Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [57]
But such considerations only applied on home ground. As guests of foreign royalty, the Scottish party’s behaviour was required to be impeccable. So exasperation informed Margaret Erskine’s quiet voice as she replied. ‘Montmorency? Heavens, no. The Constable isn’t Mother’s bedfellow,’ she said. ‘Mother’s lover is the King.’
For the first time in his restless evening, Lymond genuinely shouted with laughter. ‘Oh, God, oh, God. Why didn’t I guess? Oh, for Christ’s sake—the Chair of Happy Fortune.… Isn’t she a priceless, beautiful, giddy queen of a woman?’
He dissolved into silent mirth. ‘If Diane finds out she has a royal competitor—if the Queen finds out he has two mistresses—’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Who else knows?’
She had flushed. ‘The Constable. One of the King’s Gentlemen. My mother’s maid. And me.’
‘She has dreams, of course, of establishing herself in the aging Diane’s place. Are you sure Queen Catherine doesn’t know?’ asked Lymond more soberly. ‘For unless you’re sure, I should strongly suspect her of throwing Jenny and her husband together. It would be a stroke of genius. In one move, ousting the permanent maîtresse en titre, discrediting Jenny and the Queen Mother, reducing Scotland’s worth as an ally, and weakening all the related de Guises in France—’
‘—And also,’ said Margaret, ‘throwing doubt on the little Queen’s moral standards and general fitness to marry the Dauphin.… This is habitual. Mother flutters her wings, and every institution within sight tumbles flat.’
‘She must put a stop to it, I’m afraid. Tell her. No, I’ll tell her myself. Then I’ll want some help. You’ll find you’re being watched by the King’s people quite apart from our conjectural friend with designs on the Queen, and nothing we do, naturally, must seem to question French goodwill or French security.’ He added suddenly, ‘Whom does the Queen Mother suspect?’
She had come hoping for help, and was beginning to realize, to her anguished relief, that she had called in a professional. For a moment she stammered. ‘I—don’t know.’
‘Someone at Court, obviously. Or she would have confided in the King, or at least in her own family. Who, I wonder. The possibilities are interesting. Queen Catherine? She hates the de Guises. The Constable, or his nephews? He’s said to favour a different marriage for the Dauphin; they wouldn’t mind a snub for the de Guises, and there’s a rumour they wouldn’t mind a change of religion either. Have any of the King’s other close friends a motive? Or what about some of the Scottish nobles … I shouldn’t trust the Douglases or their relations, for example; and some of the others lean towards England and Lutherans rather than a Scotland allied to Catholicism and France. The Dowager would hesitate to call in a Frenchman to deal with a situation like that.… Now what else? Which of the child’s maids of honour are Scottish? Whom can we trust absolutely? Can her food be privately supervised? Her play? Her lessons? Her travelling …?’
Exhaustingly, it went on. At length—’Has it struck you,’ said Lymond suddenly, ‘that everything that has happened so far, barring the elephants, has been directed at O’LiamRoe? The fire at the Porc-épic was in his room, not mine. The tennis-court frolic was devised to get O’LiamRoe into trouble. The Gouden Roos which tried to sink us off Dieppe was captained by a well-known adventurer who was paid to do it, and told on no account to bring back O’LiamRoe alive.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I asked. For reliable information, apply to a lawyer, a barber or prostitute. My informant hasn’t found out so far who paid the captain.’
‘But she will,’ said Margaret, her face grave.
‘I hope so,’ he said with equal gravity, and continued unshaken. ‘It is possible that these attacks are purely against O’LiamRoe. It is also possible that O’LiamRoe is being frightened or driven back to Ireland in order to remove me as well. But not likely. I might remain; I might assume another identity. No attempt has been made on my life,