All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  “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 sen
t 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.

  “I should have done Your Majesty no honor had I not bathed and attired myself in my finest clothes, madam. I am not so ill bred as to arrive before you smelling of sweat and the sea.”

  “You claim to do me honor, madam, and yet I sense that you actually defy me,” Elizabeth grumbled. “But enough! You will stay for the evening meal, and you will tell me about the Duc d’Alençon. He seeks to marry me, y’know.”

  “In France they speak of nothing else,” Skye said demurely.

  Elizabeth Tudor preened, and then with girlish enthusiasm asked, “What is he really like?”

  “He is an amusing man, madam. I believe you would find him quite compatible.”

  “Amusing?”

  “He has wit, Majesty, or at least as much wit as any son of Catherine de Medici could have.”

  “They say he is badly pock-marked.”

  “He grows a beard even now to disguise it, madam. He is an attractive man, and a great favorite with the ladies.”

  Cecil listened to Skye and marveled. One moment she gave to the Queen, and in the next instant she took away. The duke was charming, but he was his mother’s son. He was pock-marked, but handsome. He longed to be with Elizabeth, but the ladies of the French court would be desolate when he left them. Cecil smiled. This woman was definitely the Queen’s equal, but that was a thought he would keep to himself.

  Leaving the Queen’s closet, they adjourned to the dining hall where the court was awaiting the arrival of Elizabeth Tudor. The Queen had now transferred her attentions to Adam, and Skye was left to herself.

  “As fair as ever,” a displeasingly familiar voice murmured in her ear, and Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, came around her into her view.

  “As lecherous as ever, I’ve not a doubt,” she returned, irritated as his eyes plunged boldly to fasten on her breasts. “You look as if you would eat me, my lord. Is there not meat enough at the Queen’s board to satisfy you?”

  “Only you could ever satisfy me, Skye.”

  “Only you, my lord, could ever revolt me so much with your want of delicacy.”

  “Ah, you Celtic bitch, as always your refusal of my passions ignites me with desire,” he exclaimed, backing her against the wall. His arms pinioned her while his head dipped to press hot, wet kisses across the tops of her breasts.

  Remembering a similar situation of several years earlier, Skye thought with a wicked little smile: The fool never learns, and then she brutally jammed her knee into the Earl of Leicester’s groin. She was rewarded by instant release, and the silly, pained, surprised look upon his face. Calmly straightening her gown, Skye pushed past him, saying, “Dudley, I can’t believe you don’t remember our last encounter of this nature. I would also remind you that the last time you accosted me you were rather violently removed from my house by Lord de Marisco. He was only my friend then. Now he is my husband, and a most doting husband at that. I would that you think on it before you approach me again.” Then with a polite mocking curtsey she moved from the shadows and up to the Queen’s table, where a place had been made for her.

  Robert Dudley swore, and then swore again as he heard low laughter near his ear. “Hatton, say one word of what you saw, and I swear I shall run you through!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  Sir Christopher Hatton chuckled with pleased laughter. “I would not have believed it, my lord,” he jibed at the earl. “Did you not tell me yourself that she was a passionate little drab, and quite hot for you? By God, Dudley, I should hate to see a woman who didn’t like you!” Laughing merrily, he moved off, leaving the earl most discomfited.

  After the meal there was dancing, and although Skye would have far preferred to leave Greenwich and return to her house, she could not depart until the Queen had left, and Elizabeth Tudor, it seemed, was full of energy, and as merry as May this night. She danced with verve, and more with Sir Christopher than any other man in the room. Remembering Adam’s teasing remark about Hatton dancing divinely, Skye had to admit that he was the best dancer she had ever seen; and seeing Dudley sulking on the sidelines gave her great pleasure.

  “Good even, Mama,” Robin said, coming up to stand beside her.

  Skye turned, and with a pleased smile gave her son a swift kiss. “You are not surprised to see me?” she asked.

  “The Queen told us some weeks ago that you would be returning to court, Mama.”

  “Did she also tell you the manner of her invitation to us, Robin?”

  The young earl looked puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “The Queen’s agents kidnaped Velvet,” Skye said quietly.

  “God’s nightshirt!”

  “Do not use such language, Robin,” the mother in Skye scolded.

  “Your pardon, Mama, but I was so surprised by your disclosure I could not help myself. Is Velvet all right?”

  “So the Queen assures me, although I have insisted that my baby be returned immediately. Velvet is at Hampton Court.”

  “Why?”

  “Your uncles in Ireland are causing difficulties, and the Queen wants my aid in suppressing their high spirits.”

  Robin laughed. “The Irish are always causing trouble,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “This is serious,” Skye said, “and I would remind you, my lord earl, that you are half Irish.”

  “By blood, yes, madam,” Robin replied quietiy, “but my heart and my loyalties are all English.”

  “Yes, Robin, they are. I have raised you to be your father’s son. I might have done otherwise. I, however, am Irish, but I do not condone these useless rebellions in which your uncles have involved themselves, and I must stop them before they do any serious damage to the family.”

  The young earl nodded. He understood the difficulty of his mother’s position. “I am sure that the Queen has not hurt Velvet,” he said.

  “No, she has not, but nonetheless it was a terrible thing to do to us. I have, however, exacted my price in return for my aid. The Queen has recognized our marriage, both Adam and your brother, Padraic, have been given estates, and Lundy has been returned to us.”

  “Padraic has his lands back?”

  “Not in Ireland. The Queen would not give him back the Burke lands.”

  Robin saw the sadness in his mother’s eyes, and he put a hand on hers, saying, “I am sorry, Mother, but at least we are now less a house divided, and for that I am glad.”

  “Where is Willow?” Skye asked her son, changing the subject, for she could no longer think of Padraic’s loss without weeping.

  “Look for the Earl of Alcester, Mama,” Robin said. “Wherever he is, Willow will be.”

  “God’s blood!” Skye swore. “Did I not warn her about involving herself with a man?!”

  “ ’Tis not Willow who has involved herself with Alcester, but rather the other way around,” Robin said with a smile. “He is quite smitten with her, and in a position to offer marriage, Mama.”

  “Tell me
.”

  “James, Lord Edwardes, Earl of Alcester,” Robin began. “Aged twenty-four, a widower with one child, a daughter. Educated, well mannered, neither drinks nor gambles to excess. He seems to enjoy the ladies, but is no lecher, I’m told. I rather like him, Mama, and Willow, for all her hoity-toity ways, likes him too, although she hasn’t given the poor fellow the least encouragement.” Robin chuckled, a sophisticated sound far beyond his years, Skye thought. “He’s rather shy, I think.”

  “What of his family?” Skye demanded, for this young man surely had a family who would object to their son’s marriage to a young woman not of the nobility.

  “His parents are both dead, Mama. He has a paternal grandmother, I am told, but no one else of note.”

  “What of his finances? Surely there is some gossip about that.”

  “He’s not rich, Mama, but neither is he a pauper. I have been told that his estate is small, but well kept.” Here Robin made his voice even lower. “He doesn’t know the extent of Willow’s wealth, Mama. No one at court does, for she hasn’t been here that long. Besides, Willow is rather closemouthed about her affairs, and spends very little of her allowance.”

  Skye smiled with satisfaction. Her daughter was being quite discreet, and that was all to the good. She looked about the room, and finally spotted Willow standing amid a group of laughing young people. How lovely she looked in her garnet-red velvet gown, and how delighted Khalid would have been with her, the doting mother couldn’t help thinking. “Which one is Alcester?” she asked Robin.

  “The young man by her right elbow.”

  Skye let her gaze assess her daughter’s would-be suitor. He was a pleasant-looking young man of medium height with light brown hair. He was well built, and his young face had an intelligent and kindly look to it. “Introduce me,” she commanded Robin.

  Robin offered his mother his arm and led her across the floor to where his sister stood with her friends. Suddenly Willow saw them coming, and her eyes lit up joyfully. Breaking away from the group, she ran the few steps between them.