1600
I sat at the writing desk by the window. There had been low cloud and drizzle all day. But I was now aware of a shift in the light falling onto my paper, and I looked out towards the sky. There was a glisk, a sudden break in the clouds as the sun burst through, and for a fleeting moment I felt hope surge through the melancholy in my heart. And then, as quickly as the sun had appeared, the clouds scudded over the sun and the room was filled once more with gloom.
I sighed and took up the quill. I was writing my regular letter to Aunt Marie and always tried to sound upbeat and happy.
Chère Marie,
I hope this finds you in good health. I know you said your legs and hands were still sore and you thought it was perhaps just the long cold winter. So hopefully now that it is spring, this is no longer appropriate, but I asked the advice of my cook, whose sister provides herbal remedies from her Mistress’s physic garden. She recommends willow bark for swollen joints or aches. I am sure there are willows in France, hopefully within the vicinity of the convent. She says you either chew the bark or – far more pleasant I imagine – make a tisane from the crushed bark. Please let me know if you can get this, and if not I shall have one of our gardeners collect some from the willows down on the river bank and I can send it with my next letter.
I twisted my ruby ring around on my right hand and thought of Marie who of course had no servants to call upon now, and in 68 fact no luxuries at all; surely she was cold and alone, though I’m sure she would insist she was never lonely in her walk with God. I worried more and more about her. After the Queen was executed, she suffered so much; she told me she hated herself for leaving her Mistress, abandoning her to her fate. But as I wrote to her, what could she have done against the power of the English Queen? And of course, she had to consider her health.
Here, life is busy as ever. As you know, we have three beautiful daughters and I try not to think during every waking moment of our fourth, darling Margaret, who died so young. A mere three years living on this earth is far too short for anyone, but perhaps even more so for such a sweet child. I told you I did not wish to baptise our darling youngest girl with the same name, but Alexander insisted, saying it would be therapeutic. What does he know about healing when grief has been so profound? Dear Marie, I know you don’t mind me writing some things to you that I would never utter to anyone else. Even though he is your nephew, I feel only you understand something of my situation.
I pulled up the sleeve of my gown a little and turned over my left hand where the bruising was still livid on my wrist. He had not been happy with my “disobeying” him by not attending his inauguration as Lord President at the Court of Session in Edinburgh last week. I was duty bound to appear on his arm as his loyal wife, all dressed up in finery and jewels. When I explained that I was still weak after baby Margaret’s delivery and could not possibly undertake the long journey by horseback, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me up against the wall. He then showered me with abuse, telling me I had to remember what role I was meant to fulfil as a wife. He finished his angry tirade by accusing me (not for the first time) of failing him by not producing sons. 69
I tugged my sleeve back down and took a deep breath.
Anne and Isobel are happy, cheerful girls. I believe Anne is going to have your height, Marie, she is already tall for her age. The baby is doing well. Nurse says it will soon be time to introduce her to some solid food, though I feel that it’s a little too early. But Nurse always has my husband’s ear, and he will want her to be on solids soon so that he can stop having to pay the wet nurse.
The gardens have been looking beautiful in this late spring sun. Do you remember when you and I used to walk to the river, down the little hill? The gardeners have recently constructed a terrace with balustrades along the ridge so that we can enjoy the fresh air in the spring warmth from the comfort of some seating overlooking the water. Our French gardeners are truly wonderful. I imagine you have a lovely garden at the convent? You told me your chapter-room, refectory and chapel are all situated around a courtyard with tall trees. Perhaps it’s also planted with some beautiful flowers and bushes?
I looked over to the window and gazed up at the sunlight, the wooden frame casting shadows on the stone floor. Perhaps later I would take some air, hopefully with Anne or Isobel if Nurse allowed me. Though I have to admit, I was feeling rather nauseous this morning. I do hope it’s not another child, though the symptoms with my pregnancies are always the same. If it is, pray God I can give my husband a son.
I am not sure how much you hear news about Scotland, but did I say in the last letter that the King and Queen had a third child, also called Margaret, born only a few months ago, but we hear the poor little princess is very sickly. She was born at Dalkeith Palace, where the King and Queen often stay, as the grounds there are magnificent and ideal for His Majesty to pursue his favourite sport of falconry. 70 The Queen is with the baby almost constantly at the moment while she is so poorly.
Alexander has invited the King and Queen to Fyvie as you know, and this may now indeed happen, depending on the tiny princess’s health, since he often meets His Majesty at Dunfermline Palace to discuss matters of state and to give him legal advice. Before her last child was born, Queen Anne had a new house added to the Palace in Dunfermline, and this is where she spent much of her time. It is meant to be quite splendid, also built in French style, not unlike Fyvie’s renovations. Your nephew’s greatest desire is to be involved in the royal children’s lives, which to me seems rather strange since he seldom interacts with our daughters at all.
I couldn’t possibly mention the fact that, when considering the royal visit to Fyvie, there was also the matter of her nephew contemplating a pursuit of the Protestant faith, in keeping with His Majesty. That would upset her so much. I put down the pen. I was so sleepy and did not feel as well as I ought to. I would call the maid to bring me some spiced wine to try to settle my stomach. Though my nagging worry was that I was about to endure another nine months of anxiety, fretting about not being able to satisfy my husband once again, and that I would produce a fifth daughter.
I shall write again soon, Aunt Marie, and in the meantime, I wish you good health, for that is surely the most important.
Your truly loving friend and niece,
Lilias