AT THE QUEEN'S COMMAND
But neither Greville's obsequious homage, nor Lord and Lady Stafford's
apologies could regain the goodwill of the queen. Seeing her state of
mind Lord Stafford advised that Francis should retain her chamber during
the rest of Elizabeth's visit.
For the three days that the queen remained at the Hall her demeanor was
such as to fill its master with a vague uneasiness. Lady Stafford she
hardly tolerated, and though Lord Stafford lavished gifts upon her, yet
she refused to be propitiated.
"Surely," Francis heard her father say to her mother, "the remark of a
child would not suffice for such behavior? Elizabeth is vain beyond most
women, yet 'twere doing her an injustice to deem her capable of
resentment for so slight a thing. Can she have learned of Ballard's
presence in England? Of our visit to Chartley? And yet none save we
three knew whither we went. And you would be discreet, I trow. Francis,
young as she is, would reveal naught that would do me harm. She is too
straightforward, too truthful,"--he stopped with a light laugh and kissed
his wife. "What spirit the girl had to tell the queen that thou wert
fairer," he said. "Thou art so in truth, Penelope, yet for my life I
durst not tell it to Elizabeth."
"Nay; I would not have thee to, my lord. Say that Elizabeth is the
loveliest, the fairest of womankind, I care not so that I may keep thee
with me. But our child, my lord! I fear for that very directness which
thou dost commend. A weaker spirit would be more politic. I would not
that she be less truthful, but I wish, I wish----"
"Nay, sweetheart, wish not that she be other than she is. I would not
have her fawning upon the queen as do the maids of the court. Dost mark
what words of flattery they utter and yet with what ridicule they speak
of her to each other when they think that there is none to hear? I would
not that Francis should be as they are."
"Nor I," acquiesced the mother. "Yet sometimes truth doth not meet with
the merit it deserves."
"True; but let us think not on that, but be grateful that our child is as
she is."
Francis' heart glowed with love and tenderness toward her parents, and
she was grieved that words of hers had brought such disquiet upon them.
"I must try," she mused, "to retain my truth and yet not offend by it.
But how could I have said other than I did? My mother is fairer to me.
There was but the one answer to be given to such a question."
Over and over she turned the matter in her mind striving to reconcile
policy with truthfulness. A problem which has vexed the souls of men
since the beginning of time.
At last the queen took her departure. As she bade her host and hostess
farewell, she said:
"Madam, I thank you for your entertainment. My lord, though thou bearest
me no good will, yet shalt thou find that Elizabeth doth not forget that
thy father was the friend of her father. 'Tis pity that more attention
hath not been given to thy son's manners, but the fault shall be
amended, I promise you. England surely hath schools for its youth that
are equal to those of thy faith abroad."
"Madam, what mean you?" asked the nobleman detecting the menace in her
words.
"We shall see what we shall see," was the queen's enigmatical rejoinder.
She swept to her chariot, and with her brilliant train, soon left
Stafford Hall behind.
As the days glided by, and no sign or message came from her, the anxiety
engendered by her last words faded away, and once more a feeling of
security crept into their hearts. This false confidence was dispelled
however one warm day in July when a messenger from the queen rode into
the courtyard, and demanded an audience with the master of the Hall. The
guest had been but a short time in the presence chamber when Lord
Stafford emerged from the apartment with pale face.
"Bid my lady and my daughter repair hither without delay," he cried
hailing a servitor.
"But, my lord," Francis heard him say as they hastened to the room in
answer to the summons, "I do but speak the truth when I declare that, as
I live by bread, I have no son. I have but one child, and that a
daughter. She is here to speak for herself."
"What is it, father?" asked Francis going to him, while Lord Shrope, the
queen's messenger, looked his bewilderment.
"The queen hath commanded that my son, Francis Stafford, shall accompany
my Lord Shrope to the court to become one of her pensioners. He doubts my
word when I say that I have no son."
"Nay, my lord; I must believe you if you say that you have none," said
the nobleman courteously. "But there is misapprehension somewhere. If I
do not misreckon foully the queen spoke of both seeing and speaking with
him during her progress hither. There is grave misunderstanding, I
fear."
"Alas! my lord, this comes of deception," Lord Stafford despairing cried.
"Let me unfold to thee all that chanced during Her Majesty's stay, and do
you advise me what course to pursue for I am nigh bereft of wit."
"Let me hear all, Stafford," returned the other. "Thou knowest that I
bear a heart well disposed toward thee, and will gladly do aught that
will aid thee. Full well do I remember how thou and I did consort
together at the court, and there hath been none to take thy place since
thou didst go into retirement upon thy marriage. Therefore, say on."
"I thank thee that thou hast spoken so favorably and kindly of the
friendship that once held between us," replied Lord Stafford. "Albeit, I
would not curry favor with thee because of it. But to the matter in hand.
Know then that when the Queen's Majesty was about to come hither, and we
were preparing for her reception, Hugh Greville, my daughter's tutor and
my kinsman, did lament that I had no son to speak the welcome to
Elizabeth. In an idle moment, I unwittingly consented that Francis should
don the habit of a page and deliver the speech not thinking that the
queen would do more than to listen to it. But she was drawn to the girl
and spoke words of approbation to her, enquiring her name. 'Francis,' she
observed as the child gave it her, 'ah! well do I ken, my lord, that that
was your father's name.' Then as she moved on she asked if I had other
children. To which I answered, 'No.' Methought that that would end the
matter, but mark you! She bade my supposed son to attend her in her
chamber; and then, thou knowest the tenor of the court talk, she asked if
she did not deem her mother fairer than she, the queen, was. My daughter,
Shrope, knows naught but to speak the truth. She is a maiden of tender
years, simply brought up, and as wild and free as the linnet that sings
upon yon bough. She spoke the truth when she answered that to her, her
mother was the fairest woman that lived. Elizabeth spurned her from her
presence, and conveyed threat as to the manners of my son when she left
the hall. 'Ods life, my lord! to what pass hath England come when
children must be taught to dissemble and fawn else they be subjected to
discipline by the queen? Had she not enough courtiers to hail her as
'Diana,' and 'The Miracle of Time,' and other things of like ilk that she
must needs try to subvert my child from truth? Gramercy! I am ready at
this moment to enter the tilt-yard to defend the girl's saying against
all comers. Her mother is the fairest lady that ere the sun shone on.
I----"
"Hold, Stafford, thou ravest! Be not so heated in thy words. Give pause
while I think on what thou hast told me."
Lord Stafford tried to subdue his feelings while the other sat in
thought. Presently Lord Shrope looked up.
"Stafford, for the sake of that old friendship to which I have before
referred, bear with me for what I am about to say. Rumor hath whispered
that thou hast given entertainment to Jesuits which, as thou knowest, is
felony. Nay;" as Lord Stafford was about to speak, "I would not ask thee
if it be true or no. But for that cause do I say, let the girl assume
once more her male attire and go with me to the court. Elizabeth likes
not to be made the victim of a hoax, but there are times when none enjoys
a jest more than she. When the time is propitious, I and other of thy
friends, will disclose the matter to the queen. Believe me when I say
that it will be best so."
"Let Francis go from me to that court?" cried the father in agonized
tones. "I cannot! I will not! She shall not stir from here! I will go to
the queen and lay the whole affair before her."
"Do not so, my lord. There are those who have the queen's ear who have
whispered against thee. Stafford Hall hath broad lands in its demesne,
and covetous eyes have been cast upon it. 'Twould be a choice morsel for
some favorite. 'Twould not be wise for thee to appear at court just
now."
"Father," said Francis, "why should I not do as thy friend advises? I
would not that aught of harm should come to thee, and surely none can
come to me? Let me go. It will be but a short time until my return,
because I feel certain that when the queen learns that there was naught
of intent to deceive she will pardon all. Once, my father, thou didst say
that she was a queen but still a woman. A woman, my father, with a
woman's heart and a woman's compassion."
"A woman, yes; with a woman's vanity, and a woman's spite," broke from
Lord Stafford.
"Stafford, Stafford, it is well for thee that none other hears thee. Thy
daughter hath well said that Elizabeth is a woman. Lion-hearted as well
becomes a Tudor, but properly appealed to, sympathetic and generous. Be
guided in this by me, my lord, and let her go."
"Yes, my father," pleaded Francis.
"It shall be as her mother says," said Lord Stafford turning to his wife
who had stood as if stricken since hearing the advice of Lord Shrope.
"Speak, my wife. Shall we keep our daughter, and defy Elizabeth----"
"Oh, no, no!" sobbed Lady Stafford. "I am loath to let her go, and yet I
would not have her stay if by so doing we shall seem to defy the queen.
My lord, surely harm could not come to the child, while for thee, I fear,
I fear."
"Then I may go." Francis sprang to her mother and embraced her. "Oh, 'tis
only for my father that we need to fear. Naught of harm will I come to."
"Upon mine honor, Stafford," said Lord Shrope going to Lord Stafford who
had bowed his head upon his hands, "even as I have two lady birds of
daughters of mine own, so will I look after thine. Take heart, old
friend. I believe that all will be well else I would not advise this
step. Courage!"