Page 43 of The Changeling

‘You are unforgettable, Caiti. There’s no other girl like you in all the world.’

Unconsciously I had moved closer to him, gazing up into his intent eyes, but at his words I remembered what I was. I stepped backwards, turning away from him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stricken. ‘You are right. I should not speak to you so. I did not mean to … to try and seduce you. It’s just … it was difficult being away from home. The earl of Lennox is a hard taskmaster, and his son … well, he’s a braggart and a fool, with a mean streak a mile wide. I was homesick, I suppose, and unhappy at being made to serve such a coxcomb. So I thought of you endlessly. I should not have presumed you thought of me too.’

‘I did,’ I confessed, not looking at him. ‘But I tried no’ to. There’s no point. You canna marry me, and I canna bear the thought of no’ being all and everything to you …’

‘I wish things could be different,’ he said unhappily. ‘I wish I was not honour bound to obey my father and serve the earl.’

‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.’ I spoke the words without really thinking about them. It had always been one of Nan’s favourite expressions. But it made me wonder. I had wished to ride, and Robbie had taught me. I had wished to dance with him, and that wish too had come true. I had wished for true love, and he had ridden to me out of the mist as if I had conjured him. I was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, heir to mysterious elfin magic. What would I wish for if I could wish for anything?

I knew without having to think about it. I wanted to be with Robbie. To lie with him, and laugh with him, and build a life with him. But for that wish to come true, we needed to live in a world where we could choose whom to love.

That was an impossible wish.

Miserably I looked up at him. My feelings must have been clear, for he drew me into his arms, bent his head and gently kissed me. I strained to get closer, rising on tiptoe, winding my arms about his neck. Our kiss deepened.

At last he broke away. ‘I’m sorry, I canna … Caiti, it’s like a madness. I think of naught but you. I will have to go away. I canna trust myself.’

Dinna go away, I wanted to say. Stay here with me, lie with me, be my lover.

But I dared not. I stepped away, straightening my bodice.

Robbie watched with smouldering eyes. ‘Go in. I’ll wait a wee while.’

I nodded, and went swiftly back across the lawn to the castle. I hardly knew how to describe how I felt. It was all I could do not to run, and dance, and laugh. He had thought of me the whole time he had been gone. His kiss had not been an idle amusement, a laird’s son accosting a serving-girl because he caught her alone. He wanted me; he wished he could be with me.

I had meant what I said, though, about refusing to come second. If I was going to lie with him, I had to know that he truly loved me and that he was willing to bind his heart to me.

A week later, Lord Henry Darnley joined the queen’s party again, as we rode out for a day’s merriment in the forest. The Graham boys accompanied him, looking very fine in their grey velvet livery. I glanced at Robbie, and caught him looking at me. His cheek reddened and he looked away. I looked away too. The space between us seemed to crackle. It seemed impossible no-one else could see it.

When it was time for us to return to the palace, Robbie lifted me onto my mare. His hands lingered on my waist, and then – as he adjusted the stirrup for me – slid up my boot under the cover of my heavy skirt. He closed his hand about my ankle. Our eyes met. I could scarcely breathe for the danger of it, the thrill of it. My mare shied and danced, sensing the tension in my thighs, and he steadied her with one hand on her bridle. Then he bowed and stepped away. Not one word had been spoken between us, but I was in a daze, every nerve in my body tingling.

Dare I risk it? Dare I give him my heart and my body?

Had he not once said to me that he thought I’d dare anything?

Lord Henry Darnley certainly seemed to be daring to try to win Mary’s hand and heart. Over the next few weeks, he dined with her, played cards and dice with her, danced the galliard with her, rode out to hunt with a fine falcon on his wrist, strummed love songs on his lute, and even attended mass with her in the royal chapel. This did not please Lord James at all. He warned Mary that a marriage with another Catholic would anger Pastor Knox and the Lords of the Congregation, and annoy Queen Elizabeth, who would believe her throne to be threatened.

Mary seemed to heed his words, and draw away from Darnley. In March, though, Queen Elizabeth finally declared, after months of delicate negotiations, that she would not name Mary her heir. First the queen wept, then she raged. It was a deliberate snub, and made Lord Darnley of much greater importance in the dynastic sweepstakes, for he was next in line to the English throne. Mary moped for a few days, then got up and embarked on a round of dances, games and frivolities, in which Darnley played a central role. It was almost as if she wished to make it clear to the English queen that she had no power over her or her life.

Mary began to plan her Easter celebrations, including a competition to roll hard-boiled eggs down the steep hill behind the palace. Lord James showed his disapproval by withdrawing from court, saying coldly he had no wish to witness such ungodly behaviour. Mary hardly seemed to notice, being pleased with her eggs, which I had dyed yellow by boiling with marigold flowers. Signor Rizzio was delighted at this sign of the earl of Moray’s declining influence, and so, I must admit, was I.

Daffodils and sweet-smelling narcissus sprang up in the walled garden, and crocuses and bluebells in the woods. The old hawthorn by the sacred well opened its sweet-smelling diaphanous flower.

‘Your Grace, may I go and gather some mayblossoms to make some special cakes to celebrate the coming of spring?’ I asked one afternoon, making sure that Robbie was close enough to hear me.

Mary agreed with a smile, saying to Lord Darnley, ‘Caitlín is the most marvellous cook, quite unlike anyone else. She always seems to know exactly what I most crave.’ They moved off to the archery butts to practise their shots, and I went out with my stick and my basket and my dog, smiling at Robbie as I passed.

I picked a basketful of flowers, then sat on the soft grass under the hawthorn. I took off my shoes and stockings and lifted my skirt above my knees, stretching my bare legs out in the warmth of the spring sunshine. Nan had always said I needed as much sunlight as I could get, that it would make me strong and well. Whenever the sun had peeped out from behind the clouds she would call me, saying, ‘Caiti, love, out you go! Run wild awhile.’

Dearest Nan. How I missed her.

Carlin’s ears pricked up, then she bounded up and frisked about, her tail wagging. I stood up, my heart beating fast. Robbie came towards me, patting Carlin as she leapt around him in her excitement. He saw my bare feet and ankles, flushed hotly and looked away.

I stood up, smiling, and stepped towards him, holding out a white hawthorn flower I’d been idly twirling in my fingers.

‘Do you ken the old story about Thomas the Rhymer?’