WAITING on Queen Elizabeth's pleasure was not apt to be a static business, however protracted and uncertain. The waterman had been right when he said that the Queen changed palaces day by day. She was possessed of a great restlessness and nervous energy, which seemed to drive her on to incessant movement, constant change. And all her Court and those who circled in her orbit must move likewise.
On the Tuesday, apparently without warning or prior arrangement, she decided to go on one of her frequent progresses. These peregrinations around the houses of her lords and powerful subjects served the purpose not only of satisfying her restlessness but of seeing and being seen by her people, and incidentally helping to reduce any unseemly surplus wealth which the said lords might have accumulated, and at the same time conserving her own resources; indeed, she deliberately planned her itineraries so as to include those whom she considered most in need of such blood-letting. Since she travelled with anything up to three hundred of a retinue, and expected entertainment suitable for a queen, her descent upon an establishment for even a day or two could have a salutary effect
They left Whitehall in fine style, the Queen driving in a white-painted glass coach drawn by six plumed white horses, their manes and tails dyed orange. Around her rode her gorgeously attired corps of Gentlemen Pensioners, splendidly mounted, led by Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Francis Bacon. Then came her ladies-in-waiting, a blaze of colour, followed by her favourite courtiers – Leicester, Essex, Oxford, and the others, each surrounded by his own little court of admirers and hangers-on.
The Scots party rode with Sir Philip Sidney, who was rapidly becoming the inseparable companion of the Master of Gray, and quite soon they were joined by the dark, wiry, youngish man who had been one of the councillors at the official audience and whom Sidney introduced as Sir Edward Wotton, one of Walsingham's foremost deputies in the realm of foreign affairs. He was affable, charming, paying particular attention to Marie, and strangely enough, to David. Patrick was genially wary with him, as well he might be; anyone high in Walsingham's service was not a man to be under-estimated,
Progress was slow, for the narrow London streets were crowded with cheering people and the Queen's coach could, only proceed at a snail's pace. The Scots were interested at the crowd's obvious affection for Elizabeth. This was something new to them. In Scotland the common people were not great cheerers, and seldom saw much to cheer about in their rulers. The visitors knew of the Queen's boast that her greatest strength lay in the love of her ordinary folk, but it had never meant more than a saying to them, a mere theory.
'Why should your Queen be so well-loved by these people?' Marie asked Wotton. 'What has she done for them?
'She has given them much that they never had before, my lady,' he told her. 'She thinks for them, protects them from the fire and the gibbet of Rome, has paid back her royal father's debts to the city of London, gives them plays and spectacles, and lets them see her. No monarch before her has thought to do all this for the commonality. They love her because she loves them also.' He smiled. 'Your prince, I take it, is not so?'
She shook her head. 'No, I fear not. How could he be? He has never known the people, or they him – kept apart all his life. We had a king like that in Scotland once, who went about amongst the common folk – James Third. They called him the Gudeman of Ballengeich. But his lords resented it, and made constant trouble' Do your nobles here not do likewise?'
'Why should they? If the Crown is strong, the realm is strong, and they are secure therefore. It was not so under the late Queen Mary, Her Grace's sister, nor under previous monarchs. Only fools would change it now.'
Marie sighed. 'I wonder when it may be thus in Scotland?' she said. 'Our lords look for more than peace and the strength of the realm, I fear.'
'If a Scots king could live and reign long enough to gain his full strength, it might be so,' David put in. 'For generations we have not had a prince who did not the young and leave a child as heir.'
Patrick, a vision of elegance, riding just a little in front, with Sidney, looked back over his shoulder, and smiled at them mockingly, saying nothing.
Once free of the congested streets they made but little faster progress with the heavy coach slow on the atrocious roads. A succession of lords and gallants were summoned up to ride for awhile in the royal presence, but no invitation came for Patrick Gray. When Orkney and Marie were sent for to go forward, David drew the obvious conclusions.
'You have offended the Queen, Patrick' he declared. I fear that you have gone too fir with her. And on our Mary Queen's behalf. I am sorry.
'Never think it, Davy. Give her time. She is a woman, and will act the woman. But she will act the princess also, never fear. I believe that I have convinced her what is the best policy where our Queen is concerned. Wait, you.'
When Marie came back, she spoke in the same fashion, lowering her voice so that none others should hear. 'She must be displeased with you, Patrick. I tried to bring her to speak of you, but she would not. I wanted to ask her about Queen Mary, but could not I fear, Patrick – I fear the hopes for our lady are in vain, despite all your efforts.'
'Have patience, my dear. There is no reason for despair. It is a great matter, and Elizabeth must have time fully to consider it. That she may wish not to discuss it with me until she has done so, is but natural. I have just been saying the same to Davy -give hear time.'
'You are wonderfully patient, Patrick. In all this you have… surprised me. All who love my aunt will thank you for it.'
'Do you think that I do not love Mary also?'
I do not know whom you love, Patrick. I have sometimes thought, only yourself But now…'
'Have I not told you a thousand times that I love you?'
'Told me, yes. But deeds speak louder than words.'
'What would you have me do, then? Must I force myself upon you, seduce you, to prove my love?
'Even that might be preferable to merely using me for your other purposes, Patrick' she said quietly.
He looked at her thoughtfully, and said nothing.
'At any rate, in what you are seeking to do now, Patrick, even though Elizabeth loves you the less, others do not'
That thought will sustain me in all my disappointments!' he declared. And at the cynical note in his voice, she bit her lip.
With the early October evening almost upon them, they came to Theobalds Park, Lord Burleigh's great red-brick house in Hertfordshire, down a mile-long avenue of cedar trees. They found it all lit up for them with coloured lanterns, fountains playing, and hosts of servants. Though a man of simple habits himself, Burleigh knew his mistress's tastes very well, and created this vast establishment largely for her entertainment
It was a convenient day's journey by the coach from London, and most of her northern progresses started from here. Beside it, even Morton's fine palace at Dalkeith paled to insignificance.
Presumably Burleigh had had a few days' warning of this excursion, for he had an evening of ambitious feasting and amusement arranged. It was to be a 'ladies' night'; while the spectacle of musicians, dancers, tumblers and masquers went on, the Queen dined alone at a table at the top of the huge hall, waited on by her host and four earls – Leicester, Oxford, Essex and Warwick. Tonight she was ablaze with jewels again. Patrick did not get near enough to see whether she wore his locket At a lower table were six countesses, served by lesser lords; at another the Queen's ladies-in-waiting with Raleigh, Sidney: Bacon, Wotton and others in attendance; this table Marie was invited to join. Following the Queen's example, the ladies fed tit-bits and sips from their glasses to the gallant and noble waiters, who made extravagant gestures of gratitude and adoration. Frequently Elizabeth summoned up one or other of the gentlemen to be presented with a sweetmeat or a glass of wine. Orkney was so favoured, and almost all of her intimate courtiers. But not Patrick Gray. Anxiously the Scots party noted, and waited.
Later, when Marie went out through the gardens to the dower-house where their party were quartered with many others, and David would have accompanied her, leaving Patrick to the continuing festivities, his brother shook his head and insisted in going with her himself. England's Queen could well do without him tonight, he observed, apparently entirely carefree. David could squire Marie's sisters back, in the unlikely possibility of their requiring such – their father being already much too drunk.
For a while Patrick and Marie walked wordless between the shadowy clipped yew hedges and the pale-gleaming statuary, the man's hand at the young woman's elbow. At length, it was Marie who spoke.
'You are silent tonight, Patrick. It is a strange experience for you to be the outcast, rejected. Poor Patrick!'
'I am not rejected yet, my dear – save by you this many-a-day! Even so, and if I was, I would be blithe and happy if I could reverse your rejection with the Queen's.'
'I do not think that is the truth. But assuredly, Patrick, I do not reject you.'
'No? Here is joyful news, then.' He held her a little closer.
Do not tell me that this cool, sober heart of yonrs is warming to me, at last?
'My heart has never been cool to you. You are a difficult man to be cool to.'
'Do not say that you have been deceiving me, all this time?
'There are more sorts of heat than one, to be aroused in a woman's heart'
'Aye. I pray that it may be the right sort that I have aroused at last, then. Let me feel, and see.' Sliding his arm around her, he brought his hand to rest on her firm left breast
They were walking very slowly now. She neither paused nor shook him oft
'It beats,' he murmured. 'It beats, undeniably. But what does it say?
Beat, beat, cool heart, and speak me clear,
Your beauty warms my hand so near,
But truer glow than that I crave,
The flame of love my heart to save!
'Save your poetry and, and posing for Queen Elizabeth!' Marie told him, but with a hunt tremor in that level voice. 'Myself, I prefer plain honest words that mean what they say.'
'You do not believe that I love you, Marie? Despite all the times I tell you?
'I do not know – I do not know at all, Patrick.'
Then let me prove it, my sweet' Gently but firmly, he turned her round, to face him, and bent his head to hers.
She did not turn away as their lips met Lingeringly, expertly, he kissed her, and, as her mouth stirred a little under his, strongly, ever more fiercely he bore down upon her. But she parted her lips no further, though he felt her bosom heaving against his own chest At length he loosed her and drew back a little, to peer into her eyes in the gloom
That… proves… nothing,' she said, as even-voiced as she might 'You do as much, and more, for any woman who takes your fancy – or who can serve some purpose of your own.'
Patrick sighed. 'You are hard, Marie – like flint I had hoped…'He stopped.
' I am not like flint, Patrick – I would that I were, I think.'
'So calm, so sober, so sure of yourself.'
'Not inside of me.'
'No? How may I reach that inside, then? My avowals of love do not reach there. Nor my offers of marriage. Nor my poetry, nor yet my kisses. What may I do other than I have done?' Abruptly he laughed in the darkness. 'You said that I would do as much and more, for other women. Come you into this arbour here, my dear, and we shall see how much more I shall do for you – and you alone! And, it may be, I shall gain that inside of you at last!'
She shook her head, but not angrily. That is not the way either, Patrick. Not… yet'
'Not yet! Then in God's good name – when, girl? And how?
I have been wooing you for years. How can I make you love me,
woman? Or must I ask Davy that?' In anyone else but Patrick Gray his voice would have seemed to grate, there.
'No, Patrick, that is not your task. Not to make me love you.'
'You mean…?'
'I mean that I love you already,' she stated simply.
For once the man was silenced. He gazed at her, gripped her arms, and said nothing.
'Are you so surprised, then?'
'You… this is… for how long, Marie?' he got out
'For all the same long years that you have said you wooed me.'
'For years? Can that be true? Me – not Davy? Never Davy?'
'I love Davy, yes – but quite otherwise.'
'You love him? Then… then how do you love met Otherwise from him?'
'I have never dreamed that I might marry Davy,' she said quietly.
'So-o-o! Then, why? Christ God, Marie, why have you held me thus away? Why injure me, and yourself as well, all this time? If you did not doubt your love…!'
'It was not my love that I doubted, Patrick – but yours.'
'Mine! But I have told you, assured you…'
Telling is not enough, for me. Nor kissing. Nor that other you propose. Before I many a man, he must put our love before all else. Before his ambition, his freedom, his convenience. He must act as though to be my husband was the greatest project of his life. Perhaps I am foolish and ask too much – but that is the fashion of me. He must earn the right to marry me, Patrick.'
'And have I not earned that right, in all these years? I have known other women, yes – but they meant nothing. Would you have me a celibate, a recluse?'
'No – since it is Patrick Gray that I love, to my cost!' She even smiled faintly there. ''These others – they may mean nothing.
I am prepared to believe that But it is not of them that I speak. The truth is that you have no right to marry anyone, Patrick. You yet have a wife, already. In that fact lies the answer to your questions and my doubts. You still have a wife. In all these years you have taken no step to end your marriage…'
'But that was no marriage – never was, from the first I am as much wed to any women that I have ever held in my arms, as to Elizabeth Lyon.'
'Yet she is still your wife. And her property is still in your grasp! And should her young and weakly brother die, she is the greatest heiress in Scotland! So she is still your wife – and I doubt, Patrick. I doubt'
He stroked his small pointed beard. 'So – that is it! Elizabeth Lyon. For that you have repulsed me, always.'
'For that – and what it signifies of your mind, my dear.'
'Lord, if that is all, then I shall seek an annulment of that piece of folly – my noble father's folly more than my own indeed – forthwith, Marie. I do not require Elizabeth Lyon's wealth, now.'
Again that faint smile. 'Not now? Oh, Patrick – for so clever a man, you are a child yet'
'If I do this, if I end this marriage that is no marriage, will you wed me, Marie? Have I your promise?'
'No, my dear, you have not But come to me a free man, and I shall give you an answer, an honest answer. I hope that it may content both of us.'
He frowned, took a pace away from her, and turning, came back to hold her arm. 'And meantime, my love…?' His voice had become a caress.
'Meantime you may take me to my chamber, Patrick. To the door of it, only. But I hope that one day that door will stand wide open for you. It lies in your hands to make it so.'
'Dear God I' Patrick Gray said 'Come you, then.'
The next night and two days following, the great cavalcade stayed at the Lord Howard of Effingham's magnificent new house of Long Barnton. He had accumulated a vast amount of treasure through the naval activities of the privateers and sea-rovers under his command, against the Spanish plate fleets from the Indies, and no doubt his Queen felt that some attention might not come amiss. Certainly he showed no grudging spirit in her entertainment, far outdoing Burleigh's efforts. The first night there was a notable fireworks display, the next day a pageant in which most of the adjoining town, seemed to take part, that night a mock naval battle on the large artificial lake, with Spanish galleons going up in flames; and the second day a tournament of jousting in which most of the gentlemen took part and in which the Master of Gray particularly distinguished himself. The Queen presented the prizes, and so Patrick must go up to her, with the others, to receive his awards; but it was noticeable that she said but little to him on these occasions and was distinctly cool about it
David grew more and more depressed, even if his brother did not. Sidney, watching it all shrewdly, wondered.
By the end of the week, at Kirby, Sir Christopher Hatton's seat in Northamptonshire, with still no sign of favour from the Queen, David, with Marie, came to his brother just before retiring to bed.
'It will not serve, Patrick,' he declared. 'We shall never have our Queen Mary released thus. Elizabeth will have none of you, or of our mission. Do not say again to give her time. She shows her disfavour of you over-plainly. She will be sending us back to Scotland, with naught accomplished'
'You are too impatient, Davy. Besides, much is accomplished already, I am sure.'
'But not the great thing – not the release of our princess. If we are to free the poor lady, we must use other methods.'
'You think so? What do you suggest?'
'I suggest that we stop profitless asking, and take.'
Patrick turned to stare at his brother. 'Lord, Davy – what is this? What do you mean?'
'I mean that our Queen deserves better of us than that we should only beg proud Elizabeth for her, patiently wait her pleasure, and humbly accept her decision.'
'Instead of which, brother, you would do – what?'
'Lift Mary out of her prison… by either guile or force. Or both.'
'But how, man – how? There have been a hundred plots to that end since she was imprisoned sixteen years ago. Think you that you can succeed where all others failed miserably?
'Me? Should you not say we, Patrick?
'You or we, it makes no difference. Mary is straitly guarded, held fast'
'So was her son, at Ruthven Castle. Yet you planned his escape, from France – and I achieved it, with but a handful of Logan's Borderers.'
'That was quite otherwise, Davy. That was in our own country, where all might be arranged Mary is held fast deep in the centre of this England.'
'We outwitted Catherine's soldiers deep in the centre of France.'
'He is right, Patrick,' Marie put in. 'We must do something.'
'I came to England only to aid our Queen. To see her if I might' David spoke doggedly. 'I'll no' go home without attempting something.'
Patrick looked from one to the other moughtfully. 'You have talked of it together, I see, the two of you. Have you any plan?
'Of a sort, aye. Our Queen, since August, is held at Wingfield Manor, in Derbyshire. On our return journey to Scotland, we can travel that way. Mary goes riding and hawking and hunting under guard of Sir Ralph Sadler and Sir Henry Nevil and their men. I cannot believe that they attend her, on such occasions, with so many men-at-arms as have we as escort'
'But, man, Derby is not on our true road to Scotland. Think you, that if we went that way, towards this Wingfield and not by the direct road, Walsingham and Elizabeth would not know of it within a few hours? little indeed escapes Walsingham's spies. I have no least doubt that we are watched all the time. A large force would be sent after us, forthwith, and Mary confined to her rooms that same night'
'There are gentlemen of Derby in this Court – Lord Fenby, Sir William Soames, and others. It should not be beyond your ability, Patrick, to make friends with one of them – to make excuse to ride north with him, to see his house, or his hawks or his cattle. Or his wife, indeed! Even your fine Sir Philip Sidney has a property near to Chesterfield, I have discovered. He is Walsingham's gudeson – none would suspect if he came with us. Thereafter, we can see that he does not inconvenience our project'
'I would not wish to use a friend so, Davy.'
Brother eyed brother levelly. 'It is a deal better than you used your friend Esme' Stuart!' David declared bluntly. 'Is not your, first loyalty to your Queen, rather than to your new English friends, man?'
Patrick seemed about to answer, frowning, but Marie intervened calmly.
'Better if it was not Sir Philip, perhaps. He has been very kind. But whoever we go with, need not be so hardly used, surely? Only allowed to know nothing of our plans.'
"Plans!' Patrick took hemp. 'What plans can you have?
'Few, as yet,' David answered. 'Until we see this Wingfield, and how it lies. But it will be a strange thing if our wits cannot devise a way to see our Queen once we are near her. You, Patrick, have solved greater problems than this, I swear.1
'H'mrrm. And after?
'Send the women and the baggage on before us, with a small escort. We are well mounted – as well as any that Walsingham can find to send after us, quickly. With our escort of nearly five score, we can ride for Scotland with Mary – and who shall stop us?
'I think that you are too sanguine, Davy. It would not be so simple and easy as that'
'Who would expect it to be simple or easy? But it is our plain duty.'
'I cannot see that it is mine – as King James's and Scotland's ambassador.' 'To save Scotland's monarch and James's mother? 'But not this way, Davy.'
'We have tried your way. You did as much as any man could. But Elizabeth will have none of it We have waited her pleasure for long enough. We have tried talk. Now we must use deeds, Patrick.'
'What Davy says is true, Patrick,' the girl asserted again. 'We have an opportunity, a great opportunity, with our strong armed escort. Never have plotters for my aunt's release had this -armed men who need not go secretly. I believe that it would be wrong not to take this opportunity.'
Patrick looked away, sighed, and shrugged. 'When do you propose that we attempt this… adventure?
'Before long,' David declared. 'It is time that we went home. It lacks dignity thus to wait on Elizabeth's whim. Besides, the sooner we attempt it, the less the opportunity for Walsingham.'
'Aye. Very well, we shall see.'
'Restalrig had best not be told, as yet, He talks…'
In Sidney's room in the main house, the following evening, Patrick smiled. 'I think that you will find that she will see me, Philip. Tell her that I believe that it is necessary, and urgent. She will not say no.'
'My dear Patrick, perhaps, you are right. But no other man that I know would demand an audience thus. Do you have an understanding with her? In spite of how she is treating you this week? I think that perhaps you have, my friend.'
'I would not presume to name ft that'
'No? Very well. I will do what I can, Patrick.'
To the surprise of the attendant courtiers, in half-an-hour Patrick was shown into the Queen's private apartments – indeed into her bedroom. Elizabeth sat up in bed, in a state of highly elaborate undress, her head bound in a jewelled turban.
'Leave us, Philip,' she commanded, very much the queen despite her decolletage. 'The Master of Gray is showing more marked attention to his Lady Grey-eyes, so I think my maidenly virtue may be safe from him for a space!'
Patrick grimaced, as Sir Philip retired. Walsingham did not miss much, clearly.
'Well, sir?' the Queen said, suddenly business-like. 'What is it? What is this important matter which you must tell me?' She made no comment on her arm's-length attitude of the past days.
'It concerns our princess, Your Grace,' he told her.
'What of her?'
'May I be so bold as to ask, has Your Grace decided whether or no I may see her, and whether you will release her should she agree to renounce the Crown and retire to France?'
'Impertinent, sir! What the Queen of England has decided, and when, is not a matter for your enquiry.'
'Yet, dearest Madam, without knowing your mind on this matter, I cannot know what action to take in a new situation. A situation that affects Your Grace's interests as nearly as it does mine.'
'A new situation, Master Patrick? With regard to Mary Stuart? What is this? How can this be? Is it a new plot? My good Moor has reported none such.'
'I fear that even your well-informed Sir Francis cannot be apprised of this, Lady.'
'Cannot? Cannot is a large word, sirrah. What is this situation?'
Patrick offered a convincing display of hesitation. 'May I say, Majesty, that it makes the need for a decision on the matter of our princess urgently necessary. Else events may move beyond even Your Grace's grasp.'
'My God, sir, will you play cat-and-mouse with me? Out with it, man – or I shall find means to make you talk plain!'
Gustily the young man sighed, and spoke with every appearance of reluctance. 'There is a project to rescue our princess from your… hospitality, Madam. One that, for once, may well
succeed. One that for once, also, is simplicity itself
'I do not believe in this marvel of a plot, sir.'
'If you know my brother Davy as well as I do, Highness, you would be the more ready to believe.'
'Your brother…? The honest, unsmiling Master David? He plots against me?'
' 'Not against you, Your Grace, but for our Mary Stuart He is her man, heart and soul There are many in Scotland still, like Davy Gray.'
'Indeed. But not you, Master of Gray?'
Patrick shrugged. 'While I am devoted to the well-being of the unfortunate but headstrong lady, as has been my father, to his cost, I can take the wider view'
'I see.' Through narrowed eyes the Queen inspected him. 'And this plot of your brothers, sir?'
'It is not so much a plot, as a simple plan of action. On our way home to Scotland, we make shift to go to Derby, to visit the seat of some lord. Near enough to Wingfield Manor to make a descent upon it, by surprise. With our escort of five score armed men. Mary goes hunting, hawking, riding – guarded indeed, but by sufficient to withstand our many Scots mosstroopers? I doubt it Your people would pursue us, naturally, but we are well-mounted, vigorous… and the North of England is traditionally of Catholic sympathies.'
'Christ's wounds – they would attempt treachery! Such base ingratitude for my fond hospitality! Your graceless Scots would so outrage my trust? I shall know how to deal with such, 'fore God!'
'That is what I believed, Highness, and why I told you. That, and my love for you.' He essayed to touch her jewelled wrist, lightly.
Elizabeth snatched her hand away. 'You tell me, you betray your brother to me – if so be it this is true – only for some very good purpose, Sir. Good, for you! But do not think that you may bargain and chaffer with Elizabeth Tudor.'
'That would be unpardonable – and foolish, Your Grace. Also unnecessary. The sure and wise course is so evident'
'The sure and wise course, with treason, is to the Tower and the block, sir! That is where your precious Davy and the rest should go, forthwith.'
Patrick actually laughed, though not respectfully. 'But that is not where the astute Gloriana will send them, I swear!' he said.
'No? Where then, sirrah?'
'Where but to Mary herself, Lady? To Wingfield. To speak with her – under due restraint, to be sure. To take strong measures against our company would set back Your Grace's relations with Scotland grievously, offend King James, and greatly rejoice France, Spain and the Pope. Yet this project was devised only because Davy and the others believe that you will not permit us to see Mary. Allow that, under what safeguards you desire, and there is no need for this desperate venture – no rift in Your Highness's relations with Scotland.'
Elizabeth drew a long breath, and then exploded into urgent speech. 'God's passion -! believe that you have devised it all your own self, Patrick Gray, in order to constrain me! It fits all too close, too snug by far. It is your work, you devil…!'
'Not so, dear Madam. For I have patience, and entire faith in your wisdom. My brother and his friends it is who are thus headstrong, not me.'
'Either way, you are a devil, Patrick. Why I permit you even to speak with me, I know not…' she paused, and from the littered table at her bedside picked up the locket which Patrick had given her some days before, weighing it in her hand. Though he smiled gently, the young man watched that beringed hand keenly. 'I should return this bauble to its shameless giver,' the Queen went on. She dangled it back and forth. 'Should I not, Patrick…?'
He leant over. 'If Your Grace wishes to break my heart,' he told her.
'Have you a heart, Patrick – or but a busy, black, scheming mind? And a honeyed tongue?'
'Feel you whether or no I have a heart, Lady. Feel whether it throbs,' he advised, and reaching out, took her hand and placed it against his chest
'Lord – you are so padded, man, I feel naught but staffing…!'
Smiling, he opened his white velvet doublet, and guided her hand therein.
'I think… yes, I think that you have a heart, Patrick,' Elizabeth murmured. 'I feel something. But… it beats but slowly, sluggishly, it seems. What dull cold message does it spell out, I wonder? Come nearer, lad, that I may listen.' She patted the bed at her side.
'If mine is cold and slow, yours must be hot and fast indeed fairest one,' he asserted softly, sitting down. He took the locket and chain from her other hand, and proceeded to settle it, as before, between her breasts.
'Rogue liar!' she said, but leaned the closer. 'Mary Stuart, they say, is growing fat You must tell me, Patrick, when you return, the truth of it Will you, boy – the truth?'
'Assuredly, dear lady – always the truth. As now…'