Chapter Thirty-One
Abby and Daniel obeyed the queen’s quiet command and didn’t remain at the table too long. She’d agreed with Daniel that for now, for all their sakes, they needed to keep their hearts in their chests and not on their sleeves. She could do it. She just wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up.
She also didn’t know why she’d been called to the queen’s private rooms this morning, or why Daniel was here looking especially dangerous, hanging back in the shadows with an older man at his side. Judith was here, as well, tending to the queen, along with a male servant waiting to wheel the queen’s chair if she wanted to be moved.
Another beautiful gown had been waiting for her this morning, neatly arranged on her bed when she woke up. Abby had simply stared at it for a while before lifting it into her arms. She’d never seen such fine fabrics, such delicate stitching, as on the gowns worn here at the palace. This one was crafted of embroidered damask silk, dyed robin’s egg blue and shot through with gold thread. Thank heavens for Judith and Jane, else she never would have been able to wear it. It took both lasses to help her dress. An over-gown was pinned over the stiff corset to show the stomacher and gathered back at the hips to show the embroidered petticoat. Lace frills on the shift flirted at her neck and wrists.
“You won’t kill him, Daniel,” the queen said in a soft voice rather than a commanding one, pulling Abby’s thoughts back to the present.
“Not unless he put your lives in danger.”
Abby surmised that Richard Montagu must have returned from Edinburgh and he was about to discover that his plans had failed.
“If he is guilty, he will hang for treason. But he is my cousin.”
Abby felt sorry for her, thinking that the queen’s own blood relative would betray her. Davina MacGregor was fortunate indeed to have escaped this life.
Soon, they all heard the sound of Montagu’s arrival outside.
Daniel didn’t move but remained still where he was. Abby never wanted to be his enemy.
“Just let me question him, Daniel.”
“He will not confess and hang,” Daniel disagreed from the shadows.
They waited to see if he was correct. But the queen’s cousin never arrived at her chamber door. He’d returned to the palace and then left again for no apparent reason.
Save one. Charlotte Adler told him that Daniel was alive and waiting for him in the queen’s rooms. It had to have been Charlotte!
“She warned him,” Abby thought out loud.
Anne eyed her, considering it, then said, “Judith, Albert.” She waved her servant and Daniel’s valet over and commissioned them to find out where the Earl of Manchester was.
While they waited, Daniel left the shadows and came toward them. Abby felt her blood go warm, along with her skin. He was tall, lithe, and perfectly capable of protecting them against Montagu, or anyone else, but Abby didn’t want him to be in any danger. She didn’t want him to risk a musket ball to his heart or a dagger to his lung. What was she going to do without him when she returned home and he remained here to serve his queen?
“Miss Campbell is correct,” he told the queen. “Someone warned him. I’m not certain, though, if it was Lady Blackburn. That would mean she was behind him in all of this, and I don’t believe she would sit idly by and let him murder me.”
“I agree,” the queen said. “Besides, we don’t even know where he went. Let us get all the facts.”
She didn’t want to believe her own cousin would betray her. Abby understood, but her aunt had to maintain her mettle. She could and should listen to her heart, but she shouldn’t follow it blindly.
Later, when the facts came in that Richard Montagu had run off, Anne could no longer deny his guilt and issued a decree for his arrest and capture.
Daniel led the charge but Montagu seemed to have left the kingdom entirely. They knew he was hiding, but where and what were his plans?
“Charlotte told me years ago to keep him out of court,” the queen told Abby that night while they rested together in Anne’s private solar after supper. “I didn’t want to think he was dangerous, but now I see she was correct. But to go after Daniel, my dearest, most trusted friend. How could Richard claim to care for me and then try to take the one person I haven’t lost away from me?”
Abby listened, as was her duty as the queen’s handmaiden to do. But she felt terrible. She was as bad as Montagu. Didn’t she too, want to take Daniel from Anne? Didn’t she want him to give up all for her and come to Camlochlin to be with her forever?
“It makes me wonder what else Charlotte was correct about.”
No. Abby may have thought they were still friends, but after seeing Charlotte Adler’s blatant animosity toward Anne over the last two days, Abby no longer entertained that notion. “I dinna’ think Lady Blackburn has yer best interests at heart.”
“Oh, I know that, dear,” the queen said softly, making Abby loathe the thought of hurting her even more. “I just don’t know what she wants—besides Daniel, I mean. Richard likely wants the throne. He must never find out about your mother.”
Abby shook her head. Never! “My father would kill him and then likely start a war with all of England if she were harmed.”
Anne smiled for the first time that day. “Tell me of your father, this man who took a princess from the king and lives to tell of it.”
“He tells no one, Yer Majesty. Och, but I do wish you could meet him. Then ye would understand why my mother wants to remain where she is. She never wanted this life. When we were children, she used to tell us about her life at the abbey and how she would pray fer her faither to come to her. She didn’t understand why her parents left her to be raised with nuns. She never saw the outside of the abbey until she was a woman, but she had a good life; until her enemies came for her and burned doun the abbey. My faither saved her life and pulled her from the ashes.”
“Did he know who she was?”
“Nae, she didna’ tell him the truth until they were almost home.”
“I remember my father weeping over the fire at St. Christopher’s Abbey,” the queen told her, reminiscing about that night. “Do you know if my father knew that his firstborn daughter didn’t perish in the fire?”
“He knew,” Abby told her. “He visited her a number of times.”
Anne smiled retrospectively. “He never told us of her. He kept her well protected.”
“There was no reason to tell anyone of her. She never wanted the throne. She wasna’ raised fer it. She chose to stay with my faither and to be loved beyond measure by him and her new family.”
“But, Abigail, you are young. You don’t understand. This is her birthright. You said yourself she never saw the outside of the abbey until she was a woman. She went from one seclusion to another. If she came here, she might want to stay.”
Abby shook her head. This was why she came to England. This was her chance to convince her aunt that her claim to the throne was safe, at least from Davina MacGregor. “There is nothing here she would want, save mayhap to know ye.”
“To know me?” her aunt echoed, sounding almost wistful. Abby suspected she was quite lonely. “Does she have no one else to share her life with besides her husband and children? You mentioned your uncles. Do they not have wives?”
“They do, and they all love my mother verra’ much. But you are her sister by blood. She wanted to come here to meet you, but my faither was afraid to let her come. We didna’ know what her reception would be like.”
Anne nodded. “You said in your letter that she was ill.”
“We almost lost her,” Abby told her. “But my faither wouldn’t let death take her either.”
“He sounds like an amazing man,” the queen finally admitted.
Abby opened her mouth to agree that he was when Daniel entered the solar like a whirlwind and made her forget everything else. He had been out all day searching for Montagu. It was clear by the storm brewing in his eyes that he hadn’t found him.
“Someone is hiding him.” He moved about the chamber like a plague, dark and dangerous. “I should have been waiting for him at the entrance to the palace this morning, not hiding in the shadows.”
“Did any of the men speak to him?” the queen asked him while he paced.
“No. I questioned all of them. Whoever warned him did so away from any witnesses. Of course, some of them could be lying.”
“Have ye questioned Lady Blackburn?” Abby asked him, then hated herself for letting her thoughts take her to his bed. She missed his mouth on her, passionate and hungry for her. She missed his gaze studying her in the firelight. Hell, she missed sleeping outdoors with him. He hardly smiled at all since returning to England. He seemed more haunted, more troubled here. And why shouldn’t he be? He had an enemy at court… an enemy who was getting aid from someone close to him.
“She claims to know nothing.”
He looked up from pouring himself a drink. “I’ve no reason not to. She doesn’t want me dead.”
No, but she did want him in her bed.
Abby knew she was terrible for thinking it, but she wished Lady Blackburn were behind everything so the queen could toss her in prison and they could all be done with her.
“It isn’t that I trust her,” Daniel explained to her while he fell into a chair close to both women. “I know she wouldn’t do anything to cause me harm.”
“What about the queen?” Abby asked him. “Would she do anything to cause the queen harm?”
Daniel stared at her for a moment, boldly too, as if he hadn’t considered every possibility.
The queen answered before he did. “I’ve known Charlotte for many years. She was a servant in my sister’s house when Mary and William ruled. She has become more antagonistic toward me over the years, it’s true, but she would never cause me physical harm.”
Abby sighed. Mayhap they were correct. They did, after, all, know the duchess better than she did.
“I’ll question her again later.” Daniel finished off his drink in two swigs, then stared into the flames of the hearth. “Perhaps there’s something I’ve missed.”
Later? Later when? Was he planning on spending more of the evening with Lady Blackburn? Abby didn’t like it, and she liked it even less that there was nothing she could do about it. He still hadn’t explained to her what he meant about his father. And what did it have to do with Anne loving him like a mother? Was he suggesting that Anne was his stepmother? If so, that would make him the son of Prince George. Had Anne kept it from him all his life? Poor Daniel. Most of what he did, he did for Anne. He was dedicated to the throne, to Anne herself. Her deceit must have nearly destroyed him. She remembered how somber he was when they first met.
He didn’t seem to be angry with Anne and Abby admired him for seeing that the queen might be powerful but she was also heartbroken and lonely. Abby loved Daniel even more for the way it affected him.
She studied him in the firelight illuminating the solar. His glorious eyes, usually so vivid and fiery, were cast in shadows. He’d avoided eye contact with her all day and it was driving Abby mad. She knew he barely spoke to her in obedience of the queen’s request, and to keep Abby safe, but knowing it didn’t make it any easier.
“Let us forget Charlotte for now—and Richard, as well,” Anne suggested. “It’s been a very taxing day and I wish for some peace.”
Daniel nodded, but he didn’t look any less frustrated. His enemy had escaped him and it was eating away at him.
“Abigail.” The queen turned to her. “Pour me a drink, will you? There’s something I’d like to say.” She smiled faintly when Abby rose to her task. “Daniel,” Anne said to him next. “Did you know that Miss MacGregor’s mother is recovering from an illness that almost took her from the world?”
“Yes,” he said, finally looking at Abby. “Miss MacGregor has told me much about her family.”
“Oh?” Anne raised an eyebrow at him.
“It was a long journey,” he explained. His regard, though brief, was as palpable as a touch. “Miss MacGregor shared much of her life with me.”
“Yes.” The queen accepted the cup Abby handed her and surprisingly downed its contents. “So I was already told.”
On the way back to her seat, Abby paused at the queen’s words.
“I wish you had met her, Daniel. There’s so much I still want to know about her.”
“Who?” Daniel asked her.
“Miss MacGregor’s mother,” the queen told him as Abby turned around, a sick, sinking feeling washing over her. What was Anne doing? Why did she bring up her mother to Daniel? What would he do? What would he think of her for deceiving him? Abby wanted to speak but her throat felt as if it were closing up on her, suffocating her. She took a step back to the queen’s chair, her hand outstretched as if that alone could silence the queen of England.
“Or, as we would know her if circumstances had been different, Davina Stuart—my eldest sister.”