“Let me meet this gentleman, Wat-er.” The queen loved giving the broad Devonshire accent to Walter Ralegh’s name. She called most of those close to her by pet names. Leicester was herEyes;Hatton,Lids;Cecil,Spirit.
“I will fetch him directly to Your Majesty!”
“Nay, send one of the others. You stay with me,” she commanded.
Ralegh turned to the other gentlemen who were following at a discreet distance. “Bacon,” he called, “the queen requests that you fetch Lord Gordon. He is the Earl of Lynmouth’s houseguest. A rather tall fellow with a craggy face.”
“An interesting description,” observed the queen. “Is he then so rocklike, this Scotsman?”
“He has a rather handsome face that appears to have been carved from the granite of the Highlands itself,” replied Ralegh. “I’ve not a doubt the ladies of the court will all vie for his favor.”
“Hmm,” said Elizabeth Tudor.
“He knows nothing of fashion, however,” Ralegh continued. “His garb is woefully plain.”
The queen chuckled, then stepped back to let her eyes play over Sir Walter Ralegh’s peacockish finery. His doublet was embroidered in so many gold beads, pearls, and topazes that the queen could barely see any fabric. Ralegh was indeed the fashion plate of her court, and it was said he would have made his tailor a wealthy man by now if only he would pay his bills.
“Wat-er,” she said, “there is no one ever come to my court who could hold a candle to you for style. I doubt not your earl will well suit me, however, and all the shameless jades of my court, too. They will be mightily disappointed to find his attention is for my godchild, Velvet, alone.”
They chatted lightly for the next few minutes with all the familiarity of old and good friends. Then suddenly the queen’s attention was taken by the sight of Anthony Bacon returning in the company of a wonderfully attractive gentleman. The Scots earl, she thought, and had a moment’s regret that she was not a simple maid like Velvet. How nice to be courted seriously for one’s self. Bacon and his companion reached her, and Elizabeth Tudor shook off her self-pity to assess frankly the young man.
Her gaze was direct and frank, and she liked what she saw.
She was not impressed by his outward good looks, but rather by what she glimpsed in his serious amber eyes. There she saw steadiness, loyalty, and reliability. His big hands with their elegant, long fingers were the strong hands of a horseman, not of some soft fop. What she liked best, however, was the fact that he met her piercing gaze without flinching. Elizabeth Tudor instinctively trusted a man who could look her in the eye, and few could, or dared.
“Madame,” said Ralegh, “may I present to you the Earl of BrocCairn, Alexander Gordon, the gentleman of whom I spoke.”
“You are welcome to my court, my lord,” said the queen quietly. “How is it with my young cousin, James of Scotland?”
“I cannot give you a firsthand account, madame,” said Alex, “for I choose not to frequent the Stewart court. My family’s business interests keep me atDun Brocor in Aberdeen, but I have heard that the king is well.” So this was the woman who had ordered Mary Stewart’s death, thought Alex. How different the two women were, though he had never met the late Scots queen. His opinion stemmed only from what his father had told him.
Angus Gordon had been intensely loyal to his half sister, Mary Stewart, but he had thought her rash, a woman ruled by her emotions, not her intellect. When he had learned of her death just before his own, he had shaken his head wearily, saying, “It was bound to come to this in the end—but hold no grudges against England’s queen, Alex, my son. Scotland will be the final victor, for ’tis Mary’s son who will one day rule England.”
Now, as Alex mouthed civilized words to Elizabeth Tudor, he realized that he harbored no ill feelings toward her. Rather he sensed a magnificent intelligence and a sharp wit housed within her frail body, and he knew he was going to like her very much.
The queen took his arm and they began to walk along a torchlit path. “Tell me, when were you betrothed to my godchild, my lord?” she said quietly.
“It was the summer of her fifth year, madame. I came with my late father down fromDun BroctoQueen’s Malvern.My father and Adam de Marisco had been boyhood friends in France. It was their hope that this marriage would unite our families. When my father passed away, I found myself the sole surviving male in my family, and I realized that I must marry at once. I sent word to Lord de Marisco, but he was away. Lord Bliss opened my message and informed Velvet of her impending marriage. I’m afraid she was most put out.”
The queen chuckled. “And fled to me,” she remarked wryly.
“Aye, she fled me,” he admitted. “I must admit to feeling extremely chagrined by her conduct, madame, and I can assure you that she has dealt my pride a hard blow. Nonetheless, I believe if Velvet could learn to know me, perhaps she would not fear our marriage so greatly. I do want her to be happy, madame.”
“I think that my godchild will be fortunate in her husband, my lord,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Very well, sirrah! You may court the maid with my permission, and I shall not reveal your secret to anyone. I see the wisdom in the plan devised by you and Robin Southwood. In the short time I have known Velvet, I have learned that she is indeed stubborn. It is better that she come to know Alexander Gordon for himself and not resist him merely because he is BrocCairn. I will, however, give Velvet one small advantage. I will not release her from my service until Lord and Lady de Marisco return. The latest news has them arriving some time in the autumn. I think you might wait until then to claim, and to bed, your bride.”
Alex stopped, and, turning to face the queen, he caught her hand up and raised it to his lips. “I am grateful, madame,” he said.
She smiled at him, and for a brief moment he saw the young girl inside the aging woman. Then, offering her his arm, they strolled in the beautiful midsummer gardens of Lynmouth, and he made Elizabeth Tudor forget for a few short minutes the terrible Spanish threat that hung not only over her beloved England, but over her own frail person.
RobinSouthwood was totally confused. Never in his life had he felt this way. His fête for the queen had been a tremendous success, and yet he felt despondent. When the last guest had left, he flung himself into a chair by the crackling fire.
Joining him there, Velvet and Alex were so full of high spirits themselves that at first they didn’t notice Robin’s depression.
“I’ve never been to such a gathering before,” Alex said enthusiastically. “You’re a fine host, Rob!”
“God’s nightshirt, big brother, ’twas a great success. The house and gardens looked magnificent, and the food and entertainment will be talked about for weeks. Her Majesty said that she has not attended such a party since your father was alive! I am the most envied girl at court because you are my brother!”
“I met Sir Walter Ralegh tonight, Rob,” Alex put in. “He’s planning a voyage to the New World, and he wanted to know if any of my ships might want to go along. Do you know what an opportunity it would be for us?”
