All the Sweet Tomorrows (17 page)

“And what do you study? You do study?”

“Aye, madam. I study French, Latin, and Greek, as well as mathematics, music, and philosophy. Mama says I must begin Italian and Spanish as well this year; I will one day have a great estate to administer.”

The Queen was amused as well as pleased. Had she a daughter of her own she would fully approve such a curriculum. “Can you dance?” she asked Willow.

“Aye, madam. The dancing master comes at eight in the morning four days weekly.”

“And the wifely arts, Mistress Willow? Do you learn those also?”

“Aye,” replied Willow, “I like them, although I love gardening best.”

“You are a good child, I can see,” the Queen said. “Perhaps in another year or two your mama will allow you to come to court as one of my maids of honor. Would you like that, Mistress Willow?”

Willow’s golden eyes grew round with delight, and she looked to her mother. “Oh, Mother, may I?” she asked.

“In a year or two,” Skye answered, “if the Queen still has need of you, Willow, you may certainly come. Now please thank the Queen for her kindness.”

“Oh, thank you, madam,” Willow said fervently, curtseying again.

“You are fortunate to have such a good little maid for a daughter,” Elizabeth remarked.

“I am fortunate in all my children,” Skye replied, “even the babes I must leave behind.”

The Queen had the good grace to look momentarily uncomfortable, but then she recovered quickly. “You will take the Duc de Beaumont de Jaspre our personal greetings, dear Skye, and you will tell him that England is grateful for the safety of his
harbors. As to the rest, I know that I may rely upon you.” It was a dismissal, and it was a warning.

Skye curtseyed low, and at least two of the gentlemen standing near the Queen almost fell over in their efforts to gaze at her almost bare breasts.

“Have you really known her, Dudley?” one courtier asked.

“She’s as hot and juicy a piece as you could imagine in your wildest fantasies,” Dudley replied low. “I had her right after her husband, the Earl of Southwood, died. He’d always kept her well serviced, and she could hardly wait for me to put it in her. Oh, yes, my friend, I know Skye O’Malley well.”

“What a shame the Queen is sending her away,” the courtier said.

Dudley chuckled. “Bess knows Skye will make the duc a happy man, and a happy man is a grateful man, grateful to the England who gives him this delicious sugarplum to eat up.”

The two men snickered lewdly, but by then Skye and her escort had already left the Queen’s reception room.

“When is the next tide?” Skye asked Robbie.

“About six this evening,” he replied.

“It doesn’t give us much time, does it? Well, let’s get back to Greenwood, my loves, so that I may change.”

They hurried through the corridors of Whitehall Palace to the Old Palace Stairs, the public landing on the river, and there Skye’s barge awaited them. The barge sped down the river to Greenwood, and Skye flew into the house to change her clothing. The undermaids hurriedly packed her beautiful gown away, and the last of the trunks was sent on to the Pool, where Skye’s own flagship, the
Seagull
, awaited her arrival. Edmond de Beaumont was already aboard the ship and waiting, having taken his leave of the Queen the night before.

Skye dressed in the clothes she habitually wore aboard ship; a split-legged skirt of light, black wool, natural-colored woollen stockings and dark leather boots, a cream-colored silk shirt, and a wide leather belt with a silver buckle. Her black hair was twisted into one thick braid, a simple hairstyle that would not blow into her eyes. Adam had sat watching her as she dressed, handing her her garments in Daisy’s place, as the maid had been sent on ahead.

“Don’t come with me to the ship,” Skye said to him. “I don’t think I can bear to see you receding as the ship sails off.”

He nodded, understanding and silently agreeing. Best that their good-byes be said in private. “I’ll take Murrough and
Robin back to Whitehall, and then tomorrow I’ll see Dame Cecily and Willow safely back to Devon,” he said.

“Will you keep an eye on the children for me, Adam? Not just here in England, but in Ireland as well. My brother, Michael, is a good man, but he’s a priest, and Uncle Seamus is elderly, far too elderly even to take on the responsibilities he has now. My son, Ewan, can use the strong influence of a real man.” She flung herself against his broad chest. “My babies!” she wept. “It’s so hard to leave the others, but my babies are too young even to know me. Please look out for them, Adam. I can trust you!”

“You will write to me,” he said. It was more a statement than a question.

“I will write to you,” she answered.

“I will pray for you also,” he said quietly, and she looked up at him, startled. He laughed. “I know men don’t speak a great deal about God, Skye, but I believe, and I do pray.”

Tears moistened her eyes again. “I will pray for you also, my darling. I will pray that you find a woman to love and to keep!”

He smiled down at her, and then his lips met hers in a kiss of incredible sweetness. Their mouths melted into one another until there was no beginning and, seemingly, no end. She wanted the kiss to go on forever, for his touch had transported her beyond the world she knew and into a realm of light and love so pure that she knew nothing would ever be the same again for either of them.

She protested when he reluctantly lifted his head from hers. His arm fell from about her waist, and he touched her cheek lightly with his fingers. “Farewell, Skye O’Malley. Farewell until we meet again.” Then Adam de Marisco turned and left her.

For a moment Skye stood rooted to the floor, filled with a feeling of such terrible loss that she thought her heart would surely break. If he had been a fool then she had been a bigger one. She should have insisted that he marry her! Now it was too late.

“Mother?”

She started at the sound of the voice and, looking down, saw her sons standing before her. “Murrough, Robin,” she said.

“We came to bid you farewell, Mother,” Murrough said. “Lord de Marisco is going to take us back to Whitehall now.”

She bent down and hugged her elder son. Then, straightening, she took his face in her hand. “I am proud of you, Murrough O’Flaherty,” she said. “You are a good lad, and I love you.
Remember what we have spoken of, and act accordingly. Only you can win your lands, my son. I know you will make me proud.” Then she kissed him quickly and stepped back, releasing him.

Murrough’s eyes were damp, but he manfully forced back his tears. “I will make you proud, Mother, and when you are settled you will let me come to you?”

“You will all come to see me,” she promised, and then she turned to her younger son.

Robin flung himself into her arms, and although he was silent, his little shoulders shook. Skye waited until he had composed himself. Robin, like his father, had great dignity. Finally he looked up at her, and his mouth trembled as he said, “My father would not like this, Mother. He would not approve of what the Queen has done, sending you from your children.”

“No, Robin,” she admitted. “Geoffrey would not like what the Queen has done, but he would accept her decision and abide by it, for your papa was in all things the Queen’s most loyal servant. Whatever your feelings in this matter, I expect you to do what your papa would have done. He would have accepted the Queen’s choice, and so must you. He would have accepted it with good grace, and you must do the same.” She smoothed his wavy, dark blond hair gently. “Will you come to visit me, my lord Earl, once I am settled?”

“If the Queen will allow it, Mother,” he answered, and she smiled and kissed him tenderly.

“As I am proud of your brother, so I am also proud of you, Robin. You are the youngest page at court, and the Queen says you are the best of her pages, despite your youth. Continue to add lustre to the Southwood family name, my son.”

She took the boys by the hands and walked with them to the door of her antechamber. Then, quickly kissing each of them again, she bade them farewell and thrust them from the room. As the door closed behind them Skye put her back to it and stuffed her fist into her mouth to prevent her cries from being heard by her sons. They had both been so brave and she must not destroy their confidence in themselves, or in her. Inwardly she cursed Elizabeth Tudor for her cruelty in sending her so far away. The woman had no heart. The tears poured down her face in a steady, salty stream, and when Robbie knocked, she did not hear him at first.

“Skye, lass!” His voice cut into her sorrow.

Turning, she fumbled to open the door, and when he pushed
into the room she fell against his chest, weeping. “It’s too much, Robbie!” she cried. “I don’t think I can do it! I don’t think I can!”

He held her and made soothing noises, for that was all she really wanted. She would go to Beaumont de Jaspre because she had promised the Queen. Skye O’Malley had never been known to go back on her word, and she wouldn’t now for all her sorrow at parting from her children. When he had decided that she had wept enough, he said sharply, “Are you forgetting Willow, Skye lass? Will you go to her your eyes all puffy with evidence of weeping? She’s not a babe to gull, you know.”

Skye drew in a deep breath, and then she shuddered against him and pulled away. “I’m sorry, Robbie,” she said quietly, “but dammit, I love my sons!”

“I know, lass,” he said, and taking her by the hand, he led her back into her bedchamber. Pouring some cool water from a silver pitcher into the matching basin, he pointed to it. “Wash your face, lass. Willow and Cecily are waiting to bid us good-bye in the library. God’s foot, she’s like Khalid! She’s always asking about cargo, and the bills of lading for them. She’s more your heir than any of the boys, and that’s for certain!”

“She’s your pet,” Skye accused him, and she bent to wash the evidence of tears from her face.

“That she is,” Robbie chuckled indulgently, and Skye was forced to laugh, which made her feel better.

She took the linen towel that he handed her, and dried both her face and her hands. “I am ready,” she said. “I don’t feel so badly about Willow, for she is safe with your sister, but when I thought of my two little boys at court, with no one to protect them …” She sighed.

“Adam will protect them. He told me before he left that he will spend his time going between Devon, the court, and Ireland, checking on your children while you are away. He’s a good man, and why you didn’t marry him is beyond me.”

Why was it that everyone always assumed, Adam included, that she wouldn’t have him? “He wouldn’t have me, dammit!” she swore at Robbie. “It’s twice he’s turned me down because of some misguided notion. Now he’s decided that he does love me, that he does want me, and it’s too bloody late!”

He looked at her, astounded. “The Devil you say, Skye lass!”

“Let’s go, Robbie,” she said. “It isn’t polite to keep a duc waiting,” and she stamped from the room, gazing quickly about it for one last time. Who knew when she would see her London
house again. Right now, all she wanted was to go before the leaving killed her with sorrow.

In the library Dame Cecily and Willow awaited Skye. Willow ran to her mother as she entered the room, hugging her hard, and saying, “I shall miss you, Mama. When will I see you again?”

“Once I am settled I shall ask the duc if you and your brothers can come. Will you like that, my darling?”

“I will be able to come back to England to be a maid of honor to the Queen, won’t I, Mama?” Willow looked very anxious, and Skye realized how glamorous and exciting the court must seem to a young girl.

“If you continue to do all the things you should, Willow, then I see no reason why you cannot go to court in a few years’ time. I must have good reports from Dame Cecily, though, and you must make me proud when you come to Beaumont de Jaspre.”

“Oh, I will, Mama! I promise you I shall be very good, and I shall study my lessons hard! When I go to court someday I shall outshine the Queen herself!”

“It is not very wise to outshine Elizabeth Tudor, Willow. That lesson your Mama has learned.” Skye gave Robbie and Dame Cecily a wry smile, and then said, “Come now, Willow, and bid me farewell. It grows late, and we cannot miss the tide.” She bent down and enfolded her daughter in her arms. Khalid’s daughter. Except this winter and the winter she had been in the Tower, she had never been separated from Khalid’s daughter. Suddenly it was like losing him all over again, and she began to feel teary once more. She quickly regained control over her errant emotions, and kissed her daughter twice, once on each cheek. “Adieu, my dearest daughter,” she said softly.

“Farewell, Mama. Go in safety with God’s blessing.” Willow kissed her mother upon the lips, and then quickly turned away before her mother might see her tears. She knew full well how Skye felt about leaving her children, and she understood why she did it. I will never be that vulnerable when I am grown up, Willow thought with the easy confidence of youth.

Dame Cecily and Skye hugged each other, and the older woman did not bother to hide her feelings. Big tears ran down her plump, apple cheeks, and she fumbled irritably for her handkerchief. “I shall miss you, my dear,” she sniffled, “but I will take good care of Willow for you, Skye. That I can promise you.”

“I know you will look after Willow with love,” Skye replied. “What would she or I ever do without you, Dame Cecily? You
have been like a mother to me and a grandmother to Willow from the first. I shall miss you also!” She hugged the old lady, comforting her with the promise, “You must come with Willow when Robbie brings her to Beaumont de Jaspre. Edmond tells me it is a lovely country, all flowers and sunshine.”

“Well,” Dame Cecily said with a small sniffle, “I’ve never been one to travel, and I’ve never been outside of England. Lord bless me, I’ve only been to Plymouth and London in my time; but I might very well come with Willow. I’m not so old yet that I’m to be frightened by something new!”

Skye gave her old friend another hug. “Then come with Willow when she comes!” she said.

“Skye lass, it’s growing late now,” Robbie admonished.