Her royal mistress would not allow her to leave immediately. She had urgent matters to discuss regarding the forthcoming Masque and the silks she had entrusted to Agnew for safe delivery.
‘I trust they were suitable colours?’
Tansy could think of no appropriate response, since she had not seen them. Such trivial matters were the last thing she would have looked for when they found the dead woman.
‘My main concern, Your Grace, was for Mistress Agnew,’ she said apologetically.
The queen gave her a hard look, pursed her lips and sighed. ‘Surely Mistress Scott’s first concern should be for ourselves, is that not so?’ she asked her ladies-in-waiting who, having heard the shocking news, had gathered nearby. Thus appealed to, they nodded vaguely and directed, as was expected of them, stern glances at Tansy.
‘I am disappointed in you, Mistress Scott,’ said the queen with a sad shake of her head. ‘The information concerning the silks as well as our costume for my Masque is of the utmost importance to us,’ she added in wounded tones.
‘They are indeed, Your Grace.’ The queen’s increasing pregnancy was a delicate matter. For decency’s sake alterations were necessary to accommodate a rapidly expanding figure in the costume of a scantily-clad goddess.
The queen’s frown boded ill and Tansy said hastily, ‘I do apologise, Your Grace. It was thoughtless of me not to have given the silks due consideration. I will look into it immediately.’ Curtseying, she was about to withdraw.
‘A moment, Mistress Scott, we have not yet dismissed you,’ came the stern reminder. ‘Where is the cloak we entrusted to Agnew to restore to you? We trust since it was a gift from us – very recently,’ she emphasised, ‘that it has not suffered during this unfortunate accident.’
‘I did not notice, Your Grace,’ Tansy stammered, which was solid truth.
The queen considered this information for a moment and sighed deeply. ‘We believed that, having forgotten to take it with you, you would wish to have it safely restored to you immediately.’ And with a sigh she gestured towards her ladies. ‘See what trouble a good-hearted gesture gets one into, how carelessly received.’
The ladies exchanged glances. Murmurs of sympathy directed at their royal mistress reached Tansy’s ears. But she was well aware of their understanding regarding Her Grace’s much vaunted generosity in the matter of gowns and jewels she no longer cared for. Her apparent benevolence contained an unwritten clause; the gift was to be visible constantly and admired frequently.
If the new owner failed in this respect, she would soon fall victim to the queen’s remarkable recollection of every item distributed from the royal wardrobe and jewel box. The recipient of her bountiful gesture would be mercilessly questioned as to its present whereabouts. Sad realisation swiftly followed. No matter how small or insignificant their worth, gifts were not bestowed at all, but rather released on permanent loan.
‘The cloak, Mistress Scott?’ the queen persisted.
‘I am deeply grateful to Your Grace,’ said Tansy, evading the question and, as she withdrew from the royal presence, adding to herself, ‘And for sure, I will never wear it again.’
Outside the rain had ceased, the sun shone through a cloudless sky raising clouds of steam from the Palace’s grey walls and reflecting bright mirrors of light across pools of water among the cobbles of the courtyard.
As Tansy hurried across and reached her lodging, she expected to see Tam and, with considerable dread, the body of Margaret Agnew. To her surprise the turnpike recess was deserted. Only a dark pool – of blood fast drying – remained to show that a body had lain there.
A scattering of the bright silks that were the queen’s main concern lay in a corner under the stair. Completely overlooked and completely ruined.
Tamsy went with him to summon assistance. Hoping that Tam had removed the key that Agnew wore on her chatelaine, Tansy ran quickly up the stairs and along the corridor to the servants’ quarters.
The midwife’s door was locked. Tam was not in evidence.
With some misgivings Tansy returned to her lodging to sit by the window and anxiously await his return. Distressed and sickened by Agnew’s murder she had also remembered with fast-beating heart the one significant fact that had been overlooked.
The midwife had been wearing her cloak.
At last she saw Tam emerge across the courtyard in deep conversation with Lord Fortheringham. The two men parted outside and Tam hurried towards the turnpike.
Eagerly, Tansy listened to his footsteps on the stair. In his presence she felt safe. Opening the door she asked, ‘What has happened? Have you found out who killed Agnew? And did you remove the key she carries?’
Tam shook his head and as Tansy quickly explained, he interrupted to say, ‘It appears that we were mistaken. In fact she was not killed at all.’
As Tansy began to protest, Tam held up a hand wearily and sat down on the windowseat beside her.
‘Listen, Tansy. I met the Captain and he insisted that several of his men accompany us to the scene of the crime. When we got here –’ He paused and looked at her grimly, ‘Mistress Agnew was certainly dead, but there was no dagger. And no chatelaine or key that I could see.’
‘Someone took it. But no dagger! But that cannot be. We saw it – ’
‘We did indeed. But it had undergone a transformation during our short absence.’
‘It cannot have done so – a dagger is a dagger.’
‘I agree. But this one had turned very conveniently into shears.’
‘Shears?’ said Tansy, regarding him wide-eyed.
‘Indeed, shears. The dagger had been removed from the scene and replaced by shears, the kind you use here –’ Pausing he indicated the overspill of bright materials on the huge sewing table, ‘shears thin-bladed, very sharp.’
Even as he spoke Tansy had rushed across the room and was searching among her rolls of silks and satins.
‘Tam,’ she cried turning to face him. ‘They have disappeared!’
‘Not really, my dear Tansy. They are not very far off. They were discovered lying beneath your poor friend’s body. The apparent cause of her death. And they have been carried off as evidence of her unfortunate accident.’
‘Accident – murder I think you mean,’ said Tansy indignantly.
Tam nodded grimly. ‘But the new evidence points to the fact that Mistress Agnew tripped on the stairs and fell on the shears she was carrying –’
‘Surely you told them about the dagger – protested that was a lie,’ Tansy interrupted angrily.
‘No, I did not. Think about it, Tansy, I beg you. It was on the tip of my tongue to do so, then I thought better of it and decided to remain silent.’
‘How could you remain silent?’ Tansy demanded.
‘With excellent reason,’ Tam said grimly. ‘I am a stranger here, remember? And I live in your lodging, only yards away from where Agnew was discovered.’ He allowed that to sink in before adding slowly, ‘Nor would I raise too much of an issue about your shears having disappeared.’
‘Why not? Someone stole them – they are valuable,’ was the short reply.
‘Exactly. But think carefully. Realise that fact could be used in evidence – if anyone should insist that this was no accident but murder.’ He paused. ‘Now do you understand – that the weapon used was yours.’
Tansy was silent as the full implications were suddenly apparent. ‘But the dagger –’
‘Ah yes, the dagger. I suspect that the killer was lurking nearby when we rushed downstairs. When we were bending over Agnew, I had this uneasy feeling, almost as if I could hear him breathing, see his shadow.’
Tansy shivered as Tam paused and looked at her soberly. ‘I realise now that although there was probably only one of him, that we were fortunate to be together,’ and picturing the scene, he added slowly, ‘Waiting for us to leave, he – yes, I presume it was a man – he quickly withdrew his dagger.’
‘He was clever about that. D
aggers can be identified,’ said Tansy.
Tam nodded. ‘He ran upstairs and took your shears, rearranged the scene to look like an unfortunate accident, as the Captain said and believed. It could happen to anyone tripping on the stairs in dim light.’
‘How horrible – how wicked,’ said Tansy.
Wicked indeed, thought Tam grimly. And knowledgeable too, trying not to recognise that the midwife’s killing suggested premeditation, since the assassin was quick-witted and knew exactly where to lay his hands on Tansy’s shears.
‘Tam, there is worse to come, I am afraid,’ said Tansy hesitantly.
‘What could be worse,’ said Tam lightly for her sake.
‘She was wearing my cloak,’ was the faint reply.
‘Your cloak?’
‘Yes, I had left it in the royal apartments and the queen gave it to her – out of the kindness of her heart – to come across in the rain. To protect the silks she was carrying, more than her own person,’ she added glumly.
It was Tam’s turn to look shocked. ‘This indeed is even worse. If you are thinking the same as I am…’
Tansy nodded miserably. She shivered. ‘What if he thought it was me rushing in from the rain with the hood down over my face?’
And suddenly she hugged his arm, her face pale. ‘Oh Tam, I am so glad that you were here.’
Tam nodded grimly. ‘Had you gone down alone and had it not been raining, then he might have realised too late his mistake.’
‘And there might have been two corpses to explain away,’ was Tansy’s horrified whisper.
Instead of one fatal accident to be explained away so smoothly and dealt with so efficiently, thought Tam grimly.
‘But why should anyone want to kill me, Tam?’ Tansy demanded. ‘I have no enemies. I have never quarrelled with anyone and Her Grace is devoted to me – ’ She shrugged. ‘As devoted as she can be to anyone.’
Tansy’s innocent reasoning did nothing to console Tam. A devoted confidante of the queen was reason enough for some jealous member of the household to wish to get rid of Mistress Tansy Scott.
The speed with which the murder weapon had been replaced by Tansy’s shears and the body swiftly removed by the Captain’s guards suggested careful planning. Thrusting aside the enormity of his thoughts, Tam said, ‘Let us leave Mistress Agnew aside for the moment and concentrate on you.’
Pouring out a goblet of wine for Tansy who was visibly shaken by the dreadful implications of the borrowed cloak, he asked,
‘How many persons have access to your lodging?’
‘I have no idea how many. There are messengers from the queen, pages, other servants. All sorts of people call upon my services for repairs and alterations to costumes for the Masque on Saturday. My door is always open.’
Taking a sip of wine, she said slowly, ‘What you are suggesting is … is monstrous.’
The rearrangement of Agnew’s body to pass it off as an accident suggested to Tam that several people had been involved. When the mistake of the victim’s identity was discovered, they had had to work fast.
Not mere guards under the Captain’s orders but a keener brain issued by a higher authority. Tam would have sworn that Fotheringham, unless he was a very good actor, was innocent of the deception.
‘I even told Her Grace that it was an accident,’ Tansy said miserably. ‘I did not care to upset her with a violent crime to one of her servants, especially Agnew who she relies on. Her Grace is in a particularly delicate condition just now. And although it is unlikely that the death of her midwife would cause her to miscarry, we all are doing our best to keep her as calm as possible – and that is far from easy, I can assure you. At the best of times, she is of a volatile humour.’
Tam asked. ‘You say you have no enemies. Are you absolutely certain that there is no one in the court who wishes you ill? Think carefully.’
Tansy looked preoccupied and then shook her head. When she spoke it was with reluctance. ‘The only person is His Grace himself. I have long been aware that he is not enamoured of my presence in the court.’
‘For what reason, pray?’
Tansy shrugged. ‘He cares not for me, but he has no authority in the queen’s household to have me removed.’
Except on a permanent basis, thought Tam grimly.
‘Only once did he storm out in a fury,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Agnew and I were with the queen who happened to remark upon the odd coincidence that we were both orphans, brought up by our granddams who were midwives at his birth. His Grace’s sensitivity on that subject is well-known but I assure you I can think of nothing I have done personally to upset him.’
Tansy thought for a moment, then spoke again. ‘The offence, I am afraid, goes further back than that. As I told you I was fostered by the Gowries after Janet Beaton died. And His Grace hates the Gowries. Their grandfather, Lord Ruthven, was the first to dagger Davy Riccio in the Queen Mary’s presence, three months before James was born. His son, the Earl of Gowrie, led the Lords Enterprisers in the Raid of Ruthven. His Grace was sixteen when they kidnapped him and held him hostage for ten months in Ruthven Castle. Freed the following year, he had the Earl tried and executed for treason.’
Pausing she sighed. ‘His Grace never refers to my adopted family. Alexander Ruthven, my young foster-brother, was Gentleman of the Bedchamber but something happened – I can only guess. He was a favourite with the queen too. Ever since, I am well aware of His Grace’s black looks whenever he meets me in her company.’
This information was a new slant on an old grievance. Court relationships were transient and fragile in nature. The king’s displeasure was enough excuse – perhaps a grim remark about Mistress Scott when the king had taken a little too much wine – for any who wished for royal favour to take it into their own hands and despatch her.
As though interpreting his thoughts, Tansy said, ‘His Grace is well-known to have cultivated a neat habit of disposing of people against whom he bears a grudge. I dare say he would like to have me out of his sight permanently.’
She sighed. ‘’Tis only because of the queen’s high regard that I have survived so long and not been packed off in disgrace back to Ruthven on some trumped-up excuse.’
‘Regarding grudges and absent kin,’ said Tam. ‘Has Mistress Agnew any kin here in Falkland? They would need to be informed.’
Tansy shook her head. ‘There was a man in the village I suspect that she visited as often as the queen allowed her leisure. I once met her leaving a house with a pretty garden…’
‘Where was this exactly?’ asked Tam, his mind racing ahead.
‘Across the road from the smithy. She was not exactly pleased to see me and said she had been visiting her brother. But she seemed very embarrassed at our meeting.’
Tam’s immediate reaction was that the man was not a brother but a lover.
‘We know so little about her,’ said Tansy, bringing to mind a kind and gentle manner always eager to please, but the smiling face remained that of a stranger. ‘I imagined somehow that she had been married briefly and widowed. There may be documents in her room,’ she added hopefully.
‘Did she ever talk about what brought her into the realm of midwifery?’ Tam asked.
‘Usually it is a skill handed down from mother to daughter. She never talked about herself, all she ever boasted about was that our granddams had been close friends in their Edinburgh days. Since she arrived in the queen’s household that was the only real conversation we ever had. A bond – an interesting coincidence.’
Tam’s thoughts on any significance that interesting fact might have had were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stair.
Footsteps that Tansy recognized, it seemed. All else forgotten, her face suddenly glowed with delight.
‘Why, it is Will,’ she said with a gurgling laugh and rushing to the door she threw it open to welcome him.
Chapter Four
In the king’s apartments, Lord Fotheringham was making his routine r
eport on the royal guards’ tour of duty which was to be delivered by him in person twice each day. As befitted a king by nature devious and suspicious, James listened carefully to every detail, occasionally interrupting with a question or the flourish of a Latin quotation.
Lord Fotheringham seldom found his royal master alone. Most frequently he was in his bedchamber indulging in a bout of heavy wine imbibing with one or more of his favourite pages, sitting up in bed and wearing his monstrous ostrich-feathered tall hat from which, it seemed, he was rarely parted.
On this occasion, as luck would have it, his sole companion was the Duke of Lennox listening to a tale of woe about Annie’s misdoings. Vicky listened dutifully, stifling a yawn with some difficulty. He found this regular tirade against the queen exceedingly boring and had long since run short of the sympathetic exclamations required of him.
Now he was preparing for another stern exercise on his patience from the pompous Captain of the Guard’s narrative. A simple report that all was well, drawn out into several minutes of probing question and long-winded answer.
Not today, however. Today’s account promised to be refreshingly different.
‘I have to report, Your Grace, that there has been an accident – to one of Her Grace’s servants.’
A royal frown. His Grace did not care to be bothered with matters relating to his wife’s household and accidents to servants could be very tedious.
‘Aye, man. Get on wi’ it,’ he said impatiently.
‘Her Grace’s midwife, sire.’
The king nodded, took another gulp of wine. Tales of accidents were not unfamiliar or, in certain cases, unexpected. The deed done, the details did not interest him.
Lennox was even more bored.
‘Mistress Agnew was found dead. At Mistress Scott’s.’
Ah, that was better. Now this item of news was of extreme interest to Vicky. Tansy Scott was distant kin to Tam Eildor who shared her lodging. Here the face of opportunity beckoned. Perhaps an excellent way of ridding himself of the king’s latest infatuation.
The Gowrie Conspiracy Page 4
