When they were alone he came straight to the point.

“My name is Owen,” he said, “and I am a gentleman from the household of the Earl of Arundel.”

Lesley was excited. “You bring news from your master?”

“As you know, my master is in the Tower, but before he was taken he gave me instructions to call on you and lay this plan before you. He believes the Queen of Scots to be in great danger.”

“I fear that is so.”

“And that she should be removed from Tutbury Castle at no matter what cost. If she could be taken from her prison and brought to Arundel, she could embark there for France. Once there it would be easier for her friends to work on her behalf. But she should leave Tutbury as soon as possible.”

“I am in agreement with you,” said Lesley. “I like not the choice of her jailor.”

“You do well to doubt his designs. But there is this in our favor. The Earl and his Countess have no reason to love Huntingdon either, since he has been set up as a jailor over them as well as the Queen. It may well be that they would be ready to assist the Queen’s escape.”

“And risk their heads?”

“They are no longer in charge of her. Doubtless they would be pleased to see Huntingdon fail . . . where they did not . . . even though they left their captive for the Buxton baths.”

“I will write to the Queen with all speed and tell her of this plan.”

“Pray do so. It is what my master wishes.”

As soon as Owen had left, Lesley wrote a letter to Mary and sent a messenger off with it to Tutbury.

IT WAS NOT EASY NOW for Mary to receive correspondence from her friends, for Huntingdon was a sterner jailor than had so far been hers.

This meant that intrigue in Tutbury intensified, and as there hung over the Queen the perpetual fear that she was to be murdered, the days, being full of alarms, were certainly not dull.

Mary and her devoted friends were constantly alert for a look, a gesture from even a serving man or maid which could be significant.

The letter from Lesley had been smuggled in to her through the services of one of these. The messenger had arrived at Tutbury with letters for Mary which must pass through Huntingdon’s hands; but there was one which he carried secreted on his person, and this he kept back, seeking a moment when he could pass it to Seton. This was the letter in which Lesley told her of the plan to carry her off to Arundel.

When Mary had read the letter she passed it to Seton. Seton too was aware of a brooding warning within these walls. She often thought how easy it would be to slip a little poison into Mary’s food, to force her to one of the windows or the top of a staircase and throw her down. Since their return to Tutbury, she had been constantly on her guard, sleeping in Mary’s own bedchamber, starting at the smallest sound in the night; but even her strong nerves were giving way under the strain, and she would have been ready to risk a great deal to escape.

“What do you think, Seton?” asked Mary.

“I believe that it should be tried.”

“I would be ready to risk my life for escape from this place.”

Seton nodded. “Northumberland and Westmorland would be ready to come to your help. It has a good chance of success.”

“I am anxious about the noblemen of the North, Seton, because their aim is not only to win me back my Scottish crown but to set me on the throne of England.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to take first things first. Escape. That is what we desire. Let us have that and see where we go from there.”

“To France, it seems, Seton.”

“We were happy in France,” Seton reminded her.

Mary was thoughtful for a few seconds, then she said: “There is one other matter, Seton. What of Norfolk? He is in the Tower. If I escaped, Elizabeth would take her revenge on him and that could cost him his life. I do not think I could give my consent to this plan while Norfolk is in the Tower.”

Seton looked sadly at her mistress. She did not have the high opinion of Norfolk that Mary had, believing him to be selfish and avaricious. Seton often wondered whether, but for Norfolk, Mary might have escaped from her enemies by now.

“Let Norfolk take care of himself,” she said rashly. “Here is a chance to escape from this place.”

Mary was shocked. “You have forgotten, Seton, that he is my affianced husband.”

“He is in the Tower, but it may be that you are in greater danger.”

“But he might well be in great danger if I angered Elizabeth by escaping. There is only one thing to do. I will write to Norfolk.”

“It is dangerous to write, Your Majesty.”

“Nay. I write in cipher . . . a new one now that they have stolen the old. We have our friends here who smuggle out our letters, and friends in the Tower who smuggle them in. Who would guess that corks of ale bottles which are taken into the Duke’s cell contain my letters! We are well served, Seton.”

Seton saw that it was no use warning the Queen against Norfolk. She, who had always been so trusting, so generous, persisted in endowing others with the same qualities.

NORFOLK’S REPLY was almost frantic. She must not listen to these wild plans for her escape. She must stay where she was. He believed that those friends whom she was prepared to trust might well, in spite of their promises, desert her if they should find themselves in danger. It would be folly for him to try to leave his prison, for if he were caught in the attempt he would surely lose his head; whereas at the moment, since he had committed no crime, he was in little danger. But if she were to escape, she could be sure that Elizabeth would take revenge on him.

When Seton read this letter she felt a dull anger within her, being certain that Norfolk was serving his own cause rather than the Queen’s. “It would seem that we are working for the good of my lord Norfolk rather than the Queen of Scots,” she said bitterly.

“Our causes are one,” Mary replied. “I should never forgive myself if he suffered through my actions.”

“Let us hope,” retorted Seton, “that he would feel the same if harm came to you through any of his.”

“I am sure he shares my feelings,” was Mary’s reply. “Do not forget that he is my affianced husband.”

So, mourned Seton, there was another opportunity lost for bringing the Queen out of her doleful prison.

WHEN MARY’S DESPAIR threatened to become intolerable she would give her attention to the care of others; and one person in her retinue who needed care at this time was Margaret Cawood, who was expecting to give birth to a child.

Margaret was not so rigorously confined as Mary was, yet the Queen did not believe the air of Tutbury was good for anyone; and she made sure that Margaret was lodged as far from the obnoxious privies as possible and that she took regular exercise.

She asked Huntingdon—who carefully watched all comings and goings to and from the castle—if he would permit a midwife to attend Margaret. Anxious to assure the Queen that he was eager to help her as far as he could, Huntingdon agreed, and a midwife was found who paid regular visits.

One day Margaret was discovered in a faint, and when the news was brought to Mary she sent at once for the midwife, who on arriving examined Margaret, soothingly assured her that all was well and made her lie down.

When she left Margaret apparently sleeping, she asked if she might speak in private to the Queen as she was anxious about the condition of her patient. She wished to speak to the Queen alone because she did not want whispers of what she was about to say to reach Margaret’s ear, for as would readily be understood, it was necessary at this stage for her to have no worries about herself.

Mary, always anxious for the welfare of her servants, had the midwife brought to her presence immediately.