terrified alert expression which had comefrom many a shock and alarm. "What is it, child?" she asked, however,in a voice of affected merriment. "I wager it is that he has found histrue Cis. Nay, whisper it to me, if it touch thy silly little heart sodeeply."

  Cicely knelt down, the Queen bending over her, while she murmured inher ear, "He saw Cuthbert Langston, by a feigned name, admitted to Mr.Secretary Walsingham's privy chamber."

  She felt the violent start this information caused, but the command ofvoice and countenance was perfect.

  "What of that, mignonne?" she said. "What knoweth he of this Langston,as thou callest him?"

  "He is my--no--his father's kinsman, madam, and is known to be but aplotter. Oh, surely, he is not in your secrets, madam, my mother,after that day at Tutbury?"

  "Alack, my lassie, Gifford or Babington answered for him," said theQueen, "and he kens more than I could desire. But this Humfrey ofthine! How came he to blunder out such tidings to thee?"

  "It was no blunder, madam. He came here of purpose."

  "Sure," exclaimed Mary, "it were too good to hope that he hath becomewell affected. He--a sailor of Drake's, a son of Master Richard! HathBabington won him over; or is it for thy sake, child? For I bestowedno pains to cast smiles to him at Sheffield, even had he come in myway."

  "I think, madam," said Cicely, "that he is too loyal-hearted to bearthe sight of treachery without a word of warning."

  "Is he so? Then he is the first of his nation who hath been of such amind! Nay, mignonne, deny not thy conquest. This is thy work."

  "I deny not that--that I am beloved by Humfrey," said Cicely, "for Ihave known it all my life; but that goes for naught in what he deems itright to do."

  "There spoke so truly Mistress Susan's scholar that thou makest melaugh in spite of myself and all the rest. Hold him fast, my maiden;think what thou wilt of his service, and leave me now, and sendMelville and Curll to me."

  Cicely went away full of that undefined discomfort experienced bygenerous young spirits when their elders, more worldly-wise (orfoolish), fail even to comprehend the purity or loftiness of motivewhich they themselves thoroughly believe. Yet, though she hadinfinitely more faith in Humfrey's affection than she had in that ofBabington, she had not by any means the same dread of being used tobait the hook for him, partly because she knew his integrity too wellto expect to shake it, and partly because he was perfectly aware of herreal birth, and could not be gulled with such delusive hopes as poorAntony might once have been.

  Humfrey meantime was made very welcome by Sir Amias Paulett, whoinsisted on his spending the next day, Sunday, at Chartley, and madehim understand that he was absolutely welcome, as having a strong arm,stout heart, and clear brain used to command. "Trusty aid do I need,"said poor Sir Amias, "if ever man lacked an arm of flesh. The Councilis putting more on me than ever man had to bear, in an open place likethis, hard to be defended, and they will not increase the guard lestthey should give the alarm, forsooth!"

  "What is it that you apprehend?" inquired Humfrey.

  "There's enough to apprehend when all the hot-headed Papists ofStafford and Derbyshire are waiting the signal to fire the outhousesand carry off this lady under cover of the confusion. Mr. Secretaryswears they will not stir till the signal be given, and that it neverwill; but such sort of fellows are like enough to mistake the sign, andthe stress may come through their dillydallying to make all sure asthey say, and then, if there be any mischance, I shall be the one tobear the blame. Ay, if it be their own work!" he added, speaking tohimself, "Murder under trust! That would serve as an answer to foreignprinces, and my head would have to pay for it, however welcome it mightbe! So, good Mr. Talbot, supposing any alarm should arise, keep youclose to the person of this lady, for there be those who would make thefray a colour for taking her life, under pretext of hindering her frombeing carried off."

  It was no wonder that a warder in such circumstances looked harassedand perplexed, and showed himself glad of being joined by any ally whomhe could trust. In truth, harsh and narrow as he was, Paulett was toogood and religious a man for the task that had been thrust on him,where loyal obedience, sense of expediency, and even religiousfanaticism, were all in opposition to the primary principles of truth,mercy, and honour. He was, besides, in constant anxiety, living as hedid between plot and counterplot, and with the certainty thatemissaries of the Council surrounded him who would have no scruple intaking Mary's life, and leaving him to bear the blame, when Elizabethwould have to explain the deed to the other sovereigns of Europe. Hedisclosed almost all this to Humfrey, whose frank, trustworthyexpression seemed to move him to unusual confidence.

  At supper-time another person appeared, whom Humfrey thought he hadonce seen at Sheffield--a thin, yellow-haired and bearded man, muchmarked with smallpox, in the black dress of a lawyer, who sat above thehousehold servants, though below the salt. Paulett once drank to himwith a certain air of patronage, calling him Master Phillipps, a namethat came as a revelation to Humfrey. Phillipps was the decipherer whohad, he knew, been employed to interpret Queen Mary's letters after theNorfolk plot. Were there, then, fresh letters of that unfortunate ladyin his hands, or were any to be searched for and captured?