A Love for All Time (26 page)

For a moment she studied herself in the mirror thinking that fine feathers did indeed make a difference. Her clothing had never been either this magnificent or elegant, nor had the woman who stared back at her been quite so pretty. She wondered how much of it had to do with her clothing, and how much of it had to do with her own personal happiness. Whatever the reasons she had never felt more confident, or more lovely in her entire life, and she was definitely ready to take on the court, but this time upon her own terms.

Conn, awaiting below, smiled as she came down the stairs. “Ye’ve put yer cloak on,” he said disappointed. “Do I not get to see the wonderful gown?”

“We are almost late as it is,” she said, her tone worried. “Ye’ll see it when we get to Greenwich. It will not do for us to be late, Conn. Ye know how her majesty prizes punctuality.”

“Yer absolutely right,” he agreed, not in the least suspicious as he escorted his wife down to Greenwood’s stone quay for the voyage downriver to Greenwich in their barge.

Their boat, by good fortune, had caught the tide, and was quickly sped down the Thames River to the royal residence at Greenwich. There it joined a line of other barges, both privately owned like theirs, and public conveyances hired for the trip to court, that waited in a somewhat ragged line to land at the watergate of the palace. Several persons in the other boats recognized Conn immediately, and called out to him. Elegant in the black velvet suit his wife had requested he wear, he bowed right and left.

“Why is it,” Aidan teased her husband, “that there are more ladies than gentlemen addressing ye, m’lord?”

“I made many friends while I served Bess in the Gentlemen Pensioners,” Conn said dryly with a mischievous wink at his wife.

“Indeed ye seem to have, but should any of those jades attempt to renew old acquaintances, I shall claw them to ribbons!”

Leaning over he kissed her ear sending a ripple of pleasure down her spine. “Ye can’t deny me the looking, sweeting, for there’s only one who has my heart in her gentle keeping, and ’tis ye.”

“Yer a rogue,” she muttered at him.

“Aye, but a rogue who loves only his wife, Aidan. Believe that. I’m a courtier by nature, but I’ll never play ye false though I flirt with relish.”

“Then ye’ll not mind if I flirt also?” she asked.

“Nay, sweeting, for as I am true to ye, I know ye’ll be true to me. Just be careful, Aidan, for yer not practiced in such arts, and ye could mislead a man easily which I know ye wouldn’t want to do. Still, sweeting, have yer fun as long as yer careful.”

“I wonder,” she mused smiling, “how many other husbands give their wives leave to flirt?”

“Not many. They cannot trust their spouses as I can trust ye.”

Their barge’s turn now came to make a landing, and they quickly, with the help of royal footmen, stepped from their boat onto the little stone quay, and hurried up the staircase and into the palace of Greenwich. There waiting servants took their cloaks from them, and Conn got his first look at his wife’s new gown. His surprised expression was so comical that Aidan began to giggle.

“Jesu!” he hissed. “Ye leave little to the imagination, do ye, sweeting?”

“ ’Tis the height of fashion, m’lord.”

“Says who?” He dragged her into a corner where none could overhear them, or see her.

“Madame,” said Aidan calmly. “She made my gown to yer sister’s specifications, her exact specifications. I carried them from home, and gave them to Madame when she came two days ago. Madame says that Skye is a perfect authority on fashion, and I am wise to take her advice.”

“That gown is positively indecent! If ye breathe deep once ye’ll be out of it! Yer going home to change, Aidan! I’ll not have every man at court ogling yer tits!” He grasped her by the arm, but she pulled away angrily.

“This gown is totally in fashion. Look about ye, Conn! Every woman here is wearing as low a neckline if not lower! The queen is expecting us now, and besides I have nothing back at Greenwood I could wear. That is why I had this gown made in the first place. I believe ye are jealous, m’lord. How wonderful!”

He gritted his teeth in frustration. She was perfectly correct in everything she said, and the truth of the matter was that he was jealous. Then seeing the delight upon her face at the fact he was jealous he saw the humor in the situation, and laughed softly. He was totally prepared to be liberal in his attitude toward his plain little wife, but she was no longer quite so plain in her magnificent court dress, with two of her best points more than apparent. His liberality had vanished with his realization that if he found his wife attractive then so would others. “Dammit, Aidan, couldn’t ye have put a little bit of lace there?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the tops of her breasts.

“No,” she said with a finality in her voice that ended the matter. Then, “We will be late, my lord,” she gently reminded him.

Bested he took her arm, and escorted her down the broad corridor to the receiving room where the queen would come to greet all of her guests. As they moved along amid the other courtiers several ladies called out, their tones dulcet with promise, “Conn O’Malley! Welcome!” Conn nodded noncommittally. “Conn, darling! ’Tis good to see ye!” “Oh, Conn! We’ve missed ye!”

“More than likely they’ve missed yer fine cock,” teased Aidan, and he laughed at her irreverence for the court beauties.

“My dear child, welcome back to court. Please introduce me to yer husband for I know him only by sight.” Elizabeth Clinton stood before them.

Aidan curtsied politely, and Conn bowed gallantly to the Countess of Lincoln. “My lord,” Aidan said formally, “may I present her ladyship, the Countess of Lincoln, to whom I am fortunate enough to be related through my mother’s family. Madame, my husband, Conn St. Michael, Lord Bliss.”

“I am sorry,” said the countess, “that we did not get to meet before ye left court, my lord. Will ye be joining us on the summer progress? We leave in a few days’ time for Long Medford.”

“Alas, no, madame,” said Conn politely. “We have only come to court to share with her majesty some happy news, and to thank her for wedding us. Then we must return to
Pearroc Royal,
my wife’s health being delicate now.”

“Ahh.” Elizabeth Clinton smiled, understanding without being told what the happy news would be, and obviously very happy to see her young relative had made a love match in the end. Young O’Malley had a wild reputation that she doubted not, but he was also obviously a man of principle, and with his marriage had settled down. She knew it was what the queen had hoped for after last winter’s scandal.

“I am happy for ye both,” she said, “and I know that her majesty will be too. She is anxious to see what her matchmaking has wrought, and I think she will be pleased with the results.” Then the Countess of Lincoln gave Aidan a motherly hug, kissing her upon both cheeks, and even gave Conn a maternal buss. “Good fortune to ye both,” she said, and then she moved away.

“Aidan! Uncle Conn!” The young Earl of Lynmouth hurried up to them.

“God’s blood, youngster,” said Conn. “Ye’ve grown another foot, I vow! How do ye manage it with all the running ye do here?”

Robin Southwood grinned. “I’ve learned how to eat and sleep on the run,” he said offhandedly. Then he looked closely at Aidan. “Yer happy,” he noted.

“Very happy,” she answered. “Yer uncle has taken yer good advice, and treated me quite well. Why the man even admits to loving me.” She smiled at the blushing Earl of Lynmouth.

“I hope he knows ye love him, and were positively cow-eyed over him from the first night ye came to court.”

“Oh ho, what’s this?” Conn suddenly looked fascinated.

Now it was Aidan’s turn to blush, and Robin realized his error. “Yer uncle,” said Aidan in an attempt to regain control of the situation, “is well aware that I love him, Robin.”

“But I want to hear about the cow-eyed part,” teased Conn.

“Sir!” She shook her little muff at him. “Will ye leave me no secrets?”

He slipped his arm about her, and quickly kissed her cheek. “Nay, sweeting. There’ll be no secrets between us ever. ’Tis not healthy for a marriage.”

“My lord, I ask you nothing of what went on in yer life with regard to other ladies before we wed. Ye, in return, must not ask me about my cow-eyed state before we wed.”

He chuckled. “Very well, madame. In the interest of discretion I am forced to agree.”

“I was sent to bring ye to the queen’s private closet,” said Robin. “We must hurry for she’ll wonder where we are.”

Lord and Lady Bliss followed the young earl from the receiving room, and down a corridor, and up a flight of stairs to the queen’s apartments which overlooked the river. Entering she and Conn were warmly greeted by the girls who had been her companions just several months back.

“Aidan!” Linnet Talbot squealed. “Ye look positively gorgeous! That gown must have cost a fortune!”

“It did,” said Aidan with a laugh. “How are ye, Linnet?” She smiled at the girl, and her smile took in the other young ladies she had known during her stay at court. “Mary, Dorothy, Jane Anne, Cathy,” she named them. “And who is this young lady? My replacement, I presume.”

“Yes,” said Linnet. “This is Bess Throckmorton, the sister of Sir Nicholas.”

“Mistress Throckmorton.” Aidan smiled at the serious young girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

Mistress Throckmorton curtsied politely.

“I’ll tell the queen yer here,” said Robin, and he hurried off.

Aidan smiled again. “I don’t believe any of ye have ever been formally introduced to my husband, Lord Bliss,” she said.

The queen’s six maids of honor curtsied to Conn who bowed in return to them. Then Linnet, ever bold, said, “Sweet Mary! He’s as gorgeous close up as he is at a distance. No wonder ye retired to the country. I wouldn’t want to share him either!”

“Linnet!” Mistress Throckmorton looked shocked, but Aidan laughed.

“He’s even better without his clothes,” she teased Linnet, and casting quick looks at Lord Bliss, the queen’s maids of honor burst into laughter, even Bess Throckmorton.

“Ye’ve changed,” remarked Linnet Talbot, “and I think it’s for the better.”

“ ’Tis all due to me,” Conn said mischievously. “I’ve made my lass bloom.”

“Well,” said Linnet matter-of-factly, “yer marriage made her the envy of every lady at court who ever coveted ye, my lord. Have ye come back to join us this summer?”

“Nay,” said Conn to the girl, but before she might question him further Robin returned to bring them into the queen’s private closet.

The queen was seated in a comfortable chair, clad in a pale blue chamber robe embroidered with pearls. Behind her one of her women was brushing her fading reddish locks. Both Conn and Aidan made a deep obeisance to Elizabeth Tudor, and as they slowly rose she gave them one of her rare smiles.

“How happy ye both look,” she said with just a hint of sadness in her own voice. “Come and sit by me, my dears, and tell me yer news.”

It was a special invitation for the queen did not invite everyone to sit by her. One of the Ladies of the Bedchamber brought forth two stools, and set them before the queen. Conn and Aidan sat.

“We wanted to come personally to thank ye, yer majesty, for our happiness,” said Aidan. “Had it not been for ye we should have never found each other.”

Elizabeth’s eyes misted. She conveniently forgot the embarrassing circumstances that had forced her to find a wife for Conn, and she seemed to have forgotten that it was Aidan who had boldly put herself forth as a candidate, in fact the only logical candidate, for Conn’s hand. She reached out to take Aidan’s hand. “Dear child, I am so happy that in keeping my word to yer dying father, I have also been able to make ye happy, too. Is this wicked rogue good to ye?”

Aidan smiled a smile of such genuine happiness that even before she assented, “Aye, he is,” the queen knew the answer.

“And ye, Conn O’Malley! Yer pardon, Conn St. Michael, my lord Bliss. Are ye happy also?”

“Aye, Bess. As always ye knew better than I what was right for me.”

The queen preened beneath his honest flattery. “I want ye both to join us on this summer’s progress,” she said. “Marriage seems to agree with ye, Conn. I can see in yer eyes that ye’ve settled down.”

“Bess, ’tis a gracious invitation, graciously given, but I would beg yer permission to decline it. We have happy news that we came to share with ye, and ’twas our main reason for coming back to court.” He put his hand over the queen’s and Aidan’s. “My wife,” he said, “is with child. The babe is due next winter.”

“We would be so honored,” said Aidan, “if ye would agree to be our child’s godmother, madame.”

This was the kind of thing that Elizabeth Tudor loved. Her own single state had often made her bitter toward those who found marital happiness, and had children of their own; but in the case of her involvement in a romance she could be all graciousness. Thus it was with Conn and Aidan. She had been responsible for their marriage, and it worked out well. She was delighted to accept the credit for it all, for did it not show her own foresight and her wisdom? Now there was to be a fruit of that marriage, and once again she was to be included, indeed play a major role in the drama.

Conn and Aidan had actually come upon the queen at a rather fortunate time. A French marriage was once again being discussed, this time with Catherine de’Medici’s youngest son, François, Duc d’Alençon. Elizabeth was in a particularly good humor. She had spent the month of May at Wanstead House, which belonged to her favorite of favorites, Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester. It had been an idyllic time for her among people she loved, and who loved her. She had had another portrait painted, this time in the gardens at Wanstead standing upon an Oriental rug, wearing a white gown embroidered with sprays of flowers and leaves, colored in their natural colors.