Waving off the servants who approached him, the Highlander took the steps three at a time en route to her chamber. Shoving open the door without knocking, he stood in the doorway and scanned the empty room. Though his beloved was not there, he noted the beautiful dress of cloth of gold spread on top of the bed covers. So, she was going to the dinner, after all, he thought happily. Backing out of the room, he headed up the stairs toward Elizabeth’s studio. She had been so much at peace there; it was only natural for her to go back.
Elizabeth would like Maria, John was certain of that. There was something about Maria’s unassuming ways that would make it hard for anyone to not adore her.
Reaching for the studio door, he opened it wide with one fluid motion and stepped inside. The silence and the darkness of the room slapped him in the face. This had been the room they’d first made love. But the shuttered window blocked out all light and hid from his sight any sign of his woman.
“Maria,” he called out softly. John’s eyes adjusted quickly, but the search was futile and a gnawing fear began to edge up his spine.
The sitting room beside her bedchamber. He backed out and hurried excitedly down the corridor. He’d simply passed the room in his rush to her chamber and never so much as glanced inside. The poor thing hadn’t eaten so much as a morsel of bread this morning before he left. He hadn’t given her time for it. Of course, Pieter would have laid out a fine meal for her. She was probably in that sitting room eating right now, and John wagered that Maria had probably been starving. Charging down the winding steps, he headed back toward the young woman’s chamber.
He almost knocked Pieter down as he barreled onto the landing.
“Sir John, you are back.”
“I am. At last.” John placed a friendly arm around the steward. “I am going to join Lady Maria. Tell the cook that I am hungry enough to eat a boar. She’s in her sitting room, if I’m not mistaken.”
As the Highlander released him and headed down the corridor, the steward quickly fell in step with him.
“But m’lord,” Pieter cried. “Lady Maria is no longer here.”
John came to an abrupt stop and whirled on the man. “What do you mean, she is no longer here? Where else could she be? Where? When is she coming back?”
The portly steward paled under the heat of the Highlander’s angry glare. “I am sorry, Sir John. But I thought you were aware of her departure. The Scotswoman that came for Lady Maria was escorted by some of your own men.”
“Maria left with Mistress Janet?” John asked, confused. “Didn’t they tell you where they were going?”
“Nay, m’lord. They said nothing.” The steward shook his head. “I was quite concerned, Sir John. One moment, Lady Maria was happily arguing with the seamstress and her helpers, seemingly as contented as one might hope to be, and the next–it was immediately after she’d spoken with this Mistress Janet–Lady Maria became deadly pale. She was clearly upset, but what could I do?”
“What was she upset about?” John asked impatiently. The only thing that he could think of was that Caroline had sent her some twisted message. But he dismissed the thought immediately; Janet Maule was Maria’s friend. Surely the young woman would not play a part in any deceit Caroline might cook up.
“I don’t know, Sir John. Lady Maria said very little.” Pieter pointed to the open door of Maria’s room. “After speaking with Mistress Janet, she simply hurried about her chamber, gathering her things.” The steward’s face showed his distress as he trailed the distraught Highlander into Maria’s bedchamber. “How could I interfere, m’lord. Your men were waiting below. This Mistress Maule seemed such a quiet and kindhearted young woman. When Maria said good-bye to me, she was clearly leaving of her own accord, though I thought for a moment that she was about to break down and cry.”
John felt every muscle in his body tightening. He had to restrain his temper to not shout at the man. “Did you ask her anything, Pieter? Such as when she is returning. Or what all of this is about.”
Crestfallen, the man shook his head. “It happened so suddenly, m’lord. Just seeing your men, and this Mistress Janet, a Scottish woman from the delegation...I just thought...I just never thought that you would be unaware of what was happening.”
John turned away and surveyed the chamber. He shouldn’t blame the man. Caroline had to be at the root of all this, and it wasn’t Pieter’s fault that he, himself, had bedded the most conniving woman alive for almost seven years. It wasn’t this poor servant’s fault that John had put himself in a position where Caroline Maule could possibly hurt the woman he loved.
“I am dreadfully sorry, Sir John.” Pieter spoke from behind. “I just never thought... You don’t fear for her safety?”
The worry in his voice made John turn around. The weight of this distress seemed to be bending his old back even further. “None of this is your fault, Pieter. As you said, she left with Janet Maule and my own men. They won’t let any harm come to her. It can only mean that Mistress Janet is taking Maria to the Palace. But why? That is what I cannot understand. And without me.”
“She left before the seamstress completed her gown,” the steward put in, pointing to the dress lying across the bed.
John nodded vaguely and crossed the room to the great bed, with its canopy of deep blue damask. Lost in thought, the Highlander ran his fingers over the weave of golden thread. What the hell Caroline was up to, anyway? What else could explain it? And what else could Janet have said that might upset Maria so much? The oddest part was that Maria must have gone to the Palace, in spite of knowing no one there.
Perhaps, he thought–trying to be more positive–perhaps the reason has nothing to do with Caroline. Perhaps this is all some elaborate surprise. After all, she had absolutely refused before to go to this welcoming feast. Perhaps, he argued with himself, but not very likely.
“You are certain, Pieter. Lady Maria was upset when she left Hart Haus?” John asked again.
“I am absolutely certain, m’lord,” the steward nodded. “When a person looks into those green eyes of hers, he can see clear to her soul. Besides, her hands were ice cold and trembling when she lay them in mine. Oh yes, and she even forgot to take her aunt’s letter.”
John stared at the older man. “A letter from Isabel? When did she receive this letter?”
“Last night, m’lord. It arrived during dinner. There it is.” Pieter pointed at the envelope sitting on the small side table near the bed. “Perhaps Lady Maria dropped it in her haste. One of the maids found it beside the bed.”
John turned and looked down at the letter. She hadn’t said a thing to him about receiving word from Isabel. But again, the two of them had been occupied with other matters. “Thank you, Pieter. That will be all, for now.”
“Will you be dining in the Palace this evening, Sir John?”
He nodded. “Aye, and I’ll be getting to the bottom of this, as well.”
As the steward reached the door, he paused and looked back at the giant commander. “I truly hope you’ll be bringing lady Maria back with you, m’lord. She’s a fine woman, if I may say so.”
“Aye, Pieter. That she is. And don’t you worry, I’ll be bringing her back.”
With a small bow, the steward backed out of the room.
John stood for a moment, considering his next move. He had to go after her. That was, of course, the only way. Only when he found out what it was that Caroline had done, could he straighten out the mess that she had somehow created. But he had to go now.
Suddenly, the Highlander became aware of the item his eyes had focused on. There, on the side table, lay Isabel’s note. Perhaps it wasn’t Caroline. Perhaps something had happened to Maria’s aunt. He considered, as he picked up the note, whether he should read the message. The parchment was thick and well made. Well, if he was to be of any help at all, he would need to know the problem. Whatever was written there, he would keep it in confidence. He smiled grimly to himself. How much more shocking could Isabel be on
paper, than in person?
John unfolded the letter and began to read.
Chapter 20
She never noticed the bitter scent of myrrh burning sharply in the air.
Maria continued to pray as she had for over an hour, oblivious to the clouds of incense hanging about the chapel altar. Hail Mary, full of Grace. The stone floor was hard beneath her knees, but the young queen felt nothing. Blessed art thou amongst women. Maria pressed her eyelids together. She would shut out the world. Blessed is the fruit of thy womb. A tear escaped and trailed unnoticed along confining line of her wimple’s starched linen. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our...death.
She dropped her head into her joined hands. Her tears were plenty, but her sobs were hidden. Hearing one of the heavy doors of the chapel creak somewhere in the back of the church, she pressed her fists to her eyes, stopping the flow of her tears.
“Please, Virgin Mother,” Maria prayed in a whisper. “Help me through this. Let him go unharmed. If there has to be one who is punished, let it be me. I am the one who has sinned.”
Maria heard the quiet steps of the man approaching. She picked up her prayer book and turned to look at the priest who now stood watching her.
“It’s time, Your Majesty. He is ready for you now.”
Rising from her place before the altar, Maria of Hungary nodded to the man and wordlessly glided past him to the door.
“These months have been trying, you know? Quite trying!” the Emperor barked angrily. “I am extending myself in every direction. I have to crush rebellion in Spain, contain the French king’s egotistical land seizures, somehow hold the Turk’s advances in the east, control Lutheran heresy in Germany, restrain the Pope in Rome! And on top of it all, I have to chase my own sister across the continent.”
Maria’s eyes followed the path of her brother’s steps. He had been lecturing without a pause and had not allowed her to speak a word since she’d stepped inside this chamber.
“And you, of all people. The most amenable of the lot.” He came to a stop before her. “Any of our sisters and I would not of been shocked, not even surprised. Any of them could have done it, and I would of been prepared to react. Eleanor, Catherine, Isabella...”
“Our sister, Isabella, has been dead for three years now,” Maria put in quietly.
“Don’t you think I know?” Charles shouted back at her. With an effort, he controlled himself, grumbling, “God rest her soul. But now I have her daughters marriages to worry about. What are their names?”
“Dorothea and Christina. And they are only babes.”
The Holy Roman Emperor drew himself up to his full height and glared at her. “We have all been born to these God given responsibilities, Maria. It is true that marital alliances and inheritance have consolidated the power of our monarchy. But as I promised when I received this imperial crown, either I or some member of my family will sit as a ruler or consort on every royal throne of Europe. This is the only way to fight back against that devil of a Turk, Suleyman, and that fanatic, Martin Luther. A united front is the only way! And God himself has chosen me to lead the fight.” Maria looked steadily into Charles’s face and saw his eyes soften. “Maria, it is not for us to change what God has willed to be our fate. As you already know, my dear sister, we–and I mean all the members of our family–must sacrifice ourselves to God’s plan.”
“Just as you have sacrificed yourself.” Maria’s voice was cool.
He quickly nodded in agreement and then, comprehending her tone, stared at her for an instant.
As Maria returned her brother’s gaze, she knew he was considering the fact that she had never addressed him this way before. In fact, she doubted that she had ever so much as spoken to him without being asked a question first. And her answer had always been one of compliance. Well, it was time to even shock him further, she thought.
“Your sacrifice, though, my dear brother, has turned out to be a very agreeable one. As fate would have it, Isabella of Portugal turned out to be a most lovely and charming wife and queen, so please remember that ‘sacrifice’ encompasses a whole range of experiences, and not all so pleasant as yours.”
Maria gave him a thin smile. She could see the anger beginning to emerge through his surprise. But she was growing tired of his speech on God’s imperial ambitions. And at the same time, she knew she needed to shift the subject of discussion. After all, this was not the topic that needed to be addressed right now.
Her voice was soft as she continued. “And congratulations, Charles. The Palace is buzzing with the good news. Once again you are a father. And a daughter this time.” Her brother’s green eyes told her that she had touched something in his heart. As hard as he wanted to hide his joy, Maria could see the smile creeping into them. “How fares the babe? And Isabella?”
The Emperor paused and looked away at the portrait of his wife. In the picture she was holding their first boy. When he looked back at her, Maria could tell he was still trying to analyze her change in tone.
“The child has blue eyes,” he said at last.
“We shall not hold that against her. All babes have blue eyes,” Maria put in gently.
“She is feisty and loud.”
“What else could we expect? She is your daughter.”
“She is bald.”
“Lucky girl.” Maria smiled at his surprised look. “Perhaps there will be no suitors.”
Once again Charles just stared, obviously trying to understand this change that he was perceiving in his sister. The young queen watched as a range of emotions flitted over his face, ending with suspicion.
“Where is she?” he asked threateningly. “She has taught you to pretend, hasn’t she? You are to act indifferently to the knowledge that you must do your duty. But it won’t work. I am up to her game. Where is she now? Tell me that.”
“Where is who?” Maria asked in a steady voice.
“Isabel,” he shouted. “Where is Isabel hiding?”
“I thought I heard you left her with the babe only an hour ago.”
“Your humor is misdirected, Maria,” he snapped. “You very well know that I am talking about Isabel, our aunt. Our mother’s older sister. The shrewd, conniving, subversive troublemaker, Isabel. The one who stole you away before my eyes. The one that has done her best to abuse your common sense from the day you were born. The one who has no courage to appear here before me now that her treacherous plan has gone awry.”
Maria felt her temper warm her skin. “I will not allow you to punish her for something I initiated.”
“She needs to be under lock and key. She is dangerous to herself and to the Empire.”
“She isn’t,” Maria snapped, her emerald eyes flashing with anger. “She is kind and generous. And she is the only one with any common sense among us.”
Charles opened his mouth to argue. But Maria was quick to continue. “Don’t waste your time speaking out so rashly against someone who, despite your differences in opinion, we all know you respect and admire...”
“I despise the woman!”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Then why do you continue to invite her back to court, despite all the times she openly defies your will?”
“I need to keep track of her. For all I know, she could be selling the family jewels to Henry Tudor,” Charles huffed. “Besides, I never invite her. She just marches in as if she owns the place. Nay, I scorn her actions. I loathe her!”
“You are two of a kind, and you know it!” Maria pressed. “Otherwise, why is it that every time Mother stirs in Castile, Isabel is the first person you run to?”
“Because Isabel understands her. She is as insane as her sister.”
“And why is it that before you lift a finger to plan one of your campaigns, you take her into your confidence?” She felt her pitch elevating to match his. “She is as valuable to you as the best of your trusted councilors.”
“It’s not true,” he denied, his face scornful, but his eyes tellin
g her she was correct.
“Admit it, Charles. You like her. You respect her. And you value her opinion... since she is the only one who has no fear of you. Isabel is the only one who has the courage to disagree with you when she knows you are wrong. When you know you are wrong. She is the only one who has the courage to speak the truth.”
Charles tore his eyes away from Maria’s face and moved to a long table before one of the high, arched windows. The Holy Roman Emperor would never admit that he took counsel from a woman.
“None of what you said is the truth, Maria. I hate her!”
Maria was the one who paused now. She let her eyes roam her brother’s profile. She let him feel the heat of her scowl.
“Charles,” she said at last. “Lying is not becoming in you.”
The look of shock on Charles’s face, as he turned to stare at her, was priceless. She had never seen him so lost for words. He appeared to her like some foundering ship, his rudderless hull buffeted by some great wind. An unexpected wind.
The Emperor shook his head to clear it. “You’ve spent far too much time in her company.” His tone had lost its fury, but his words were uttered with conviction. “I think you have become insane...like her.”
Maria struggled to hide the satisfaction she had in hearing what he’d just said. She took a deep breath. This was good. If it was easier for Charles to listen to her, thinking of her as crazed, then so be it. She would speak her peace. She knew the formula. Speak only half of the truth. Then ask for anything. That’s what her mother had always done. That’s what Isabel practiced, as well. And though Charles might call it insanity, he always listened, and generally acted to accommodate them.
“I don’t think insanity is catching, but think what you will, Charles.” She gestured to the table and the chairs placed around it. “I have something to tell you, and it might take a few moments. But I can assure you that you will find it quite a bit less painful than the discussion we’ve been having.”
The Beauty of the Mist Page 26
