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The chapel was freezing, even with a roof on. I huddled into Mama and looked towards the front where the priest stood by the tiny altar. He nodded to someone in the first row and a gentleman stood up, then a tall, stately older lady beside him, holding the baby. I strained my neck to try to see the baby’s face, but she was tightly wrapped in her shawl. Mama nudged me and whispered. “That is not Margaret Leslie carrying the baby. It’s Marie Seton, your betrothed’s aunt. I wonder where the mother is.”
We did not have to wait any longer to find out. The priest then began the sacrament by telling us how very sadly the baby’s mother had died just a few days earlier, and though her funeral had just taken place, the Master of Rothes still wanted his little daughter to be baptised as planned, in case she too was taken to join her mother.
Well, I know it’s a fact that many women die in childbirth, but the priest’s announcement came as rather a shock. Not that I had met the lady, but it seemed rather sad. Though as I looked around, I was not aware of anyone in this freezing chapel looking mournful in the least. In fact, as the tiny baby began to bawl and yell and a servant came running to the front to relieve Marie Seton of the wriggling creature, people were smiling, as if the death of a mother meant so little. I shivered in the glacial air and knelt down on the cold stone floor, on the priest’s command.
After the ceremony, as we entered the castle, I asked Mama whether I ought to offer the father my condolences, but she shook her head. “That would not be appropriate. That was last week. Today is about the new birth, not death.” 36
She peered at the impressive shields and swords hanging on the walls as we climbed up some magnificent wide stone steps to the Great Hall, then turned to whisper, “You go over and speak to the ladies, make a fuss of the baby. I am off to speak to the Master of Rothes about Catherine.”
“Who?”
“Your elder sister, Catherine, of course. It is perfect timing.”
“Mama,” I hissed, “his wife is barely cold in the ground.”
She gave me one of her looks.
“Go! Pay attention to the baby. And of course your future husband.” She turned around, then murmured over her shoulder, “And Lilias, do not forget to curtsy deeply before Marie Seton.” With that, she turned and headed for the baby’s father while I forced myself to smile as I walked towards the gaggle of ladies cooing around the crib.
I did as Mama had said and waited till Marie Seton had acknowledged I was standing beside her then inclined my head, bobbed a little, and smiled. It did not feel right to bow low; she had served the Queen but she was not royal.
“You must be Lilias,” she said, smiling. She looked me up and down, then took both my hands in hers. “I knew Alexander would make a perfect match. He has always chosen well, in every single thing in his life.”
I was about to say that neither he nor I had much to do with the matchmaking but I held my tongue.
“What a charming colour that green is on you, Lilias. It so becomes you with your fair hair. I always notice ladies’ hair.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I coiffed Her Majesty’s beautiful hair, you know.”
“Really? I have never seen her in person of course, but have seen a portrait. She is beautiful. And so tall.” And then I blushed, for Marie Seton was surely just as tall. 37
“Come, let us remove ourselves from this throng of admiring ladies. I can tell you all about how I did her hair.” She looked down towards the crib. “I never do quite understand the attraction of tiny babies, do you?”
“I admit I rather like them.” I peered down towards the baby whose tiny body was swaddled in so many shawls; even in this cold hall, she must be hot. “But she’s sleeping now, so I won’t pick her up. Is Grizel a family name?”
“Yes, the infant’s grandmother was Grizel, Countess of Rothes. I believe she died giving birth to the baby’s father, the gentleman your mother is speaking to over there. Strange, isn’t it, how things come round full circle.”
She leant towards me and I noticed her wrinkles and the flecks of grey in her hair. I realised that she must be in her early forties.
“In case you were wondering, I am not a godparent. Indeed, I hardly know the Rothes family, but Alexander thought it appropriate for me to carry the baby in church. He has some odd ideas, as you will surely come to know.”
She led me over to two chairs by a little table and a servant pulled back hers.
“Now, tell me about yourself, Lilias. I believe you are fifteen years of age?”
“Actually, not till next month, February fifteenth.” I looked up at Marie, the lines around her dark eyes crinkling as she smiled.
“What a delightful scent of roses,” she said, leaning towards me and sniffing the air.
I laughed. My sisters and I had taken to drying roses last summer when it had been so hot and our days were spent languidly in the castle gardens while mother prepared to give birth. “It’s the rosewater my sisters and I made last year.”
“You must tell me what roses you use. In the past, I made rosewater from damask roses for the Queen, before…” 38
There was a noise of boots clacking together and we looked up to see a man, perhaps about thirty years old, standing before us. He had an angular face made even narrower by a long, pointed beard, which was red, whereas the hair on his scalp was more a dull brown. I realised I was staring at this inconsistency when he addressed me; and then I knew who he was and I blushed.
“Aunt Marie, I have not yet had the pleasure of being introduced to my betrothed.”
And with that, he inclined his head and swept his arm out in an exaggerated manner. “I am Alexander Seton, as I believe you must know.” He smiled, almost a cheeky grin, and looked at his aunt for an introduction.
“Alexander, may I introduce Miss Lilias Drummond. She is to stay here at Fyvie with us awhile, I believe.”
I took in his whole body, which was bony and slender, and attempted a smile to cover my shyness.
“I am pleased to meet you, sir. I had heard of Fyvie Castle but had never imagined it would be this beautiful.”
He nodded. “It’s quite something, is it not? Perhaps I can take you for a tour of the castle and gardens in the next few days. For now, I shall leave you to gossip with my aunt, but I look forward to talking to you more over supper, once the infant has gone.”
He leaned over and addressed us both. “Though why all this fuss has been made over a baby girl, I don’t know.” He chuckled and turned on his heels, and I looked at his aunt who shook her head.
“Do not worry about my nephew. Forgive me for saying this, I share this with you as a doting aunt: Alexander is rather full of himself, as if he has not yet sloughed away his teenage swagger.” She smiled. “But he always was indulged rather, first by his father and also by the Queen. Even as a boy, he could be dismissive about girls, insisting their only purpose was to grow up and produce sons.” 39
I frowned.
“Ridiculous. But then, one day when I asked him why he only wanted sons, he looked directly at me and said, ‘Aunt Marie, I am the fourth son of a first son. I may not inherit the title of Lord Seton, but I will do everything I can to become something even higher in rank. Only male heirs will help me achieve that.’ I keep hoping he will change.”
She sighed and took my hand in her veined one.
“And you, my dear Lilias, seem like just the girl to help with that.”