Lady Scrope’s eyes sparkled. Her brother, the Duke of Norfolk, was a Protestant, having had John Foxe as tutor; and if there was to be a marriage between them, it would be wise if they both conformed to the same religion. Norfolk had written to his sister, suggesting that if Mary could be induced to change her religion she would find it easier to regain her throne, because one of the biggest grudges many of her Protestant subjects bore against her was that she was a Catholic.
“I could answer Your Majesty’s questions on the subject as far as I am able,” Lady Scrope continued. “I also have books which might interest you.”
Mary was enthusiastic about the project. It would be one way of occupying her mind and making her forget, temporarily, to wonder what sort of morass she was falling into, for since her attempted escape had been foiled, there could be no doubt whatever that she was Elizabeth’s prisoner.
So now those occasions when they sat over their tapestry were enlivened by discussions between Mary and Margaret Scrope; others of the ladies joined in; and soon it became known throughout Bolton Castle that the Queen was considering becoming a Protestant.
WHEN SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS heard the rumors he was delighted. As a stern Protestant, it pleased him that the Queen should be considering conversion to what he believed to be the true religion.
He himself offered to give her instruction, and soon Mary was reading the English prayer book with him.
He was persuasive, and Mary was enjoying her lessons.
While they read together Knollys, acutely aware of her charms, thought how sad it was that she should be in her position. He would have liked to see her back on the throne; she would need a husband to help her rule, and he did not see why she should not have an English husband.
He grew excited, believing he knew the very man for the position. This was his nephew, George Carey, a handsome young man who was surely eligible because of his relationship to Queen Elizabeth. Knollys’ wife was first cousin to the Queen, and her brother, Lord Hunsdon, was the father of George Carey. It was true that the relationship came through Anne Boleyn rather than the royal house; nevertheless the ties were there.
He could not refrain from mentioning his young nephew to her, and immediately began to plan a meeting between them.
“I look upon my nephew as my own son,” he told Mary. “He will shortly be in the district and will wish to call on his uncle.”
“Naturally,” Mary agreed.
“And if he should come to Bolton Castle, have I Your Majesty’s permission to present him to you?”
“I should take it ill if you did not,” Mary told him; and Knollys was satisfied.
GEORGE CAREY KNELT before the Queen of Scots. He was young and extremely personable, and when Mary told him that she was pleased to see him, she was speaking the truth.
“I pray you be seated,” she went on. “Have you news from the English Court?”
“None, I’ll swear, that Your Majesty does not know already,” answered the young man.
“But I know so little. Tell me, is my sister and cousin in good health?”
“Her health is excellent, Your Majesty.”
“And did she, knowing you were about to visit your uncle and therefore would come to my lodging, give you any message for me?”
“She gave me none, Your Majesty.”
Mary was despondent, but only momentarily; it was such a novelty to have a visitor, and such a charming young man, who could not hide his admiration for her, was very welcome.
“Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is displeased with Scotsmen at this time,” she went on. “I have had complaints that on the Border some have been carrying out raids on English territory. I am sorry for this, but she must realize that at this moment I am in no position to enforce my rule.”
“Her Majesty would know that, I am sure,” answered George.
“I wonder if you would be good enough to carry a message from me to the Queen?”
“I could take a message to my father who would see that it reached her.”
“Then tell him that if any border robbery has been carried out by any of my followers I could have them punished. If their names are sent to me, my friends would see that, since they injure my cause, they should be suitably dealt with. But if they belong to my enemies—which I think certain—it is beyond my power to prevent their ill conduct.” She went on confidingly: “You will have heard talk of me.”
“I have, Your Majesty.”
“And much that is ill has been said of me, I’ll swear.”
George flushed slightly and then said vehemently: “I would never again believe aught against Your Majesty.”
She smiled ruefully. He had told her so much in that remark; she guessed that gossip, concerning Darnley’s murder and her hasty marriage to Bothwell, was rife and that the scandal touching herself was boundless.
“Ah,” she said, “it is sad when evil stories are spread regarding a lonely woman who has no means of defending herself.”
“I shall assure all I meet of your innocence,” he told her.
“Which has not been proved to you,” she reminded him.
“But it has, Your Majesty. Ever since I came into your presence I have known those tales to be false. I know that your conduct could never be aught but good and noble.”
Here was adoration similar to that which she had received from George Douglas. Her spirits were raised. George Carey would be her good friend—even as that other George had been.
She told him of her adventures since she had arrived in England. “It is August now, and it was May when I came south. I thought to go straight to Hampton Court that I might meet the Queen and lay my case before her. Alas, here I remain—the guest of the Queen of England, but in truth her prisoner.”
“If there were aught I could do . . . ” began George passionately.
“You could speak with your father who I believe has some influence with the Queen of England.”
“I will do this. And if there is aught else I can do to serve Your Majesty . . . ”
When Sir Francis Knollys asked permission to enter the Queen’s apartments and found his nephew still in her company, he was well pleased.
He could see that it had been an excellent plan on his part to bring the young man to Bolton Castle.
DURING THOSE late summer days bad news came to Bolton Castle. Rumors of Mary’s possible conversion to Protestantism had reached Moray and filled him with panic. Nothing could have caused him greater disquiet.
The Queen a Protestant! If that were indeed true, before long there would be a clamor for her return. The only reason why so many had flocked to his banner was because he was of their religion and the Queen was not.
Moray never delayed when he thought action was necessary. The greatest boon he could ask for was that Mary should remain Elizabeth’s prisoner, an exile from Scotland.
This was indeed a blow. And he must take immediate countermeasures. So the result of Mary’s brief flirtation with the Reformed Faith was that a vicious attack was made on her supporters in Scotland; and the Regent’s forces seized their lands and possessions so that those who might have rallied to Mary’s aid would not be in a position to do so for a very long time.
ALL THROUGH SEPTEMBER Mary waited to hear news of when the Conference, at which her future would be decided, was to take place.
She knew that some of her friends deplored the fact that she had allowed matters to go so far in such a direction. Seton was one who believed that the Queen of Scotland should never have put herself in such a position as to allow herself to be judged by a court set up by the Queen of England and her ministers.
How right Seton was! thought Mary. And yet, what could she do? When she had fled to England she had placed herself in Elizabeth’s power.