Виктория Холт - Royal Road to Fotheringhay

She could not shut it out of her mind. Every detail was clear in her memory. His face … his eyes… his hands, tearing her clothes.

“He forced me,” she murmured. “He dared… and I the Queen! By now he will be speeding for the Border. He will be terrified of the punishment, which can be nothing less than death.”

She took the torn clothes and hid them in a closet. She could not bear that anyone else should see the shameful evidence. Hastily she wrapped a damask robe about her, and smoothed her wild hair. Now she felt a little calmer. There were still red patches on her face, on her neck and her body. She touched her left cheek gently. Would those marks never go?

She began to pace up and down the apartment. The Queen who was dishonored! The Queen who was defiled! He had planned this thing. He had known that she would be here. Moray had said once that David Chambers was his procurer and was known as “Bothwell’s Bawd.” David Chambers brought women to his house and Bothwell went there to visit them. So Chambers had procured the Queen for Bothwell. He would have lent his house for the purpose. Bothwell had clearly come from Chambers’s house and, because she was ill-guarded, he had found a way to her apartment.

She would never be able to look the man in the face again. Indeed she would not need to. He should be imprisoned at once and hurried to execution. He should not live to gloat over his conquest. But how could she proclaim the crime to the world? She pictured herself telling Moray. “He came to my room. I could not hold him off. He forced me….”

She imagined the smiles, the whispers. “Why did the Queen go to the Exchequer House? Oh, ’tis next door to David Chambers’s and he is Both-well’s Bawd.”

“What shall I do?” she whispered to herself. “What can I do?”

Lady Reres came up to the room. She should reprimand the woman. She had been careless. She and Bastian must have left some door unlatched. But how could she talk to Lady Reres of what had happened? How could she talk of that terrible thing at all?

“Are you disturbed, Madam?” asked Lady Reres.

“Disturbed?” cried the Queen. “No… no. I am feeling tired. I think… that I am a little unwell. I feel coming on one of those attacks which I had so often when I was in France.”

“Should I send for a physician, Your Majesty?”

“No … no. Rest will suffice. Leave me. I will go to bed. Rest is what I need. I do not wish to be disturbed. Oh… but… sleep here tonight. I… I have a fancy not to be left alone this night.”

Lady Reres drew the curtains and the long night began. She did not sleep at all. She lived through it all again. The opening of the door… every detail until that moment when she had found herself alone with her shame and that excitement which made her heart thunder till her body was shaking.

SHE RETURNED to Holyroodhouse next day. She could not bear to stay in the Exchequer House, although she had not finished the work she had gone there to do.

Bothwell had the effrontery to wait upon her with the other noblemen of the Court.

As he knelt before her, her heart thundered. He had raised his insolent eyes to her face, and his smile was conspiratorial, as though they had shared a charming adventure together.

Her eyes kindled; her temper flared and impulsive words rose to her lips.

Arrest that man! she wanted to say, and was almost on the point of doing so. In time she pictured the ensuing scene. Moray would ask: “On what grounds, Madam?” “On the grounds of rape.” “The rape of whom, Madam?” “The rape of the Queen.”

There was nothing she could do unless she would expose herself to greater humiliation, and the cunning rogue, the violator of the innocent, knew it. She was conquered in her own Court as she had been in her bedchamber. She dared say nothing. She was afraid. That was the truth. She could not publicly own to her shame. She dared not face the calumnies of Knox. Consequently it seemed that he who had committed this great sin would go unpunished.

But she would find other ways to make him suffer for what he had done. She would find some way of banishing him from the Court, for his presence there would be a constant reminder.

Even now she could not prevent her thoughts from going over and over what had happened on that night.

He found an opportunity to speak to her. She was tense as he stood beside her. She could almost feel again his hands tearing her clothes, forcing her on to the bed.

He said: “Now that we are such friends, Madam, I wish to ask a favour. Do not grant Maitland permission to return to Court.”

She turned her back. But that, in the presence of the others, was too pointed a rebuff. He had been in such high favour before to-day. If her manner towards him so obviously changed people would wonder why. They might even guess. That secret must be kept.

She said in a low strained voice: “You are no friend of mine and never shall be. You need never again make a request to me, for it shall not be granted. You shall lose your head for what you have done. Do not think that because it is still on your shoulders it shall remain there.” It was difficult to put the vehemence she felt into those words, for she must keep her voice very low in case it should be overheard.

“A pity,” he said. “I fancied you thought my person rather pleasant when we last met.”

“You fancy, my lord,” she answered, and she forced herself to smile, “that you have behaved in a clever way. You know that I cannot denounce your conduct because of the great shame it has brought me. But do not imagine that will save you.”

“Madam, do not pretend that last nights encounter brought any less pleasure to you than to me. It was startling… unexpected. I myself had not planned it, but how happy I am that it happened. There shall now be no holding back of all the joy we shall bring to each other.”

“I have never heard such insolence.”

“You have never had a lover worthy of you before, Madam. Startling, is it not? It would be easier to explain if we were alone.”

“I shall see to it that I am never again alone with you. Moreover I shall require you to swear friendship with Lord Maitland when he returns to Court—which he will very soon do.”

He bowed. “Madam,” he said, “your wish is law.”

A FEW DAYS LATER she returned to the Exchequer House. It was necessary that she should do so for there was much to prepare for the Princes christening, and as she had undertaken the work, she told herself that she must finish it. She had thought on that never-to-be-forgotten night that she could never bear to be in that room again, that she could never bear to lie on that bed. Oddly enough that was just what she now wished to do.

She could not settle down to her task. She could not decide what clothes must be bought for her servants. She could not decide what she herself should wear. She could only think of Bothwell. I did the only thing possible, she kept telling herself. There was nothing else I could do. How could I have told anyone what occurred?

On the first day of her return to the Exchequer House Lady Reres came to announce that Lord Bothwell was below and wished to see her.

She turned away that Lady Reres might not see her face. “No, Reres,” she said shortly. “I’m busy.”

“He said it was a most important matter of state, Madam. He begs you to see him.”

She did not answer, but she thought: I must show him that I have no fear of him. But this time there shall be no locking of the door.

She told Lady Reres that he might come up and state his business if he could do so with brevity.

He stood before her, insolent as ever, towering above her, reminding her of his strength.

“It is a marvelous thing to me,” she said, “that you dare come to this room again.”