Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [316]
It was obvious now that he didn’t want company. Archie left, silent-footed, and crossed the grass to parry Jerott’s questions, and to tell him what news of his wife was worth mentioning.
*
Alone then, Francis Crawford opened his letter, and lay with it in his hands through the long hours so that its grey lines, its indistinct phrases, its capital letters were staging-posts in the slow return to him of his vision.
By the time you read this, because they were expected, were the first words he found he could guess at. Then I wrote to you once before; and peace for you. And then, later, a single sentence, clearer written than all the others: Ail I wrote then is true still.
The words of love with which she ended were badly written and blurred, so that he had to wait a long time to read them. But by then he knew why she had gone, and what she meant by her message, for he recalled very well the letter of which she reminded him, and all the things she had said in it.
There is nothing of me that does not belong to you.
More than your death I fear mine, because you would be left here to mourn for me. More than your love I want peace for you, so better your need of me died than that it should become unendurable.
One of them had to make the sacrifice. One of them had to suffer the guilt of it.
The first she had done. The return to Sevigny, now so far beyond his powers, did not need to be faced, nor need he inflict the wound of absenting himself. She had made the sacrifice, and even the guilt, if he wished, need not burden him.
With a valour beyond words Philippa had restored to him the free will he had lost, that evening in Paris. She had left him the gift of his life, to keep or cut off as he wanted.
*
The wind changed, and the chronic fever of Queen Mary of England showed signs of worsening. Both events seemed to the English fleet to constitute an excellent reason for lifting their blockade of the north coast of France for the present, particularly as of recent weeks they had had mixed successes. The climate seemed favourable, at last, for the Commissioners of the Three Estates of Scotland to start for home on their long-delayed passage.
They had already taken their leave of the monarch before his departure to Reims. Since then, with no court to attend but that of their own Queen-Dauphine in Paris, their stay had seemed even more purposeless. The hint of restriction which had crept into their treatment had vanished with the departure of the Cardinal of Lorraine also for the frontier, thereby further depriving of credence the curious letter sent by the new Marshal of France to his brother.
Despite Lymond’s warning, there had been no sign during all these weeks that anyone at the French court was aware of a leakage of state information about the future of Scotland. France, having recovered from celebrating its royal wedding, appeared to have dismissed the Scottish question with the greatest facility from its communal mind, and to be concentrating all its money and energies on concluding the present war with as much prestige and property as possible.
Whatever influence the Commissioners might possess, it would be better wielded in Scotland than in France, it was now apparent. So, at last, the gathering together of gifts and gear and coffers began, and of all the party which had left Scotland with such high hopes seven months before, the only one who lingered, and would fain have stayed, was the Dowager Lady Culter.
Until, that is, one day she returned from an outing to the Hôtel de l’Ange to find Austin Grey gone with all his possessions, and a sealed note awaiting her in her room, closed with the signet of Sevigny.
Inside, Philippa had scrawled: It is over. The blame belongs to me, not to Francis. I have asked Austin to take me to Flaw Valleys.
Perhaps you would find it possible to leave France soon, with Richard. It may be that we shall need one another.
Lady Culter told her son Richard, since the news was bound to be bandied about, but could not begin to answer his questions. Only, after that, she found she longed