George’s eyes had begun to sparkle. Now that he was back in her presence she filled his mind. Mademoiselle La Verrière seemed like a charming dream but this was reality; this was what he lived for: to aid this woman who, when he was in her presence, commanded all his devotion.
Now he no longer wished to return to France; he wanted to free her from this prison, to ride by her side into Scotland, to lead her to her throne and spend the rest of his life in her service.
He was going to give the whole of his attention to planning her escape. He would consult Willie who was as shrewd and wily as anyone he knew. It would be Lochleven all over again; and as they had succeeded at Lochleven, so should they at Sheffield.
He began to speak of plans for her escape and she shook her head, for she understood the change in his feelings since their reunion.
“Nay, George,” she said, “I do not wish you to jeopardize your future further. Nothing would please me more than to see your little French bride.”
“I know now,” said George simply, “that there can be no real happiness when I do not serve my Queen.”
Seeing how deeply in earnest he was, Mary showed him the letters which she had received from Lord Claud Hamilton in Scotland and from Lesley in London; George was excited. When the Queen escaped from the Sheffield Manor House he was going to be at her side.
AS EASTER APPROACHED George was often seen in the company of Willie. Bess was alert. She had soon understood the nature of George Douglas’s feelings for the Queen. Well, she told herself, some women get what they want through their clinging femininity—others by their dominating characters. For the first time in her life she felt slightly envious of Mary who effortlessly managed to set people working for her; Bess considered the amount of energy she had had to put into bringing about the same result. Never mind. Bess knew where she was going. Sometimes she wondered whether Mary did.
There came bad news from Scotland, where the fortress of Dumbarton, which had been held for almost four years by Mary’s supporters, had been surprised and taken by her enemies; and although Lord Fleming had escaped, Archbishop Hamilton was taken and hanged as one of Darnley’s murderers.
This was bad news for Mary and her friends; not only had they lost a valuable stronghold, but papers had been found in the castle which betrayed the fact that the Spanish government was ready to help Mary back to her throne—and not only to her own throne.
This information incensed Elizabeth who immediately gave orders to the Shrewsburys that their captive must be even more securely held.
When the Queen’s letter came, the Earl went at once to his wife and showed it to her.
“I have been watchful since George Douglas came here,” said Bess. “He is trying to repeat what he did at Lochleven.”
“That is so,” agreed the Earl.
“And I’ll warrant,” went on Bess, “that the plan is to let her down from her window by means of a cord. Has it struck you, George Talbot, that that would not be a difficult matter from her window in the Manor House?”
“It would be easier to escape from the manor than from the castle.”
“Then why do we delay?” cried Bess. “I am in no mind to lose my head, even if you are. Let the Queen be at once removed from the manor to the castle.”
ROBERTO RIDOLFI was on his way to visit the Duke of Norfolk. He had wrapped a cloak, which he believed was all concealing, about his person; he had no wish for it to be known that he was paying this visit. There was danger in the air, but Ridolfi was a man accustomed to living dangerously, as all spies must be.
Ardently Catholic it was his pleasure to serve His Holiness, and his business as banker in London gave him opportunities of doing his duty.
It was unfortunate that he had not been able to keep free of suspicion; but in view of his activities that would have been hoping for too much. Still, statesmen such as Cecil were glad to make use of his services in the business of banking, and the very nature of that business meant that he was cognizant of English affairs.
Pius could not have had a more useful servant; and since the coming of Mary Queen of Scots into England, with its attendant discontents and hopes, Ridolfi had been on the alert.
He had come very close to danger during the Catholic rising in the autumn of 1569, when twelve thousand crowns had passed through his hands as a gift from the Pope to the rebels. Sir Francis Walsingham had sent for him on that occasion and made him a prisoner while his business premises and his house were searched. That might have been the end of a less wise man, but Ridolfi, practiced spy that he was, had always known how to cover his tracks. Nothing incriminating had been discovered, and he was released, assuring Walsingham that he had merely acted in the way of business. As Elizabeth and Cecil looked upon Ridolfi as a man they could use since he was knowledgeable in European politics and they needed his services as a banker, they had allowed him to resume business.
Ridolfi was now once more engaged on his master’s work which was, in effect, to drive Protestantism out of England and set up Catholicism in its place. Never could there have been a more opportune occasion. On the throne was the Protestant Elizabeth whom many believed to be a bastard; in prison, was the Catholic Mary whom many people believed to be the true heir to the throne. Such circumstances needed to be exploited. It was Ridolfi’s duty to exploit them.
Ridolfi believed that all the Catholics in the country—and they were many—were waiting for the signal to revolt. There were however many who were prepared to tolerate a marriage between Norfolk and Mary, for although Norfolk was a Protestant he was not a very earnest one. If Norfolk could be persuaded to turn Catholic, how much stronger his case would be—and that of Mary—for two factions could unite; and those who supported the Norfolk union could work with those who supported the Catholic Faith. Were they not all enemies of Elizabeth?
These were his thoughts as he was ushered into the lodging of the Duke of Norfolk at the Charterhouse, where he was in the charge of Sir Henry Neville. Neville was an easygoing jailor and quite ready to leave the Duke alone with his banker, for it did not occur to him that there could be conspiracy between the Catholic Italian and Protestant Norfolk.
When they were alone Ridolfi commiserated with the Duke for the bad treatment he had suffered, and asked him if he intended to remain Elizabeth’s prisoner for the rest of his life.
Norfolk, full of self-pity, told the banker that he had done nothing to warrant such treatment. He was the victim of injustice.
“Your Grace should cease to fret, for there could be a glorious future before you.”
“Marriage with the Queen of Scots!” mused the Duke. “Will it ever come about, do you think?”
“It could with the utmost ease.”
Ridolfi then went on to explain that the King of Spain and His Holiness the Pope were interested in the cause of the Queen of Scots. “Philip II is prepared to supply the money for the campaign. There is only one small matter which stands between you and—not only the crown of Scotland, but that of England.”
These words set Norfolk trembling with excitement. The thought of wealth and power always delighted him. He was feeling depressed because, on account of Mary’s supplication, he had been forced to give up some of the Dacre fortune; yet how could he have refused without offending her? But if, through her, he were to attain the power and riches which Ridolfi was now suggesting, the entire Dacre fortune would be no more to him than the coin one might throw to a beggar.
“And this small matter?” he asked breathlessly.
“Your Grace is a Protestant. His Most Catholic Majesty and His Holiness would do nothing to help you while you cling to that faith.”