All the Sweet Tomorrows by Bertrice Small Page A

turned at the sound of Elizabeth Tudor’s voice, and Skye swept the Queen a low and graceful curtsey. “We welcome you back to court, dearest Skye,” the Queen said.
    “I am grateful that you have let me come, Majesty,” returned Skye, rising as she spoke, and thinking Bess Tudor had aged little. She was still a handsome and elegant young woman.
    “Come into my privy chamber, Skye,” Elizabeth said. “The rest of you are to wait here at my pleasure.”
    The two women entered into the Queen’s small private library, and Elizabeth Tudor sat down, motioning Skye into a chair opposite her.
    “You know why I am here, Majesty,” Skye began.
    “Aye, I know. You wish me to confirm little Lord Padraic Burke’s rights so that the English in Dublin Pale will not seize Burke lands now that there is no adult male Burke to defend them.”
    Skye nodded.
    “You are willing to aid me in return?” the Queen demanded.
    “I have ever been Your Majesty’s most loyal servant,” was the reply.
    “Even when pirating my treasure ships,” Elizabeth said drily.
    “That was never proven,” Skye replied quickly.
    “Ha!” the Queen chuckled. “That handsome brute de Marisco saved your pretty neck that time, Skye, but I know it was you! It had a woman’s fine hand about it. It was subtle, yet hurtful. Men are more blunt, dearest Skye.” She fixed Skye a piercing look. “You are willing to go to Beaumont de Jaspre as the duc’s bride?”
    “I am not willing, Majesty, but I will go. If you will guarantee my son’s rights, I will go.”
    “You understand that we will also expect you to listen, and pass on to us any interesting and pertinent tidbits you learn with regard to France, Spain, the Papal States, and the Holy Roman Empire?”
    “I understand, Majesty.”
    The Queen nodded. “Then I will confirm your son’s rights,madam. Cecil tells me that you wish your uncle, the old Bishop of Connaught, to be the boy’s governor.”
    “Aye, Majesty. He is a good man, and a wise one as well.”
    “Very well,” the Queen said. “I can find no reason to object. The Duc de Beaumont will be quite surprised to see the beauty that I am sending him. Too many state brides are a disappointment to the grooms.”
    “Too many grooms are an equal disappointment to the brides,” came the pert reply.
    The Queen chuckled again. “I remember when poor Anne of Cleves arrived as fourth wife to my father,” she reminisced. “Anne was far plumper than her portrait would have had you believe, and nervousness had caused her fair skin to blotch. It was instant dislike on both parts, and my father was furious with his artist, Hans Holbein, who had painted the Princess of Cleves’ portrait. Of course my father was no prize either, having grown fat and middle-aged, but he didn’t see himself as such. He was plagued with gout in his right foot, and could be very irritable, especially when his foot hurt, which unfortunately it did on her arrival. She graciously gave him a quick divorce.” The Queen smiled again at the memory, and then she said, “It is time for us to begin the dancing, dearest Skye. We will introduce you this evening to the duc’s nephew, Edmond de Beaumont. He has come to escort you back to Beaumont de Jaspre. You will find him an interesting man.”
    “I cannot leave London until Sir Robert Small has returned, Majesty. He is due back sometime this month from a most successful voyage. His advance ship is already in Plymouth, and I have had word that the spices he carries will enrich Your Majesty’s coffers greatly.”
    Elizabeth Tudor smiled. “You do not have to leave us until Sir Robert has returned, and you have had time to make your arrangements with him. I know the businesswoman that you are.” She took Skye’s arm in her own, and together they strolled from the Queen’s privy chamber. “Come, ladies! Come, Dudley! My feet itch to dance, and it grows late.”
    The Queen’s party made their way through the corridors