Read Online This Heart of Mine by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
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Himself for the sole purpose of hunting. ’Twas why I chose her.”
Elizabeth Tudor smiled, well pleased, for there was nothing she enjoyed better than the hunt. “Present me to your family, Lord Blackthorn!” she commanded him. “I would meet this lady who can school horses so well.”
John Blakeley took Deirdre by the hand and led her forward to the queen. “My wife, Deirdre, Your Majesty.”
Deirdre curtsied again.
“God’s foot!” Elizabeth Tudor swore, staring hard at Deirdre. “You’re Skye O’Malley’s daughter, Lady Blackthorn, aren’t you?”
“Her daughter, and Lord Burke’s,” said Deirdre, “but I remember not my father, madame. He died when I was quite young.” She smiled. “I should like to present my youngest sister to you, Mistress Velvet de Marisco.”
Velvet stepped forward and curtsied prettily, making sure to keep her eyes modestly lowered.
The queen reached out and gently raised Velvet’s head up, cupping the girl’s chin in her elegantly gloved hand. “Rise, dear child, and let me look upon you. What a pretty thing you are! I have not seen you since you were a tiny baby, but then you would have been too young to remember. How old are you now, Velvet de Marisco?”
“I am fifteen today, Your Majesty,” said Velvet sweetly.
“Today?” the queen exclaimed. “This is your birthday?”
“Aye, Your Majesty, and I might have been May Queen in our village, but I far preferred to come to the priory to meet you.” It was said with such a lack of guile that Elizabeth Tudor smiled.
“We must give you a gift then, child. I am your godmother, Velvet de Marisco. Before you were born in France I was much angered by your parents’ behavior, for they had not obtained my permission to wed. Your clever mother made me your godmother in an effort to placate me, but I never knew your exact birthdate. Tell me, my dear, what can I give you?” The queen smiled more broadly at Velvet’s wide eyes and little gasp.
Velvet was stunned. Here was incredible good fortune, and she could scarcely believe it was hers. Now she would not have to find a way to wheedle the queen, but she must still be quick and clever. Her hands flew to her cheeks in a gesture of innocentsurprise. “Madame,” she gasped, “Oh, dear Majesty, I cannot think!”
Elizabeth Tudor smiled once again and patted the girl in a kindly fashion. “Within reason,” she teased gently. “Remember I am merely queen of England.”
Velvet composed herself and looked adoringly at the queen. “Madame, I have everything I could possibly want in this life but one thing. My parents have always been more than generous with me and of material treasures I lack none; but all my life I have dreamed of serving you, Your Majesty, of being one of your Maids of Honor. Can you give me my dream, madame? If you would truly gift me, then gift me with the privilege of serving you.”
Lord Blackthorn squeezed his wife’s hand to prevent her from speaking. He was filled with genuine admiration for his young sister-in-law’s astuteness. She had not broken her promise to him and yet she was going to get her own way nonetheless.
“Dear child!” The queen’s face was wreathed in smiles.
By tradition Elizabeth Tudor had eighteen female attendants. There were four Gentlewomen of the Bedchamber, older, married women of rank; eight Gentlewomen of the Privy Chamber, also married women of noble birth; and six Maids of Honor, young girls of noble families whose ambitious parents believed that by serving the queen honorably they might increase their value on the marriage market. These eighteen saw to the queen’s wardrobe and toilette, her food, and all of her creature comforts within her private apartments. They were her closest companions.
The position of Maid of Honor was greatly sought after, and under normal circumstances the queen would have been forced to turn her godchild away since there would have been no opening available. By merest
Elizabeth Tudor smiled, well pleased, for there was nothing she enjoyed better than the hunt. “Present me to your family, Lord Blackthorn!” she commanded him. “I would meet this lady who can school horses so well.”
John Blakeley took Deirdre by the hand and led her forward to the queen. “My wife, Deirdre, Your Majesty.”
Deirdre curtsied again.
“God’s foot!” Elizabeth Tudor swore, staring hard at Deirdre. “You’re Skye O’Malley’s daughter, Lady Blackthorn, aren’t you?”
“Her daughter, and Lord Burke’s,” said Deirdre, “but I remember not my father, madame. He died when I was quite young.” She smiled. “I should like to present my youngest sister to you, Mistress Velvet de Marisco.”
Velvet stepped forward and curtsied prettily, making sure to keep her eyes modestly lowered.
The queen reached out and gently raised Velvet’s head up, cupping the girl’s chin in her elegantly gloved hand. “Rise, dear child, and let me look upon you. What a pretty thing you are! I have not seen you since you were a tiny baby, but then you would have been too young to remember. How old are you now, Velvet de Marisco?”
“I am fifteen today, Your Majesty,” said Velvet sweetly.
“Today?” the queen exclaimed. “This is your birthday?”
“Aye, Your Majesty, and I might have been May Queen in our village, but I far preferred to come to the priory to meet you.” It was said with such a lack of guile that Elizabeth Tudor smiled.
“We must give you a gift then, child. I am your godmother, Velvet de Marisco. Before you were born in France I was much angered by your parents’ behavior, for they had not obtained my permission to wed. Your clever mother made me your godmother in an effort to placate me, but I never knew your exact birthdate. Tell me, my dear, what can I give you?” The queen smiled more broadly at Velvet’s wide eyes and little gasp.
Velvet was stunned. Here was incredible good fortune, and she could scarcely believe it was hers. Now she would not have to find a way to wheedle the queen, but she must still be quick and clever. Her hands flew to her cheeks in a gesture of innocentsurprise. “Madame,” she gasped, “Oh, dear Majesty, I cannot think!”
Elizabeth Tudor smiled once again and patted the girl in a kindly fashion. “Within reason,” she teased gently. “Remember I am merely queen of England.”
Velvet composed herself and looked adoringly at the queen. “Madame, I have everything I could possibly want in this life but one thing. My parents have always been more than generous with me and of material treasures I lack none; but all my life I have dreamed of serving you, Your Majesty, of being one of your Maids of Honor. Can you give me my dream, madame? If you would truly gift me, then gift me with the privilege of serving you.”
Lord Blackthorn squeezed his wife’s hand to prevent her from speaking. He was filled with genuine admiration for his young sister-in-law’s astuteness. She had not broken her promise to him and yet she was going to get her own way nonetheless.
“Dear child!” The queen’s face was wreathed in smiles.
By tradition Elizabeth Tudor had eighteen female attendants. There were four Gentlewomen of the Bedchamber, older, married women of rank; eight Gentlewomen of the Privy Chamber, also married women of noble birth; and six Maids of Honor, young girls of noble families whose ambitious parents believed that by serving the queen honorably they might increase their value on the marriage market. These eighteen saw to the queen’s wardrobe and toilette, her food, and all of her creature comforts within her private apartments. They were her closest companions.
The position of Maid of Honor was greatly sought after, and under normal circumstances the queen would have been forced to turn her godchild away since there would have been no opening available. By merest
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