Mistress de Marisco soon found that though she might be a princess atQueen’s Malvern, she was most lowly in rank in the hierarchy of the royal court. Among all the ladies and greater nobility, the heiress of Lundy, as she was known, was a very small fish indeed. Still, she was well liked by those who took the trouble to get to know her, for though Velvet was young, she was amusing and well read, and though she had a temper there was no meanness in her.
Because Velvet was the youngest and the newest of the queen’s Maids, the simplest of tasks was assigned to her. It was her duty to see that the many-colored silks in the queen’s workbasket were always in perfect order, untangled, and free of knots, the colors lined up as neatly as the colors in a rainbow. She had to be sure that the queen had the proper needles and that her cutting tools were sharpened. When Elizabeth Tudor wished to work on her tapestries or to embroider, the workbasket was quickly fetched by the heiress of Lundy, who was now totally responsible for it as once her Aunt Aiden had been when she was at court.
The pace of court life was quicker than she was used to, and Velvet was grateful for the friendship of Bess and Angel. She would have felt quite alone without them, for the other Maids of Honor were not as willing to be friendly. Some had great names but small funds to support them. Others of both wealthy and titled families were nowhere near as lovely as Velvet. Most were jealous of her.
“The queen’s godchildren are a ha’penny a baker’s dozen,” said one high-born lady sneeringly.
“And most are of no account,” put in another girl. “The queen is chosen by the parents in hopes of currying favor for an otherwise undistinguished child.”
Velvet felt her cheeks burn with the insult. Her instinct was to fly at the girl and scratch her eyes from her ugly face, but feeling Bess Throckmorton’s warning gaze upon her she held her temper.
“It is true that my mother’s family were only humble Irish chieftains,
but my father, whose ancient name I bear, is a nobleman. My sister, Willow, is the Countess of Alcester; my brother, Robin, the Earl of Lynmouth; my sister, Deirdre, Lady Blackthorn; my brother, Padraic, Lord Burke, of whom you all seem so fond.” She glanced demurely at them. “Padraic certainly speaks well of all of you,” she finished, and then bent to her task again.
Bess Throckmorton stifled a giggle and sent her protégée an approving look. Velvet had neatly put them all in their place, without even raising her voice.
“Your brothers are Robert Southwood and Padraic Burke?” demanded one young woman.
“Aye.”
“Lord Burke ofClearfields Manorand Robert Southwood, the Earl of Lynmouth?”
“Aye.”
There was a long silence as this piece of information was digested by the queen’s Maids. Finally the girl who had spoken said, “We are going toLynmouth Castleshortly.”
“Are we?” Velvet replied. “Oh, it’s so lovely in the summer. I do love Devon, don’t you?”
“Your brother is a widower still?”
“Aye,” said Velvet. “He felt very badly about Alison dying during her last lying-in. He swears he’ll not remarry ever, but I think it’s just a matter of meeting the right lady.” Then Velvet turned her smile on those about her, a smile of such bland innocence that none would suspect the wicked thoughts that danced about her head as she gazed upon her companions of these last few weeks. What vain and shallow creatures they were for the most part. They would, she had not a doubt, begin a not-so-subtle currying of her friendship now that they knew she was the sister of two eligible gentlemen of wealth and land.
As she studied the other Maids of Honor from beneath her long lashes, Velvet decided that neither Robin nor Padraic would find even good sport among the queen’s maidens. Bess was the best of them all, and of late Velvet had begun to suspect that her friend’s heart was engaged by Sir Walter Ralegh, though neither Bess nor Wat showed the slightest interest in each other publicly.
The court leftBlackthorn Prioryand traveled south again toward London. The Spanish threat to English security was said to be most serious this year, and it was rumored that a large fleet was being assembled to attack England. The queen’s councillors had insisted that she return to London where she might be properly protected, so the summer progress came to an abrupt halt.
The Earl of Lynmouth, upon learning that his royal guest would not be visiting Devon after all, raised a troop of men for her defense and came up to London to entertain her in his beautiful home, Lynmouth House, which was located on the Strand.
Velvet, hearing that her brother had arrived in London, begged time off from her duties so that she might go to see Robin. She was going to need all the allies she could get in the matter of her betrothal. She had no doubt that both Dame Cecily and Deirdre had already written to him.
Dressed soberly in black and white, the queen’s colors, she hailed a common wherry from the landing of Whitehall Palace and was easily transported to Lynmouth House, which also sat on a bank of the river. A Southwood servant was there to help her from the little cockleshell and to pay the wherryman. Velvet hurried up through the vast gardens to the house and, seeing her brother on the terrace, called to him.
“Robin!”
Robert Southwood, the Earl of Lynmouth, looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He was dressed casually, his silk shirt open to reveal a smooth expanse of chest. His lime-green eyes took in her long silk cloak of alternating black and white stripes with silver frog fastenings studded with black agates. The open cloak blew in the light breeze to show off her very fashionable gown of white silk with its silver lace ruff. The youngest of his mother’s children, she was, next to his older sister, Willow, his favorite.
“Hallo, you minx!” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss.
“Oh, Robin, not you too?” Velvet wailed. “Are you going to lecture me also? Why doesn’t anyone understandmypoint of view in this matter?”
The earl put an arm about his little sister and led her to a nearby bench beneath a late-flowering apple tree, where they both sat down.
“Suppose you tell me your side of the tangle you’ve woven, and then I shall judge whether or not to scold you. I have had two very frantic letters, one from Dame Cecily and the other from our Burke sister.”
“I didn’t know that I was betrothed,” said Velvet miserably. “Then this letter came from Scotland from an earl.”
“The Earl of BrocCairn,” supplied Robin.
