A Love for All Time Read Free Page A

free of court entanglements to my knowledge. Well, Robin Southwood, fetch her in to me. I would see this orphaned heiress.”
    The boy bowed himself from her presence, and Elizabeth Tudor smiled to herself watching him go. He grew more like his late father every day, although he had greater warmth than Geoffrey had had at that age. That was due to his mother, that Irish vixen, Skye O’Malley, now married to Adam de Marisco, and exiled from court with her husband to the royal estate of Queen’s Malvern .
    I miss her, thought the queen. Our whole relationship has been difficult, and yet I miss the excitement that always surrounds dear Skye. Her glance took in the other women in the room, and she snorted softly to herself. With few exceptions they were a bunch of silly cows who giggled and minced their way through her court seeking husbands. Most of them had the barest of educations, and could converse on nothing but men and fashions, and the latest gossip. She knew that behind her back they mocked her, and made fun of her despite her sovereignty over them. They did not dare to do it to her face, for even they understood her power, the power of life and death that she held over them all. Still, she had few real friends among her women. They but served her to advance either themselves or their families.
    The door to the queen’s dayroom opened to re-admit young Robin, and two other women, one young, one in her late middle years. The younger woman was attired in a high-necked black velvet gown of dated design, but excellent quality. Upon her head was a white linen cap edged in lace. Immediately the queen’s women ceased their chatter, and looked bright-eyed at the visitors.
    “Madame, this is Mistress St. Michael,” Robin said.
    Aidan curtsied prettily as did her companion. The older woman, however, was obviously stiff in her joints, and needed her mistress’ help to arise. This caused the queen’s ladies to giggle, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed.
    The queen shot the women an angry look for she disliked such unkindness. “You are welcome to court, Mistress St. Michael,” she said. “I did not know yer father, but yer family’s good reputation precedes ye.”
    “Yer majesty is most gracious,” Aidan replied.
    “Now,” said the queen, “the question is what are we do to with ye.”
    “If I might serve yer majesty,” Aidan said sincerely, “I should count myself content.”
    There was a sharp giggle at Aidan’s words which caused her to flush once more, and eyes narrowing the queen sought out the culprit, a dainty girl with a rosebud mouth and sunshine-yellow hair. “Ye find Mistress St. Michael’s desire to serve me amusing, Mistress Tailleboys?” the queen purred, and the Countess of Lincoln, who was the queen’s close friend, suddenly looked up and across the room at the newcomer.
    Now it was Mistress Tailleboys who reddened, and stammering she attempted to excuse her rude behavior. “N-nay, madame, ’twas just that her gown is so old-fashioned.”
    “Fashion,” said the queen archly, “is something I will admit to yer knowing. Fashion and loose behavior, Mistress Tailleboys.”
    Now the miscreant paled. Did the queen know about her recent assignations with Lord Bolton? How could she know? It was not possible, and yet sometimes it seemed as if the queen knew everything. She bit her lower lip in vexation. What could she say to her mistress?
    Seeing the fourteen-year-old maid of honor hesitate, the queen knew she had hit upon something. So the wench is lifting her skirts behind my back, is she? Elizabeth hated it when her women played the wanton, and far too many of them did these days. “Are ye not responsible for my workbasket, Mistress Tailleboys?” she demanded.
    “A-aye, yer majesty,” came the nervous reply.
    “And yet just minutes ago I sought to find something within that very basket, and it was a jumble with nothing in its proper place. It would appear, Mistress Tailleboys, that