“Gilbert Talbot.
“I wish it would please your Lordship to remember my Lord Chancellor with some gift. It would be very well bestowed.”
Thus, because of the possibility of larger treasons, the warder of Mary of Scotland and his family must needs swallow their private grievances, forgive their truculent tenants, and appear wreathed with smiles. They must maintain their estate, in spite of their increasing liabilities and the churlishness of the Royal Exchequer, and above all they must keep my Lord Treasurer well supplied with douceurs.
Why they did not sell a portion of their vast inheritance at this juncture in order to make matters comfortable one cannot understand. In London the Earl’s creditors were pressing him, and he was too conscientious to let the matter stand longer than avoidable.
A new responsibility was about to be thrust on the Talbots in securing the hereditary rights of their grandchild Arabella. For the Dowager Lady Lennox died in this year quite suddenly at her house at Hackney. It was odd that the guest who last saw her was the man whom she had accused of slaying his wife, and whose treachery she had once denounced. Lord Leicester went down to talk business with her at Hackney, relating, no doubt, to the sorry state of her financial affairs, and stayed to dine with her. Just after he left she was taken violently ill, and died two days later. What she had to bequeath—and Heaven knows it was little enough—in the way of jewels she left to Arabella Stuart. With the death of her son, Lennox, the ties which bound her to life practically disappeared, and she succumbed at the age of sixty-seven to a disease which must have been aggravated by the terrible misfortunes of her extraordinary life. Her own dowry of Scottish lands made her no return because of the war-bound condition of her native country; the sons who owned the estates conferred on her husband by Henry VIII were all dead. Her land in Yorkshire passed from her with the death, one presumes, of her last son, and her fatherless granddaughter was, as Strickland says, “heiress to nought but sorrow and a royal pedigree.”
It was evident that a push must be made to protect the rights of the child. Queen Mary herself sent for the old lady’s jewels on behalf of her little niece, but on the other hand she urged her son’s guardians to put forward his claims. This was not with a view to destroying the chances of Arabella, but merely to assert his family rights, lest he should be regarded as a foreigner. A counterblast to this was the action of Elizabeth, who took the child under her protection. This fulfilled the heart’s desire of Elizabeth Shrewsbury. Yet it did not avail her much. The right to do as he chose with the earldom was by young James, under the influence of his nobles, claimed for Scotland, and he was made to grant the earldom to the Bishop of Caithness, a man advanced in years and without heir, chosen purposely for present convenience until another Stuart—Esmé Stuart, Lord d’Aubigny, should claim it. Lord and Lady Shrewsbury wrote in deprecation to Lord Leicester on the subject, entreating Elizabeth’s intervention:[[58]] “Unless the Queen will write in most earnest sort to the King of Scotland on her little ward’s behalf ... we cannot but be in some despair.... The Bishop of Caithness ... is an old sickly man without a child; and I think it is done that D’Aubigny, being in France and the next heir male, should succeed him. My wife says that the old Lord Lennox told her long ago of D’Aubigny’s seeking to prevent the infant.”
Subsequently Mary declined to open any negotiations with Esmé Stuart in her own affairs, both because she did not trust him and because she was desirous not to give offence to “our right well-beloved cousin, Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.” This is proof enough that her first move in regard to the matter had been one of pure policy and was to be regarded as quite apart from her private sentiments. It were well if she had never sent the recommendation.
Other rumours of the moment gathered special force, and were perhaps of more importance to the nation at large than was the possible escape of Mary. They were rumours of the Queen’s marriage. Anjou’s wooing was a long business. It lasted over nine years. Elizabeth was just now revelling in rather a skittish mood in spite of the wild “bruits” about her health. It was said that she was threatened with epilepsy; at all events she could enjoy herself, and receive fantastic love letters, while she shortened the leash by which she held Mary, and docked her of any semblance of liberty. It did not seem to depress the Virgin Queen that her royal suitor was only twenty. She always pretended great coyness towards all gentlemen, and there is an odd touch in the way she scolded Gilbert Talbot for inadvertently gazing upon her in her early morning deshabille as she stood at a casement.
“On May Day I saw her Majesty, and it pleased her to speak to me very graciously. In the morning about eight o’clock I happened to walk in the Tiltyard, under the gallery where her Majesty used to stand to see the running at tilt; where by chance she was, and looking out of the window, my eye was full towards her, she showed to be greatly ashamed thereof, for that she was unready, and in her night stuff; so when she saw me after dinner, as she went to walk, she gave me a great fillip on the forehead, and told my Lord Chamberlain, who was the next to her, how I had seen her that morning, and how much ashamed she was. And, after, I presented unto her the remembrance of your Lordship’s and my Ladyship’s bounden duty and service; and said that you both thought yourselves most bounden to her for her most gracious dealing towards your daughter my Lady of Lennox; and that you assuredly trusted in the continuance of her favourable goodness to her and her daughter. And she answered that she always found you more thankful than she gave cause....”
That last sentence rings with ironical truth. As they read it Earl and Countess might well merge their differences and smile unanimously—a somewhat bitter smile!