‘We shall have to take good care. My dear, how soon?’

‘It should be in February …’

‘A long time yet. They are right, you know, about your travelling. We shall have to see that you leave in good time. We must take great care.’

‘I am going to take great care, dear Mother, that when the time comes for us to go it will be too late for me to travel. You will help me, won’t you? This is our secret … as yet. Tell no one … but my father. He may know. Let it be our secret. Then when it is too late … we shall tell.’

‘My dear child, what a schemer you are!’

‘If you knew how I longed to be with you. I will not have my visit cut short. I am going to make it as long as I can. Please, dearest Mother, help me.’ Eleanor took her daughter into her arms and laughed.

They clung together until Margaret was almost hysterical with laughter.

Then Eleanor said: ‘We will tell the King. It will amuse him. He has had much of late to frustrate him. Let us tell him something to make him laugh.’

Together they went to the King’s chamber. The Queen signed to him that she wished to speak to him alone and he dismissed everyone. When the three of them were alone together Eleanor said: ‘Shall you tell him or shall I?’

They began to laugh and Henry looked from one to the other in a state of happy bewilderment.

‘Please, my darlings, may I share the joke?’

‘Go along. Margaret, you tell him.’

‘Please, my lady, I had rather you did.’

‘Margaret is with child. It is a secret between us three. The Scots do not know. Nor does she wish them to. She feared they would stop her coming and that she could not endure. She is going to keep the secret and only when it would be unsafe for her to travel back shall it be known.’

The King smiled slowly. Then he too was laughing.

How happy he was. While he had this dear family he could not be seriously disturbed by the troublemakers in his realm.

All would come right. In the meantime there was this delicious secret – shared by the three of them.

It was such a joy to be in England. Wherever the Court was there were Margaret and Alexander.

‘How good it is for the relationship between our two countries,’ said Margaret.

Alexander agreed on this and he had to admit that they could not have been made more welcome.

‘We shall have to think of returning soon,’ he said.

‘We must not leave too soon. That would offend my father,’ Margaret pointed out.

‘Perhaps then we should stay a little longer.’

When she sensed that he was about to broach the matter again she told him she was feeling a little unwell and her mother wished her to see the royal physician.

When she had done this her parents summoned Alexander to her bedchamber and there they played out the little farce which they had arranged between them.

The Queen said: ‘Margaret is with child, Alexander. It is one of those unusual pregnancies. It is only just apparent. It seems that the child is due in February and in view of this the doctors feel that it would be unwise for her to travel.’

Alexander was taken aback.

‘Naturally,’ said the King, ‘this has been a great surprise to you, but an agreeable one, I am sure. The doctors have told us that Margaret will be perfectly all right if great care is taken. I would wish my physicians to care for her. Her mother will not hear that she leaves.’

Alexander, still bewildered, said: ‘It is the custom for the heir to the throne to be born in Scotland.’

‘Of course, of course … but better for the heir to be born in England than no heir at all … and perhaps danger to the mother, who is my daughter.’

Alexander must agree with this. He embraced Margaret and told her how happy he was that at last they were to have a child. He was uncertain about staying in England, though.

Henry laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do not fret, my son,’ he said. ‘Leave this to the Queen and myself.’

Alexander realised at length that there was nothing else he could do; and in due course he returned to Scotland leaving his wife in her mother’s care.

They were very happy months. There was Christmas at Windsor. What fun they had, for Eleanor said this must be a very special Christmas, since they had the Queen of Scotland with them.

They were together all the time and Eleanor constantly congratulated Margaret on her clever manoeuvre. She certainly had showed herself to be a true daughter of her mother.

Messages came from Alexander. There was great anger and resentment in Edinburgh, he said. It was even hinted that the Queen must have known of her condition before she left and it was suggested that she had deliberately concealed it.

Margaret showed her mother this letter and they laughed together. ‘They are not entirely foolish then,’ said Eleanor. ‘But what matters it? Let them think what they will. All that matters is that your child will be born here and I shall be at hand to make sure all is well.’

‘There could not be a greater comfort in the world,’ said Margaret.

On a snowy February day in Windsor Castle Margaret gave birth to her first child. It was a girl and she was called Margaret after her mother.

There was great satisfaction and rejoicing through the castle.

‘You cannot make the journey back until the late spring or summer,’ said the Queen. ‘Your father would never allow it.’

And Margaret settled down to make the most of the time.

THE PASSING OF A DREAM

Margaret had returned to Scotland. It had been heart-rending to say farewell to her and the Queen was plunged into deeper melancholy when messengers came to her from Berkhamsted to tell her that her sister Sanchia was ill and asking for her.

Eleanor left with all speed and when, arriving at the castle she was taken immediately to her sister, she was shocked by the sight of her. Sanchia had not been in good health for some time but she had not expected to see her so obviously ill.

‘Thank God you sent for me,’ she said. ‘You should have done so before.’

‘I would have done so, but I knew you had much to occupy you. I would not have asked you to come now but I feared if I did not I might never see you again.’

‘What nonsense. You are soon going to get well. I shall see that you do.’

‘The Queen commands,’ said Sanchia with a smile.

‘’Tis so. What ails you?’

Sanchia touched her chest. ‘It is difficult to breathe … often.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh some time … but it is worse now.’

‘Does Richard know?’

‘Oh, Richard has much with which to occupy him.’

‘His wife’s health should be the first of his concerns.’

‘We are not all as fortunate as you, Eleanor. Ah, how lucky you have always been. You had the perfect marriage, the perfect husband, the perfect children …’

‘Oh come. You were happy with Richard.’

‘Richard is not Henry, Eleanor. I don’t think he was meant to be a husband. Henry was, of course. That is why he is the perfect one.’

‘You sound bitter. Tell me, has Richard been unkind to you?’

‘No … not that. Neglectful, yes. He has had so much to occupy him. He is a King now.’

‘And has made you a Queen.’

‘Perhaps the title does not mean so much to me. I should have liked a husband who loved me as Henry loves you. You found that – and a crown as well.’

‘Oh, Henry is a good husband and I have the children. But you have your son, Sanchia.’

‘Yes, I have my son. He is a good boy … ten years old. But no one means as much to Richard as his son Henry. Edmund knows this. Richard is rarely with us you know.’