Highland Games

Chapter Four

I could hardly sleep that night.

I kept replaying moments from the ball over and over again in my head. Despite having felt and seen him, I still could not believe that James was real and that I was to marry him today. Though I had been imagining this day for years, I could not shake this feeling that this was all just a dream and I would soon wake up and find myself back in England.

Knowing that I would not get more sleep, I get up out of bed and walk towards the window. Just as I did yesterday, I press my head against the cool glass as I look out into the city below. I watched as the streets had begun to burst with life, but there was a new energy surrounding it. Even from the street I could see the excitement and joy on their faces. I knew how much this day meant for them, what my marriage symbolized for them. It would be the first time in generations that England and Scotland were allies.

I look down the Royal Mile to Holyrood Palace and the abbey where I was due to be married. James wanted to present me down the mile, so that all of Edinburgh could see their new queen. We would then spend the night in Holyrood Palace before beginning our tour of the Highlands. James wanted me to see as much of Scotland as I could before my coronation. He believed that it was vital for not only the people to see their new queen, but for their new queen to see her people. I wholeheartedly agreed with him, and found it rather comforting that he and I shared similar opinions.

There is a sharp knock at my door before the door swings open and I hear the sound of rustling skirts. I turn to face my ladies-in-waiting, as well as Isabella and to my surprise, Margaret Stuart, who did not look all to happy to see me. I could not help but wonder what I had done to earn such a cold look from her. If she truly loved her son as much as she said she did, then why did she treat me which such hostility?

Behind her servants bring in a large tub for bathing and they begin to fill it with warm water. I notice one of the servants bring in my wedding dress, as do my ladies, who begin to whisper amongst themselves, each one slowly appraising it with careful eyes before soft smiles appeared on their lips. Out of the corner of my eye I even see Margaret nod her head approvingly, and for a moment there was a flash of warmth in her eyes.

Isabella smiles warmly at me as she walks forward, her face lit up with excitement. "Good morning, sweet sister," she greets me as she pulls me into a hug. I close my eyes for a moment, cherishing the sentiment of her words. "I have a surprise," she whispers into my ear as she pulls away, " a wedding gift, from me to you."

She pulls a small bag from out from behind her back before placing it in my palms. I open the bag to reveal a beautifully decorated broach. I smile brightly as I open it, revealing a small portrait of James. My smile softens as I run my thumb across it, impressed by how realistic the painting was. It managed to capture the warmth of his smile and the beauty of his eyes.

"It is beautiful," I whisper as I press it against my heart which was warmed by the sentiment of the gift. I walk over to my wedding dress and pin the broach at the center of the bodice. It seemed only fitting that such a gift should accompany me down the aisle on my wedding day. "You must tell me who painted this, they must paint our wedding portraits as well," I inquire, curious as to the identity of the painter.

Marjorie, one of my new ladies-in-waiting smiles as she steps forward, her cheeks flushed a light shade of me. "It was I who painted the broach, Your Royal Highness," she speaks up softly, as if she was afraid to admit that it was she who painted it. "I am grateful to have received such kind words from you, but I am not sure that I should be the one to paint your wedding portrait. There are much more talented painters here at court who have had official training." 

"If you insist," I respond, noting that it seemed to make her uncomfortable, "though I might just commission you for one small piece as a gift for His Grace." It seemed only fitting that James should have a portrait of me as well. She nods her head as she steps back into line, her eyes drifted down towards the floor. It was rather strange to have such formal interactions with my ladies, back in England we had all been warm and friendly towards each other. But that was in England, now I was in Scotland, and here I was to be addressed and treated like a queen.