Her Royal Highness





Cicely had been living in almost as much suspense in London as her

mother at Fotheringhay. For greater security Mr. Talbot had kept her

on board the Mastiff till he had seen M. d'Aubepine Chateauneuf, and

presented to him Queen Mary's letter. The Ambassador, an exceedingly

polished and graceful Frenchman, was greatly astonished, and at first

incredulous; but he could not but accept the Queen's letter as genuine,

and he called into his counsels his Secretary De Salmonnet, an elderly

man, whose wife, a Scotswoman by birth, preferred her husband's society

to the delights of Paris. She was a Hamilton who had been a

pensionnaire in the convent at Soissons, and she knew that it had been

expected that an infant from Lochleven might be sent to the Abbess, but

that it had never come, and that after many months of waiting, tidings

had arrived that the vessel which carried the babe had been lost at sea.



M. de Chateauneuf thereupon committed the investigation to her and her

husband. Richard Talbot took them first to the rooms where Mrs.

Barbara Curll had taken up her abode, so as to be near her husband, who

was still a prisoner in Walsingham's house. She fully confirmed all

that Mr. Talbot said of the Queen's complete acceptance of Cis as her

daughter, and moreover consented to come with the Salmonnets and Mr.

Talbot, to visit the young lady on board the Mastiff.



Accordingly they went down the river together in Mr. Talbot's boat, and

found Cicely, well cloaked and muffled, sitting under an awning, under

the care of old Goatley, who treated her like a little queen, and was

busy explaining to her all the different craft which filled the river.



She sprang up with the utmost delight at the sight of Mrs. Curll, and

threw herself into her arms. There was an interchange of inquiries and

comments that--unpremeditated as they were--could not but convince the

auditor of the terms on which the young lady had stood with Queen Mary

and her suite.



Afterwards Cicely took the two ladies to her cabin, a tiny box, but not

uncomfortable according to her habits, and there, on Barbara's

persuasion, she permitted Madame de Salmonnet to see the monograms on

her shoulders. The lady went home convinced of her identity, and came

again the next day with a gentleman in slouched hat, mask, and cloak.



As Cicely rose to receive him he uttered an exclamation of

irrepressible astonishment, then added, "Your Highness will pardon me.

Exactly thus did her royal mother stand when I took leave of her at

Calais."



The Ambassador had thus been taken by storm, although the resemblance

was more in figure and gesture than feature, but Mrs. Curll could aver

that those who had seen Bothwell were at no loss to trace the

derivation of the dark brows and somewhat homely features, in which the

girl differed from the royal race of Scotland.



What was to be done? Queen Mary's letter to him begged him so far as

was possible to give her French protection, and avoid compromising

"that excellent Talbot," and he thought it would be wisest for her to

await the coming of the Envoy Extraordinary, M. de Pomponne Bellievre,

and be presented by him. In the meantime her remaining on board ship

in this winter weather would be miserably uncomfortable, and Richmond

and Greenwich were so near that any intercourse with her would be

dangerous, especially if Langston was still in England. Lodgings or

inns where a young lady from the country could safely be bestowed were

not easily to be procured without greater familiarity with the place

than Mr. Talbot possessed, and he could as little think of placing her

with Lady Talbot, whose gossiping tongue and shrewish temper were not

for a moment to be trusted. Therefore M de Chateauneuf's proposal that

the young lady should become Madame de Salmonnet's guest at the embassy

was not unwelcome. The lady was elderly, Scottish, and, as M. de

Chateauneuf with something of a shudder assured Mr. Talbot, "most

respectable." And it was hoped that it would not be for long. So,

having seen her safely made over to the lady's care, Richard ventured

for the first time to make his presence in London known to his son, and

to his kindred; and he was the more glad to have her in these quarters

because Diccon told him that there was no doubt that Langston was

lurking about the town, and indeed he was convinced that he had

recognised that spy entering Walsingham's house in the dress of a

scrivener. He would not alarm Cicely, but he bade her keep all her

goods in a state ready for immediate departure, in case it should be

needful to leave London at once after seeing the Queen.



The French Ambassador's abode was an old conventual building on the

river-side, consisting of a number of sets of separate chambers, like

those of a college, opening on a quadrangle in the centre, and with one

side occupied by the state apartments and chapel. This arrangement

eminently suited the French suite, every one of whom liked to have his

own little arrangements of cookery, and to look after his own marmite

in his own way, all being alike horrified at the gross English diet and

lack of vegetables. Many tried experiments in the way of growing

salads in little gardens of their own, with little heed to the once

beautiful green grass-plot which they broke up.



Inside that gate it was like a new country, and as all the shrill thin

intonations of the French rang in her ears, Cicely could hardly believe

that she had--she said--only a brick wall between her and old England.



M. de Salmonnet was unmistakably a Scot by descent, though he had never

seen the land of his ancestors. His grandfather bad been ennobled, but

only belonged to the lesser order of the noblesse, being exempted from

imposts, but not being above employment, especially in diplomacy. He

had acted as secretary, interpreter, and general factotum, to a whole

succession of ambassadors, and thus his little loge, as he called it,

had become something of a home. His wife had once or twice before had

to take charge of young ladies, French or English, who were confided to

the embassy, and she had a guest chamber for them, a small room, but

with an oriel window overhanging the Thames and letting in the southern

sun, so as almost to compensate for the bareness of the rest, where

there was nothing but a square box-bed, a chest, and a few toilette

essentials, to break upon the dulness of the dark wainscoted walls.

Madame herself came to sleep with her guest, for lonely nights were

regarded with dread in those times, and indeed she seemed to regard it

as her duty never to lose sight of her charge for a moment.



Madame de Salmonnet's proper bed-chamber was the only approach to this

little room, but that mattered the less as it was also the parlour!

The bed, likewise a box, was in the far-off recesses, and the family

were up and astir long before the November sun. Dressed Madame could

scarcely be called--the costume in which she assisted Babette and queer

wizened old Pierrot in doing the morning's work, horrified Cicely, used

as she was to Mistress Susan's scrupulous neatness. Downstairs there

was a sort of office room of Monsieur's, where the family meals were

taken, and behind it an exceedingly small kitchen, where Madame and

Pierrot performed marvels of cookery, surpassing those of Queen Mary's

five cooks.



Cicely longed to assist in them, and after a slight demur, she was

permitted to do so, chiefly because her duenna could not otherwise

watch her and the confections at the same time. Cis could never make

out whether it was as princess or simply as maiden that she was so

closely watched, for Madame bristled and swelled like a mother cat

about to spring at a strange dog, if any gentleman of the suite showed

symptoms of accosting her. Nay, when Mr. Talbot once brought Diccon in

with him, and there was a greeting, which to Cicely's mind was dismally

cold and dry, the lady was so scandalised that Cicely was obliged

formally to tell her that she would answer for it to the Queen. On

Sunday, Mr. Talbot always came to take her to church, and this was a

terrible grievance to Madame, though it was to Cicely the one

refreshment of the week. If it had been only the being out of hearing

of her hostess's incessant tongue, the walk would have been a

refreshment. Madame de Salmonnet had been transported from home so

young that she was far more French than Scottish; she was a small woman

full of activity and zeal of all kinds, though perhaps most of all for

her pot au feu. She was busied about her domestic affairs morning,

noon, and night, and never ceased chattering the whole time, till

Cicely began to regard the sound like the clack of the mill at

Bridgefield. Yet, talker as she was, she was a safe woman, and never

had been known to betray secrets. Indeed, much more of her

conversation consisted of speculations on the tenderness of the

poultry, or the freshness of the fish, than of anything that went much

deeper. She did, however, spend much time in describing the habits and

customs of the pensioners at Soissons; the maigre food they had to eat;

their tricks upon the elder and graver nuns, and a good deal besides

that was amusing at first, but which became rather wearisome, and made

Cicely wonder what either of her mothers would have thought of it.



The excuse for all this was to enable the maiden to make her appearance

before Queen Elizabeth as freshly brought from Soissons by her mother's

danger. Mary herself had suggested this, as removing all danger from

the Talbots, and as making it easier for the French Embassy to claim

and protect Cis herself; and M. de Chateauneuf had so far acquiesced as

to desire Madame de Salmonnet to see whether the young lady could be

prepared to assume the character before eyes that would not be over

qualified to judge. Cis, however, had always been passive when the

proposal was made, and the more she heard from Madame de Salmonnet, the

more averse she was to it. The only consideration that seemed to her

in its favour was the avoidance of implicating her foster-father, but a

Sunday morning spent with him removed the scruple.



"I know I cannot feign," she said. "They all used to laugh at me at

Chartley for being too much of the downright mastiff to act a part."



"I am right glad to hear it," said Richard.



"Moreover," added Cicely, "if I did try to turn my words with the

Scottish or French ring, I wot that the sight of the Queen's Majesty

and my anxiety would drive out from me all I should strive to remember,

and I should falter and utter mere folly; and if she saw I was

deceiving her, there would be no hope at all. Nay, how could I ask God

Almighty to bless my doing with a lie in my mouth?"



"There spake my Susan's own maid," said Richard. "'Tis the joy of my

heart that they have not been able to teach thee to lie with a good

grace. Trust my word, my wench, truth is the only wisdom, and one

would have thought they might have learnt it by this time."



"I only doubted, lest it should be to your damage, dear father. Can

they call it treason?"



"I trow not, my child. The worst that could hap would be that I might

be lodged in prison a while, or have to pay a fine; and liefer, far

liefer, would I undergo the like than that those lips of thine should

learn guile. I say not that there is safety for any of us, least of

all for thee, my poor maid, but the danger is tenfold increased by

trying to deceive; and, moreover, it cannot be met with a good

conscience."



"Moreover," said Cicely, "I have pleadings and promises to make on my

mother-queen's behalf that would come strangely amiss if I had to feign

that I had never seen her! May I not seek the Queen at once, without

waiting for this French gentleman? Then would this weary, weary time

be at an end! Each time I hear a bell, or a cannon shot, I start and

think, Oh! has she signed the warrant? Is it too late?"



"There is no fear of that," said Richard; "I shall know from Will

Cavendish the instant aught is done, and through Diccon I could get

thee brought to the Queen's very chamber in time to plead. Meantime,

the Queen is in many minds. She cannot bear to give up her kinswoman;

she sits apart and mutters, 'Aut fer aut feri,' and 'Ne feriare feri.'

Her ladies say she tosses and sighs all night, and hath once or twice

awoke shrieking that she was covered with blood. It is Burghley and

Walsingham who are forcing this on, and not her free will. Strengthen

but her better will, and let her feel herself secure, and she will

spare, and gladly."



"That do I hope to do," said Cicely, encouraged. The poor girl had to

endure many a vicissitude and heart-sinking before M. de Bellievre

appeared; and when he did come, he was a disappointment.



He was a most magnificent specimen of the mignons of Henri's court. The

Embassy rang with stories of the number of mails he had brought, of the

milk baths he sent for, the gloves he slept in, the valets who tweaked

out superfluous hairs from his eyebrows, the delicacies required for

his little dogs.



M. de Salmonnet reported that on hearing the story of "Mademoiselle,"

as Cicely was called in the Embassy, he had twirled the waxed ends of

his moustaches into a satirical twist, and observed, "That is well

found, and may serve as a last resource."



He never would say that he disbelieved what he was told of her; and

when presented to her, he behaved with an exaggerated deference which

angered her intensely, for it seemed to her mockery of her pretensions.

No doubt his desire was that Mary's life should be granted to the

intercession of his king rather than to any other consideration; and

therefore once, twice, thrice, he had interviews with Elizabeth, and

still he would not take the anxious suppliant, who was in an agony at

each disappointment, as she watched the gay barge float down the river,

and who began to devise setting forth alone, to seek the Queen at

Richmond and end it all! She would have done so, but that Diccon told

her that since the alarm caused by Barnwell, it had become so much more

difficult to approach the Queen that she would have no hope.



But she was in a restless state that made Madame de Salmonnet's chatter

almost distracting, when at last, far on in January, M. de Salmonnet

came in.



"Well, mademoiselle, the moment is come. The passports are granted,

but Monsieur the Ambassador Extraordinary has asked for a last private

audience, and he prays your Highness to be ready to accompany him at

nine of the clock to-morrow morning."



Cicely's first thought was to send tidings to Mr. Talbot, and in this

M. de Salmonnet assisted her, though his wife thought it very

superfluous to drag in the great, dull, heavy, English sailor. The

girl longed for a sight and speech of him all that evening in vain,

though she was sure she saw the Mastiff's boat pass down the river, and

most earnestly did she wish she could have had her chamber to herself

for the prayers and preparations, on which Madame's tongue broke so

intolerably that she felt as if she should ere long be wild and

senseless, and unable to recollect anything.



She had only a little peace when Madame rose early in the morning and

left her, thinking her asleep, for a brief interval, which gave her

time to rally her thoughts and commend herself to her only Guide.



She let Madame dress her, as had been determined, in perfectly plain

black, with a cap that would have suited "a novice out of convent

shade." It was certainly the most suitable garb for a petitioner for

her mother's life. In her hand she took the Queen's letter, and the

most essential proofs of her birth. She was cloaked and hooded over

all as warmly as possible to encounter the cold of the river: and

Madame de Salmonnet, sighing deeply at the cold, arranged herself to

chaperon her, and tried to make her fortify herself with food, but she

was too tremulous to swallow anything but a little bread and wine.

Poor child! She felt frightfully alone amongst all those foreign

tongues, above all when the two ambassadors crossed the court to M. de

Salmonnet's little door. Bellievre, rolled up in splendid sables from

head to foot, bowed down to the ground before her, almost sweeping the

pavement with his plume, and asked in his deferential voice of mockery

if her Royal Highness would do him the honour of accepting his escort.



Cicely bent her head and said in French, "I thank you, sir," giving him

her hand; and there was a grave dignity in the action that repressed

him, so that he did not speak again as he led her to the barge, which

was covered in at the stern so as to afford a shelter from the wind.



Her quick eye detected the Mastiff's boat as she was handed down the

stairs, and this was some relief, while she was placed in the seat of

honour, with an ambassador on each side of her.



"May I ask," demanded Bellievre, waving a scented handkerchief, "what

her Highness is prepared to say, in case I have to confirm it?"



"I thank your Excellency," replied Cicely, "but I mean to tell the

simple truth; and as your Excellency has had no previous knowledge of

me, I do not see how you can confirm it."



The two gentlemen looked at one another, and Chateauneuf said, "Do I

understand her Royal Highness that she does not come as the

pensionnaire from Soissons, as the Queen had recommended?"



"No, sir," said Cicely; "I have considered the matter, and I could not

support the character. All that I ask of your Excellencies is to bring

me into the presence of Queen Elizabeth. I will do the rest myself,

with the help of God."



"Perhaps she is right," said the one ambassador to the other. "These

English are incomprehensible!"





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