The Thistle and the Rose by Jean Plaidy

meet the children of… harlots.”
    James looked puzzled. “What mean you?”
    “Margaret Stuart for one… and I know there are others who might try to force themselves into his company.”
    James's face was a dull red; for the first time in her life Margaret saw that he was angry.
    “Do not dare to say that again,” he said. “The Lady Margaret Stuart's mother was a great lady. She was possessed of many qualities which are lacking in the daughters of kings.”
    Then he left her.
    Margaret went into her bedchamber and threw herself onto her bed where she wept violently, for her emotions were invariably violent.
    Her fit of sobbing did not last long; she roused herself and tried to remove the stains of weeping. Tears were futile; one day she would have her own way, but first she must learn how.
    When next she was in the company of her husband, Margaret behaved as though the scene had not taken place. James was relieved and ready to meet her more than halfway. He reminded himself again and again that she was but a child and he expected too much of her.
    He gave her more presents; rich damasks and velvets to make the clothes with which she enjoyed adorning her person—and the result was enchanting, he had to admit. He should congratulate himself on his good luck, for he had a beautiful young wife who was overflowing with love for him while so many kings had to marry plain and even deformed women for the sake of their kingdoms. He merely had to remind himself that she was a self-willed child and that he was some seventeen years older than she was, which should make him tolerant.
    So those celebrations were particularly gay, James playing the clavichord with his wife and singing with her as they played their lutes. They led the dancing together; they laughed uproariously over English Cuddy's play; and when at last they retired they made passionate love; and Margaret was so happy that she forgot to be jealous of those children.
    Wait, she told herself. Surely soon I shall be pregnant. Then I shall not care how many illegitimate children he may have had in the past.
    There was no reason why the fun should not continue. English Cuddy and Scotch Dog (a certain James Dog whose talents were similar to Cuddy's) put their heads together and devised more original and brilliant entertainments.
    It was during one of these days when entertainment followed entertainment that a messenger arrived at the Palace and asked to be taken to the King.
    The man was brought to James when he was playing the lute to the Queen, and seeing how travel-stained and agitated the messenger was, James immediately laid aside his lute. One of his most endearing characteristics was his immediate sympathy with any in distress, however humble they were, and his concern to do all in his power to help them. It was this quality which had made him the most popular of the Stuart Kings.
    He therefore made the man sit in his presence, and sent for wine to refresh him.
    “And while it is being brought, tell me what brings you here.”
    “I come from Darnaway, Sire,” said the messenger. “My mistress, the Lady Bothwell, commanded me to come and tell you that she is sick unto death and begs that you visit her on her death bed.”
    James gasped with dismay. The Lady Bothwell was his fiery Janet Kennedy on whom the Bothwell estate had been bestowed in exchange for all the lands her lover Angus had given her. Janet… who had been so vital… sick unto death! It was unthinkable, and what of little James, their son?
    “I shall go to her without delay,” said the King.
    Margaret had risen and stood beside him. She laid her hand on his arm.
    “Who is this Lady Bothwell?” she asked. “And why should she send for you in this way…as though she were a queen and you her subject?”
    James looked at her coldly and said: “She may be dying.”
    Then he turned and strode from the apartment.

    Margaret had to shake the woman to get the truth from her. The foolish creature