A Love for All Time (4 page)

“Where are ye taking my young cousin, my lord?” demanded Elizabeth Clinton.

“I do not know yet, m’lady. I must find the master of the household, and see where we may squeeze Mistress St. Michael in. The palace, as ye well know, is full to bursting.”

“There is an extra room in the attics assigned to us that we rarely use,” said the countess. “Do ye know the one of which I speak?”

Robin, whose duty it was to know such things, nodded. “I do,” he said.

“Where is yer luggage, cousin?” asked the countess.

“In the courtyard with my coach,” Aidan replied. “My livery is blue and green, and my family’s crest has a ship, a tree, and a red saltaire upon it.”

Robin gave her a quick smile. “I will find it, mistress, and see it gets safely to ye,” and with another smile and a brief bow he was off.

“Come along,” said the Countess of Lincoln to her kinswoman, “and I will show ye the place ye’ll be calling home. It will seem strange at first, my dear, but I came to court when I was just nine, the Orphan of Kildare I was called, and frightened though I was, I managed to survive as ye will too.”

“I have not had time yet to be frightened,” said Aidan honestly. “It is all so very exciting, and so very different from
Pearroc Royal.
”

“
Pearroc Royal
?”

“My home just west of Worcester.”

“Well,” said Elizabeth Clinton, “this will be no
Pearroc Royal,
my dear Aidan. I may call ye Aidan, mayn’t I? And ye will call me Beth?” Without waiting for an answer she continued on. “The court is always overcrowded with those who belong here, those visiting, those trying to belong, and all their servants. Ned, my husband, as the Lord Admiral, has apartments wherever the queen goes, but usually the maids of honor must live their lives entirely in the Maidens’ Chamber unless they have family or friends who can offer them space. The lack of privacy is terrible. I am very happy to be able to offer ye this little room, and it is little, Aidan. Nonetheless I am sure that ye and yer servant will manage. Are ye betrothed?”

“No, Beth. I preferred staying with my father. He was old, and he needed me. His dying request of the queen was that she find me a suitable husband. For now, however, I am satisfied to do what I can to serve the queen.”

“Yer very wise, my dear,” hummed the countess with approval. “Still, we mustn’t allow our lady to forget her promise to yer father, and she might easily do that. The queen doesn’t like her ladies leaving her for marriage. I suppose it is because she isn’t married herself. Whether her attitude stems from jealousy, or merely thoughtlessness, I do not know. How old are ye?”

“Twenty-three this past August nineteenth, Beth.”

“Lord bless me, cousin! Yer a bit long in the tooth, ain’t ye? We had best not tarry too long in finding ye a husband. I will speak to my husband, and we will see what eligible gentlemen are available. Ye’ll probably have to wed with a widower, but then both my first husband, and Ned were widowers when I wed them.”

As she had chattered on, the Countess of Lincoln had led Aidan and Mag up one flight of stairs, and then another, and another, and through a maze of corridors so winding that Aidan despaired of ever finding her way through them again. Finally they stood before a small plain oak door.

“Well, here we are, my dear. Go in, and make yerself comfortable. Young Robin will be along shortly with yer baggage, and he will lead ye back to her majesty,” said Elizabeth Clinton. She gave Aidan a peck on each cheek, and was gone around the corner before the girl might say a word.

The more practical Mag threw open the door to the offered chamber, and gasped in shock. “God bless me, Mistress Aidan! ’Tis so small ye couldn’t swing a cat in here.”

Aidan peered in dismay, and her heart sank. Mag had not exaggerated one whit. There was but one little window, a tiny corner fireplace, and a bedstead which took up most of the floor space. She shook her head. “If my kinswoman says that it is all that is available, I must believe her, Mag, and be grateful that we have it. The bed will sleep two, never fear. We’ll need each other’s warmth in the night for I fear Greenwich is a damp palace.”

They entered the room, and as they stood awaiting the baggage Mag looked about her with sharp eyes, and sniffed. “This place is filthy. I doubt it’s been cleaned in months, and that mattress has got to go, Mistress Aidan. I’ve not a doubt it’s filled with bedbugs and fleas, nasty diseased creatures!”

Aidan nodded, silently agreeing with her servant. “When the men come with the baggage, Mag, we’ll have them remove the old mattress, and bring water for cleaning. I don’t want my possessions set about until the chamber is clean.”

They stood staring about them for what seemed a very long time, and then suddenly Robin Southwood was standing in the doorway, a smile upon his handsome young face. “Here we are, Mistress St. Michael, yer baggage.”

Mag bustled forward. “Tell yer men to hold off, m’lord,” she said. “I’ll not have my mistress sleeping on yon moldy mattress. I want it removed, and water for the scrubbing down of this room. I’ve no doubt the place is alive with vermin!”

Robin grinned at her. She reminded him very much of his mother’s tiring woman, Daisy, but she was certainly right. His mother had a passion for cleanliness that he had inherited although many of their contemporaries were less than fastidious about their persons and surroundings. Turning he ordered the footmen who had accompanied him to put the baggage down. Then he set them to work removing the old mattress, and dismantling the carved bedstead, and bringing water so that Mag might clean the chamber. “Leave yer cloak with yer woman,” he said to Aidan. “I’ll take ye to the Maidens’ Chamber where ye can wash the dust of yer travels off, and then return ye to the queen. Yer woman will be safe, and I’ll see that a serving wench is sent up to help her.” He turned to a sturdy serving man. “You! Fetch a goodly supply of firewood for Mistress St. Michael’s room, and remain to help her woman.”

“Yes, m’lord,” said the man, and he hurried off to do the young earl’s bidding.

“Ye give orders well,” Aidan observed.

“I am Southwood of Lynmouth,” he said proudly as if that explained everything, and Aidan realized how very much she had to learn. “I have been at court since I was six.”

“I must go back now with the earl,” Aidan said to Mag, who barely nodded, and waved her along. Meekly Aidan followed the boy back through the confusing corridors and down the several flights of stairs.

“It must seem very strange compared to yer home,” remarked Robin, “but never fear, Mistress St. Michael, ye’ll soon find yer way about Greenwich as if ye’d been doing it all yer life.”

“I’m not certain of all the turns yet,” Aidan said, “but at least I know to go up three flights of stairs.”

“I’ll help ye for I well remember my first days here. If one of the other pages hadn’t been kind, I would have been lost.”

He ushered her into a room he identified as the Maidens’ Chamber, and signaling to a serving woman told her to bring warm water that Mistress St. Michael might bathe. To Aidan’s embarrassment Althea Tailleboys and another girl were also in the room, but strangely the deposed girl seemed not to hold any grudge against Aidan.

“Well,” she said, “ye’ll soon envy me safe at home, Mistress St. Michael. Serving the royal bitch isn’t as easy as I expect you imagine.”

“Althea!” chided the other girl. “Do not speak so of the queen.”

Mistress Tailleboys shrugged. “Ye’ll not repeat my words, any of ye,” she said, “and what more can she do to me? I’m ruined! Coming to court was my chance to make a good match. Now my father is sure to marry me off to old Lord Charlton. The dirty lecher has had his eye on me for the last five years.” She shuddered. “Always putting his hands up my skirts when he thought no one was looking. Well, at least I’ve cheated the lustful, old satyr of my virginity. That belongs to Henry Bolton!” she finished on a triumphant note.

“Althea!”

Mistress Tailleboys laughed harshly. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, Linnet Talbot! Ye’ve all lifted yer skirts at one time or another.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t!” said Mistress Talbot, but Althea Tailleboys snorted at her friend’s denial.

“I’m sorry ye lost yer place,” Aidan said quietly. “It was not, however, my doing.”

“I know that,” came the reply. “If you’ll take my advice, Mistress St. Michael, ye’ll stay on the good side of the old dragon. She’s as vain as can be, and has a cruel streak, but then ye’ll find that out soon enough.”

There was nothing more to be said, Aidan realized, and so she quickly washed her hands and face in the basin of perfumed water that the serving woman had brought her, and then looking into the mirror the woman held up Aidan sighed. Her hair was a disgrace! Doing the best that she could she tucked the wisps and strands carefully beneath her cap, and looking at herself again shook her head. From the few people she had already seen here at court it was painfully obvious that Mistress Tailleboys’ observation had been correct. Her gown was, if not old-fashioned, dull. The black velvet of the fabric did nothing for her skin, and the high neckline was positively prim compared to what the other women were wearing.

“We must hurry,” Robin said to her gently. “Don’t worry about how ye look. I’ll give ye the name of my mother’s dressmaker.”

She flashed him a quick grin, and Robin thought surprised that Mistress St. Michael wasn’t quite the plain Jane he first thought her to be. With the proper clothing, the right hairdo, and jewels, she would be more than passable. He brought her back to the queen.

“Ahh, my country mouse is back.” Elizabeth, who was now in a good humor, smiled. “Are ye settled?”

“Yes, madame, thank ye. My kinswoman, Lady Clinton, has most kindly given me a tiny room belonging to her husband for my servant and me.”

“Very good,” came the queen’s reply, and then she handed Aidan her elegant workbasket.

Opening it Aidan frowned. “ ’Tis a disgrace, madame. Yer box has not been neatened in weeks. ’Twill take me several days to sort it all out.”

“I will want to work on my embroidery after supper,” the queen said testily.

“Show me the piece, madame, and I shall gather the threads ye’ll need,” Aidan answered calmly.

Across the room Elizabeth Clinton smiled softly to herself. Mistress St. Michael was obviously going to be a credit to the family, and she could not have been more pleased. She must speak to her husband about the possibility of making a good match for the girl. One that would aid their family, and make it more powerful. She cudgeled her brain to remember what she could about the St. Michaels. There had to be money for it was rich merchant stock. There were certainly lands, and as she remembered both the late Lord Bliss and his father had had a mania for adding to the original grant. She couldn’t be certain—after all it had been twenty-four years since they had had any contact with Lord Bliss and his family—but it was very possible that Aidan was an heiress of considerable wealth. She hadn’t been quick to volunteer any information about herself, but thought the Countess of Lincoln, there was plenty of time to learn what she needed to know. In the meantime she must speak to Ned.

When it was time for the evening meal to be served Robin signaled discreetly to Aidan, and took her into the dining hall, showing her where to sit with the other maids. “Ye stay with the queen until she dismisses ye,” he said. “I’ll be there to lead ye back to yer room later.”

“Thank ye, Robin. I may call ye Robin? Yer most kind.”

“Of course ye must call me Robin. All my friends do, and I know already that I can count ye among my friends, Aidan St. Michael.”

Suddenly at the end of the hall there was a disturbance of sorts. Two young men were quarreling noisily, and one of them made to draw his sword. “Not in the queen’s presence!” hissed the other loudly. “I will apologize before I will allow you to ruin yerself that way, man!”

Looking at the man who spoke Aidan found herself unable to turn away. He was without a doubt the handsomest, most beautiful man she had ever seen in her whole life. Dark, dark hair. A tall, perfect form. The face with its high cheekbones, and dimpled chin.
What color were his eyes?
She was desperate to know, but stood too far from him to be able to see. “Who is
that
man?” she demanded of Robin.

“Who?” he said not particularly interested in a silly quarrel.

“Over there!” Aidan tried not to be too obvious as she pointed. “The taller of the two. The one who would apologize rather than fight in the queen’s presence.”

Robin glanced to where she indicated, and then he laughed. “ ’Tis my uncle Conn O’Malley.”

“Yer uncle?! He doesn’t look a thing like you!” she protested.

“He’s my mother’s youngest half-brother, and I look exactly like my late father, Geoffrey Southwood,” came the answer.

“I never saw such an attractive man in my entire life,” Aidan almost whispered.

“He’s called the Handsomest Man at Court,” Robin said dryly. “All the ladies make fools of themselves over him. The queen calls him Adonis.”

“It suits him,” Aidan said softly.

Robin snorted. “Ye should have seen him when he first came to England. He was in truth a wild man with a black beard, and hair to his shoulders. He wore woolen trews and a plaid, and couldn’t speak decent English, and when he did speak our tongue his brogue was thicker than a Devon fog. My mother sheared him like a sheep, taught him civilized manners, and brought him to court. Within a day ye’d have thought he’d been brought up here. Uncle Conn took to court like a gentleman to the manor born. He’s one of the queen’s favorites. She appointed him to her guard, the Gentlemen Pensioners. He has not done bad for a man who was born his father’s last child.”

Aidan laughed. “I thought,” she said, “that the queen commended yer discretion. Yer gossip is better than a goodwife’s on market day.”