Chapter Four

It was now November, over a year since Bothwell had brought the Queen the sad news, and she was still recovering from the shock of the deaths of both her mother and father in law. At times, she seemed well, but there was a melancholy air about her that I had not seen before.

“I have not seen you smile for some time, my lady,” I remarked, as we sat by the fire one afternoon in November. Night was already starting to fall, and one of the servants had already lit the beeswax candles. We had been embroidering, but the light was now poor, so the Queen, myself and the other Maries had been making our usual conversation about the latest fashions, when I chanced to make a remark about the Queen’s demeanour. She looked up and smiled wanly.

“Do not worry...

Please subscribe to keep reading.