Chapter 46
1604
Every long day of that tedious journey home, I hardly spoke. If addressed by one of our hosts, I was polite but said very little; silence suited my frame of mind better. When we were alone at night, Alexander admonished me for my reticence, but I said I had no desire to speak until we had buried our son, and that my life was no longer worth living.
“Do you not realise what a fortunate girl you are to have spent three days at Court with Their Majesties? You should be revelling in that, not sulking.”
Sometimes I wondered if he had a soul.
When I said I was grieving, he became angry and reminded me, as he so often did, that I had a daughter waiting for her mother at home. I shrugged and said nothing. How could I possibly love a child who was named after the woman who had caused my son’s death?
One wet, miserable day as we neared the Scottish border, he trotted up alongside my horse and I could see he was in good spirits. He said he wanted to cheer me up and had decided to tell me what he and the King had been discussing.
“As you know, just like me, His Majesty is a patron of the arts, a scholar who is keen on poetry and literature and architecture. Our conversation as ever was so wide and varied. I’ve always known he values my opinion and my counsel, but there is something else.” He beamed. “I was only going to tell you after the burial, to give you some hope, but since you have been so sullen, I have decided to tell you now.” 214
I feigned interest and turned towards him, water dripping off my nose as the rain pelted down and my horse’s reins became more and more sodden.
“Grizel, I am about to be appointed Lord Chancellor of Scotland, which is such an honour.” He beamed and I nodded, forcing a smile.
“That is truly wonderful news, Alexander. The King holds you in such high regard.” This would surely mean he would be away not only in Edinburgh as usual for long spells, but presumably in London. Well, that would not bother me; I preferred my own company these days, though not at night.
“And,” he said, patting his horse’s wet mane, “there is more. This will affect you too.”
I assumed my wifely smile. “What could that be, Alexander?”
“In a few months, I am to be made Earl of Dunfermline, in recognition of my committed and devoted guardianship of the young prince. Is that not wonderful?”
My first thought was, well, the guardianship was more onerous for me than for my husband. He was so often away either in Edinburgh or at the palace in Dunfermline, dealing with matters of state, while I was trying to keep the sickly prince with his runny nose and feeble cough away from my own darling boy.
But then he leant in and smiled. “You will be a Countess, Grizel. Won’t that sit well with your family? And mine too – imagine my brother Robert’s son’s face when he hears. He thought he and his father were the only Setons to have the title Earl bestowed upon the family by His Majesty. You have to agree, Earl of Winton is not as distinguished as Earl of Dunfermline,” he said, placing great emphasis on the city’s name.
Ah, so this is what it’s all about, his continuing resentment about not being the firstborn son and therefore unable to inherit the title Lord Seton, even though, in his opinion, he was more 215 worthy than his now deceased elder brother Robert.
“That is good news indeed, Alexander.”
“I believe I told you that my nephew is decidedly unbalanced and so he will surely bring his Earldom into disrepute anyway.” He shook his head. “My poor brother would be turning in his grave.”
It had been with great glee that Alexander had told me the gossip from Seton Palace a few months back: that his nephew, Robert Seton, second Earl Winton, had become mad on his wedding night, emptying the chamber pot all over his new bride. Poor Anna, she was even younger than I was to be wed. What an ordeal it must be, living with a madman. Though sometimes, when I see things at night, things I can never speak of, I wonder if I too am going mad.
“So, our son – when you produce our next child – shall in time also inherit the title of Earl of Dunfermline. It’s such splendid news.” He patted my horse’s mane then kicked at his own horse’s flank and set off ahead at a canter, leaving me to my thoughts and my misery. Even the prospect of being a Countess could not lift this black cloud.
1605
Many months later, I heaved my fat belly over from my bed to the dressing table and opened the drawer, just to remind myself that the parure was not there; anything to keep her away. I sat down with a thump on the chair and looked in the mirror. My face was pale and my skin dull and spotty. Please God, let this baby be a boy so I don’t have to suffer the burden of pregnancy and the indignity and agony of childbirth ever again.
I peered at my eyes, which used to sparkle and shine. Now they did not even look blue, they were grey with fatigue. I’d just had 216 another of my disturbed nights and even though Jeannie now sleeps on a mattress on the floor beside me, I still could not wake her up the minute I saw the Green Lady enter my room, for I was as usual frozen with terror. The shimmering emerald green shape floated in through the door and over to this table where I now sit, and here she hovered until I managed to yell for Jeannie to wake up.
As usual, she jumped up and rushed towards me.
“Is it the baby, My Lady? Is the baby coming?”
She lit the candle and I shook my head. I was trembling all over and I pointed towards the table where she had been. But of course, she was no longer there.
Jeannie took my hand. “Was it another nightmare, My Lady?”
I swallowed. “She was there again, Jeannie. The Green Lady, over there, waiting for me. Now I’ve hidden the parure, it’s me she wants.”
Jeannie laid the candle on the table and patted my arm. She spoke in a soft voice. “Do you want me to get some of the tincture?”
“Yes, but leave a candle burning. I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”
She sped out the door to the kitchen to find the elixir the physician had prescribed for me to sleep and I sat bolt upright, continually looking over to the table. She had been there, she was definitely still after my parure – or indeed after me. I took a deep breath and inhaled that familiar cloying, sickly aroma of roses that lingered in the air. Then I spoke out loud, to the shadowy room. “There, you see. I am not going mad, she has also left her scent.”
I recalled the vision the night before as I gazed at my pale reflection. I sighed and lifted up the pearls that Jeannie would weave through my hair later, in readiness for my husband arriving home from London today. My husband the Earl; how he loves 217 his new title. If someone had said to me before my marriage that I would be a Countess, I would have been overjoyed; but now it means nothing, for I am in a permanent state of trepidation. I jump at the slightest noise.
But my husband is enjoying his new status and indeed I must say he looks slightly less old and wrinkled; it has rejuvenated him. In his letters to me, he has repeated how pleasing it is to know that his son – the baby in my belly – would inherit the noble rank in due course. To him, it was all perfect. To me, there was a hurdle to be crossed first; and that involved me giving birth to a baby boy.