Lost Love Found (8 page)

C
ourt. It was not at all what she had expected. All her life she had heard the many stories told by her aunt and parents of their improbable adventures at Queen Elizabeth’s court. Her cousins had spoken glowingly about their own colorful and exciting stays at the social pinnacle of their world. It was strange to try to reconcile those tales of their past to what Valentina found. The court was no longer vibrant. It was a somber, sometimes dreary place of dark mistakes and the ghosts of past triumphs, a haunted place. The air was filled with anxious expectations having to do with the future—a future in which Elizabeth Tudor would have no part.

Most of the famous men who had surrounded Elizabeth, like pearls encircling a precious diamond, were gone. Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, had died in the autumn of 1588, rendering England’s great victory over Spain’s Armada bitter for Elizabeth Tudor. Sir Francis Walsingham had died in 1590, followed by Sir Christopher Hatton in 1591.

The queen’s cousin, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, had passed on in 1596. He was the son of Mary Boleyn, the queen’s aunt, and it had been suspected that Henry Carey was actually Henry VIII’s son, for Mary Boleyn had been in the king’s bed long before her sister Anne came home from France to capture Harry Tudor’s heart. Elizabeth had been deeply fond of Henry in spite of all of the rumors, and Lord Hunsdon’s loyalty had always been strictly to the queen.

But the death that could still bring tears to her eyes was that of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, on August 4, 1598. Cecil, her beloved friend, her wondrously clever secretary of state who had been with her from the very beginning. Cecil, who first and always worked in the queen’s best interest. Lord Burghley had, however, left the queen a most precious legacy, his even cleverer second son, Sir Robert Cecil.

Robert Cecil was a small, hunchbacked man. He was extremely uncomfortable with his appearance, but he was a worthy successor to both his father and Francis Walsingham. Although Robert Cecil had first stood for Parliament when he was only eighteen years old, and had risen rapidly in the queen’s government, due not only to nepotism but to his own extraordinary talents, he was equally at home in the witty world of the theater. He was often seen at the Globe attending performances of plays by Master William Shakespeare and Master Christopher Marlowe. Cecil was a man who loved gambling for high stakes and the high society in which he moved. The queen called him Pygmy, a nickname he detested, and one no one but Elizabeth dared use in his presence.

Little Cecil trips up and down
He rules both Court and Crown
,

sang the balladmongers on London’s streets. Robert Cecil’s crippled appearance made him less than popular with the commoners, who liked their heroes tall, handsome, and gallant, like the Earl of Essex. Yet Cecil effortlessly overcame his appearance with those who took the time to know him, for he was clever and urbane. Like his father, Sir Robert’s first loyalty was to the queen and to England. And if he cared a whit for what others thought of him, he did not show it.

As the queen grew older, Robert Cecil saw that his primary duty was to oversee a smooth transition from one monarch to another without making Elizabeth Tudor aware of what he was doing.

It was into this court—a waiting court, a court beneath whose apparently smooth surface there roiled continual intrigue and an eagerness to be done with the past and get on with the future—that the widowed Lady Barrows came, innocently seeking her fortune.

The trip to London was without incident, and upon their arrival Valentina and Padraic went immediately to Greenwood House, which belonged to his mother and was the family’s London mansion. The house was located in the village of Chiswick-on-Strand and set like a little jewel atop a swath of lawns bordering the River Thames. There they would have a day to rest before Valentina reported for her new duties.

The queen was in residence at the palace of Whitehall, which, like her beloved Greenwich, was on the banks of the River Thames. Once Whitehall had been known as York Place. Thomas Wolsey, called “the proudest prelate that ever breathed” by his contemporaries, had, upon his elevation by Henry VIII to the archbishopric of York, taken the two-story house and enlarged it into a grand palace. In late 1529 Wolsey, in an effort to retain his waning favor with the king, gave Henry York Place, which the king renamed Whitehall.

Henry Tudor had acquired more land surrounding Whitehall and designed an expanded palace on the twenty-four-acre site. There were cockpits, a tiltyard, tennis courts, a “ball house” where the nobility played at featherball, a bowling alley, gardens, and several other buildings for pleasure and sport. Unfortunately, the palace grounds were bisected by a main thoroughfare leading from Westminster to Charing Cross. The thoroughfare could not be closed, so although the main buildings belonging to Whitehall lay along the riverbank, it was necessary to cross the road to get to the rest of the palace grounds.

Padriac Burke had wanted to take his cousin to the theater on her first afternoon in London, but Valentina demurred, pleading the exhaustion of the journey.

“Perhaps you are right, coz,” Lord Burke agreed. “Best to get some rest while you can, for old Bess will use you fiercely. As the newest lady you will find yourself being called upon for the worst of the tasks. Take my advice, however, and do not allow the maids of honor to order you about, for you are above them in rank.”

The queen was served by a huge household of people, among them six unmarried maids of honor and six married or widowed ladies who served as Her Majesty’s ladies-in-waiting. It was their job to keep her amused and informed, to calm her, to play cards with her, to flatter her and pamper her. The queen’s ladies knew Elizabeth Tudor better than anyone else did—though some would have wished to be spared that dubious honor.

“Will I live in the palace?” Valentina inquired of her more knowledgeable cousin.

“They will find some accommodation for you, I am certain, but do not expect anything grand, Val. You must remember that you are the lowliest of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting and only obtained your appointment through an accident of timing and extreme good fortune. You will be taking your place with ladies of rank who are considered the queen’s contemporaries and who have known her for years: Lady Dudley, the widowed dowager Countess of Warwick; Lady Scrope; Lady Howard, the Countess of Nottingham, who gained you your place through Willow’s good offices. You are very fortunate, coz.”

She found his words irritating, yet Padriac had been in and out of court since he was a child. He had to know, so Valentina swallowed her pride to ask him, “What else can you tell me, Padraic?”

“Greenwood will be your home, as it is for all of us except Robin, who has his own great town house next door. Keep most of your clothing here lest it be stolen.”

“Stolen?” Valentina was shocked.

“Things are not what they once were at court,” came the reply. “Take a change of clothing and keep your jewelry on your person, otherwise you risk having it disappear. Nan cannot stand guard over your things all day. They will be safe here. When the queen travels on her progress, you will have to take more clothing with you, depending on how far from London she goes.”

“She is quite old to travel so much,” ventured Lady Barrows.

Padraic whooped with laughter. “You had best not mention age, particularly the queen’s, if you wish to retain your place, coz. Bess may be old, but age hasn’t slowed her down one whit. She walks each day, she even rides, and she tires her maids who are all younger than you, Val.
You
will have a great deal of fun keeping up with her! There is only one who can stop her—Death. And the queen is not yet ready to surrender to Death, whatever the gossips say.”

The following morning, Lord Burke escorted his cousin to Whitehall in his family’s barge. Landing at the palace’s water stairs, they saw Willow waving to them impatiently from atop the landing.

“Hurry! Hurry!” she called as they mounted the steps to meet her.

“We are not late that I am aware of,” Padraic told his sister.

“No, you are not late, but I will need time to check Valentina’s dress and brief her on the latest gossip. Are you aware, Padraic, that no one in the family since our mother was Countess of Lynmouth has served the queen as a lady-in-waiting? Oh, we have all had turns as maids of honor, but to be a lady-in-waiting …!”

“God’s foot, Willow! If you find the position so desirable, why do you not take it yourself?” Padraic demanded.

“Be a lady-in-waiting? Are you mad? I have a family to contend with, brother. Poor James could not get along without me, and have you forgotten my little ones? You bachelors are all alike! No respect for a woman’s responsibilities.” Willow sighed, patting a stray wisp of dark hair into place.

She led them into a little antechamber and, ignoring her younger brother, said to Valentina, “Now, cousin, let me see you.”

Valentina carefully removed her fur-lined dark gray cloak and handed it to Padraic. She was garbed in a black velvet gown with a bell-shaped skirt that separated in the front to reveal a black taffeta brocade undergown. The undergown was sewn with goldthread pendant flowers decorated with seed pearls and glittering jet beads. Val’s sleeves were of the leg-of-mutton style and covered with many black silk ribbons, each one edged with small pearls. The wristbands turned back to form cuffs with ruffs on them. The neckline was extremely low, causing Lord Burke to draw in a sharp breath, for his cousin had the most beautiful bosom he had ever seen.

“Must the gown be
that
low?” he asked sharply.

“Most women are now exposing practically their entire breasts,” rejoined Willow. “Valentina’s neckline is just short of dowdy. Besides, she has lovely breasts. Do not be so old-fashioned, Padraic.” Willow continued her examination of her cousin, then nodded, pleased.

Beneath her skirts Valentina was wearing a farthingale that gave her gown just the right stiffness of line. Her bodice had a long wasp waist that ended in front in a pronounced downward peak. The bodice was elaborately decorated to match the undergown. About her waist was a delicate gold chain from which hung a needle case, a small gold watch, and a pomander ball.

Nan had arranged her mistress’s hair in the simple but elegant style favored by the women of Val’s family. It was parted in the middle, affixed in a chignon at the nape of her neck, and dressed with loops of pearls, a motif carried out in the rest of Valentina’s jewelry. There were rings on each of her fingers; a necklace of pearls and jet beads about her slender throat; and fat baroque pearls dangling from her ears. Lady Barrows was the image of a wealthy and respectable widow.

“You are perfect,” said Willow. “Your dress shows your breeding, yet you will not overshadow the queen.”

“Your mother has told me that that is the one thing I must never do,” replied Valentina.

“A pity Mother did not learn that lesson earlier,” said Willow tartly.

“Our mother had just cause to quarrel with the queen,” Padraic defended Skye. “God’s foot, Willow, you sound so
English!
”

“I
am
English,” Willow retorted irritably.

“Your mother is Irish and your father was a Spaniard,” he returned.

“I was born in England, at Wren Court, brother,” Willow reminded him. “I have lived my whole life in England. My husband is English. My children are English, and I, damn you, am English as well! As for you, Padraic Burke, you are every bit as English as I am despite the fact that your father was Irish. You have lived here since your infancy, and you own English lands. I see no great passion on your part to go join Tyrone and his rebels. You are far too comfortable an English milord for that!” “Damn you, Willow! I have half a mind to—” “Stop!” cried Valentina, interposing herself between the two battling siblings. “I will not have you two fighting! What does it matter if we are English or Irish? We are a family and that is what is important.” She turned to Lord Burke. “Now be silent, cousin. Not another word from you.” She turned again. “Willow, will you please escort me to the queen? It would not do for me to be late for our initial meeting. I would not have Her Majesty think ill of me.”

“The wench has more sense than either of us,” muttered Padraic.

Willow ignored him. “Come along, Cousin Valentina,” she said. “Lord Burke has business elsewhere, I am certain.” And without so much as a backward glance at her younger brother, she shepherded Lady Barrows off to the queen’s apartments.

Their entrance was greeted with curious glances by the maids of honor in attendance on the queen. The young women considered their lives at court unutterably boring, save for the trysts they were sometimes able to arrange with gentlemen. During the last several years these young girls from good families who were chosen to serve Elizabeth Tudor had caused several scandals. Less than two years had passed since pretty little Elizabeth Vernon had found herself pregnant with the Earl of Southampton’s child. The queen had been furious with her young namesake, although the earl had married the girl. Now, on the very day that Valentina arrived, a new scandal was breaking among the maids of honor.

Lady Dudley, the dowager Countess of Warwick hurried forward to greet them when they entered, saying as she did, “Thank heaven you have come, Lady Edwardes! The queen is in an uproar! Mary Fitton has been discovered to be with child!” Her glance took in Valentina. “This is your cousin?”

“Yes, madam. This is my uncle’s eldest child, Valentina, Lady Barrows, a widow.” She was dying to ask about the newly brewed scandal, but Lady Dudley was already drawing them across the room toward the queen’s privy chamber.

A serving woman opened the door to allow them admittance, and immediately they heard the haranguing of a high, shrill voice.

“There is nothing you can say to me, mistress, save to name the culprit, as if I did not know his name already! ’Tis Will Herbert, is it not?” The queen glowered at the weeping girl, who knelt before her, and Valentina was able to get her first good look at Elizabeth Tudor, who was far more interested in Mary Fitton than she was in her visitors.