Robert
Edinburgh- June 3rd 1565
Mary's pregnancy had not altered Robert's feelings for Elizabeth. It did not discount the fact Mary's personality and looks vastly differed from his preference. He wanted to go home, home to Elizabeth's arms.
Robert still loathed living in Scotland. Only the preparations for a royal nursery before the birth of his child was a pleasant if only temporary distraction. But even that was marred by Scottish tradition, he had no say in the guardian of his child- it was to be the Earl of Mar who was custodian of Stirling Castle.
If he had no fatherly instinct in him, Robert would have resentfully dwelled on the fact that a child tied him and further entrapped him in Scotland. If he hated Mary Stuart and Scotland so much and if Mary also held the same feelings for him, both would have lamented that a divorce would now be impossible to obtain without jeopardizing the legitimacy of their child.
His child would be born a prince.
Elizabeth had written a letter to Robert detailing her joy upon hearing the news and her prayers for a healthy babe, but Robert knew Elizabeth. Reading in-between the lines it was clear while she was sincerely happy for Robert, but Bess had also been hurt by the news.
I wanted you, Bess. It should have been you.
Robert felt torn as he was happy and excited about becoming a father, however he could not help but feel a bit disloyal in feeling so. He was Elizabeth's ÔÔ and he would forever be. His future hinged on the result of this pregnancy.
Robert would be free to return to England if both Queen Mary and their baby were not to survive childbirth. Robin closed his eyes and imagined spurring his horse out of the small Scottish capital.
I could go home.
He could return to his beloved Elizabeth. No complications; except for the war of his conscience that a young woman's early death and the loss of a child, his child was the way to return to- He would have to live with that for the rest of his life.
Robert looked up and hoped He was not listening to his thoughts. Robin had not meant it. His feelings of elation at the prospect said otherwise.
Never mind the war between the Scots on who would wear the crown if Mary of Scotland left this world, childless. The Hamiltons who were next to kin or would the eldest bastard son of James V, the Earl of Moray, seek to be king?
I don't have a care about them.
But, Robert paused at the thought of the child. He was beginning to want his child more than he wanted to go home. The majority of the Scottish lords would not have their infant-child sovereign taken to England to be raised by its English father, not without a fight. He could not trust that their pro-English stance went so far. He did not feel so certain Elizabeth would support him and send him an army to ensure Robert and the infant king or queen of Scots made it to England.
Elizabeth hates wars, he reminded himself. There was no certainty of Robert's success in such a power struggle over his own child. Impulsive by nature, he might not wait for the right time to smuggle his child across the border not without the cautiousness of Elizabeth. What if he were in a position that the Scottish lords forced him to abandon his child? Forced to give up his right to be appointed regent?
How could he return home without his baby?
"I cannot," he sighed heavily knowing if he were to become a widower again, the next eighteen years of ruling Scotland for his child would be his priority. Or somehow finding a way to keep his child and return to Elizabeth.
Robert let out another deep sigh as he rode through the main thoroughfare of Edinburgh. He offered smiles to the people who stopped to look curiously their prince and doffed their cap if they had one. He was surprised by the people of the small city who seemed to not mind that their queen had married an Englishman. After all, the last time a Tudor monarch had sent an Englishman nobleman to Scotland with marital attentions, he had led the English army to razed the small town-city to the ground. Twice, a Stewart king died in conflict with Elizabeth's father. Robert could see in their eyes that the Scots remembered this all too well even if they thought him benign without an army.
His role as king consort was not so conflicting. It had been a role Robert wanted for years just with a different queen.
Robert did his best to prove he was an excellent king consort. He may have been a reluctant husband, but he threw himself into his new duties that Mary and her brother James allowed him. Mary had been desperate for a consort to support her, but she appeared to prefer counsel from her brother Lord James, William Maitland, and even Hepburn.
He was always present to sign with his seal on decisions put before Mary and him. When Mary was too ill due to the pregnancy to attend and sign herself, Robert was there to make ensure there were no delays on the matters of state.
Unfortunately, Robert was not successful in all of his objectives. He had failed in convincing Mary to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh despite the pressure Elizabeth and her council placed on him to do so. The marriage between him and Mary had not created a settlement between the two countries. Back in March, Elizabeth had refused to name her successor, which ended Mary's policy of conciliation.
So it was Robert's job to bring Mary back to another round of diplomacy and it also another way to make the best of this marriage of inconvenience,(which he had vehemently resisted) was his only way of making his life in Scotland a bit more bearable. Courting Mary with gifts and poetry was his way of trying to befriend the Scottish queen. He convinced himself that it was necessary for Mary of Scots to like him and it was not disloyal to Bess if he liked Mary as a companion. Mary's trust in him was also necessary for self-preservation. A regnant's hatred and/or distrust of a consort never bode well for a consort. He was a English foreigner and there were Catholic lairds who wished to undermine him at every turn. To his relief, Mary was easily receptive to Robert's offering of amicability between them.
Tonight, he would get Mary agreeable to Elizabeth's terms.
Mary
Robert entered Mary's apartments as she playing cards with the four Marys while David Riccio strummed his lute.
"Robert, you have returned early," she commented in surprise at his arrival.
"I wish to speak with you," he said as the six stared at him.
"We shall play again another day, ladies," dismissed Mary. Once her short Italian secretary exited last with a bow, Mary asked Robert why he had returned so early from Edinburgh. With her ill health due to the advancing pregnancy, Mary rarely went about Edinburgh.
"I thought of you, when I saw this pup." Robert uncovered a small dog from his riding cloak. A little black Skye Terrier puppy. Mary squealed in delight by the darling thing. She automatically reached out to hold it. Robert gently placed the dozing dog in her arms. Mary laughed as Robert kissed her pale neck. He stood behind her seat with his hands on her shoulders.
"Do you like my gift?" Mary stroked the soft fur of the small long haired black dog in her arms. Mary smiled up at Robert.
"I love it," she declared in English. Robert had began to help her improve her poor English as a way to ease her boredom from being unable to do many of the physical activities she enjoyed like riding and archery.
"I'm pleased," he chuckled. Robert took the dog from her arms and set the little pup on the floor.
Ever since Mary had announced she was with child, Robert tried to appeared less morose and aloof around Mary. He often came up the private stairwell linking their separate apartments to bid her good morning and shockingly lingered as she dressed. She found it strange for a man even her husband to look at her changing figure. Mary had blushed red when he had tried to steal a kiss as he handed her chemise, before being shooed out. True to her unfailingly optimistic personality, she blissfully ignored or never heard the whispers that he had done the very same with Elizabeth. Mary enjoyed this happier Robert who wrote her poetry and gave her gifts like the puppy.
"Are you courting me?" teased Mary as she rose from her seat. Robert smiled at her roguishly.
"Do you object to my attentions, my wife?" Mary laughed lightly and cocked her head in mock serious thought. She pursed her lips and did not answer for a rather long time making Robert begin to squirm. Mary laughed merrily,
"No, I do not think I do." As they embraced, Robert noted there were more than playing cards on the table.
"Is this new?" Robert pointed to the ornate cup of gold.
"Yes, Lord Randolph arrived this morn and my cousin had it sent with him. How generous of Elizabeth."
Mary was elated that Elizabeth appeared to be pleased and excited about the child, even if it was Robert's first child with Mary.
"She laments that she could not be a part of our joy in person."
Mary did not take note of Robert's facial reaction. Nothing could dampen Mary's mood for Mary was on a high. Her Protestant lords were pleased with their Protestant prince consort. Mary herself was happy Robert was apt in helping relieve the burdens of ruling and she was on the cusp of securing the line of succession with a birth of an heir. There was no reason in Mary's mind that Elizabeth would not name Mary her heir to the English throne soon.
"She will name me her heir once our baby is born. My sister queen surely will." Mary was so close to having everything she desired. Maybe Elizabeth would deign to meet her in year or two? Robert opened his mouth but paused as if he were choosing his words carefully.
"I fear that particular wish may never be granted," sighed Robert quietly as he set down the glittering cup after inspecting it.
Mary scoffed.
Expecting assurances from her English husband, Mary's eyes welled in frustration and hurt that her sister cousin did not love her back.
He looked at her seriously, "I do not think she will ever name an heir out of fear that her people will flock to support the person she names." Robert took her hand in his, before continuing, "Some of her councilors do not like the pretensions you and your late husband made of claiming to be Queen of England. Elizabeth was not pleased either. I do not think she has ever forgiven that."
"My father in law, King Henri made those claims and my uncles told me it was my right to do so," she argued in her defence. In her eyes, she had not done anything wrong. "I do not claim to be the Queen of England. I only wish for my claim as heiress to England be recognized." Robert bit his lip to refrain from retorting about Mary's less than respectful behaviour in declaring herself the true Queen of England and for believing like many Catholics that Elizabeth was a bastard.
"My lady, you understood what you were doing," said Robert lightly, "You are a clever woman, albeit you might have been misguided and foolish." He was growing tired of Mary's obsession with the English throne and Elizabeth. Mary straightened and she stepped forward.
"By the Grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland?" her voice was mocking,"Is she not titled thus? Pray tell me, what foothold of France does Elizabeth rule? My own uncles were a part of the army that fought, defeated, retook Calais. Were you not in service as a soldier in the loss of Calais?" Robert reddened with bruised pride and bit his lip till it almost bled.
"She must be as misguided and foolish as you dare call me." Robert bowed his head, knowing where he had crossed the line.
"Forgive me-" Mary cut him off and snarled haughtily,
"Did you come here to preach at me? I have John Knox for that. Or has your mistress sent a missive with instructions to accuse me of plots?"
"No, I have not," Robert sighed with impatience, "Elizabeth is seen as illegitimate by Catholics in England, around Europe, and especially in Rome. You must understand that you are seen as a threat by her chief councillors." Mary did not like the ring of truth in Robert's words, for she had tried for years to woo her cousin in naming her heiress presumptive. She chose to focus on something else Robert had said.
"You were one of those chief councillors, were you not? Do you honestly believe I am a threat to your mistress?" she asked softly with hardened eyes. Mary smiled having caught Robert in an impossible situation. "Did you then believe I was a threat to Elizabeth when I was Queen of France?"
"No, I did not think you were a threat then," he replied smoothly. "I in the past told Her Majesty that you were young and that it was King Henri who was using you as a pawn." Mary ignored the latter part with effort.
"How to sweet to know my husband has once spoken in my defence," Mary laughed with a kiss to his cheek. She asked curiously, "Did it go over well with Her Majesty?"
Robert coughed, "No. I was berated and she asked me if I was the new French ambassador." Mary smirked and laughed again.
Mary sighed, "Robert, you know my reasons for wanting to be named successor. I have no desire to rule as a figurehead and I mean to rule effectively. I cannot do that if my own subjects will not respect my authority and communicate with your mistress and her advisors behind my back." Her hooded eyes gazed at him knowingly. Robert dared not look away.
Robert chose to broach the long, tired subject of the treaty, "Elizabeth very much wishes for another attempt to reach a settlement, since the Treaty of Edinburgh has not been ratified and all attempts to revise the issues has fallen through. If you do-" Mary groaned and waved a hand dismissively. She needed to lie down. Mary felt her frustrations spill over at the mention of that illegal treaty.
"Why should I do so? I will be denouncing my claim. I married you as she suggested, when I could have had my pick of princes and kings. I could have married an Englishman of royal blood- like- like my cousin, Henry - Lord Darnley. She has not treated me in a sisterly manner like she had promised to."
"Elizabeth wishes to friends with you," he protested.
"It is all words, my lord," she argued with the deepest of resentment. "What have I gained for doing what Elizabeth wants?" she cried dramatically. "I am a queen."
Her former lover.
I could have strengthened my claim or married for love.
Mary was still conscientious of her husband's lesser bloodline and tainted family name. How could Mary ever forget the fact he was the love of her cousin's and a spy for Elizabeth? She had forgiven the insult made by Elizabeth but had not forgotten it. Mary despised the fact that someone had succeeded in marrying her off. Mary was determined she would no longer listen to Elizabeth's advice. How at times she wished she had refused to marry Robert and married someone else just to spite Elizabeth.
Mary looked at said insult of a husband who met her glare before she turned to walk away to her bedchamber. The little terrier was already sniffing around the doorway.
"Do you think I was overjoyed to be cast off here?" he snapped harshly. "You are mistaken if you think you are the one had no choice. Once you accepted the offer, I did not have a choice in the matter. Forgive me, if I am tired of hearing you bemoan that you were duped into marrying me." Mary's face coloured. Tears always formed in her eyes in anger.
"Then leave me," she hissed coldly, turning back at him. "No good man of noble blood would dare speak in such a manner to a queen. Leave, Leicester." Mary glared furiously with angry tears streaming down her face at Robert who stubbornly did not leave at her order. Mary could not stand to look at him any longer and began to walk past him. "Why do you almost always come to me with a gift or sweet words then immediately drive me to tears? Go away, Leicester."
Before you fall in love with him and trust him with your life.
She could hear him let out a noise of frustration.
"Forgive my outburst, madam," spoke Robert slowly as he followed her. "Mary, Elizabeth does not bear ill intentions to you." His tone was placating as he stopped her before the door, "Yes, you are an undisputed queen regnant. She may in time agree for our child to be her heir. Your flesh and blood will sit upon the thrones of Scotland and one day England, what more could you desire, Mary?"
Robert placed a hand upon her stomach gently. Mary was not pleased with the idea of being passed over in favour of her own son or daughter. She resented Robert's very presence. Mary had been played for a fool by Elizabeth and knowing this made Mary wanted to scream.
"Yes, I am a queen, thus I should have not done another's bidding. I desire you to leave right now," whispered Mary resentfully, thinking of a conversation with the Earl of Bothwell.
She was very cross with both Robert and Elizabeth, but did she want to be rid of him that badly? He had not proven to be disastrous, apart from her insulted pride. Robert's face froze, when she wrenched away from his hands held out to her. Perhaps, like one of his wolfhounds, he could sense something. He looked angry at her and at himself.
"Mary, you are not normally so ill humoured," he observed carefully slipping back into the careful courtier. His own anger was visible in the colouring of his cheeks, but his tone was now light and conversational. "Forgive me for bringing up the Treaty of Edinburgh and my words. I see you are resolute in not signing it and-No matter if I support your claim as heir I will not..."
Fight for me.
"Thank you for the dog," Mary deflected coldly with a false bright smile. Robert blinked. "I should rest alone." Robert still did not leave her alone and followed her into the large bedchamber. Mary was about to declare she wished to pray alone in her prayer niche.
"I am glad you are pleased with it. Shall you give it a name?" Robert asked conversationally. Mary blinked at the question and watched the small black terrier sniff around her bedchamber.
"Armageddon," she replied stiffly. The reference was explicit causing an uncomfortable silence and tension in the room before Robert finally bowed deeply.
"I bid you and Armageddon a good day, madam." Mary did not dare look at him, preferring to glower at the tapestries on the wall. The Lady Mary Beaton entered first from the outer chamber after Robert had left. The other Marys looked at her tearstained face and at Armageddon yapping at their skirts.
"Your Grace?"
"He is more of a Bash," laughed Mary wiping her face.
Mary
Falkland Palace - July 19 1565
All was forgotten and forgiven by the time Robert's elder brother, Ambrose Dudley arrived in Scotland late in June. Ambrose arrived with his future father-in-law, Francis Russell, the Earl of Bedford. Ambrose and the Earl's daughter Anne were set to wed in November. Amongst them was the Earl of Lennox who had came to Scotland to settle some matter.
Mary was curious about elder brother of Robert's. Ambrose and Robert Dudley were not of similar personalities and Ambrose was not as handsome as his younger brother. Ambrose appeared to be a more quieter nature. Yet, Mary observed the two brothers were greatly fond of each other and were inseparable from the moment Ambrose arrived. Both had keenly missed each other's company.
She smiled at them sadly, as the brothers reminded her of her sisterly love for Elisabeth de Valois. Despite Ambrose's poor health and the colder climate of Scotland, it would make life more bearable for Robert to have his beloved brother by his side, however it was not be.
One of the main events she and Robert had planned for their English guests was a hunt. The hunt took place on her husband's thirty-third birthday. Mary greatly disliked not being able to enjoy any athletic pursuits. She wished she did not have to miss out on the thrill of the hunt. Mary felt captive by the restrictions of being with child, which left her a spectator of the dancing in the Great Hall. Her need to be outdoors for the good of her health was only satisfied by strolls in the gardens, or long walks accompanied by her ladies and guards.
Today, Mary was accompanied by Riccio and Lady Mary Seton on a long walk, as she awaited the return of the hunting party. They had played cards and had a picnic. Mary was wondering what was taking the hunting party so long, when a man's voice called to her.
"Madam," greeted James Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell. A pleasant smile came to her fair face as he bowed deeply before her. "Forgive me, I have not personally voiced my congratulations."
"Thank you, my lord." Mary rubbed her stomach fondly. According to her estimate, she was nearing five months pregnant.
"Your Grace, may I speak with you?" Mary nodded and she had Lady Seton and David walk behind them out of earshot.
"You have been missed here at court. How is your lady wife? Is she unwell? Is that why you have been away for so long?" Bothwell's mouth twitched with a small smile.
"My lady Jean is well, Your Grace. I am afraid, I felt my presence here at court was unwelcome." Mary frowned in surprise but in reality she wasn't.
"I have no quarrel with you, my lord."
"Thank you, Your Grace." He doffed his velvet cap to her. "I came at once at your behest."
"Do the Hamiltons still speak blasphemous words?" The words had reached Mary's ears recently. Mary was annoyed and baffled by the gossip about her and her musician, David Riccio. They suddenly took issue with Mary's marriage to Dudley and claimed Mary held an illicit affair with her unattractive Italian servant. Robert did not believe the gossip, knowing Mary held no attraction for Riccio.
Bothwell nodded.
"Oh never mind the Hamiltons at the present. I have heard uglier words whispered, my queen," reported Bothwell. "Many will take issue with the thought of an heir raised a Catholic. You have heard of Knox's preaching about the Catholic League." Mary exhaled in frustration at the mention of John Knox.
"My child will be raised in the faith I, the mother, the Queen of Scotland chooses. I have no part in such a league. I care not what faith my people keep so long as there is peace and tolerance." Knox was a thorn in Mary's side, ever since the moment she had landed on her native shores.
"My queen, I am afraid there might not be any peace. I have heard treacherous words said at court and in the halls of some of the lords." Mary did not feel concerned by Bothwell's warnings.
"Our countrymen are well-wordy."
Bothwell pressed roughly, "It concerns your royal person and your unborn child, my queen." At that, Mary paused and let him continue, "Forgive me, Your Grace. It pains me to tell you this. His Grace is said to be at center of such plots, should Your Majesty deliver a son. I fear for Scotland's freedom of as an independent realm. My lord Robert and your brother's policies trouble me. You must know half of your council are in England's pay."
"My brother, the Earl, and my husband, the prince both believe the policies benefit my rule. My royal father and grandfather both died in conflict with the English. Good relations with my English cousin is important to the security of Scotland."
"Forgive me, my queen. I came to offer my protection. I served Your Grace's mother loyally and I serve you and Scotland with the same devotion. His Grace is only concerned with protecting and serving his lover, the Queen of England and the interests of England. Your Grace knows of my plain feelings about the alliance with the English." Mary felt a tug at her heart at his mention of her mother. Mother trusted him. Bothwell knelt before her and impudently touched her arm,
"I fear Your Grace is being used as a pawn for their ambitions. I warn you that the Englishman will be the ruination of your rule. I swore to your late mother that I would do anything in my power to prevent the English subjugating your person and the realm." Bothwell grabbed her hand.
Mary looked up at the sound of the hunting party's return. She looked back at the kneeling Bothwell who gazed at her with a face of seemingly concern on his rough round face.
Her immediate thoughts turned to the lurid mystery of Robert's first wife's death. Amy Robsart had been found dead at the bottom of a stairwell. Robert had been the most unwilling groom. It was not unknown that Robert was homesick for England and Elizabeth. Was he desperate enough to want her dead so he may return to Elizabeth? Mary did not want to believe in such treachery and stepped away from Bothwell. Yet a part of her wanted to keep Bothwell near her. For if James Hepburn were true about Robert, who else would she turned to?
She glanced at Bothwell's round ruddy face.
"Those are weighty accusations, my lord Bothwell," Mary remarked evenly as she watched her dark haired English husband with a large grin on his swarthy face, ride ahead on his white stallion. Her feelings of envy that she had not been a part of the hunt were long forgotten. She removed her hand from his impertinent grasp and hissed lowly at Bothwell,
"Unless you have evidence, I warn you to not speak ill of my husband." She looked down at Bothwell with a serious yet kindly face.
"Aye, madam," he said gruffly as Mary strode away. She beamed with a smile as a groomsman came to lead Robert's horse back to the stables.
She asked, "Was the hunt a success?" Robert nodded breathlessly and kissed her lightly in greeting.
"The stag gave us a dramatic chase."
He looked past her and frowned at the sight of James Hepburn. Robert wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close to him. Moray who had strode over and looked disapprovingly at the retreating back of Bothwell. Robert and Moray exchanged a wordless look that did not go unnoticed by Mary.
"I had not known the Earl of Bothwell had returned to court," commented Moray quietly as Maitland joined them.
"I recalled him to court a few days ago," Mary answered honestly.
"What did he speak to you of?" questioned Robert a bit brusquely.
"Nothing of importance, husband. Where is my lord Warwick, your brother?" she inquired as she strode away in direction of returning hunting party. Mary listened to the elder Dudley regale her a story of a hunt he and Robert had partaken as young lads. She turned and caught Robert's eye as he ended his conversation with her brother and Maitland.
"Was this hunt before the reign of the late Queen Mary?" she asked her brother in law innocently.
"It was during the twilight of King Henry's reign," answered Ambrose Dudley with confusion at her question and his face betrayed discomfort at the mention of Mary Tudor.
"Of course," she smiled with a lilting laugh which caught the attention of the men. Robert Dudley had failed in his task of capturing Mary Tudor. Mary touched her forearm where Bothwell had held a little too roughly than she was used to and thought of his warnings of treachery against her.
Robert and Mary lounged under an elaborate canopy in the late night. Laughter and music filled the pavilion built for the festivities in honour of the English nobility. Mary was dressed in a square cut neckline gown of dark crimson satin. Mary was in a happy mood and felt energetic even at the lateness of hour. The plagues of pregnancy were not troubling her today. However, it was Robert who watched the dancers and musicians with a pensive look. Mary was clapping at the end of the dance, when she noticed Robert's sombre face. She brushed his dark curls.
"Robert, you are unwell?" Mary asked tenderly. Robert smiled quickly, but his eyes were still forlorn.
"It is nothing, my wife." Mary guessed he missed England, and especially Elizabeth even more so with his brother Ambrose and the other English nobles visiting. She understood that feeling in a somewhat similar capacity. Robert did not have his kin or many friends from his life in England with him in Scotland.
"I greatly missed France and my family there in my first years here. It was everything that I had known." Mary recalled staring at the land that was France for as long as she could, before it was out of her sight forever. He smiled sadly looking at his cup but brightened a bit,
"There is much to look forward to, Ambrose will wed the Russell heiress by the end of the year and I shall become a father in the autumn. I will be able to show off our son or daughter, when he visits again." Mary nodded.
"Are you miserable here?" she could not help to ask even though it was apparent the answer was yes. Ambrose appeared to have heard her question over the din for he shot his brother a meaningful look. Robert glared at the back of Sir Christopher Hatton.
"Mary, give me time," Robert answered all too honestly as he clasped his hand in hers. Mary's smile faltered as she straightened his white ruffed collar. He must have noticed for his deep voice softly asked,
"Do you doubt my concern for you?"
Bothwell's words of warning rang in her mind, but Robert was honest and attentive to her. He dutifully shared the burdens of ruling Scotland with her. At her pause to answer him,
"If I seem unhappy, it has nothing to do with you, my Mary." Mary beamed eagerly that Robert was pleased by her at the very least. Mary observed the Earl of Warwick converse with Maitland and Moray,
"I noticed that your brother is very different from you."
"Do you mean that I am the younger and more handsome Dudley," he laughed quietly. In a more serious tone, he said, "I love my brother. No one knows me quite as well as Ambrose does."
"Not even Elizabeth?" Robert's mood changed at the mention of her name. He shook his head slowly. Mary regarded him.
"Perhaps, I shall learn more about you through your brother. Everyone seems to know you best except I."
"What do you wish to know?"
What are your true feelings about me?
Did you order your late wife's death?
How far would you go to protect Elizabeth's interests?
Are you plotting my death?
Mary was well aware Robert was an informant for the English and Elizabeth. Bothwell's words had sunk in and she began to question if she was merely a pawn to Robert and Elizabeth.
Instead she asked, "I was wondering earlier today about names for our baby. What would you suggest we name our child?" Robert's blue eyes twinkled at the mention of the babe and his hand reached over to caress the swell of her stomach.
"I wish to have a son who will share my name, but I sense you wish to name our firstborn son after your father." Mary kissed his cheek.
"I do, but I hope if God grants us a son that he will share your look." He had the most beautiful eyes and was unfairly handsome even after hours of horseback. Robert chuckled.
"A daughter with your beauty-" he complimented with gallantry and honesty as he admired her fair face. She gave a half smile and added,
"And your fine eyes-" They were a spectacular shade of blue.
"You flatter me," Robert laughed. Mary laughed and stared down at her rounded stomach as she had a thought.
"If we have a daughter, I have thought of naming her after Elizabeth and Elisabeth of course. Would she be pleased if I honoured her by naming a daughter after her? Or would she be offended?" Robert paused and waved for more wine. Robert did not look her in the eye as he answered,
"Her Majesty would be honoured I am sure."
Mary rubbed her stomach lovingly. Robert gripped her arm gently. Mary looked up and saw the Earl of Lennox approach them with the tallest young man she had ever seen. Taller than herself by several inches. So beautiful as well. Mary had not really taken notice of fair Henry until now despite having met some time ago in France.
"Your Graces," addressed the Earl of Lennox.
"My lord, I heard you enjoyed the stag hunt." The handsome youth bowed and grinned boastfully.
"Not at all comparable as the enjoyment of beholding your great beauty, my queen," simpered Darnley with a smile. Mary beamed at the flattery, whilst Robert coughed on his wine.
"My lord cousin," she giggled. "You flatter me." Robert's blue eyes flashed a look of disbelief at Mary.
Mary
Wemyss Castle, Fife - July 24 1565
Mary laughed easily at the young lad before her. Henry Stuart gazed at her in a way that reminded her of Francis always looked at her. His presence unleashed her memories of her happy years in France with Francis, Elisabeth and Claude. She ached for the adoration and attentiveness. The unquestioned love she and Francis had shared. Francis had looked at her adoringly as if she was the rising sun.
Young Henry Stuart was so charming, so gallant, and he too loved poetry. He was taller than Mary, which was a rare feat and had such a youthful beauty.
Mary recklessly stared at him with blatant lust. He was so beautiful to look at and he had a claim to the English throne. If Mary was not married and with child, she would have thought of having Henry for a husband instead of the moody inferior Robert. Mary felt a tiny bit of guilt for even thinking such traitorous thoughts, especially since Robert was ill according to her own physician.
However, she would enjoy this adoration for as long as she could and she would request for Darnley to remain a little longer at her court before returning back to England.
"Your Grace," interrupted her husband's page. Mary snuck another glance at Henry, before she asked what the youth dressed in livery came to say.
"His Grace is unable to attend the masque, my queen."
"Oh, what has the physician said about the cause of the king's illness?"
"The physician believes His Grace has taken ill from a state of melancholy likely caused by an ailment in the king's stomach."
Mary frowned. She was aware about her husband's sudden reclusion in his apartments. It had been four days now. Mary loathed breaking an engagement, but she was bewildered and felt rather concerned about Robert. She decided she would excuse herself from attending the masque and attend to Robert at his bedside.
"Oh madam, I implore you to change your mind," complained Lord Henry intensely. She felt oddly pleased that Darnley's fair face was filled with disappointment and sulkiness as he bowed to her on her way out of the hall.
When she entered Robert's bedchamber, Ambrose Dudley appeared to be leaving Robert's apartments.
"Your Grace," he bowed in surprise.
"I have said you must call me sister or Mary," she smiled kindly. Ambrose dipped his head.
"I was told Robert is still unwell." Ambrose nodded and allowed Mary to pass through the threshold before exiting himself.
Mary found Robert reposed in a dramatic manner. His eyes widened, when Mary drew back the curtain of his bed. He appeared to have made an attempt to dress or someone had tried to encourage him to do so. A fine slashed leather jerkin was laid out. Robert wore only his hose and a linen chemise under an undone red doublet.
"Mary," he gaped. "I thought you were attending the masque."
"I decided to slip away," she explained. "I heard you are still ill." He gave a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"I'm afraid I will be poor company," he warned with little warmth.
"Why are you so melancholic?" she asked as she sat on the small space Robert left open on the side of the bed. Robert looked away from her eyes.
Mary pressed, "Is it the quarrel you had with Sir Christopher Hatton?"
His face darkened at the mention of the English courtier's name.
"How did you learn of that?" Robert asked almost tentatively and he flinched at her gentle touch.
"I overheard you and Sir Hatton, well, some of it." Robert's head snapped up in alarm. His tanned complexion was almost pallid. "You both were speaking English and my ladies and I were quite a distance away. I could only manage to understand a few words," she explained. Mary frowned as she recalled it,
"I think I absolutely understood what transpired between Sir Hatton and yourself." Robert frowned and sat up. He looked rather worried like he had been trapped alone with a lion house, albeit a seemingly content one.
"Mary," he began contritely but in self-defence. "You were not supposed to hear that. Let me explain—"
"You have nothing to worry or be jealous about," she exclaimed with a reassuring grin.
Robert looked at her puzzled, "How could you possibly know that?" Mary sighed with exasperation and slight indignation. Robert did not believe that she had no interest in Sir Christopher Hatton or Bothwell who Robert disliked or any other noble.
"Do you truly question my honour?" she asked sharply. Robert blinked at her harsh tone and by her question. "It is not my fault if men take my courtesies to mean more. Hatton may think himself to be in love with me but I am not. I hardly know the man and he is a mere knight, quite a humorless one at that. He was so easily offended by Bastian's masques. I thought they were quite clever. Oh, Robert, you have no need to torment yourself to illness."
The poor man was stunned to silence. His dark brows furrowed and his mouth gaped speechlessly. Mary expected him to look relieved by her admission. Perhaps, her half-sister Jean was right, she had also insulted Robert's manhood by refusing to lie with him when she was feeling ill or tired. She was five or six months pregnant and in no mood for marital relations.
Robert muttered under his breath, before cupping her face in his hands.
"I do not question your honour, Mary," he murmured quietly with a faint smile of relief. His look of relief was short-lived replaced with anguish.
"Then why have you withdrawn yourself from the world then?" Mary wondered as she placed her elegant hand on his cheek as well. Robert was pained by the question and could not look her in the eye.
"I- I am jealous of him." Mary stiffened, wondering if he had noticed her flirtation with Darnley over the other English noblemen.
"Hatton-" He spat the name viciously, "He made my lady laugh and smile, it causes me grief and vexation," he trailed off as he stared up at the golden canopy of the bed. Mary removed her hand from his face and clenched it into a fist. She wanted to slap him. Hatton had not made her laugh and smile anymore than any other nobleman, Scottish or English. In her irritation, she conveniently forgotten about her smiles at young Henry Stuart. Robert had forgotten Mary's presence and had not see her embarrassed and indignant face.
"You should return for the masque." Robert rolled onto his side. Mary stood up from the bed, reeling with his omission. He publicly had shamed her by his pining for-. She deserved better than this.
"It is my job to smile at my subjects and to my guests. Your duty as my husband is to host court at my side, especially when the guests are your countrymen."
"I am sure that long legged lad, Darnley, would love to fill my place."
Mary went red in the face. So he had noticed and yet he did not care, judging by his flat bored tone. She might have thought otherwise if his back were not turned from her. Mary would have saw that he was doubly aggravated with jealously and hurt. She stormed out of his chamber with the parting words,
"Perhaps, I would prefer it too."