A Love for All Time (3 page)

“Yer a good girl, Aidan,” he whispered huskily. He was so tired now. So very, very tired.

She stood up, kissing him gently upon the forehead, rearranged his coverlet so that it was once again smooth, and wrinkle-free. “It is late, father, and I am weary. We made both lavender and rose potpourri today after the linens were washed. The laundress has two new girls, and they need constant overseeing, as they are not yet skilled enough.” She gave him a small smile that pierced his heart. “I will see ye in the morning, father. God grant ye a peaceful night.”

“And ye also, my daughter,” came the loving reply, and he had watched her as she left the room, tears for some unknown reason springing to his tired eyes.

When Aidan went to wake her father in the morning, Payton St. Michael, Lord Bliss, had gone to his maker, and his daughter, to her great dismay, found herself an undisputed, if unwilling, ward of the crown.

“
I
ncompetents!” shouted the queen, and she threw her workbasket across the room. “I am surrounded by incompetents!” A movement by the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to see her favorite page, the thirteen-year-old Earl of Lynmouth, waiting patiently for the royal storm to subside. “What is it, Robin?” she demanded in harsh tones, but young Robin Southwood knew that she was not angry at him, and so he gave her a dazzling smile.

“The newest royal ward has just arrived from the country, madame,” he said.

“God’s foot! Another one? Well, tell me, lad! Is my newest charge male or female? Yet in nappies, or out of them? Give me a name. Some hint or clue as to this latest in my long line of royal responsibilities.” Her lips were now twitching with amusement seeing the laughter in the boy’s lime-green eyes.

“It is a young lady, madame. She is Aidan St. Michael, the heiress and only living child of Payton St. Michael, Baron Bliss. Her home is near Worcester. The baron’s estates border on my mother’s home.”

The queen thought a moment, and then nodded. “Lord Bliss’ family is originally of good London stock,” she said. “The family has always supported the ruling monarch, and stayed free of court entanglements to my knowledge. Well, Robin Southwood, fetch her in to me. I would see this orphaned heiress.”

The boy bowed himself from her presence, and Elizabeth Tudor smiled to herself watching him go. He grew more like his late father every day, although he had greater warmth than Geoffrey had had at that age. That was due to his mother, that Irish vixen, Skye O’Malley, now married to Adam de Marisco, and exiled from court with her husband to the royal estate of
Queen’s Malvern
.

I miss her, thought the queen. Our whole relationship has been difficult, and yet I miss the excitement that always surrounds dear Skye. Her glance took in the other women in the room, and she snorted softly to herself. With few exceptions they were a bunch of silly cows who giggled and minced their way through her court seeking husbands. Most of them had the barest of educations, and could converse on nothing but men and fashions, and the latest gossip. She knew that behind her back they mocked her, and made fun of her despite her sovereignty over them. They did not dare to do it to her face, for even they understood her power, the power of life and death that she held over them all. Still, she had few real friends among her women. They but served her to advance either themselves or their families.

The door to the queen’s dayroom opened to re-admit young Robin, and two other women, one young, one in her late middle years. The younger woman was attired in a high-necked black velvet gown of dated design, but excellent quality. Upon her head was a white linen cap edged in lace. Immediately the queen’s women ceased their chatter, and looked bright-eyed at the visitors.

“Madame, this is Mistress St. Michael,” Robin said.

Aidan curtsied prettily as did her companion. The older woman, however, was obviously stiff in her joints, and needed her mistress’ help to arise. This caused the queen’s ladies to giggle, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed.

The queen shot the women an angry look for she disliked such unkindness. “You are welcome to court, Mistress St. Michael,” she said. “I did not know yer father, but yer family’s good reputation precedes ye.”

“Yer majesty is most gracious,” Aidan replied.

“Now,” said the queen, “the question is what are we do to with ye.”

“If I might serve yer majesty,” Aidan said sincerely, “I should count myself content.”

There was a sharp giggle at Aidan’s words which caused her to flush once more, and eyes narrowing the queen sought out the culprit, a dainty girl with a rosebud mouth and sunshine-yellow hair. “Ye find Mistress St. Michael’s desire to serve me amusing, Mistress Tailleboys?” the queen purred, and the Countess of Lincoln, who was the queen’s close friend, suddenly looked up and across the room at the newcomer.

Now it was Mistress Tailleboys who reddened, and stammering she attempted to excuse her rude behavior. “N-nay, madame, ’twas just that her gown is so old-fashioned.”

“Fashion,” said the queen archly, “is something I will admit to yer knowing. Fashion and loose behavior, Mistress Tailleboys.”

Now the miscreant paled. Did the queen know about her recent assignations with Lord Bolton? How could she know? It was not possible, and yet sometimes it seemed as if the queen knew everything. She bit her lower lip in vexation. What could she say to her mistress?

Seeing the fourteen-year-old maid of honor hesitate, the queen knew she had hit upon something. So the wench is lifting her skirts behind my back, is she? Elizabeth hated it when her women played the wanton, and far too many of them did these days. “Are ye not responsible for my workbasket, Mistress Tailleboys?” she demanded.

“A-aye, yer majesty,” came the nervous reply.

“And yet just minutes ago I sought to find something within that very basket, and it was a jumble with nothing in its proper place. It would appear, Mistress Tailleboys, that yer interests lay in other directions than serving yer queen. Since that is so, ye are dismissed from my service, and ye will return home immediately, this very day.”

With a shriek of dismay Althea Tailleboys flung herself across the queen’s dayroom, and at the queen’s feet. “Oh, please, yer majesty,” she cried, “do not send me home in disgrace! What will my parents say? How can I explain to them?”

“Ye will not need to,” came the terrifying reply. “I will send a letter along with ye explaining my reasons for yer dismissal; expressing my displeasure at yer lack of manners, yer unkind heart, and yer lewd behavior with a member of my court who shall remain nameless.”

Mistress Tailleboys swooned at the queen’s feet with a sound that was somewhere between a cry and a moan.

“Remove that baggage!” snapped Elizabeth to the other maids of honor who had watched wide-eyed as one of their privileged number was lashed by the queen’s sharp tongue. Each of the others was grateful that it was not she who was the queen’s victim, and in unison they hurried to do their mistress’ bidding, lest they incure her further wrath, lifting the dainty Althea Tailleboys between them, and stumbling from the room with her prone form.

“Mistress St. Michael,” said the queen, her voice more kindly now. “Ye will take Mistress Tailleboys’ place amongst my maids of honor, and my workbasket is now in yer charge.”

“They will not like me for it,” Aidan heard herself saying.

The queen chuckled. “No,” she replied, “they will not, but they will tolerate ye because I have favored ye.”

The Countess of Lincoln now moved forward. “Forgive me, madame,” she said, “but I believe I am related to Mistress St. Michael. Are ye not the daughter of Payton St. Michael, and Bevin FitzGerald, my girl?”

“Aye, m’lady, I am,” Aidan replied.

The countess turned her attention to the queen. “Bevin FitzGerald was my cousin, madame. It was I who arranged her marriage to Lord Bliss many years ago.” She looked again at Aidan. “
Both
yer parents are dead?”

“Aye, m’lady. My mother and twin sisters when I was ten. My father just a month ago.”

“Are ye impoverished?” came the next question as the Countess of Lincoln wondered whether the queen would make the Clintons financially responsible for the girl. She was relieved when Aidan said,

“Nay, m’lady. I am not impoverished.”

Interesting, thought the queen. She does not wish to discuss her financial status with her relative. “All but Mistress St. Michael, and Robin are to leave me now,” she said, and the Countess of Lincoln, and the two other ladies in the room curtsied themselves out of her presence. “Bring us some wine and biscuits, Robin,” the queen commanded. “Ye may be seated, Mistress St. Michael. Take that high-backed stool there. I want to know about ye.

“Now,” said Elizabeth Tudor, “who is this lady who guards ye?”

“She is Mag, my tiring woman. She came from Ireland with my mother, and served her until she died.”

“And why were ye so reluctant to tell Lady Clinton of yer finances?” Aidan looked to Robin, but the queen said, “He has heard far more sensitive information than ye will divulge to me, my dear, and has always been most discreet. He will say nothing of what passes between us.”

“Lady Clinton knows little about my family other than the fact she arranged my parents’ marriage, madame. She did it in gratitude for a loan my father made to her husband many years ago. A loan arranged at no interest to Lord Clinton. My father had been widowed after many years of marriage, and no surviving children. When Lady Clinton offered him a favor in return for his favor he asked her if she knew of a woman he might wed. My mother was the daughter of Lady Clinton’s cousin, and had no dowry to offer either a husband or a convent. Lady Clinton knew my father would be pleased to be related to her family despite my mother’s dowryless condition, and so the match was made. Afterwards, however, we never saw them.

“I am, yer majesty, a very rich woman, but I do not want the knowledge of my wealth bruited about yer court. My father has asked that ye find me a husband, and indeed I hope that eventually ye will; but I have never been away from my home, and although I admit to having resisted my father’s will in this matter, he was indeed correct when he promised me I should enjoy traveling, and the many new experiences I should find with ye. Still, I have never been courted by a man before. I have no experience in matters of the heart, and I am fearful of being taken advantage of by the sophisticated gentlemen of yer court.

“If my wealth were known, I should undoubtedly be overwhelmed by suitors seeking my gold rather than my heart. My lack of knowledge would make me prey to the guileful. If, however, my wealth is not known, then any who seek my company will do so out of a genuine caring for my person, and
not
my purse. For now, however, I am more than satisfied to serve my queen as best I can.”

Elizabeth Tudor nodded slowly. The girl has a brain! She was not to be burdened with some flibbertigibbet of a wench this time. Was it possible she might even be educated as well? It was too much to hope for, but the queen asked anyway. “Have ye studied at all, Mistress St. Michael?”

“Aye, yer majesty. I speak Greek, and Latin, as well as French; and a bit of German, Spanish, and Italian. I can also read and write in these languages as well as our own.”

“Mathematics?”

“Simple, as well as accounts,” was the answer.

“Ye’ve studied history?”

“All that the old master from Oxford that my father employed could teach me. I can also compose poetry, dance, sing, and play upon two instruments.”

“They are?”

“The lute, and the virginals, madame.”

“Praise God!” the queen said. “Yer an educated female which means ye’ll have something to talk about other than clothing and men.”

“I’m not very knowledgeable about fashions, madame.”

“Yer father has asked that I find ye a husband?” The queen smiled at Aidan.

“Aye, madame.”

“And ye wish it so?”

“I would be like yer majesty, my own mistress, but I know that cannot be. I must eventually wed. I only ask that ye give me a little bit of time, madame. Besides, as my father was the final male of his line, he requested in his last testament that my husband take our family name, that his baronetcy not die out as did his life.”

“Such a request is not unusual,” said the queen, “and in deference to yer family’s loyalty to my family I will honor that request. Now, Robin Southwood will show ye where ye are to stay here at Greenwich. Return with him as soon as ye have settled yerself. My workbasket is a shambles, Mistress Aidan St. Michael, and ’tis now yer duty to see it neat.”

Aidan stood up, and curtsying to the queen departed the room with Mag. Outside the queen’s dayroom they found the Countess of Lincoln awaiting them. The young earl made the lady an elegant leg.