The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [69]
Philippa said dryly, ‘I think, your grace, that you know him.’
‘What! I?’ said Elizabeth. ‘Have I not shown that I know him so little, I depend on your eyes for a picture? Is he so like the man I have painted?’
And Philippa said, ‘You have painted his opposite.’
There was a light and circumspect silence. Then Elizabeth sighed. ‘It is as Dr Dee said. I have no sense of shadows, only of substance. Let us leave your smooth Mr Crawford to introduce himself, as one day perhaps he will, at my door. Is he in England now, Mistress Philippa?’
And Philippa, shaking her head, said, ‘No, your grace. I left him in Greece, and have not heard of him since.’
‘I see. I shall not ask,’ Elizabeth said, ‘if you have written to him. You know best yourself whether this Court would help his advancement, or would do quite the reverse. If you do not know, I suggest that you ask yourself the name of the person who sent you here today.’
There was a short silence, while Philippa’s mind made a single critical evaluation. Then she spoke. ‘It was Lady Lennox,’ she said.
‘I see,’ said the Lady Elizabeth. On the other side of the table, Master Howard had not moved, but Philippa had the feeling that the scent of triumph had come, like woodsmoke, and tinged the air of the room. ‘Dear Meg. The old companion of my nursery days. I fear she would find me safer behind bars and a hanglock. Is she trusted in Scotland?’
‘I hardly think so,’ said Philippa bluntly. ‘Or her husband.’
‘Although the child-Queen’s mother invited him north, did she not, to help her against her nobles when she wanted the regency? She has it now, so the Earl of Lennox’s services are no longer wanted in Scotland. Which is as well.’
‘Would he have left England?’ Philippa asked. It seemed unlikely. Living was sweet under Queen Mary’s favour: life in Scotland would never be half as opulent, even with all his attainted estates handed back.
‘It was a pretty plot,’ said Elizabeth lightly, and her pale eyes sparkled and her teeth, unregarded again, showed, small as a weasel’s. ‘Lennox was to go to Scotland at Mary of Guise’s request, and once there was to suborn the nobles and declare the country for England, throwing out the Queen Dowager and all her adherents and becoming, with the English Queen’s blessing, her Lord Lieutenant and Governor in Scotland. He had the Privy Council’s consent, I am told. He would have gone, except that she was given the Regency, as I said, and no longer needed that risky alliance. But I think he still hopes for it. Or at the very least, to have his lands all restored. He is bent on petty power and the return of old glories. My Lady Lennox is apt to aim higher.… Have you met the boy Darnley?’
‘A small, scholarly encounter,’ Philippa said. ‘There was no meeting of souls.’
‘No Lennox has one,’ said Elizabeth with precision. ‘The child is already sending copies of his Latin poems and translations to the Queen, and to his cousin Mary of Scotland. Largely written, I should imagine, by Master John Elder, or am I misjudging him? Perhaps he is precocious as well as unpleasant. But note well, Mistress Philippa. There are few women as subtle as the Countess of Lennox. I have enjoyed our meeting. But I should advise you, even if the opportunity presents itself, not to come near me again, and furthermore, to divorce your husband as quickly as possible. It is dangerous air for the wife of a soldier.’
A few minutes later, her brief visit had ended. Philippa returned to Court in a coma, which barely lifted as she became absorbed once again into the endless minutiae to do with the Queen’s hourly health and wellbeing. From Don Alfonso, she knew that the King was in an agony of irritation over the birth which still kept him tied down in England: of irritation, and of fear. The Earl of Pembroke, sent to sound out the loyalty of the garrison leaders at Calais and Guisnes, had been recalled, so great was Philip’s anxiety about his own safety in the event of a disastrous accouchement. Long since, the meetings of citizens had been forbidden in