“What is wrong with Margaret?” she demanded. “Please do not hide anything from me.”

The midwife looked over her shoulder and whispered: “Are we quite alone?”

“We are,” replied Mary.

“Margaret’s condition is excellent. She pretends it is not so in order to give me this opportunity of speaking to Your Majesty in private. The Earl of Northumberland sends me to tell you that he has a plan for your escape which cannot fail. He wants you to change places with me and walk out of the castle in my clothes.”

Mary’s eyes sparkled; then she said: “And what of you when it is known that you have allowed me to do this?”

The midwife turned pale at the thought but she said: “I would do it.”

Mary shook her head. It would be certain and most painful death for the woman; and not only death. They would doubtless torture her to discover who was behind the plan and, much as Mary longed to escape, she would not allow this woman to suffer on her account. Noblemen had suffered hideous deaths but there was even less respect shown to humbler persons.

“I thank you with all my heart,” said Mary. “But I could not leave you to suffer what I know must be your fate if you played such a role.”

“I would do it for the good of the Catholic Faith.”

“Nay,” said Mary. “And in any case we should not deceive them for a moment. See how much taller I am than you! The clothes you wear would never fit me. The impersonation would be seen through at once.”

The midwife answered: “I will tell my master what Your Majesty has said and doubtless he will think of some other plan.”

After that messages were carried between Mary and Northumberland by way of the midwife, and a few days later Mary heard that the Countess of Northumberland, who was visiting a friend close by Tutbury, would come in the guise of a midwife, change clothes with Mary, and remain behind to impersonate her while Mary escaped.

Mary need have no fear of this impersonation’s being discovered, for the Countess of Northumberland was of similar height to the Queen; and, dressed in midwife’s clothes, a hood doing much to conceal her face, Mary might pass through the guards without the deception being noticed.

Moreover the Queen should have no qualms about leaving the Countess behind because, being of high nobility, she would not be treated as a humble midwife would. There was another point: very soon the Earl intended to raise the Catholic standard, and in that case he would very quickly rescue his wife from any predicament in which she found herself.

Intrigue was necessary to Mary’s existence. Now life might be uncomfortable but at least it was not dull. She allowed herself to listen to these new plans.

Huntingdon however had noticed that the midwife seemed to spend more time alone with the Queen than with her patient, so one day he stopped the woman on her way out of the castle, and she was searched. Fortunately there were no letters in her possession; but she was severely questioned and Huntingdon was not satisfied with her replies.

He ordered that the midwife was to be examined both when she entered and left the castle; and he himself would be present at her conference on the health of Margaret Cawood with the Queen.

The plot to smuggle Mary out of Tutbury as a midwife was stillborn.

THE WINDS OF OCTOBER buffeted the walls of the castle and, even though the winter had not yet come, it was bitterly cold in the Queen’s apartments. Mary felt a return of all the rheumatic pains she had suffered during the previous winter, and she suddenly became so full of despair that she was stricken with sickness. Each morning she would awake to that nauseating odor to which she could never become accustomed. Seton had placed on the bed as many coverings as she could find, but still Mary shivered. She was feverish and shivering in turn, and her friends feared for her.

Bess made hot possets for her and undertook to help with her nursing. She gave brisk orders to Mary’s women which they obeyed because they realized the efficiency and skill of the Countess. Chafing against the presence of Huntingdon in her home, Bess had determined to become the friend of Mary, although she was still alert when her husband was in the presence of the Queen.

When Mary was able to leave her bed for a short while she occupied herself by writing pitiful appeals to Cecil and to Elizabeth.

“You have known what it is like to be in trouble,” wrote Mary to the Queen; “judge then from that what others suffer in like case.”

Bess also wrote to Elizabeth. She admitted her fault in taking her husband to Buxton without waiting for her consent. “But Your Majesty, I had to choose between your consent and the life of my husband. I found myself, as a wife, obliged to choose in favor of the latter; and knowing the good heart of my mistress, I was certain that she would understand and forgive me.”

Bess went on to remind Elizabeth that the Queen of Scots had suffered no harm when under their care and that it made her and the Earl unhappy to be forced to endure the presence of a stranger as head of their own household.

Elizabeth read these letters and was thoughtful.

Mary was ill and confined to her bed; the Shrewsburys would never dare disobey her again; she would play the lenient and forgiving sovereign.

BESS BURST INTO the Queen’s apartment.

“Good news!” she cried. “At last we shall call our home our own. The Queen orders Huntingdon to leave Tutbury.”

Mary raised herself from her pillows, and her pleasure was evident. No more wondering whether the food she ate had been spiced with poison; no more waking in the night wondering in terror whether that was a stealthy step she had heard outside her door.

With an impulsive gesture she stretched out her arms to Bess, and the two women embraced each other.

BESS WITH HER HUSBAND stood at the castle gates watching the departure of the Earl of Huntingdon.

“Now we are alone,” she cried, “I pray God that never again shall our privacy be so invaded. Come, let us go into the castle. I feel we should celebrate the end of Huntingdon’s rule. There shall be a banquet and the Queen shall be present.” She looked at the Earl slyly. “You will like that, eh?”

“I am not sure of the wisdom of it.”

“Come come,” laughed Bess. “She shall be seated on your right hand. But do not forget that I shall be watching you, so if you wish to tell her of your devotion you will have to do so in whispers.”

The Earl was about to protest but Bess was laughing loudly.

Into the kitchen she went and her voice could be heard throughout the castle issuing orders.

“Now come along, Peg. Look sharp, girl. There’s work to be done. Do not think that, because my lord Huntingdon has left us, there is naught for you to do but gape about you. Eleanor, you go to the kitchens. There’ll be work for you there. Go and tell the cooks I shall be with them shortly. I have orders to give them, now that my lord Huntingdon is no longer with us!”

Eleanor was aware of the Earl’s eyes upon her as she obeyed the instructions of the Countess. They spoke little to each other, yet he knew of her happiness in his recovery, and she was aware that he was deeply affected by her joy.

BESS GAZED CONTENTEDLY about her table. It was good to be mistress in her own house. She could feel proud of her achievement. She had had her way with Elizabeth and had been taken back into favor. Now she and George were in the same position as they had been in before the trip to Buxton. George’s health was wonderfully improved and he was almost himself again. She had been triumphantly proved right, and there was nothing Bess liked better.

The Queen of Scots was looking pale. Poor ineffectual creature! Bess could feel sorry for her and she could laugh inwardly at what she called George’s romantic attachment. She would see that it never became more than it was at present. George could go on admiring the captive Queen as long as he kept his distance.