Bess nodded. She doubted whether he would stand much chance of winning.
They talked for some time of family affairs and eventually Bess said: “I must present you to the Queen of Scots. She would take it ill if she knew you had been here and not called to pay your respects.”
“I should be pleased to speak with Her Majesty.”
Thus it was that Mary made the acquaintance of Leonard Dacre.
THE YOUNG MAN, Cavendish, had brought Mary a letter from the Duke of Norfolk.
Mary seized on it delightedly. The intrigue with which she seemed to be surrounded since coming to Wingfield Manor had brought new liveliness and she welcomed it.
Taking the letter to her bedchamber, Mary sat at the window and opened it.
The Duke wrote that he was deeply disturbed because he had heard rumors that the Papal spies in London, together with the Spanish ambassador, were planning to marry her to Don Jon of Austria. He needed reassurance. He must have it by return. He was sending her a diamond which was intended to pledge his troth to her and he was asking that a contract be drawn up between them without delay.
Why not? thought Mary. The sooner marriage with Norfolk became a fact, the sooner she would be free of her prison. She had come to see marriage with him as the only way out for her. Moreover she wanted marriage; she was weary of living without a man. She assured herself that she had forgotten Bothwell and that he no longer meant anything to her.
She took up a miniature of herself and a tablet of gold. She would write, sending these to Norfolk as her pledge, and she would ask Lesley to draw up the contract of marriage without delay.
She answered Norfolk’s letter in most affectionate terms and, enclosing the letter with the tablet and miniature, dispatched Cavendish back to the Duke.
Shortly afterward the contract was drawn up between Mary and Norfolk, although those English peers who had given their support to the marriage were not made aware of this.
Norfolk was unsure who was his friend, who his enemy, and was therefore uncertain whom to trust. As he saw it, all that mattered was that the contract had been signed.
He was sure—and so was Mary—that before long she would be his wife.
THE EARL AND COUNTESS were discussing the ill luck of Leonard Dacre.
“It seems to me that he has little love for my lord Norfolk,” said Bess.
“That is easily understood.”
Bess nodded. Both she and her husband agreed on that point. To see title and fortune, to which one felt one had a right, taken by others was intolerable!
“I believe Leonard plans to contest the matter,” said the Earl, “but he’ll not have a chance.”
He walked to the window to look out over the country, and as he did so he reeled slightly.
“You have drunk too much wine,” said the Countess with a laugh.
The Earl turned, feeling a sudden wave of anger against her. He was about to utter a protest when he felt very faint; he stretched out to catch the hanging; that was the last he remembered for some time.
WHEN HE WAS AGAIN CONSCIOUS, he was lying in his bed, and Bess was in the room, with the doctors, Caldwell and Francis.
The Earl tried to call out but he appeared to have lost his voice; he tried to lift his arm but could not move it.
Bess was beside his bed. “Do not try to move, my dear,” she said gently.
His mouth formed words which he could not utter and she went on: “You have been ill; but you will be all right now. I am going to see to that. The doctors are here. They are very hopeful of your recovery.”
She laid her hand on his brow; it was very cool and it seemed to him as though some of that tremendous vitality of hers flowed into him.
“B . . . Bess . . . ” His lips formed the word and his eyes filled with tears. He felt so weak that he rejoiced in her strength.
“You must rest for some time,” she told him. “Close your eyes now and try to sleep. All will be well in time. I have told the doctors that they are not to leave Wingfield until I am satisfied with your condition.”
He obeyed her, and it seemed that he slept awhile.
IT WAS A WEEK OR SO after his attack before the power of speech returned to the Earl, and although he could move his limbs he was still slightly paralyzed.
Bess rarely left the sickroom; she herself prepared gruels and potions for her husband; she guarded the sickroom and would allow him no visitors except the doctors. With them she was in constant conference, and all agreed that the Earl owed his life to the indefatigable Bess of Hardwick.
When she judged him to be well enough to listen to her plans she sat beside his bed and talked to him.
“My dear,” she said, “you have suffered from inflammation of the brain. The doctors think it is a condition which has been brought on by your anxiety. Your dear captive, by the way, has sent affectionate messages to you every day and insists on hearing of your progress. I am sure that will help you to get well.”
“Why Bess,” he said, “nothing could help me get well more than your loving care.”
Bess laughed. “You do not think I would allow a husband of mine to become an invalid, do you? You are going to get better, I tell you.”
“I feel better.”
“Of course you do. All the time you have been lying on that bed you have not been worrying about the messages which are going to and from your precious captive. You have ceased to think of the charming creature. Let me tell you, George Talbot, that is why your health has improved. There is one thing you need above all others now. That is to leave all this behind and pay a visit to the baths of Buxton. I know that will cure you completely. And I propose to take you there.”
“But what of the Queen . . . .”
“Which? Your Queen or . . . the other? But I forgot they are both your Queens, are they not? Do not fret about the Queen of Scots. She is still here even though you have not been able to guard her. You see, there are others who can carry out the task of jailor as well as the Earl of Shrewsbury. No, my love, you are going to Buxton. I have quite made up my mind to take you there.”
“Do you not remember that, when Knollys’ wife was dying, the Queen would not allow him to visit her?”
“I am not Knollys. I say you are in need of Buxton baths and you are going to have them. I have already written to the Queen, telling her of your state of health and asking for permission to take you to Buxton.”
“And you have had no word?”
“I have had no word . . . although I expected it ere now.”
“Bess, even you will not get consent. She will give the same answer to you as she gave to Knollys.”
Bess’s face hardened suddenly. “You are my husband,” she said, “and it is my duty to cure you. I know that this can be done by a visit to Buxton, and Queen or no Queen, you are going to Buxton.”
He smiled up at her. She seemed invulnerable. But he did not believe they would go to Buxton.
LEONARD DACRE had been a constant caller at Wingfield during the Earl’s illness and, since the Countess was continually occupied with the sickroom, it was not difficult for Dacre to visit the Queen whenever he wished.
Dacre was a very bitter man. He had received no satisfaction regarding his claim to the family fortune, and he was furious contemplating how wily Norfolk had been in marrying his brother’s widow and arranging matches with his nieces, so that he had maneuvered the vast Dacre estate into his greedy hands. Norfolk was—without the Dacre fortune—the richest peer in England. He hated Norfolk.
With the Earl sick and the Countess occupied in nursing him, it had been easy to discover something of the intrigues of the household—a little friendship here, a little bribery there—and he knew that Norfolk was not only anxious to marry the Queen of Scots but that he had already a secret contract with her.