Tudor Princess, The (41 page)

I
returned to Edinburgh to be with Jamie. I would take comfort in the only child I had and hoped I would find in him reassurance.

‘More than ever I believe it imperative that you meet with my brother,’ I told him. ‘Your sister’s life could be in jeopardy,’ I urged Jamie. ‘He must be made to see how vital peace with Scotland is, and how risking the life of your sister could thwart the treaty of Berwick.’

‘Margaret is safe, Mother,’ Jamie informed me, his tone thin with impatience. He met me in my apartments. He would not even suffer to see me alone, but allowed Harry in the room with him – Harry, whom I went without seeing for months at a time, and only by chance when we did meet.

‘She is?’ My heart was pounding heavily in my chest. I put my hand to my breast as if I could still it. ‘You are sure?’

‘Yes,’ Jamie told me. ‘I have been assured this is more of a chastisement for her behaviour and no real harm will come to her,’ he added.

‘Thank God!’ I exclaimed, closing my eyes a moment. ‘What of Lord Howard?’ I asked then, pitying the young man who had the misfortune of loving my equally unfortunate daughter.

‘Still imprisoned, but the death sentence has not been enforced,’ Jamie said. ‘He is none of our concern. There is other news, Mother.’

By the wistful light in his eyes I discerned it was nothing good and stiffened in my chair, drawing in a deep breath. ‘What now?’ I asked.

‘The Duke of Albany, Mother,’ Jamie told me. ‘He’s … he has passed on.’

The room seemed to be moving. My heart thudded against my ribs in a violent rhythm. Albany … Albany …

‘No!’ I cried. ‘Oh, Jamie, no!’

‘I am afraid it’s true,’ Harry interjected.

Jamie bowed. ‘Perhaps I will leave you to discuss this alone,’ he said, pressing my hand with a brief kiss before making an all-toohasty retreat.

I began to sob. ‘Not Albany!’ I cried. ‘Oh, not my Albany …’

‘“Your” Albany,’ Harry stated with a sigh. ‘You really loved him, didn’t you?’ His tone was soft.

I could not help but nod. I did love him. And now he was gone, denied me forever.

‘Always the men you canna have,’ Harry noted then, and I flinched. ‘I suppose there is something about the forbidden that keeps such love forever sweetened. It is never tainted by the hardships of reality.’

‘You would know,’ I snapped, my cheeks hot as I thought of his Janet.

‘I suppose it is better for John Stewart to never have known your love,’ Harry said then. ‘Perhaps you remained as tender in his memory as he does in yours.’

‘Jehan …’ I whispered though tears. ‘He … he called himself Jehan …’

Harry bowed to this. ‘I crave your pardon, Your Grace,’ he said in smooth tones.

‘Oh, Harry, I want to be alone, won’t you just let me alone?’ I hissed, impatient with his mocking banter. ‘No … fetch Ellen for me. Yes. I would like Ellen beside me now.’

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

But he had no sarcastic retort and I was grateful. He left to do my bidding.

Ellen entered the room, wrapping her arms about me and holding me as I sobbed for Albany, for my dear Jehan.

‘Oh, Ellen, do you remember how he used to sing?’ I asked her. ‘Did you ever hear him? His voice was so strong and low. Oh, Ellen!’

‘There, there, Your Grace,’ Ellen soothed in her soft voice. ‘He is with God now, and his wife and daughter. He is in a better place,’ she assured me as she pulled away.

I looked into her face. ‘His daughter? Oh, yes. I had forgotten.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘I supposed I always hoped there would be a chance for us,’ I admitted in soft tones. ‘I always seemed to miss my mark, didn’t I, Ellen?’

But Ellen was not listening. She was gazing at a point just beyond my head and sinking to the floor, her mouth forming a perfect O.

I rose from my chair, stooping beside her. Her eyes were fixed, staring beyond me still as I shook her shoulders.

‘Ellen! Ellen!’ I cried, holding her to my chest. She was heavy, limp in my arms. ‘Oh, Ellen! Oh, God, help me!’ I screamed. ‘Please help me!’

Servants rushed into the room, sweeping my Ellen up and removing her. I followed, ordering a physician’s immediate assistance. I was eager for a report as soon as possible.

Harry, having heard the ruckus in the hall, joined me as we progressed to her rooms.

I linked my arm through his. ‘Oh, Harry, Ellen canna be ill, not when I need her so much!’

‘Yes, God forbid she take ill when you need her,’ Harry spat, pulling away from me.

‘I canna expect you to understand,’ I cursed as I made my way into her rooms. The physician who met me there only shook his grey head.

‘I am afraid her heart is failing,’ he informed me. ‘Should be no surprise; she lived much longer than expected. She has been unwell for many years now.’

‘She has?’ I asked, mystified as I rushed to her side, taking her hand in mine.

‘She hasn’t long, Your Grace,’ the physician told me.

‘All right, then, leave us,’ I said in harsher tones than I meant as the physician and servants quit the room.

‘My people,’ Ellen murmured. ‘I hear the drums … home at last …’

‘Your people?’ I returned. Though it had always been obvious that Ellen was from a distant land, I never thought of her as having people. I never thought of a lot of things.

‘Your Grace …’ Her voice was barely audible as a trace of a smile curved her full, dark lips.

‘Yes, my darling?’ I squeezed her thin hand in mine. Had I not noted how thin her hands were becoming? Why did I do nothing? Why did I push it aside, as if it would go away?

‘Listen, Your Grace,’ she said then.

‘To what?’ I cried, my voice growing shrill with panic. ‘I dinna hear anything, Ellen!’ I was desperate at once to hear what she heard, to be part of her world, a world I chose to ignore in lieu of keeping her tethered in mine.

‘Just learn … to be still,’ she told me. ‘And listen.’

‘Of course, I will, Ellen, only stay to teach me!’ I begged, reaching out to stroke her forehead. Already it was cooling; already the life was leaving her. I wondered if she would meet Albany and my children and my sister, and all those I longed to see but was deprived of.

‘Oh, Ellen, Ellen,’ I cooed, leaning in to kiss her dusky forehead. ‘Dinna leave me, Ellen, please dinna leave me …’

But her eyes were empty. She had left me for her people and the land of the distant drums.

And I was all alone, listening.

I quit her room, moving as if prompted by unseen strings. I was numb, my body going through the motions of walking, of breathing, of what seemed now to be the useless act of living.

Harry had been waiting. He caught my elbow. ‘Come now,’ he urged in soft tones. ‘We must leave her to be attended to.’

‘I want a grand funeral arranged for her,’ I announced, stifling my tears. Ellen would want me to be strong. ‘She shall have the best gown, the best of everything, as my dearest friend.’

‘Her funeral shall be as her family sees fit,’ Harry told me in harsher tones as we made our way back to my apartments.

‘What do you mean? I am her family!’ I cried when we were alone. ‘I am all the family Ellen ever had!’

Harry leaned against my writing table, shaking his head. ‘Are you really so blind, Margaret, or are you just that selfish?’

‘What do you mean?’ I demanded, mortified Harry should choose such an inopportune time to scold me.

‘She had a daughter in care of the Lindsays,’ Harry told me.

My heart seemed to slow. My breath caught in my throat. ‘What do you mean, a daughter? I never heard that; she never said. How do you know this?’

‘Because, unlike you, I stopped talking long enough to listen, to inquire after
her
life and what was important to
her,
’ Harry told me.
Listen, Your Grace
… ‘As you could not, as her “dearest” friend. Did you know there was another Moorish lady, a Margaret?’

‘Yes, she was named for me,’ I said dumbly.

‘That is irrelevant, but I suppose that is the first thing you would think of,’ Harry said. ‘Did you know why she was not close to Ellen? They were from different tribes. Is that not ironic? The one person she could have claimed as a friend, who knew of her people and her lands, was from another tribe, thus forbidden to her. They honoured that even here, even in Scotland, the land of warring clans. We are not so unlike the Moors, are we? But why would you care? You know nothing of your friends, let alone strangers.’

I sank into my chair. ‘Harry, why are you telling me this now?’

‘Because, as Ellen’s “friend,” it would serve you to know a few things about her,’ he returned, his tone icy.

‘Oh, but Harry …’ I breathed, unable to take it all in. ‘A daughter …’

‘A daughter you would not let her go to – you “needed” her too much,’ Harry said, his tone laden with disgust. ‘As you need everyone too much. You needed her to death. So at the very least, if you held her in any esteem at all, let her daughter lay her to rest as she sees fit. I will take it upon myself to inform Barton of her death.’

‘Barton … you mean, Robin?’

‘Who else would I mean?’ Harry shot back. ‘He first brought her to Scotland; they were especial friends. He has a right to know.’

I could not speak, I could not think. All this time, Harry knew more of my Ellen and her world than me.

‘If I had only known, Harry, I swear to you I would have let her go to her daughter,’ I said. ‘You can imagine, me being separated from my own daughter, I would have care of such things.’

‘Ha!’ Harry scoffed. ‘Poor Margaret means no more to you than this child of Ellen’s does now. They are both just as much strangers to you and better for them that they are.’

‘Harry, why are you being so cruel to me?’ I demanded. ‘First about Albany and now my dearest friend – and she
was
my dearest friend regardless of how you mock me – she is gone and you … all you can do is antagonise me!’

‘I am not antagonising you,’ Harry told me, his tone softer. ‘I am being honest.’

‘I did not know she was sick, Harry,’ I said then.

‘Do not insult Ellen’s memory more by lying,’ Harry said. ‘You have known she was ill for years but were too selfish to part with her. My God, I could see how ill she was every time I looked at her! But you, Margaret, you see what you want to see.’

I sank my head into my hands, my sobbing renewed with a vengeance. I hated him for his cruel words. I hated him more because he was right.

‘Maybe now you will see, Margaret, that it is time to slow down, to retire from public life yourself before it is too late for you as well,’ Harry said then. His tone grew soft. ‘You can come with me to Methven Castle. I am willing … I am willing to try to repair things with you.’

‘After everything you have just told me this very night?’ I returned, seething that he dare propose such a thing now. ‘After you made it clear you have no respect for me as your wife, let alone your queen?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I feel sorry for you, Margaret.’ I searched for a hint of mockery in his voice but, to my mounting frustration, found none. ‘You will never learn from your past, will you? You will insist, with that Tudor stubbornness, on sabotaging any possible chance at happiness.’

I bowed my head, sobbing brokenly.

‘Cry, Your Grace,’ Harry urged, the mockery I could not find before now abundant in his tone. ‘Cry for your Albany and cry for your Ellen. But before them all, cry for yourself, for you are more pathetic than the lot of them.’

With that he retreated, leaving me to my tears, my pathetic, useless tears.

24

T
here was nothing to be done but think of the present and who was left in it. I pushed my mourning for Albany and Ellen aside. They were never far from my thoughts, as it were. When I lay in my bed alone at night, with no letters to write, no missions to set upon, they came to me whether I wanted them or not, taunting me with my memories, where they were young and bonny while I was cursed to grow old alone on this earth.

But for now there was Jamie and I would concentrate my waking energies on him. I would renew my pleas for a meeting with my brother, and Jamie’s marriage prospects needed tending. He needed me.