One day the Earl came to her apartments in Low Buxton in a state of some excitement.
“Your Majesty, we have an eminent visitor at Buxton who I feel sure is here solely because Your Majesty has come to take the waters.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Lord Burleigh himself.”
“Lord Burleigh! Then, depend upon it, he comes on Queen Elizabeth’s orders.”
“I hope it is not to spy on us.”
“Ah, you think it may be so?”
“I cannot think of any other reason.”
Poor Shrewsbury! He might feel relieved to be rid of Bess but he was at a loss without her. Mary imagined how differently Bess would have received the news of Burleigh’s presence. She would have been stimulated by the thought of conflict, whereas poor Shrewsbury felt he had yet another burden added to those which were already too heavy.
When Burleigh called on the Queen of Scots, Mary received him cautiously. She knew he had been one of her most bitter enemies at the Court of Elizabeth, and she did not believe he could suddenly have become her friend.
Burleigh looked wan and walked with even more difficulty than he had before.
“You are hoping to derive benefits from the waters?” the Queen asked sympathetically.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I suffer acutely from gout and my feet have always troubled me.”
“Then I trust you find comfort from the water, as I do.”
“Your Majesty’s health has improved, I hope, since you have been here?”
Mary assured him that it had, but she knew he had not come here to inquire about her health.
Later she discovered, through Shrewsbury, that Elizabeth’s minister, who was the sternest of Protestants, had been making inquiries as to how many visitors she received while at Buxton. He was afraid that, under less restraint as she must necessarily be at Buxton in contrast to Sheffield, certain members of the Catholic nobility might have access to her. Burleigh lived in terror of another Catholic rising.
THE DAYS PASSED PLEASANTLY. It was good to hear Mary’s lighthearted laughter; often she played the lute and sang. Buxton was so good for her. The mountain air was sharp but invigorating and there was shelter in the valley from the bleak winds which buffeted Sheffield Castle.
Burleigh called often. He was in fact constantly on the alert. When he visited the Queen he tried to startle her with sly questions; she enjoyed arousing his suspicions and then letting him discover that there was nothing in them; but all the same these contacts meant that each was discovering a new respect for the other. It was impossible for Mary not to respect the minister’s single-minded loyalty to his Queen, just as it was impossible for Burleigh not to be affected by the charm of Mary. Thus, in spite of the fact that they must be cautious of each other, a form of friendship grew between them.
This pleasant life might have gone on throughout the season, but news was brought to Elizabeth that Burleigh was at Buxton and calling on the Queen of Scots.
Elizabeth was incensed because Burleigh had gone to the baths without asking her consent; and that, as he had been there some time, must have paid many calls on the Queen of Scots.
He was recalled at once and as soon as he came into the presence of his royal mistress she berated him for what she pleased to call his infidelity.
“So, sir,” she cried, “you have been visiting the Queen of Scots, paying compliments to the fair lady, I’ll warrant.”
“I was there on Your Majesty’s business,” began Burleigh.
“Is that so, William Cecil! Is it my business then to play the gallant and compliment the Queen of Scots on her beautiful eyes?”
“But I did not pay such compliments . . . .”
“Did you not! Then were her eyes not beautiful enough to warrant the compliment?”
The answer must be the expected one: “Having seen Your Majesty’s eyes, no others could seem beautiful.”
“H’m!” said the Queen. “You’re another Norfolk, it seems. I trust you remember, sir, what happened to him.”
“I do, Your Majesty.”
“Look to it that it does not happen to you!”
“If I deserved such a fate, which I should do if I failed to serve my own Sovereign Lady Elizabeth with all my heart, I should welcome it,” answered Burleigh with dignity. “Since I could never deserve it, I do not fear it.”
Elizabeth liked a bold answer and she softened at once. She had never really doubted the loyalty of this good friend; she merely feared that he might have found the company of the Queen of Scots entrancing, as it was clear so many men did.
“Go to then,” she said. “And do not leave us again. We need you here beside us.”
Burleigh bowed; he still looked a little ruffled.
Was he a little bewitched by that fascinating woman? Elizabeth wondered.
She said angrily: “She shall not remain at Buxton. I fear she enjoys too much freedom there. Let her return to Chatsworth; that is nearby.” She looked shrewdly at Cecil. “Is she as beautiful as reports say?” she demanded suddenly, and there was a note in her voice which was pleading with him to say that she was not.
“The Queen of Scots is fair enough,” answered Burleigh. He was preparing the necessary remark to follow, when Elizabeth held up a hand.
“Mayhap I should go to see her for myself,” she said. “It is a notion which pleases me. She shall go to Chatsworth. If I went to Buxton to take the waters, I could ride to Chatsworth in disguise. A lady seeking a night’s shelter! Thus I could see this beauty for myself. I could exchange words with her. I like the idea.”
She evidently did, for she mentioned it to certain of her women, and they amused themselves by picturing the meeting.
“Then,” said Elizabeth, “I shall compare her face and figure with my own—which I have always wished to do.”
“Your Majesty need not go to Chatsworth to make the comparison,” she was told. “All who set eyes on the Queen of Scots say that she has a pleasant mien, but beside Your Majesty she is as the moon to the sun.”
“Then perhaps the journey would not be necessary,” replied Elizabeth with a yawn.
She had made up her mind that she would never look at Mary. In moments of truth she knew the answer to the question, Who is the fairer, she or I? which her desire for flattery and her jealousy of her rival forced her to ask.
She would never allow herself to face that truth, for while she had never seen Mary she could go on believing what her courtiers were so eager to tell her.
THERE WAS EXCITEMENT at Chatsworth when the rumor reached Mary that Queen Elizabeth was going to visit her in the disguise of a gentlewoman.
Mary had been feeling depressed because she had had to leave Buxton. Moreover she had heard from George Douglas that those who were concerned with him in the plot to rescue her son from Morton and Buchanan had decided it would be too dangerous to continue. The Countess of Lennox, who had been in the conspiracy, was now in the Tower, and it might well be that some intelligence had reached Elizabeth of their intention, and the imprisonment of the Countess was due to the part she had taken in the plot—not, as the English Queen would wish it to be believed, because of the marriage of her son. George could not act without friends; therefore this matter would have to be shelved.
Then came the startling news that Queen Elizabeth was planning to visit Chatsworth in disguise.
Mary excitedly gathered her women about her. Seton should do her hair. Which gown should she wear? She had very few jewels but they would have to make do with what she had.
Seton said: “She will come in her jewels and rich garments, depend upon it. But never fear, we shall show her that you would be more beautiful in sackcloth than she is in cloth of gold.”
Mary laughed. “That is not important, Seton. All that matters is that at last I shall speak to her. I am certain that when we are face-to-face I shall make her understand.”