Lost Love Found (13 page)

“As the queen and Lord Burghley pondered their dilemma in the privacy of the queen’s closet, my mama, who was Her Majesty’s only attendant at that moment, spoke up, suggesting herself as the bride! She explained to them that, as she, too, was half Irish, wealthy, and without a great name, she would be the perfect bride for Conn O’Malley. She reminded the queen that Her Majesty had promised my mama’s late father that she would find a husband for Mama. There was but one condition. My mother’s bridegroom had to agree to take her family name so that it would not die out. That is how Conn O’Malley became Conn St. Michael, Lord Bliss. And that is the story of how my mama and papa were married,” Valentina finished with a smile.

“Is your papa still very handsome?” asked Margaret Dudley. “The mere mention of his name can make the queen smile, and she rarely smiles these days.”

“Aye,” Valentina replied. “He is still as handsome as ever, though he is graying just slightly at the temples.”

“And are they happy, your parents?” Eleanora Clifford asked.

“Aye! They have always been happy and content together, for they truly love each other.”

“Love! Just look where
love
has gotten poor Mary,” remarked Honoria de Bohun bitterly.

“Will Herbert knows naught of love,” said Eleanora. “He is a selfish, ambitious man, and you know it, Honoria. You were angling for him yourself, but Mary caught his fancy. What Will Herbert wanted from Mary was not love. You were fortunate to escape his attentions.”

“I wonder if there is really such a thing as love,” Honoria said, “or if the queen is right and affection’s false.”

“Of course there is such a thing as love,” Margaret Dudley replied. “If there were not the hope of love, I do not believe that any of us would survive. Tell her that love is real, madam,” Margaret begged as she turned pleading brown eyes to Valentina.

“Of course love exists,” Valentina assured them, “but sometimes it is harder to find than at other times. You must never give up hope of love, any of you.”

“If your father is Lord Bliss,” Penelope Howard asked curiously, “then how are you Lady Barrows?”

“I am a widow,” Valentina told them.

“Oh,” the maids of honor moaned sympathetically.

“Were you married long? Do you have children? What was he like? Did you love him wildly?” The questions came fast and furious.

Valentina laughed. What a pack of curious magpies these young girls were! But then, their life at court was a very unnatural one, she felt. They were forced to mature far more quickly than she had, safe in her country home. Even Anne had not come to court until she was older, although Bevin had been just fifteen. Of course, court had not seemed to hurt her sisters any, but Aidan St. Michael’s daughters had strong, broad streaks of their mother’s practicality in their own natures.

She looked down at the five upturned young faces. Even Honoria de Bohun appeared to be softening toward Lady Barrows. “I was wed less than a month,” she told her charges. “Ned was killed in a riding accident. There were, of course, no children. He was a wonderful man.” No need to explain further, Valentina considered. The rest was really none of their business.

“Will you mourn him all of your days, madam?” asked Beth.

Valentina forced herself not to laugh. “I think not,” she answered the girl. “I know … he would not want it so.”

“So then, like the rest of us, you have come to court to seek a husband,” said Honoria de Bohun bluntly.

“Honoria!” The other girls looked shocked. Of course one came to court to find a husband if one was not already promised, but it was a dreadful lack of delicacy to admit such a thing. Besides, Lady Barrows was their superior.

“Nay, Honoria,” said Valentina gently. She wondered why the girl was so hostile.

“Then why have you come to court? No one comes these days without a good reason. The old queen is dying, but she will take a long time doing it, my father says. Tudors are very stubborn.”

“I have come to serve the queen as my mother, my aunt, my cousins, and even two of my younger sisters already have done. There is no mystery to it. I am still in mourning for my husband, and quite frankly, my dear, I am not one bit interested in getting married again. Enough, however, of all this chatter about me. You must tell me about yourselves, and then I want you to show me Whitehall. Who will start? Margaret, you are the eldest.”

Each girl gave Valentina a description of her family, her connections, and her life prior to corning to court. Two of the five girls, Eleanora Clifford and Penelope Howard, were betrothed before coming to court, and Èleanora was to be married in late summer. Valentina reminded herself to write her mother about that, for Maggie would be thirteen next month, and who knew when another opportunity would arise to place her younger sister among the queen’s maids of honor? Who even knew how long the queen would live? When James Stewart inherited England’s throne, he would bring his own people with him. The timing was ideal for Maggie St. Michael.

Margaret Dudley had lost her betrothed husband two years ago when he was killed in the New World during a privateering venture. Finding another match for her had not been easy, for though she was a member of the powerful Dudley family, she was part of a distant, less important branch. She had obtained her appointment to the queen’s service through the good offices of her distant cousin, the earl of Warwick, who was also a Dudley. Her cousin, Beth Stanley, by contrast, was an extremely wealthy heiress for whom there were numerous suitors. Beth’s widowed mother, however, was in no great hurry to turn her only child’s fortune over to someone who might not be as kindly disposed toward Beth’s mother as little Beth herself was.

Honoria de Bohun, though possessed of an ancient and famous name, had very little money. Her family had scraped together everything they had to send her to court. Their hope was that Honoria’s blond beauty and chaste character would bring her a husband, preferably a wealthy one. Though many men had tried, no one had succeeded in seducing the proud girl. Honoria understood the value of her only jewels, her beauty and her virtue. Her initial hostility toward Valentina stemmed from the fact that Honoria viewed every attractive woman at court as a potential rival. Valentina learned this and everything else about Honoria from chatty Eleanora Clifford when Honoria excused herself to go to the necessary in an effort to escape speaking about herself.

When she returned, Valentina said in a kindly tone, “I have learned your history from your companions, Honoria. Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“I am certain they have told you
all
, madam” was the sour reply.

“Then,” said Valentina, standing, “let us take our walk. Please show me Whitehall so that I shall be able to get about without making a fool of myself.”

Margaret Dudley took it upon herself to be the spokeswoman and guide. “Whitehall,” she said, “is really a jumble of buildings, madam. It is not necessary to go much beyond the Great Court, for the farther away from it you get, the less there is to see. I prefer Richmond, where we shall shortly be going.”

“I like Hampton Court best,” said Penelope.

“Greenwich is my favorite,” Eleanora chimed in.

“That is where my parents met and were married,” said Valentina.

“They were wed at Greenwich?” Beth was again wide-eyed.

“In the queen’s own chapel by her very own chaplain,” replied Lady Barrows. “My aunt Skye and her youngest child, my cousin, Velvet, were also wed at Greenwich, under the queen’s good auspices.”

“I only wish the queen was as kindly disposed toward romance today as she was in your relations’ time,” muttered Honoria. “God help any of us to whom a gentleman might attempt to pay court! There is always hell to pay when the queen notices. She is jealous of all of us because we are young and pretty, while she is old and dried-up.”

“Honoria!” Margaret Dudley said, genuinely distressed. “You will surely get yourself in trouble if anyone overheard you. You cannot afford to be sent home before you have found a husband. You
must
learn to guard your tongue.”

“Well, it is true,” Honoria replied defiantly “None of us has any chance of happiness while the old dragon is watching—and she is
always
watching.”

“Margaret is correct, Honoria,” Valentina gently remonstrated. “You must guard your speech, for you hold a valued place in the queen’s service, and whatever others may think privately about Her Majesty, they would not be above reporting your behavior in order to obtain your place for a relation.”

Honoria sighed. “I have been here for almost a year, madam, and I have yet to meet a gentleman whose intentions were serious. It is all so frustrating!”

Valentina smiled. “I have two brothers who will soon be coming to court, and several cousins. I shall have to introduce you to them, Honoria. I cannot vouch for their intentions, but I think you will find them more sympathetic than the usual courtier.”

“Are your brothers very handsome?” asked Beth eagerly.

“They like to think so.” Valentina chuckled. “Colin will be twenty, and Payton, eighteen come spring.”

The palace was inhabited by hundreds of people, from courtiers to lowly servants. There were many paved courts, each with its own name. Valentina found the Preaching Court, where a pulpit had been set in the middle of the garden for summer sermons, a novel idea. There were long hallways and galleries, a profusion of rooms for lodging courtiers and servants, all arranged around the various courts. The courts had been designed in all shapes and sizes, and there were several towers, including the one in which Elizabeth’s father, Henry VIII, had wed her mother, Mistress Anne Boleyn.

When Cardinal Wolsey turned over all his possessions to King Henry, the king caused the Privy Gallery from the cardinal’s country house, Esher, to be dismantled and rebuilt at Whitehall. It was a chain of connecting galleries with windows on either side that looked out on gardens on one side and the River Thames on the other. The galleries were paneled and wainscoted in fine woods, the carvings of human, animal, and floral figures. The ceilings were fashioned of stone and gold, and there were marvelous tapestries on the walls. Valentina thought this section was the loveliest part of Whitehall.

Margaret Dudley led them at last to the Privy Chamber, where she led Valentina to a portrait hung with honor on a wall near the entrance to the chamber. Henry Tudor’s court painter, Hans Holbein, had painted Henry VIII, flanked by his father, Henry VII, his mother, Elizabeth of York, and Queen Jane Seymour, who was the mother of his only legitimate son. Although Queen Jane was dead when Master Holbein painted his portrait, Holbein had known her well, and he painted her into the great portrait from memory.

The maids of honor and their mistress passed through the great Stone Gallery on the ground floor of Whitehall. The queen had once used it to hold entertainments for important foreign visitors. Now, however, the Stone Gallery was divided into three apartments, and there was a temporary banqueting house outside in a courtyard.

A canvas marquee, one hundred yards long, its roof supported by thirty gilded poles each forty feet high, had been designed to appear to be an actual stone building. The outside walls resembled stonework. Inside, the painters had painted the canopy with a sun, stars, and white clouds. Twenty years after being built, the “temporary” hall still stood and was used when the queen entertained at Whitehall.

“She’ll be holding tonight’s fête here,” Margaret Dudley said.

“Is it not cold?” queried Valentina.

“No more so than anywhere else in the palace. Besides, there are braziers of coals and all the bodies to keep the hall warm. And the dancing keeps the blood flowing hotly,” said Margaret.

When they returned to the Maidens’ Chamber they were informed that the queen would take her supper with only her ladies and young maidens in attendance. She would be wearing a gown of cloth of silver, and her maids of honor were to garb themselves in white and silver. Lady Barrows was free to wear what she liked. Valentina’s small private apartment was just off the Maidens’ Chamber and there, to her relief, she found Nan waiting.

“This place is no better than a rabbit’s warren,” grumbled Nan. “I cannot find my way about, and the servants are proper hoity-toity, m’lady. I could get no one to bring bathwater.”

“You must tip them a coin for such a duty, Nan. Mother’s old Mag told me that. But don’t pay them until the water is delivered, for they are likely to take your coin and not bother to bring the water.”

“What a place! What a place!” Nan complained. “I wish you would marry Lord Burke, and then we could live in a proper house.”

“What is this, Nan? Who told you I was even considering marriage again, let alone marriage to Padraic Burke? I certainly have not said such a thing.”

“Well, he loves you, don’t he?” asked Nan bluntly.

Valentina stared at her without a word.

“You ain’t getting any younger, m’lady, if I just might mention it. Twenty-one this March, isn’t it? It ain’t easy for an older woman to get herself another husband. Lord Burke is a handsome man with a good fortune. If he’s staying at court, and I hear he is, it’s because he wants to be near you, I’m thinkin’. Now, ye can’t expect the ladies to ignore him, ye know. Ye best beware, m’lady, lest ye lose a good catch.”

“Nan, I should not have to tell you that I am still in mourning for Lord Barrows,” Valentina scolded. “I cannot begin to consider another marriage until the summer. I am not even certain I
want
to marry again. I am enjoying my freedom.”

“Yer enjoying having two gentlemen fight over ye,” Nan said huffily. “Lord Burke don’t like it that the Earl of Kempe has taken to hanging about ye.”

“Lord Burke can go to hell in a handbasket, Nan. He is not my husband,
nor
my betrothed husband,
nor
even my lover! I am my own mistress, and I shall do as I please.”

“God bless me if yer gentle lady mother could hear you speaking such words! A lover, indeed! If I ever catch you taking a lover, m’lady, I’ll go right home to Pearroc Royal and tell yer father on ye!”