Chapter 54
1610
I sat at the desk in the Charter Room beside my husband and opposite the minister, the Reverend Robert Smith. Though normally this conversation would just be between the men, more and more these days Alexander liked me to be at his side, to write down anything that required notes and to ensure that he missed nothing. I had begun to wonder how he managed at Court, advising the King by himself, but presumably there were clerks to assist. Here at Fyvie, though we have many servants of every description, we have no clerk and my husband refuses to contemplate hiring one. He is a vain man and would never admit his eyesight was failing and his memory not as good as it was. So I play the dutiful wife to my Lord and Master in the company of others.
“Your Lordship,” the minister said in his grave, earnest voice, “Might I know more about this communion cup you are so kindly commissioning for the church? Also, I have just heard from Jimmy Henderson the carpenter that the special laird’s pew he’s making is now, at long last, ready.”
“Oh, that’s good news on the pew,” my husband said, pointing at my paper and quill to note that down, which I did with a humble bow. “We asked him to carve the Seton crest into the wood at both pew ends.” He glanced at me. “And the date of my patronage, I believe?”
I nodded and smiled.
The minister beamed, wonder in his eyes. It was clear he thought my husband was as near to God as is possible for a human.
“As for the communion cup, I have already spoken to two 257 silversmiths, one in Aberdeen and one in Banff. Whichever I choose, the design will be the same. A simple solid silver goblet standing ten Scottish inches tall and…” He turned to look at me. “Did we decide on ten or twelve inches?” He was frowning.
I smiled. “If my memory serves me well, dear husband, you decided on twelve inches.”
He nodded and proceeded to expound on his brilliant idea. “I shall present it to the church at a special service to celebrate my patronage.”
“That is a good idea, Your Lordship. I look forward very much to seeing you and Your Ladyship and your growing family sitting on the family pew at the front.” He glanced down at my belly then turned his head away, face flushed, as he realised this was not proper. “It will bring such,” the minster looked up to the ceiling as if for inspiration in his choice of word, “such succour to the congregation who admire all you have done for Fyvie Church.”
He began to stand up and I coughed. My husband looked at me and I mouthed the words, “the bell”.
“Ah, yes, Mr Smith. There is also the matter of the bell. Do you recall I wrote to you about this?”
“Of course, Your Lordship, the bell. What joy that will spread throughout the land.” He sat back down on his chair and beamed at Alexander.
“I travel to France and then Flanders in a month and shall visit the foundry of Jan Burgherhuys in Ghent about my commission. You have no doubt heard of his work?”
The minister looked rather flustered. “I can’t say I have, Your Lordship, but anything on your recommendation I know will be magnificent.”
“I would hope to have it ready to install in the belfry before the summer is over,” Alexander announced, standing up. He had obviously had enough of this fawning man, though deferential 258 company usually pleased him greatly.
The minister nodded in my direction, bowed at my husband and took his leave.
“Will you write up the notes for me, my love?” he said.
“Of course,” I said, smiling. “The girls are all occupied at their studies or at play. I have no other duties this afternoon.”
“Good. I shall see you at dinner.”
I pushed myself off my chair, holding my fat belly.
He frowned. “How much longer do you have, Margaret, till the baby arrives? I pray it shall be another son.”
“I should have another six weeks, but who knows. Remember little Grizel came early.”
“Ah yes, but praise God she has always been healthy.”
“And that is more important than its gender,” I said, before turning and heading for the door.
We had almost finalised the details of Alexander’s trip to France and Flanders. He was due to leave for Edinburgh and attend to some business there for a few days then sail from Leith. I intended to write to his aunt in Reims this afternoon and inform her of the dates she might expect his visit. I was wondering what I could send with him as a gift for her, but it was proving difficult, since nothing either frivolous or perishable was possible.
I wondered if there was perhaps something of Alexander’s first wife Lilias’s, since they were so close. There might be a shawl or even a breviary, though taking a prayer book to a nun was probably superfluous. Jeannie had told me all her possessions had been taken to the Preston Tower and so I asked her to accompany me there to open the chest of her belongings.
We went out the back door from my bedroom through what 259 my husband calls grandly the Seton Tower, and into the older Preston Tower.
“Be careful, My Lady,” said Jeannie, taking my hand, as we came to the landing leading to the old narrow staircase. “These stairs are narrow and there’s no handrail. My Master would never forgive me if you fell.”
I took her hand and whispered, “Your Master will never know we have been up here, Jeannie.”
She shook her head and smiled, guiding me up with a lighted candle. At the top of the stairs, she paused to catch her breath.
“Are you all right, Jeannie?”
“Yes, just a bit out of breath. I’m not as young as I once was.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I think I’ll be forty next year, but I never knew my mother, so I’m not really sure.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” How terrible of me, I had never thought to ask about her childhood, I only ever ask about her children.
“The chest’s in this room, My Lady.” She ushered me into a gloomy room with wooden shutters keeping out the light. Jeannie went to open them up and light flooded in. There were stacks of paintings against the wall and a large trunk by the window.
I went over to the paintings and began to drag one out. Jeannie rushed to help me and we pulled out a portrait of a beautiful young woman wearing a green dress. I knew this was Lilias as I’d heard rumours about a Green Lady haunting the castle. Two of the kitchen maids had been summoned to my room to make up the fire one morning while Jeannie was away visiting her new grandchild, and while they thought I was sleeping I heard one whisper to the other that she must close the window, for that was where the Green Lady entered.
“And then where does she go?”
“She flies over to the dressing table to look for her jewels, the 260 ones the Master gave to his second wife.”
“Have you seen her?”
“No, only Lizzie saw her but then she was sent away when she talked about it and Cook overheard.”
I opened one eye and saw the smaller maid looking all around as if she was about to see a ghost.
“So she only ever comes into this room?”
“Aye, but I don’t think she haunts Lady Margaret. Only Lady Grizel, and you remember what happened to her…”
The door swung open and another maid from the kitchen entered with my breakfast tray and the conversation ended.
“Jeannie, I presume you’ve heard the idle talk of a ghost haunting Fyvie Castle?”
She nodded but did not look at me.
“Is she meant to wear a dress like this one?”
“Yes, My Lady. This is Lilias, the first Lady Fyvie. She loved that colour so much she had many dresses made in it. But His Lordship didn’t like the colour.” She glanced at me and I smiled, encouraging.
“She was a fine lady, everyone was so sad when she died.”
I looked closely at the portrait. “What is this beautiful necklace she is wearing?”
“That’s the necklace from the parure.”
“What parure?”
“The one that was a gift from His Lordship’s aunt, Marie Seton, to Lady Lilias, just before she left to become a nun and before Her Ladyship’s wedding.”
I peered closely at the gold chain entwined with snake links and set with rubies, pearls and emeralds.
I stood back and gazed at it, then a thought occurred. “Is Grizel’s portrait here too?”
She shrugged and we pulled out the next painting together. 261 This was also a young girl, with striking blue eyes and a cornflour blue dress that matched their colour. She had a rather aloof gaze. I stepped forward and saw the same necklace around her throat. “So Grizel wore the necklace from the parure too?”
Jeannie nodded and pulled a dust cover off a chair at her side. “Sit down, My Lady, and I will tell you everything I know.”
I sat down and stared at both paintings as Jeannie pulled a stool from under the window and perched herself on it.