Alex and Sir Walter knelt before the queen to receive the victor’s prize, which this day turned out to be emeralds, one to each gentleman. “You may rise now, my brave gallants. ’Twas a battle well fought! Very well fought!”
“For you, madame,” replied Ralegh, and Elizabeth smiled.
“The cask of Malmsey is well appreciated, Wat-er,” she said, “but you, Lord Gordon! What a fine gift you have presented me with. What breed are the dogs your wicked-looking servant gave me? I have not seen their like before.”
“They are dogs of my own breeding, madame. Good hunting setters. I have given ye a pair, male and female, should ye wish to breed them yerself. They are excellent in heavy cover and retrieve well, especially woodcock and grouse.”
“I like their coloring, the black and tan,” said the queen. “I have no others like them. If they do well in the hunt I shall expect you to send me another pair, for you owe me that, having stolen my godchild and compromised her honor.” She eyed him archly.
“They are yers, madame, and Velvet is well worth the price,” came his quick answer.
“Humph.” The queen snorted. “I do not know what I shall say to Lord and Lady de Marisco when they return home in the spring. I have failed in my duties as godmother, and all due to your impatience, my lord!”
“I shall accept full responsibility, madame, and ye need have no feelings of guilt, for did ye not send after us posthaste? Ye did yer duty as I see it.”
“But I was not quick enough, was I, my lord?”
“Madame, accept my apology,” Alex said sincerely. “I admit to allowing my temper to overrule my common sense and thereby placed Yer Majesty in a compromising position. For that I beg yer forgiveness, but I love Velvet so deeply that I could not wait …” He shrugged helplessly.
“Damn me, but you are an honest man, Alexander Gordon! You’ve spoken fairly and plainly to me, which few would do for fear of me. I like you! You have my forgiveness, but you must give me your word that after tomorrow’s ceremony with the archbishop you will remain in England until my godchild’s parents do return. I know that you long to return to your own home, but this I must insist upon. Skye O’Malley is protective, nay, she is a veritable lioness where her children are concerned. The last time I fought with her over a matter involving one of her children she pricked me sorely. Her sting is too sharp for me to tolerate at this time in my life.”
Alex laughed. “Strange,” he said. “I have met my mother-in-law only one time, at the time of my betrothal to Velvet. I remember her as a beautiful woman and a gracious hostess. Yet everything I have heard about her indicates that she is a warrior of the fiercest temperament. But ye have my word, madame. Neither Velvet nor I shall leave England until after we have been properly reunited with her parents in the spring.”
On the following day, November 18, 1588, Velvet and Alex were married one last time in the same chapel at Greenwich where Skye had married Geoffrey Southwood. When the queen had learned during the tournament at Whitehall that the gown the bride would wear was the same one in which Skye had wed theAngel Earl, nothing would do but that the ceremony be in the same place. This necessitated a quick move by the entire court downriver to Greenwich, which was the queen’s favorite palace. There at half past four o’clock in the afternoon Velvet and Alex stood before John Whitcliff, the archbishop of Canterbury, and were wed legally and lawfully for a fourth and final time.
Afterwards there was another wedding feast, this one with a wonderful wedding cake complete with a spun-sugar bride and groom atop it. Then there was a marvelous masque in which members of the court took part along with Christopher Marlowe and his company of players.
Afterwards Marlowe managed to corner Velvet, who eyed him warily. The actor-playwright laughed wickedly at her.
“Tell me, my beauty, have you kept your ideals of love, or did you marry him because you were forced to it? If it is the latter then I hope I may offer you a bit of comfort now.” He grinned at her.
“I love my husband, you arrogant buffoon!” she snapped back at him. “Now let me pass, or I swear I’ll set the dogs on you!”
Marlowe laughed uproariously. “Jesu, you’re a hot piece! I’m sorry you’ll not accept my offer, sweetheart. I’m sure both of us would benefit by the experience.” Nonetheless, he stepped aside to allow her by.
Velvet and Alex were now forced to remain at court, which, fortunately, due to the onset of winter stayed in the Greenwich and London area. Robin had turned over their mother’s house on the Strand to his sister and her new husband. Greenwood, he knew, was to have been part of Velvet’s wedding settlement, and although he would have been happy to have the newlyweds in Lynmouth House with him and Angel, he knew the couple needed their privacy. Besides, he and his own bride were far more compatible it seemed to him. Any slight thing was apt to set Velvet and her husband to battling. Robin, like his uncle, Lord Bliss, was a man who appreciated his quiet.
On December fifth Velvet and Alex gave their first small party, a family affair to celebrate Angel’s eighteenth birthday. The young countess of Lynmouth was now quite certain that she was expecting a child in the springtime, and Robin treated his wife as if she were made of delicate crystal instead of flesh and blood.
Angel bloomed beneath this treatment and even happily confided to Velvet, “Robin was so right! I have learned to love him! I love him so much that I cannot imagine what life would be without him!”
Velvet’s own heart warmed at Angel’s words. She loved her brother dearly and was glad of his happiness. “When do you think the babe is due?” she asked.
“Sometime in the ninth month of our marriage,” Angel answered with a charming blush. Then she lowered her voice. “It must have happened on our wedding night. I only wish you the same good fortune, dearest Velvet. You will stand godmother to our son, won’t you?”
“You’re certain ’tis a lad you carry?” teased Velvet.
“Oh, yes!” Angel said positively. “I am most certain!”
Velvet laughed merrily, and Alex asked, “What is it, my love?”
“I cannot help but think of the surprises awaiting Mama upon her return. Our marriage, and a new grandchild from a daughter-in-law she doesn’t even know she has. She will not go away and leave us soon again!”
Since All Hallows’ Eve on the last day of October, London had been celebrating the winter holidays. There had been St. Martin’s Day with its traditional roast goose, St. Catherine’s Day to celebrate the end of the apple harvest, the queen’s Armada thanksgiving, and St. Clement’s Day, and December hadn’t even begun. A Lord of Misrule had been appointed for every Inn of the Court in London, for every wealthy nobleman’s house, and at the Tudor court itself. When Angel’s birthday came as well it seemed as if every day was a feast or a festival of some kind with good food, wine, and merriment of every description.
Since it was to be the first Christmas that the two newly wedded couples had ever celebrated together it was decided that Christmas EVe would be held at Greenwood, and on Christmas Day they would adjourn across the garden to Lynmouth House. The servants employed at Greenwood decorated the house joyously, for it had been many years since one of the family had been in residence on this holiday. Some of the retainers had been there since the time when Skye had lived at Greenwood, others were their children. Happily they had hung the holly and the ivy, the bay and the laurel, in the hall of Greenwood.
The Yule log had been sent fromQueen’s Malvern, but Velvet and Alex’s invitation to Dame Cecily had been refused, for, she claimed, she was too old to make the trip, and, besides, her joints would ache with the damp cold from the river.
