The Gowrie Conspiracy (8 page)

In Edinburgh’s Lawn market, Will Hepburn was enjoying a glass of excellent claret with Martin Hailes, once Lady Morham’s lawyer.

After death terminated her guardianship, Will was content to let affairs relating to income and estate remain in his
elderly
cousin’s hands. True, it would have been more convenient to employ a Perth lawyer when Martin Hailes retired at
seventy
and was reluctant to make the long journey from Edinburgh. Will, however, disliked changes and despite Martin’s urging was too lethargic to take his affairs
elsewhere
. Besides he had another reason, the excuse for an enjoyable visit to the bustling city.

In good weather he made an occasional nostalgic visit to Morham Castle, his home for many years. Despite James Hepburn’s lamentable failings as his father, Will was proud of being a Borderer. Without having ever struck a blow or raised a sword in anger, ballads from his childhood roused
memories
of steel-bonneted warriors who called at Morham and stirred the pride of race that was in his blood.

‘Somewhat unruly and very had to take,

I would have none think that I call them thieves.

The freebooter ventures life and limb,

Good wife and bairn and everything.

He must do so, or else must starve and die,

For all his living comes of the enemy.’

Morham had passed to other hands long ago, to other cousins who he hardly knew and none who would care to meet him. But the old lawyer, aware of William’s remarkable recollection of his childhood, the way he could recall events in precise detail, always encouraged him to reminisce, as well as enjoying in return the latest gossip about Falkland Palace.

Unfailingly polite, his first question to William was, ‘And how is Mistress Scott?’

‘She is well, sir.’

Martin nodded. ‘Excellent, excellent,’ was the correct reply, having striven through the years to hide his disappointment in young William’s choice of the woman with whom he wished to share his life.

Not that Martin had anything personal against Tansy Scott. On the several occasions when they had met, he had been agreeably surprised by her charm, her kindness and
outstanding
good looks. His reason was more practical. Simply that her presence in William’s life had put an end to him ever marrying and raising a family of his own.

He could never quite understand why the lad, the bastard son of an infamous but undoubtedly attractive father, had chosen from all the women who would have made excellent wives, the estranged wife of a Fife laird. Estranged for the reason that she was barren, the shaming and unforgivable curse of womanhood, the death knell of queens.

The years had passed since Martin raised the subject of a suitable wife. If Walter Murray divorced Tansy, he knew that William would marry her at once. But still no bairns, a sterile marriage. The thought aggravated Martin, since forty was still an age of virility for men. Twenty years a widower, with eight living children, Martin had already been a grandfather at that age.

Sighing, he remembered his efforts to produce expensive supper parties through the years, inviting eligible Edinburgh young ladies for William’s benefit and seduction. Ladies, he suspected, who would have been more than eager for his amorous attentions, with parents who would have rejoiced and welcomed an eligible bachelor, bastard son of Queen Mary’s notorious third husband.

Martin’s secret but scandalous hope was still that the lad might be compromised and forced into marriage. Sadly for him, William obviously had not inherited James Hepburn’s
promiscuous and irresponsible attitudes toward women either.

Nor did Martin’s plan deceive him. ‘You are a poor
matchmaker
, cousin Hailes,’ Will laughed, with a stubborn shake of his auburn curls. ‘You are wasting your time and money on lining up prospective brides for me. If I cannot have Tansy Scott, then I will remain unwed for the rest of my life. And that is my final word on the subject.’

Today however, William’s next words afforded his cousin a small gleam of hope. ‘Tansy has a distant cousin staying, from the Borders.’

‘And what is this lady like?’ Martin asked, daring to hope.

Will laughed. ‘You never give up, do you! This lady, cousin, is a bachelor, young and very handsome,’ he added with a teasing glance.

‘How old is he?’

‘Thirty-six.’ Again Martin’s hopes soared for a very
different
reason. A handsome cousin, thirty-six. Perhaps his prayers had been answered, and he had come to sweep Tansy Scott off her feet.

‘His name is Tam Eildor,’ William was saying. He frowned. ‘Do you know, something very strange happened when we first met.’

He hesitated for a moment and Martin asked, ‘Indeed. How so?’

William looked at him, bewildered. ‘You see, I thought I remembered him. From a visit at Morham long ago – ’

As he went on to describe that meeting in some detail, Eildor with two of the queen’s Maries, Seton and Fleming, himself sitting on his grandmother’s knee, aged four, Martin shook his head.

‘You must be mistaken. The man you met would now be as old as I am.’

Will shook his head. ‘However old he is, he looks exactly as he did thirty-six years ago.’

Martin studied him for a moment. ‘You must be mistaken,
William. Border families often have a strong likeness. Inbreeding, you know, and the wrong side of the blanket.’

‘That is what Tansy is saying.’

‘I am sure she is correct in that.’ Pausing he glanced at Will. ‘But you are not convinced.’

Will frowned, shook his head, and Martin hoping to change the subject asked, ‘How goes it in the royal palace? Any new scandals?’

‘Only a new murder.’

‘A murder!’ Martin whispered, waiting for details.

‘The day I arrived, Tansy was very upset. There had been a serious accident – the queen’s midwife and constant
attendant
had been killed. She lodged with Tansy.’

‘Where was her cousin when all this happened?’ Martin demanded suspiciously, his mind racing ahead.

Tam smiled. ‘He was with Tansy. They discovered the woman dying – of a stab wound – on the turnpike stair. Mistress Agnew was a friend of Tansy. Similar backgrounds. As you know, Tansy was orphaned early and brought up by her granddam, Lady Beaton.’

Martin suppressed a grimace. This was another connection he would have preferred William’s chosen partner to be
without
. Janet Beaton, Lady Buccleuch, had been a powerful and remarkable woman suspected of witchcraft.

‘Mistress Agnew had also been orphaned and brought up by her granddam, who, like Lady Beaton, was also in
attendance
at James’s birth.’ Pausing, he added, ‘I expect you remember that, cousin.’

Martin nodded. ‘I remember hearing about it. It was a bad time for Scotland and there were ugly rumours concerning his birth. As he grew older rough townsfolk used to shout after him; ‘Ye son of Davy Riccio.’

‘Was it true, do you think?’

Martin shook his head. ‘Who knows what murky deeds the past conceals. Certainly on the rare occasions when I have observed King James riding past in Edinburgh, he has not
inherited the outstanding good looks of either his father or mother. But I cannot imagine the lovely young queen with her ugly little secretary who I saw only once.’ With a sigh, he continued, ‘She preferred stronger men – ’

‘Like my father,’ said Will bitterly.

‘Indeed. That was the tragedy of both their lives.’ Martin frowned, stroking his beard. ‘Rumour whispered another explanation concerning James’s birth. Concerning a
document
– ’

‘Tell me,’ Will insisted.

At Falkland, the minister hurrying past on his way to church observed Tam leaving David Rose’s house accompanied by a beggar’s child.

He stopped, blinking in astonishment as this ragged apparition was introduced as David Rose’s niece. ‘Come to visit him, minister. Should he return imminently, tell him Jane awaits him at Mistress Scott’s lodging, by the queen’s apartments.’

And bowing, Tam marched the small girl firmly across the road before any further questions could be raised, leaving the minister staring open-mouthed after them.

Tansy Scott’s reactions were identical at the sight of Tam with a ragged small girl clinging to his hand.

Quickly he explained, while Jane, wide-eyed, clutched his arm like the lifeline to a drowning mariner.

Taken aback, Tansy surveying the terrified child and
hoping
that a benevolent smile was assurance of a warm
welcome
, rang the bell that summoned Martha, her
serving-woman
, who was instructed to bathe, feed and provide the child with some suitable garment.

The latter suggested a problem, then, with a moment of inspiration, Tansy scooped up a small gown of satin and lace from the sewing-table.

‘The very thing,’ she said to Tam. ‘This is a court dress for one of Her Grace’s female dwarfs.’ And holding it up against
Jane, she smiled. ‘A little inappropriate, but adequate.’

Warm-hearted, kindly Martha, quite unfazed, put a
protective
arm around Jane who, even in the presence of such friendly people, continued to tremble and look apprehensive.

Martha had encountered and endured great poverty in her time and the child before her was not the most advanced example of suffering and neglect.

Examining the elaborate garment with its low cut neckline, she frowned.

‘This will have to do for the moment, Mistress Scott.’ And smiling down at Jane she went on, ‘My lassie has a bairn about your age, my pet. She will find you something more comfortable, never fear.’

But only the promise of good things to eat in Martha’s kitchen overcame Jane’s reluctance to be parted from Tam.

Watching the door close on them, Tam explained the
circumstances
of his rescue.

‘I thought you might give her a home until the situation is resolved.’

As Tansy nodded agreement, there was no doubt in her mind or in Tam’s that Jane had little hope of a happy outcome and of being reunited with her uncle.

‘I was hoping that she might provide us with some
information
about Mistress Agnew,’ said Tam.

‘A forlorn hope, I fear,’ was the reply. ‘Surely you do not imagine that her uncle would confide in a child seldom seen any details of an illicit relationship?’ And always practical, Tansy continued, ‘Have you considered having taken her into your care, what is to become of her if her uncle does not return? – if he is dead, as you fear.’

Tam sighed. ‘We cannot send her back to Edinburgh, orphaned and friendless.’

Tansy glanced at him sharply. ‘I think you mean that I
cannot
– or more correctly, will not – send her back to a brutal foster-father, orphaned and friendless.’

When Tam smiled, she said wryly, ‘How well you know me
in our short acquaintance, Tam Eildor.’ And with a sigh, ‘We shall see what talents she has, if any, perhaps find her suitable employment in the palace here.’

But Tansy had few hopes regarding the success of
introducing
the waifish child Tam had deposited on her charity into the queen’s household.

Aware of her reluctance to be involved, he said in Jane’s defence, ‘She must have been very brave to venture all that way from Edinburgh alone to find her uncle.’

‘Very brave or scared out of her wits,’ was Tansy’s
contribution
.

An hour later they were taken aback when the door opened to admit a tiny figure, at first glance a dwarf in an elaborate court dress, followed by a proudly smiling Martha.

Tam laughed delightedly. He had no idea that the dirt and grime of a long arduous journey could have concealed such a pretty creature. Her pinched, wan appearance had been merely the result of hunger and fatigue for her exhausted pale face now blossomed into rosy cheeks, her freshly washed hair a mass of damp curls.

Plainly delighted to find herself in such a splendid gown, touching its satin skirts in wonderment, she looked at the sewing table and turning to Tansy she curtseyed and said:

‘If it please you, madam, I can handle a needle and my stitches have been greatly sought after – even by Edinburgh gentlefolk,’ she added proudly.

‘Excellent. You will be earning your keep,’ said Tansy with a laugh. ‘You could not have arrived at a better moment for I need all the help I can get, every pair of hands that can
handle
needle and thread for the Masque.’

The royal palace, quite suddenly, had turned into a human beehive of buzzing, hurrying, scurrying servants. A seething mass of men moving tables and chairs, carrying backdrops of Arcadian painted scenery, all of them shouting and cursing each other as well as the women who got in their way with
their armsful of curtains and furnishings.

The Queen’s Masque was imminent.

Tam joined this bustling force of humanity, helpfully
fetching
and carrying and arranging scenery. Having refused Tansy’s pleas to be fitted out with a suitable costume, he decided that curiosity might well drive him to attend the masque but the only costume he would wear would be his own.

‘The theme is mythology: will you not be persuaded to appear as a Greek god?’ asked Tansy wistfully, considering the man regarded by the court as her handsome remote cousin or bastard brother. And thinking to herself that she had the very costume that would turn him into a sensational Adonis.

‘Never,’ said Tam firmly. ‘If I go at all, I go as myself, and that is final,’ he added, keeping well away from Tansy’s sewing-room and steering clear of the royal tennis court, and any possible encounters with the amorous king.

Meanwhile Jane had settled down happily with Tansy, busy with her needle all day. Her nights undisturbed by a predatory foster-father she slept on a dormitory floor with the female servants, unaware that Tam conscientiously rose early and visited her uncle’s house on the off-chance of finding some evidence of his return. But each day closed the door once again on his fast diminishing hopes.