If the situation weren’t so dire and soul crushing, she might have reveled in her former lover’s bad temper; the wretched man could have halted all this with a wave of his hand. Saints alive, she could think of several fair ladies who would happily leave the Highlands for an English title. Not to mention Lachlan’s long and loyal service to the crown. But instead, James had indulged his queen in her fit of spite, and she did not admire him for it.
Janet took a sip of wine just for something to do. She hadn’t slept in days but tossed and turned in worry for Marjorie and Lachlan. The devil-spawned guards had prevented her from seeing either, and her frustration and fury knew no bounds. Were they well? Had they been mistreated? The two lawyers from Stirling who had traveled ahead of the royal procession were about as distant from the learned, just, and delightfully irritable Master Shaw as it were possible to be. They cared less for the law and more for gaining favor with the queen. Which made them both dangerous indeed.
“Beg pardon,” said another servant, a rotund young man who looked miserable rather than awed at being in the presence of the royal couple. “But His Grace has requested the hall be turned into a…ah…court. For the trial of Lady Marjorie and Sir Lachlan. How should it look? I do not know of such things. It is wrong. It is all wrong.”
I could not agree more.
“Do not fret, lad. Fetch some others and move the dining table to the far wall. At the north end, set up a dais for the king and queen and the king’s advisers. To the left, a table and chairs for the lawyers. To the right, a chair for whomever is being asked questions. Several benches with cushions for the queen’s ladies. Can you remember all that?”
“Yes, my lady,” he replied and dashed away.
Taking several calming breaths, Janet looked over again at the king. He met her gaze and smiled briefly but continued his conversation, and she barely stopped herself from hurling her goblet at his head for what he’d done and what he forced her to do this day.
Having Marjorie and Lachlan so close and yet not be allowed to see them, talk to them, touch them, was unbearable. All she’d been able to do to show her affection and support was personally oversee the dishes sent to their chambers, ensuring only the choicest cuts of meat, the freshest bread. Yes, back on the day Marjorie and Lachlan had been arrested, she’d sent word to Master Shaw, but she had no way of knowing if her letter had reached him or even if he would assist further.
In a battle directly with the queen, many men would not.
“Lady Janet.”
She turned to see one of the king’s many advisers, a harried-looking man with kind eyes that she did not personally know well. “Sir?”
“His Grace wishes the trial to begin shortly. He will hear the lawyers speak, then Lady Marjorie and Sir Lachlan. He also wishes to inform you that you are permitted to remain and observe proceedings but must sit with the queen’s ladies. And, er, he said I must tell you to, er…behave.”
Both annoyance and relief flooded her. “Please thank His Grace,” she replied crisply. “And tell him I am, as ever, his loyal subject.”
The man bowed, then bustled away.
Janet finished her wine and set the goblet down on the window ledge. Even holding something seemed too difficult, let alone an attempt to distract herself with embroidery or other task. Around her, the hall was being transformed into a small court, and it made her ill. Yes, soon she would see Marjorie and Lachlan, but equally as soon, their trial would begin.
Had she done enough to help them? Would she be the reason one or both were imprisoned or worse? It had been her idea for them to marry in the irregular way, after all. And that shocking arrest at the market happened before she had the chance to explain fully about Aileen, that she no longer loved the woman. That instead they were the ones who held a place in her heart.
Janet rubbed a weary hand over her face. If James ceased being a coward in his avoidance of her, she could have pleaded the case of her two lovers. Explained her role in the matter. Promised the moon, the sun, and the stars if he would just grant them mercy and bring this nightmare to an end.
But he had denied her that chance. It might be that her time in favor had come to a close, and she was indeed destined to lose everyone and everything she cared about.
A truly chilling thought when she had already lost so much.
“Lady Janet?” called one of the queen’s English ladies impatiently. “Do sit down. They are ready to begin.”
Clasping her hands in a futile effort at tranquility, she sat at the end of the second bench for the queen’s ladies. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped within a chirping circle of Englishwomen who thought this entertaining. At the far end of the hall, James and Margaret sat on a raised dais; he still looked supremely irritated, but she looked both smug and excited. The lawyers took their seats, and then the guard at the door thumped a wooden staff on the floor and announced, “Lady Marjorie Hepburn. Sir Lachlan Ross.”
Her heart in her mouth, Janet leaned forward.
Marjorie entered with an armed escort first. Her shoulders were back, her chin high, but her face looked deathly pale and her eyes a little swollen.
Staring helplessly, furious she could not do more,
