1602
I had received another letter from Lilias’s sister Catherine and I must say it was illuminating. Not only had Alexander’s wife provided him with another child, but the circumstances at Loch Leven Castle became rather suspect again. I brought the candle closer and began to read it once more.
Dear Sister Marie,
I hope this finds you well. I am delighted you enjoy hearing the news from Scotland. Before I tell you about my recent trip to Fyvie to meet the new baby, I want to relay what I’d found out the day before. We were entertaining guests from Perth here at Rothes. Sir Duncan Murray and his wife Jane were staying in Laichie at her sister’s but had ridden over to visit us. I had not seen them since my wedding, but Jane and I corresponded with each other now and then.
She and I were sitting in the cosy nook in our Great Hall while my husband James and Duncan were taking a walk in the grounds. As we sipped our wine, we talked of our families and friends of old. And then Jane mentioned Lilias.
She told me how terribly sorry she was to have heard the news of my dear sister and took me by the hand as she spoke. She told me that she’d only met her once, but was charmed by her, remembering her as such a sweet girl, which of course she was. There was nothing but good in my sister.
It still upsets me to remember her and to think that her own family did not know she was ill until too late. I’m sure you feel the 177 same, dear Marie. Mama has never been quite right since. Her mind is most definitely wandered, though Papa does as much as he can to protect her by speaking for her.
I thanked Jane and then explained how it was even more tragic to all of us that she was so far away when she died, since none of us could be with her at her time of need.
Jane said she’d no idea she was not at home when she died. She presumed she was at Fyvie.
I told her she had been in Fife, and explained that was why none of her family could make it in time to see her, when we eventually heard she was so ill. By then we could not give her support of any kind as it was all too late.
I shook my head. It was all indeed too late, I thought, remembering all too clearly the dreadful sight of her emaciated body, her bones protruding from her soiled green dress on that filthy bed, all alone.
Jane had still looked puzzled and said that presumably Lilias was buried up here, nearby in Aberdeenshire, so we could at least visit her grave.
I told her she is buried at Dalgety Bay in Fife as it was near Loch Leven and she still seemed confused and asked me why there and not near her family.
I said my brother-in-law had told us the Queen wanted to pay her respects and of course Her Majesty could not possibly have travelled all the way to Aberdeenshire. Jane seemed to be taking this information in slowly before eventually nodding, but I can assure you, dear Marie, she looked decidedly unconvinced.
I shuffled in my seat. The old suspicions returned. 178
So I started to explain that it was Loch Leven where Lilias and Alexander had stayed during those awful few weeks when she was ill. I asked Jane if by any chance she knew the Earl and Countess of Morton who own Loch Leven Castle, since I don’t know anyone who lives anywhere near there. I have no idea about the geography of Fife.
She replied that their house was not that far away, perhaps about fifteen miles, so not too onerous on horseback. She said it was such a pity we had not gone to stay with them if we’d had the chance to visit Lilias there. She continued to frown, then told me she still did not understand. She asked why I had been talking about Loch Leven Castle, which she said had been empty for many, many months now. The Earl and Countess moved from there over to Aberdour Castle, which is their grander residence – and easier to reach of course – quite some time ago. She paused and said she would work out dates in her head.
I watched her count on her fingers before she told me they must have left in October in the year 1600. She said she remembered this precisely, as she and her husband had met their friends the Mansfields at a family baptism and they had just been to stay at Aberdour. Apparently the Mansfields are cousins of the Earl of Morton.
Something did not seem right with those dates and so I queried this with her, suggesting she must have meant October 1601, since poor Lilias died in the spring of that year. But she shook her head and insisted it was definitely the year before as she remembered Elizabeth Mansfield telling her that the Countess, Anne Douglas, had declared it to be a wonderful start to the new century. Aberdour was apparently luxurious in comparison to the rather austere castle on the loch that they had left, and she was relieved not only to be living in a more spacious castle, but also one that did not require a boat to reach it. 179
I took a deep breath and read on, a cold feeling seeping through my ancient bones.
This was all rather strange so I asked her who had been living at Loch Leven Castle after the Mortons moved to Aberdour and she shrugged before answering – “no one at all”. But then she qualified this by saying that is what she believed and perhaps she was wrong. She suggested I ask Alexander for clarification as he of course must know. She then asked if I saw your nephew and his new wife often. Then she remembered that Grizel is my stepdaughter and she said how delighted my husband James must be to have his daughter living so near. I confess I found myself stumbling over my reply, but eventually agreed. But it was now my turn to sound unconvinced.
I now felt a chill throughout my entire body and shivered. All of what she had written was unwelcome information. Yet still none of it made sense.
The day after Jane’s visit, I set off, with only a maid and a groom beside me, to Fyvie. I had wanted James to come but he dug his heels in, even when I said Grizel would surely want her father to meet her new baby. He had insisted that all babies look the same, but of course asked to be remembered fondly to the mother and child. Men can be so strange with regards to little ones.
As we rode, I kept thinking back to what Jane had said about Loch Leven Castle and how I should phrase it when I asked Alexander about it. But I did not see how I could, unless I mentioned what Jane had actually said.
It was still troubling me as we approached Fyvie and the horses’ hooves clattered to a halt on the cobblestones at the pend. I looked up at the splendour of the pale sandstone, which was almost dusky pink on this beautiful summer’s day, then the groom helped me dismount. I 180 walked through to the entrance hall with the steward, Donald, whom I knew well from the many times I had visited my sister here. As we walked towards the Great Stair, we had an interesting conversation. After the usual pleasantries, I asked after Lady Fyvie’s health.
He told me he believed she was well, but added that few of the staff have seen her for she “tended to issue her commands from her room on the second floor.”
So I then asked if I would have the pleasure of meeting Lord Fyvie during my visit.
To this question, he drew nearer and told me no, for Lord Fyvie had to go on essential Court business to Edinburgh the day before. I said that was a pity and that the business must be something of great importance.
I don’t know if you remember Donald? He was never the most discreet of the Fyvie servants. He continued to tell me there had been talk the English Queen might not live much longer, since she is already nearly seventy, and so there are many arrangements to be made for when she dies. Ambassadors from England were due to arrive that very day and he told me the discussions would not be easy. I digested this information then asked if I could be taken straight up to see Lady Fyvie and the baby.
At the top of the stairs, he led the way through some anterooms towards the bedchamber, which of course used to be Lilias’s. He knocked at the door then announced me and I entered the stiflingly hot room and went towards the bed where I could see Grizel lying, flat, not even sitting up against the pillow. It had been three weeks since the baby had been born, but perhaps she was taking her time returning to normal.
I looked at her wan face, her pallor making her blue eyes stand out even more against the white skin, and asked how she was.
She lifted a limp hand and spoke in a feeble voice, telling me she was slowly recovering from the ordeal and that it has all been rather 181 tiring. Her labours, she insisted, were the worst a woman could ever have to suffer and that the midwife said so. I admit I caught a glimpse of the nurse standing by the bed rolling her eyes.
Even I, who only witnessed childbirth once, and that was at the bed of a queen, cannot imagine a midwife ever saying that. It seemed my nephew’s new wife was prone to exaggeration or selfpity; or perhaps both.
Grizel then turned and snapped at the nurse to go and fetch the baby. “Don’t just stand there,” she shouted. “Go now!”
If she’d still been at Rothes, I would have remonstrated with her about how we must never speak to the servants in a rude manner. But here, she was Mistress of Fyvie and so I could not say a thing.
I told Grizel how sorry I was not to be able to see her husband and she smiled weakly and said that she too was sorry, since he was so very proud of her. She insisted there had never been a happier father anywhere in the land.
The nurse brought the baby in and, once I had taken the seat beside the bed, she handed the little swaddled bundle to me and I uttered the usual remarks one does at such times about how lovely the baby was, what a sweet little nose and such adorable tiny fingers it had. I confess I do love holding newborn babies.
Grizel pushed herself onto her elbows to come closer and whispered to me that her husband told her she had done so well, for at last he has a son. Their little Charles’s arrival had given him so much joy. She added that she had fulfilled her duty as a wife. Then she sighed and leant back onto the pillow, telling me that I mustn’t mind if she shut her eyes and that she was indeed listening, but she was just so very tired.
I rocked the baby while gazing at the little face, his features all screwed up tight. As I swayed from side to side, I thought, this 182 little one has no idea how much his arrival means to his parents. Alexander will be pleased that the line of the great Seton family will continue and the inheritance here at Fyvie is ensured.
So at last, he has his boy. Alexander will be overjoyed. Hopefully now he will treat this wife with more respect than he did poor Lilias.
I told Grizel what joy this little one had brought everyone and how wonderful babies are. But when I had no response, I looked over to where she was snoring lightly, now sound asleep. It was hardly surprising as the fire was blazing and the room was far too hot. I asked the nurse if she thought it healthy for it to be quite as warm, with a newborn. She shrugged and told me it was Her Ladyship’s wish. She said she sometimes has to take some of baby’s clothes off as Grizel insists the fire is roaring even during the hot spell we had here in Scotland last week. I looked back down to the baby and began to fan his little red face with my hand, trying to bring some cool air onto his hot little brow.
I have written too much once more. Sister Marie, please forgive me revealing my innermost thoughts in this letter, but I feel I must tell someone my misgivings.
But now I take your leave and wish you continuing good health.
Your friend,
Catherine Leslie