In England no one had any idea of the great defeat visited upon the Spanish. The English fleet had sent no word of their victory to Elizabeth, for even they were not entirely certain that they had fully overcome the Armada. No one, it seemed, wanted the responsibility of crying success lest failure overtake them yet. Instead, they had continued to pursue their enemy, driving them farther from England, farther toward their ultimate destruction, while in England preparations had continued for war, for invasion, until at last the news of her navy’s triumph reached the queen.
* Elizabeth Tudor’s actual speech on Tilbury Plain.
When the English finally learned the extent of their impressive victory over the Spanish and the great Armada, the country went wild in a frenzy of rejoicing. For a good week, bonfires blazed on every hill throughout the land during the late-summer evenings. Before leaving Tilbury, the queen rode to every corner of the encampment to bid her faithful soldiers farewell and to thank them for their loyalty. Riding through the lines of cheering men, she was accompanied by Leicester and young Essex.
As they escorted her to her barge, Robin Southwood could not help but notice that Leicester did not look particularly well. His hair and beard were suddenly white, and his too-florid complexion coarse. He had also grown fat with too much good living and his many personal indulgences. Remembering how a once slender and elegant Leicester had long ago abused his mother and misused his position as Robin’s godfather, the Earl of Lynmouth could feel little pity for the man. True, he was ever loyal to the queen, but in his favored position he had often misused that power. Robin stepped forward as Elizabeth Tudor approached the quay and, bowing with a little flourish, kissed his sovereign’s hand.
“Ah”—Elizabeth smiled warmly—“my lord Southwood. Are you for London then?”
“Aye, madame, but only for a short while. Merely long enough to visit the O’Malley-Small warehouses in order to choose fabrics for my bride. I am anxious to take her toLynmouthto see her new home and to meet my little daughters.”
“Will you not stay in London long enough to await your mother’s return, my lord?”
“Mother’s last letter this past spring said that she would come to Bideford first, madame. It is my daughters, I suspect, who draw her to Devon.”
“The beautiful Skye, a grandmother!” said Leicester with an exaggerated sigh. “ ’Tis not to be borne!”
“We all grow older, my lord,” Robin returned.
Robert Dudley looked sharply at the younger man, but Robin turned a bland face to him and smiled pleasantly.
“Bring your bride to court when you next come to London, my lord Southwood,” the queen said graciously. “We shall be happy to receive her.”
“As always, madame, you are too kind. God grant Your Majesty a safe trip.”
The queen passed on to her barge, and Robin moved down the quay to his own vessel. The incoming tide swept them swiftly up the Thames to London, which was already celebrating the Armada’s defeat at the hands of England’s brave seamen. The streets, draped in festive sky blue silk cloth, were packed with people hoping to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth Tudor so that they might cheer and salute this bold queen, defender of England. Arriving from Tilbury, she was transferred into a great gold coach decorated with a lion and a dragon holding up the arms of England at its front, while four gold columns held up a canopy in the shape of a crown over her head. Beneath it, the queen in her white velvet gown sat accepting her people’s homage, a relaxed smile upon her face, her hand waving in salute to the happy crowds.
Services of thanksgiving were held at both St. Paul’s and at St. Paul’s Cross, where the banners of the captured Spanish fleet were displayed to the delight of the crowds. There were bonfires, dancing, feasting, and tournaments to celebrate the miraculous victory. The formal services of thanksgiving would be held on November 17, 1588, a day that would also mark the anniversary of the queen’s thirtieth year as England’s ruler.
The queen in her good humor was overly indulgent of her young goddaughter, Velvet de Marisco. So it was that Velvet found herself spending more time at Lynmouth House than at court. She was helping Angel to pick out fabrics for all the gowns that Robin was having made for his bride. Never had the young Countess of Lynmouth been faced with such incredible bounty. Never in her life could she remember having more than two dresses at one time, and usually they were either remade from someone else’s outgrown garment or of the plainest fabric. Angel was stunned by the profusion of gorgeous fabrics presented to her. Amazed, she watched as Velvet, heiress born and raised, chose bolt after bolt of the incredible stuffs.
“That ruby red velvet, that emerald brocade, the pink silk, and, of course, the violet. No, no! Yellow is not Lady Lynmouth’s color, dolt! Now that amethyst with silver stripes has possibilities.” Velvet turned to her sister-in-law. “What do you think, Angel?”
Angel laughed. “I think it’s too much, Velvet. We’ve already enough fabric for a dozen dresses.”
“Dearest Angel, you are the Countess of Lynmouth, not some little royal ward now,” Velvet teased her friend. “You will need dozens of gowns.”
“I give up! You and your brother are totally incorrigible. I shall never in a million years wear all the gowns you insist on having made, nor the jewelry Robin has lavished upon me.”
“Yes, you will,” Velvet said with great assurance. “Oh, it’s true you’re going down to Southwood for a while, but I guarantee that once Mama is back from her voyage, you’ll be invited toQueen’s Malvern, and Her Majesty has already insisted that you and Robin return to court. You’ll need everything we’re having made and more!”
“What is she like?” Angel asked.
“Who?”
“Your mother. I’ve heard … Well, everything said about her is so contradictory.”
Velvet chuckled. “She is the most marvelous woman alive, Angel, and she will love you as Robin and I do. I don’t doubt everything that you’ve heard is contradictory. Mama is so fabulous that there is no other woman like her in the world. My father is her sixth husband, and she has had healthy children by all but one of them. For many years she was head of her family in Ireland and took care of them all. Along with Sir Robert Small, who has been my mother’s partner for many years, she built up a huge trading empire. O’Malley ships have been bringing spices to England for years, although now that the Portuguese have a stronghold in the Indies it is much harder. That is one reason my mother undertook this voyage. She wanted to obtain for England the same privileges that the Grand Mughal has given to the Portuguese. Still, despite her many activities, none of her children has ever been slighted, or felt unloved, and we are all close.
“Of course, Robin holds the highest rank of us, although he is the fourth born. We have two O’Flaherty half brothers: Ewan and Murrough. Then comes our half sister, Willow, the Countess of Alcester. Then there are our Burke half brother and sister, Deirdre and Padraic. My father has been married to Mama longer than any of the others. They have been wed sixteen years.”
“What are Robin’s little girls like?” Angel was obviously concerned that her stepdaughters like her.
“Beth has just turned three this year, Kate was two in January, and little Cecily will be two in December. They are dear little things with Alison’s blue eyes and Robin’s blond hair. They don’t remember their mother at all, even Beth for she wasn’t even two when it happened. You are their mother now, Angel, and for them you will always be. You need have no fears in that direction.”
Suddenly the door into Angel’s bedchamber was flung open, and as they looked up, startled, Willow, Countess of Alcester, stalked into the room. “Isthisthe bride, Velvet?” she demanded. Willow was an extremely beautiful woman with Skye O’Malley’s black hair and her father’s amber-gold eyes and skin. There was an exotic look to her for all her English ways.
“Willow!Oh, I’m so glad to see you, and yes! This is Angel, Robin’s new wife!”
