The Border Lord and the Lady (18 page)

She was frankly surprised. “Oh, I beg your pardon for thinking you totally ignorant,” Cicely said.

“Now I have learned something about you, ladyfaire. You are not afraid to admit a fault, and you have pretty manners. I hope you will teach those assets to our bairns.”

“Ohhh, you are the most impossibly stubborn man!” Cicely cried.

“Aye, and now you have learned something about me,” he replied with a grin.

“
T
he watch! Call the watch!”
an apprentice cried, running from the lace-and-ribbon shop. “My mistress has been attacked! Help! Help!”

Orva stepped from Master George’s shop, where she had just purchased a supply of lavender oil and balm. People ran past her and, looking down the lane, she saw a crowd beginning to form about Mistress Marjory’s place of business. She hurried down the little street, pushing through the curious onlookers. “Get away from our horses!” she said to several men, shooing them with her free hand. “You are startling them, and if they bolt the queen will be most displeased. “
You!
Boy! What are you howling about? Where is my lady? Where is Lady Cicely?” She pushed the apprentice back into the main room of the shop. “What is this all about?”

“My mistress has been attacked!” the boy said, looking terrified.

“And my mistress, lad?”

“She was not here when I returned and found Mistress Marjory lying upon the floor of the storeroom unconscious, a lump quite visible upon her poor head,” the apprentice said. He was young, and near tears.

“My mistress was not here?” Orva was astounded. “Where is she? Our horses are still tethered outside the shop.”

The boy shook his head. “I do not know,” he wailed. “Will my mistress die?”

“Show me where she is,” Orva said in what she hoped was a calm voice. The lad led her back into the storage area of the shop. Orva knelt beside the fallen woman, who half sat, her back against the wall. “Mistress Marjory,” she said. “Where is Lady Cicely?”

The fallen woman groaned at the sound of Orva’s voice. She opened her eyes briefly, but then closed them.
“Gone,”
she managed to whisper.

“
Gone?
What do you mean, gone?” Orva demanded to know.

Before Mistress Marjory might answer, a man-at-arms strode into the chamber. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Did you hurt this woman?”

Orva slowly stood up. “I am Mistress Orva, tiring woman to Lady Cicely Bowen, Queen Joan’s companion. I left my mistress here earlier to choose some lace and ribbons for the expected heir’s christening gown that Her Highness now sews upon. I returned to find a crowd outside the shop, and the apprentice howling about Mistress Marjory being grievously harmed. I entered to find the poor woman as you see her, and my mistress gone. Something wicked has happened here. Where is your captain? I need to return to the palace immediately and inform the queen that my mistress is missing.”

“Perhaps your mistress had a disagreement with this lady,” the man-at-arms suggested. “Mayhap she hit her, and then fled in a fright.”

“Lady Cicely would never have done such a thing,” Orva said indignantly. “And if she fled this place for whatever reason she would have taken her horse. It is still tethered outside. Find your captain! I must have an escort to the palace immediately.”

The man-at-arms looked at Orva. She was very well dressed, and he had seen the two horses outside of the shop. They were excellent beasts. He turned and looked at the young apprentice. “Are this woman and her mistress known to Mistress Marjory, lad?”

“Aye, sir. They come for the queen, and have been here before,” he answered.

“Kidnapped,”
Mistress Marjory’s voice said weakly. “They kidnapped the lady.”

Orva gave a scream of distress.

“Who kidnapped the lady?” the man-at-arms wanted to know. This was becoming complicated. “Go and fetch the captain, lad,” he instructed the apprentice.

The boy ran off.

“Who kidnapped my mistress?” Orva demanded of the wounded woman.
“Who?”

“I do not know,” Mistress Marjory replied. Reaching up with one hand, she rubbed her head, wincing. That damned borderer didn’t have to hit her so hard, she thought to herself. Her head ached like merry hell. She was suddenly beginning to think better of her part in all of this. Best to claim ignorance. No one could prove anything. She struggled to get to her feet, but her head was swimming.

“Easy now, mistress,” the man-at-arms said, and he moved to aid her, guiding her slowly from the storage room.

“Help her into the main chamber of the shop,” Orva said. She was suddenly suspicious of Mistress Marjory, and wanted to hear more of what she had to say. Why would two strange bandits enter a lace-and-ribbon shop and kidnap a woman unknown to them who had come to purchase lace? There was more to this than met the eye. She came over to where the shopkeeper now sat and, leaning down, said softly, “I think you know exactly what happened to my mistress. I shall tell the queen what I believe as soon as I return to the palace. You had best tell the truth when you are brought before her, for you will be sent for, and soon.”

The captain of the watch strode into the shop. “What has happened here?” he asked.

Orva quickly explained the simple facts of the situation, and then said, “I will need an escort back to the palace, for the queen will want word of this incident immediately, Captain.”

“Your mistress is the English lass who traveled with the queen? The one the Gordons are seeking for one of their own?” the captain asked.

“Aye, the same,” Orva replied. Gracious, did all of Perth know everything?

“Perhaps her suitor grew impatient and took her off. Bride stealing is an old custom here in Scotland, lady,” the captain suggested.

“Nay,” Orva said. “Lord Huntley was brokering the match between his kinsman and the king, who speaks for my mistress. They had decided to wait until Twelfth Night before announcing any betrothal that was agreed upon. And nothing had yet been agreed upon.”

“Even more reason for the Gordon lad to steal your mistress. Winter will soon be upon us, and there’s nothing better than snuggling with a loving woman when the snows fly.” He gave Orva a grin and a wink. “Women like a bold man, eh, m’dear?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Nay, that did not happen. Now escort me to the palace. The queen will be most distressed to learn what has happened, and better I tell her than some fool hears of this incident and rushes to inform her first. Her Highness is great with Scotland’s heir, man. Would you cause her to miscarry?”

The captain said no more. Going outside, he helped Orva onto her mare and, leading Cicely’s horse behind him, he personally escorted the woman to the palace. Once there Orva thanked him for his courtesy, and hurried to the queen’s apartments.

Entering, she encountered the queen’s old tiring woman, Bess.

“Orva, what is it? You look most distressed,” Bess greeted her. She was a woman older than younger, and had been with Joan Beaufort since her birth.

“There has been an incident in town . . .” Orva began. She paused, and then said, “Och, there is nothing for it but to say it. My mistress has been kidnapped.”

“Oh, dear!” Bess’s hand went to her heart. She paled and her eyes
grew troubled. “The queen! Oh, Orva! The queen will be most distressed by such news.”

“Aye,” Orva agreed, “but we cannot keep it from her. How could we explain my mistress’s absence from her, and especially at this time?”

“And she’s been asking if Lady Cicely is back with the lace yet,” Bess said. Then she straightened her spine. “We’ll send for the king, and while we are waiting we shall tell the queen together of this incident.” She spoke to a young page who had been dozing in a nearby chair, shaking him awake gently. “Here, lad, go and find the king. Tell him the queen needs him
now
! Do not dally. The king must come immediately.”

The page scrambled up and dashed from the queen’s apartments.

“Come along now,” Bess said to Orva. “She is in her privy chamber with Lady Stewart of Dundonald and the Countess of Atholl, both of whom bore and irritate her by turns. Only Lady Grey of Ben Duff amuses her, but she will return home soon. Poor Lady Grey is very distressed over the disappearance of Fiona Hay, who was her friend. And now
this
!”

The two tiring women entered the queen’s privy chamber, where the women sat sewing on garments for the expected heir.

The young queen looked up and, seeing Orva, said, “Is Ce-ce back then?”

“Now, my dearie,” Bess began, “you must not be distressed by what Orva has to say to you, but it seems that Lady Cicely has been taken off.”

“Taken off?”
Joan Beaufort’s voice trembled. “What do you mean, taken off?” The queen grew very pale, and Lady Grey quickly hurried to bring her a small sop of wine as a restorative. The queen gulped it down, and then looked at Orva.

“When we reached the lace shop my mistress instructed me to go down the street to Master George’s to purchase the lavender oil and balm that have given you such ease. I did as she bade me, and when
I departed Master George’s I heard a voice calling for the watch, and, hurrying to find Lady Cicely, I discovered it was an apprentice from Mistress Marjory’s shop shouting that his mistress had been injured. I found the woman half-conscious in her storeroom.”

There was a murmur of distress from the other women with the queen.

“And my mistress was gone,” Orva continued. “The shopkeeper claims she was kidnapped. And certainly there was no sign of my lady, but Mistress Marjory knows more than she is telling, Your Highness. I sense it! She is hiding something.”

At that moment the king burst into the queen’s privy chamber, startling the women there. “Sweetheart! What is it? Is the child coming?” He knelt by her side.

“Ce-ce has been kidnapped from the lace shop!” the queen cried. “You must find her, Jamie!
You must!
”

The king arose and, seeing Orva, said, “What is this all about?”

Orva repeated herself, concluding with her suspicions about Mistress Marjory.

“Why do you think the shopkeeper is involved?” the king queried Orva.

“My lord, why would two masked bandits break into a lace shop at the exact time that the queen’s known favored companion is there? We were at the shop four days ago, and the lace had just come in, for Mistress Marjory said she had sent her nephew to the docks to retrieve it. Why, then, ask us to return four days later instead of the next day? Nay, the woman is duplicitous, and knows more than she is telling,” Orva declared.

James Stewart nodded. “You may very well be right,” he said. “The captain of the watch suggested that perhaps the Gordons stole my mistress away to hurry the marriage that they want. He said bride stealing is a custom here in Scotland,” Orva added. “Would they do that, my lord?”

“I hope they have not,” the king replied, “but Huntley is here,
so let us find him and ask him. In the meantime we shall send for Mistress Marjory, and see what she has to say for herself. Bess, remain with your mistress. The rest of you ladies are dismissed, but will remain here in the queen’s apartments, for I forbid any gossip in this matter being circulated until the truth of it is known. Orva, you will come with me.” The king strode from his wife’s rooms, going to his small library, Cicely’s tiring woman in his wake. Once there he sent his page to fetch Huntley while ordering two men-at-arms to go into town and return with Mistress Marjory.

Huntley came, greeting the king politely, his eyes going to Orva, who sat silent in a corner of the room.

The king quietly explained that Lady Cicely Bowen had been taken forcibly from the lace shop. He did not mention the possibility that the shopkeeper might be involved. Instead he said, “Has your kinsman in his impatience involved himself in a wee bit of bride stealing? I shall not be pleased if I learn the laird of Fairlea has stolen her away. Especially if the Gordons of Huntley are involved.”

“Given what has recently befallen my kinsman of Loch Brae I am surprised that you would ask such a question of me,” Huntley replied stiffly.

“Perhaps Andrew Gordon has taken a leaf out of someone else’s book,” the king suggested.

“If he did,” Gordon replied, “I was certainly not involved. ’Tis true the girl is a prize worth having, but her connections are too powerful for Andrew to attempt to force the issue. He is not foolish. Besides, he believes his charm will win the lass over.”

James Stewart barked a hard laugh. “ ’Tis true. I have noted that Fairlea thinks highly of himself. Where is he at this time, Huntley?”

“On his lands,” Lord Gordon said. “I stopped to see him three nights back on my way to Perth. He was overseeing the refurbishing of his late mother’s chambers for his anticipated bride. Besides, his favorite mistress was about to drop her whelp. It’s his first child, and
he has a soft spot for the mam even now. The wench went into labor the morning I departed. It would have been impossible for Andrew to keep his promise to her and get into Perth to steal Lady Cicely. I only just arrived myself a short while ago.”