All the Sweet Tomorrows (87 page)

“What a pity,” Adam said, “that you and Elizabeth Tudor cannot be friends. You have that sharpness of intellect that the Queen admires.”

“She needs too much fawning upon, Adam, and I have not the patience. Neither have you, for that matter. Would you really enjoy spending your days dancing in constant attendance upon a very stubborn lady in her middle years? She would give us no time for ourselves, Adam, and I, for one, could not abide that.” Skye gave her head a final touch, and putting the brush aside, she flung her hair back with a graceful motion. “There,” she
said, “ ’Tis finished, and I hear Daisy coming. Open the door for her, my darling.”

With pleased confusion and a rosy blush Daisy re-entered the bedchamber carrying a heavy tray of food. “Oh, m’lord! Thank you!”

“ ’Tis nothing, lass, and it is good to see your pretty face again,” he answered the tiring woman gallantly.

Daisy flushed again with pleasure, and said, “I’ve brought cider for you, m’lady, but I knew his lordship would appreciate some good nut-brown English ale. ’Tis a while, I’ll wager, since he’s tasted it.” She set the tray down on the table by the fireplace as they drew their chairs forward.

“Daisy, lass, you’ve the soul of an angel and the heart of a loyal Englishwoman!” Adam exclaimed. “My stepfather may bottle some of France’s finest wines, but I far prefer honest English ale! Thank you, lass!” he said, and bending from his great height, he gave her a hearty buss on the cheek.

“Ohh, m’lord!” Daisy grew redder, and then she scolded, “Sit down, m’lord, and eat. The Queen will be in a fine, tearing temper as it is.”

The tray that Daisy had brought them contained thick slices of bread upon which had been set slices of pink ham and wedges of good English Cheddar that had then been toasted. The cheese was yet soft and burning, and the meal delicious to their taste in its simplicity. When the last crumb had been eaten and the ale and cider all drunk, they sat back for a minute in their chairs, smiling across the small table at one another. Another knock at the door brought them the news that Sir Christopher and his men were growing restive.

“I suppose we must get dressed and attend the Queen,” Skye said.

“I think so, little girl,” Adam replied, rising from the table and walking across the room to the connecting door between their rooms. With a grin he blew her a kiss before re-entering his own quarters.

A delighted smile touched her lips, and then Skye rose with a lazy yawn. “Is the black sapphire gown still in fashion, Daisy?”

“Aye, m’lady. I’ll fetch it immediately.”

It took almost a full hour for Skye to dress completely, but when she had finished she was well pleased with the results. The blue velvet of the gown was so dark it seemed almost black in color. It had a low, squarish neckline trimmed with two loops of pearls that were sewn in such a fashion as to outline her bosom. From the sides of the neckline protruded a fan-shaped neckwisk
of delicate gold lace, and the full gold beribboned sleeves had beautiful matching cuff ruffs of the same lace. The overgown was plain, the undergown of the same material and color, heavily decorated in pearls, gold beads, and golden threads that had been sewn in an intricate pattern of flowers, bees, and butterflies. The bodice was done more simply, being decorated only with pearls.

Skye’s hair was gracefully fixed by Daisy into its elegant chignon, and dressed with loops of almost pinkish pearls. She wore a strand of matching pearls about her neck, from which bobbed one enormous sapphire teardrop that nestled between her full breasts. There were pearls in her ears, and even her dainty handkerchief was edged in the jewels. The buckles on her velvet shoes were carved from mother of pearl, and her heels had been covered in the iridescent shell.

With a smile Skye pirouetted for her husband as he entered the bedchamber. “What think you, m’lord? Am I formidable enough to discomfit the Queen?”

“Aye, little girl, and make her jealous as well.” He struck a pose. “And what of me, madam? Do you approve my costume. Am I fit to be by your side?”

“Aye, m’lord!” she said with heartfelt admiration, taking in his black velvet costume, the doublet of which was outrageously and heavily decorated in diamonds and gold thread. About his neck Adam had chosen to wear the de Marisco pendant, a large, round golden medallion with a raised sea hawk, wings spread, done in enameled colors with a ruby eye. Between his great size and the complete fashion of his costume he was really quite magnificent.

“Are you ready, madam?” he demanded, noting with some amusement that despite the richness of her jewels, she had chosen to wear upon her hands only his betrothal and wedding rings. Her subtlety delighted him, and he knew the Queen would notice, for Elizabeth Tudor rarely missed a thing.

As he watched them descend the staircase to the main floor of the house, Sir Christopher Hatton caught his breath. They were a simply stunning pair, and the Queen’s captain could not help but wonder why they had never been to court in his time. He caught Skye’s hand as she reached the bottom step, and raising it to his lips, he said with total honesty, “Madam, you are more than well worth the waiting for, if, my lord de Marisco, you will allow me the compliment to your wife.”

“We accept the compliment in the spirit in which it was given, sir,” Adam said softly.

The footmen hurried up with their capes, and Skye and Adam were enveloped in the fur-lined cloaks, Skye’s with a fur-trimmed hood. Escorted by Hatton, they hurried outside into the crisp wind of the late afternoon and climbed into their waiting town coach. Immediately the door was shut upon them, they were off, their carriage surrounded and escorted on the road to Greenwich by the Queen’s own Gentlemen Pensioners.

“Where in Hell is she?” Elizabeth Tudor swore for the hundredth time that afternoon. “Her damned ship anchored hours ago! Where is Hatton? This is intolerable, Cecil!”

“Patience, madam,” counseled William Cecil, Lord Burghley. “She will be here shortly.” He already knew that Skye O’Malley, that marvelous and impossible woman, had gone to her house on the Strand. He knew exactly what she was doing, but in this particular instance he had no intention of informing his mistress, for Elizabeth would only fly into a temper, and her anger could ruin everything Lady de Marisco was as stubborn as the Queen. Cecil smiled to himself. He had thought of Skye O’Malley as Lady de Marisco, and indeed, despite the Queen’s petulance in the matter, she was. That, he knew, would be the first order of business between them. Cecil smiled to himself again, and a small chuckle escaped his lips. It was going to be an interesting evening.

“What do you find so amusing?” Elizabeth snapped, but before Lord Burghley was forced to answer there was a knock upon the door and a maid of honor popped through it to announce, “Lord and Lady de Marisco are here, madam.”

Elizabeth whirled. “Surely, Mistress Ann, you mean Lady Burke and Lord de Marisco,” the Queen snarled.

“Y-yes, madam, your pardon,” the maid of honor quavered. She was going to be in a great deal of trouble if the Queen found out about her liaison with Lord Dudley, and Lettice Knollys, the bitch, had seen them and was threatening to tell.

“They may come in,” Elizabeth said regally, and quickly sat down in a high-backed, thronelike chair. As quickly she stood again, remembering the height of her guests and not wanting to be at any disadvantage.

Cecil, knowing her thought, hid a smile behind his hand as Skye and Adam swept into the room. By God, Lord Burghley thought at his first sight of them, this time she has truly found her mate! We’ll not beat her now.

Skye’s gaze met that of Elizabeth Tudor, and neither of them wavered. Then Skye curtseyed low and prettily as, by her side,
her husband bowed with incredibly elegant flair; a flair not missed by the Queen, who appreciated such graces and good manner.

“I have said more than once, Lord de Marisco, that you were wasted upon that island of yours. You are indeed a man fit for my court.”

Adam smiled warmly. “Thank you, madam, but if I had my choice I should prefer my rock to your court. I am a simple man, and such radiance is too overpowering for me. I far prefer the quiet life.”

“But your choice of companion, sir, is indeed not conducive to peace and a quiet life.” The Queen looked defiantly at Skye.

“As I have said, madam, I am a simple man. Simple men follow their hearts, and I have followed mine, as I know you would follow yours were the burden of England not upon your frail shoulders. How fortunate your people are in their Queen.”

“And are you, Lord de Marisco, fortunate in your Queen?”

“You have my loyalty, madam, until death.”

“But not your heart?”

“No, madam, not my heart, for I cannot give what I no longer possess. I long ago gave my heart to Skye O’Malley.”

“I could clap you in the Tower for that remark, Lord de Marisco. I could send you both there, but I suspect it would not make one bit of difference to either you or that Celtic jade you have married in France, in a Popish ceremony!”

A small grin teased at the corners of Adam’s mouth, and he strove mightily to keep it from bursting into full bloom. “Madam, I must plead guilty, and I must beg your forgiveness and your indulgence for both my wife and myself; but in all honesty, neither Skye nor I would change anything we have done.”

Elizabeth Tudor burst out laughing, and with surprising familiarity she gave Adam a friendly punch on the arm. “That, my lord, is what I like about you!” she exclaimed. “You are just what you seem, and there is no deceit in you! Very well, you are forgiven your marriage, for I am forced to admit that looking at the pair of you I can see you are meant to be together.” She turned to Skye. “As for you, madam, we have other, more pressing business.”

“First I want my daughter,” Skye said bluntly.

“What, madam?! You would bargain with me?”
Elizabeth looked outraged.

“Would you not bargain with me?” Skye demanded. “Why else have you taken my daughter?”

“The child is safe at Hampton Court, madam. She will be returned to you.”

“When?”

The Queen looked at Skye closely, and then sighing, said, “I will send a messenger out tonight.”

“Your word is not enough, madam,” came the shocking reply.

Adam put a hand on his wife’s arm in warning while Cecil thought for a moment his heart had stopped. It was a fierce insult, and Elizabeth Tudor’s gray-black eyes narrowed in anger. At that moment she looked very much like her father.

“Madam, must I remind you that you are my subject, and I am your Queen?”

“You are the Queen of England, madam, but I am Irish. To protect my Burke son’s lands I did you a favor, a great favor, madam. I left my homeland and my children to marry for England’s sake. The husband you chose for me, madam, was a cruel and unhappy man, but I offered no complaint, for you promised me that you would protect Padraic Burke’s lands and his rights. You have given those lands to an Englishman, madam. My son is bereft of his heritage despite your promise to me.” Skye looked defiantly at Elizabeth Tudor. “I kept my word to you, madam. Would that you had done the same.”

“You are a thorn in my flesh, Skye O’Malley,” the Queen said, “and you have ever been thus; but I need your aid now, and I will have it!”

“Return what belongs to me and mine, madam, and you shall have that aid. I want my child, the Burke lands, and Lundy Island. In return I shall do your bidding.”

“Your child I will send for this night. The Burke lands I cannot return for fear of offending a loyal Englishman who serves me well, but I will give your son lands here in England. As for Lundy, I return it with one stipulation. You may not live on it, either of you. I’ll give you no island base from which to strike out at me again! I will, however, my lord de Marisco, give you lands and a manor house of equal value, for I suspect that in marrying this termagant you have actually done me a service.”

“My son is an Irish Burke!” Skye cried, for despite the fact that she knew the Queen was being overly generous, she ached at the loss of Padraic’s inheritance.

“Precisely, madam, and by resettling him here in England as a child I shall have one less rebel to contend with in my old age, for he will grow up to be a loyal Englishman I have no doubt!” Elizabeth Tudor laughed at the irony of her victory over Skye.

“Now, madam, I have done much for you, you must in return do something for me.”

“Give over, little girl,” Adam said softly. “You’ll not beat her in this. She’s been generous where she might have been harsh.” Skye looked up at him, and he saw the sadness in her eyes, which were wet with diamond tears she would not shed. “You cannot always win, Skye,” he said, and she nodded. This time their battle was a draw.

“Very well, madam,” she answered, but her very agreement was edged in defiance, “what can I do to help you?”

“Your brothers and the O’Malley fleet have joined with that great rebel, your kinswoman, Grace O’Malley, to wage war against me. They harry the shipping lanes, which hurts this nation’s commerce, and they encourage rebellion in Ireland. It is impossible, madam, to stop them for they are, I am forced grudgingly to admit, marvelous sailors. I sent Drake to Ireland a year ago, and even he cannot catch them! You could. You could stop your brothers, madam, and if you do you will cripple Grace O’Malley. That woman is a menace to England, and I would have her stopped!”

Skye pretended to consider the Queen’s request, and then she said, “If I can stop my brothers, madam, I will need pardons for them all. I will not betray my family even for England’s Queen.”

“Granted.”

“Then I shall try, madam,” Skye said with feigned innocence.

“You had best succeed, madam!” came the sharp warning.

“I can only do my best, madam.”

“Then God help your brothers,” the Queen cackled, her good humor suddenly restored. She peered closely at Skye. “You took your time in getting here, madam. I was told that your ship arrived at midmorning.”

“I could not appear travel-worn before England’s Majesty, madam. I went home and took a bath,” came the calm reply.

“You kept me waiting while you frolicked in your bath?” Elizabeth was outraged.