Chapter 59
1980
I was at the top of the Great Stairs, showing the visitors the small statue of Mary Seton, telling them about Mary, Queen of Scots’ lady-in-waiting’s connection to Fyvie Castle, when a hand shot up.
“Did she die here at the castle?”
“No, she was a nun in Reims in northern France from about 1585 and I believe she’s buried there.”
“So she just abandoned the Queen to her fate? She was executed two years later, wasn’t she, in 1587.”
I nodded. “To my knowledge, Mary Seton had to leave Mary, Queen of Scots for health reasons. She went to the Queen’s aunt’s convent.”
“Mary of Guise?”
“Yes, her sister Renee de Guise was abbess of the St Pierre Abbey in Reims from the age of twenty-four till she died just before her eightieth birthday. Eighty in those days was an amazing age.”
Everyone else nodded and looked happy with the facts, but just as I was about to usher them back down the stairs, the woman raised her hand again. “So did Mary Seton not come back to Scotland at all till she died?”
Thankfully I’d been reading up on Alexander Seton’s aunt.
“She died in 1615, so she had thirty years in the convent. To the best of my knowledge, she never returned to Scotland.” I shuffled on the step and pointed down the stairs. The others began to move down but this woman came to stand in front of me. “But what about her necklace? How did it get back to Scotland?”
“What necklace?” 287
“The one you showed us on those two Lady Fyvies’ portraits.”
“Oh, but that was gifted to the first Lady Fyvie, so Mary Seton must have given it to her nephew and wife shortly before she left for France.”
“Quite something, giving away a gift from someone who was not only the Queen but also her best friend, wasn’t it?”
What was this woman’s point?
“I suppose so, but it must have happened. Mary Seton died a pauper, so it wasn’t as if she had the necklace hidden away somewhere at the convent.” I began to edge past her, hoping she would give up. “Right, let’s go and follow the others down.”
“So where’s the necklace now?” She called after me.
I turned around and lifted both hands. “No one knows.”
I’d just said goodbye to all the visitors, trying as usual to insist that I didn’t require any tips. I turned around and saw an elegant woman in a black dress and pearls standing there.
I smiled and she came forward, hand outstretched.
“Hello,” she said, “I’m Arabella. You must be Maggie.”
At last, a firm handshake and warmth in a voice.
“Hi, I was just seeing off my afternoon tour.”
“David hates the visitors, has he told you? But there’s no choice, the castle can’t keep running without extra income. I’ve just been telling him about my friend Jane down in the Borders working on plans to open her castle up for weddings. Far more money in one weekend than an entire summer of castle tours.”
“What does your husband think about that?”
She laughed. “Not much, as you can imagine, but Charles leaves most of the running to his cousin.” She looked at her watch. “D’you want to come along and have a cup of tea?” 288
With yet another evening alone ahead of me, this sounded like a rather pleasant offer. “Yes please,” I said, following her towards the Leith Tower.
“Have you enjoyed your stay at Fyvie?”
“Yes, it’s been great, I’ve got loads of studying done. Which was really the main purpose of working here. And I’ve learnt a great deal doing the tours.”
“From Andrew?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Some things, but also from my own research.”
“Excellent,” she said opening the door to the Leith Tower. I followed her into the kitchen where she put the kettle on the Aga.
“The fire’s on next door in the drawing room,” she said, pointing out into the corridor. “Go and sit in there, the seats are far more comfy than these rickety old things. Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk please,” I said.
On the way, I couldn’t help peeking into the study and looking once more at the portrait of Mr Charles’s mother, noticing again the necklace at her throat.
I was sitting in a comfortable armchair by the fire when she arrived holding a tray with two mugs. She handed me one and sat down. “David said you opened the secret chamber.”
“Yes, they asked me to do it. That was three days ago, I’ve not died yet.”
She grinned. “Honestly, the superstitious nonsense in this family. I mean, in this day and age to believe in some ancient curse. Ridiculous.”
“And you’ve seen the ruby ring?”
She nodded. “It’s amazing, so beautiful. David’s taken it to the family jewellers in Aberdeen to try to ascertain its age, then we can maybe find out whose ring it was.”
“Who knows, it could’ve belonged to Mary, Queen of Scots.” I smiled. 289
“I was thinking that too, but of course she never visited Fyvie.”
I took a sip of tea. Thankfully it was normal tea, not the smoky variety Mr David had made.
“David told me it was in an old box?”
“Yes, a large wooden box the communion cup from the church must’ve been stored in at some stage. Maybe the tiny cupboard at the church where it was stored was too small for the box. It’s really quite big.”
Arabella nodded. “Yes, the cup’s kept in the bank vaults now.”
“Bert the beadle was telling me all about it.”
“Oh Bert, he’s such a sweetheart. Have you seen him wind the clock?”
I nodded.
“You’d think it was Big Ben,” she said, “the importance he puts on it, bless him.”
“Have the family always been superstitious?”
“Yes, well, certainly for as long as I’ve known them, and we’ve been married twenty years.” She sipped her tea. “Charles’s father died not long after he tried to open the door to the chamber you managed to get into. Somehow he couldn’t get the right key. Mind you, he was never the most patient man. They all thought his death was caused by the curse, and then when Charles’s dear mother Ethel got bad dementia, they blamed that.”
“I heard she saw the Green Lady.”
“So she told all of us, and that she’d heard the ghost pronounce some spooky words.” She shook her head. “Poor soul, she was already quite doddery by then. She used to wander around the castle in the middle of the night, in the pitch black.”
I had finished my tea and was about to leave when a thought occurred.
“Could I ask you something, please?”
“Of course.” 290
“The portrait of Mr Charles’s mother in the study.”
“What about it?”
“She’s wearing the famous necklace from the parure, the one both Lilias and Grizel, the Ladies of Fyvie, wear in their portraits. We show the paintings to the visitors in the tour.”
Her eyes widened. “Did David show you Charles’s mother’s picture?”
“No, but I went into the study to thank him for tea and he was on the phone. I couldn’t miss it.”
She smiled. “That’s why David’s convinced the parure is somewhere here at Fyvie. But it’s not. Charles and I don’t think it’s been since – well, since those two laird’s ladies wore it, centuries ago.”
“What? But how come his mother was wearing it in the portrait?”
“She wasn’t.” Arabella was smirking.
“I don’t understand.”
“His Ma and I had such a good relationship, she was a darling, but her husband never took her seriously; he thought she was frivolous, silly. She was certainly neither of those things. She was a good woman.”
“But what about the painting?”
“Because her husband – just like David nowadays – was keen to find the parure so they could sell it for a small fortune to save the castle from having to open to the public, she asked the artist to paint it on her neck. He happened to be a friend of her sister Beth’s and she asked him to study the necklace on those two early portraits and then add it to her own portrait, almost as an act of defiance. And he did. When her husband saw the painting, he was so furious with her he refused to hang it, but Charles hung it after his father’s death. Though I never told my husband the truth, he guessed what happened, but we certainly never told David, who’s still convinced that she’d hidden the parure when she became 291 struck with dementia, poor love.”
I sat back in my chair. “Wow. Mr David still believes that, even after it wasn’t found in the Charter Room?”
She shrugged. “He still reckons it’s somewhere else in the castle. At the end of the visitors’ season, he told me he intends to check every loose wooden panel in the whole place.” She laughed. “Madness!”
I looked at the clock. “Sorry, I’ve been here too long, I’d better go. Thank you so much for tea – and for telling me all this.”
“A pleasure. Hope to see you before I go.”
“Will you be here long?”
“Only another couple of days. Italy’s already calling to me.”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just delighted you’ve not died of the curse!” She burst out laughing.