All the Sweet Tomorrows (35 page)

“It is far too dangerous, Daisy. If I have to leave Algiers in a hurry the way I did last time, I should prefer not to have to worry about anyone else. It is easier if I am alone. Besides, I want you to remain and wait for Dame Cecily. She will be returning with Bran Kelly any day now. When they arrive you are to marry Captain Kelly, as you have planned. Père Henri tells me that you have completed your instruction, and are ready to become a good Catholic wife. I will not have you and Bran wait any longer on my account.

“If I am not back by midsummer you and Dame Cecily will have to return with the children to England. You will go overland,
and I am going to ask Bran Kelly to accompany you. The Burke children are to go on to Ireland. Robin will go back to court, Murrough to Oxford, and Willow home to Devon. You are also to go with the Smalls. I shall station Bran Kelly with you in Bideford until I return. God’s bones, I’ve much to do before we sail!”

While Daisy finished the packing Skye went to the small writing table in her anteroom and quickly began to write several letters. One went to Lord Burghley explaining the entire situation. She could not, she wrote, remain in Beaumont de Jaspre under such dubious circumstances. She was leaving immediately for Algiers to seek the truth of the matter. Their original bargain, she reminded Cecil, involved her marriage to Fabron de Beaumont. She had kept her part of the bargain, and she expected Elizabeth Tudor to keep her part. If Lord Burke was indeed alive, they would be returning to England before they went on to Ireland, and they would come to court to tell the Queen their adventures. If, on the other hand, Lord Burke was indeed dead and this but a flight of fancy, she would return to Beaumont de Jaspre to wed with Nicolas St. Adrian, and thus continue to serve the Crown. In view of her continued loyalty, Skye wrote, would Lord Burghley kindly arrange for her second son, Murrough O’Flaherty, to enter Merton College at Oxford in the Michaelmas term? It was his desire to study at this time, and not return as a page with the Countess of Lincoln’s household. She closed assuring the Crown of her constant devotion, and tendering her good wishes for the Queen’s upcoming birthday in September.

Skye’s second letter was sent to her uncle, the old Bishop of Connaught. In it she outlined all that had happened, her own plans, and her plans for the children. She begged him to watch over all of her offspring in the event she did not return. She then outlined what she wanted done with the O’Malley shipping interests, and how she wanted her children’s wealth disbursed, and the children raised. She knew how much this letter was going to pain Seamus O’Malley, but she also knew the dangers involved in her trip to Algiers, and she wanted those she loved cared for in the event she should not return. This letter she closed by asking for her uncle’s prayers.

A letter was also sent to her stepmother, Anne, and one to her brother, Michael, the guardian of her eldest son, Ewan; a final missive went to the Countess of Lincoln, thanking her for her care of Murrough these last few years, and explaining his desire
to go on to Oxford rather than remain with the court. At last she was finished, and as she arose from the writing table she felt as if a chapter in her life were closing. She wondered what the next chapter would bring her.

Back in her bedchamber, Skye saw through the windows that the day was almost gone. Upon the bed were laid out her seagoing clothes, the double-legged skirt, the silk shirt, the hose and the undergarments. By the bed stood her high boots. Daisy, however, was nowhere in sight. With a sad sigh Skye began to pull off her own garments, not even bothering to pick them up as they fell to the floor. She stood only in her chemise when the door between her room and Nicolas’s opened, and he entered her chamber.

She wanted to weep at the pain she saw etched in his handsome face. Why was it that she was always giving such agony to those good men who did naught but love her. Why should her love bring such pain? Instinctively she held out her arms to him, wanting to comfort him somehow. “Oh, Nicolas,” she murmured against his reddish hair. “Dear, dear Nicolas! I am so sorry, my love. I am so sorry!” Her arms closed about him, and she held him as she would hold a hurt child.

He shuddered against her. “I don’t want you to go,” he said softly.

“You know I have no choice. If Niall Burke is alive how can I stay with you, Nicolas? We could not marry. Our children would have no right to inherit Beaumont de Jaspre.”

“Do you love Niall Burke?” His voice was ragged.

“I have loved him since I was fifteen,” she cried.

“Do you love me?”

“You are asking me to choose, Nicolas, and the choice is not mine to make.”

“Do you love me?” he repeated.

“I had begun to, Nicolas. Yes! I had begun to love you.”

“This is madness,” he said to her. “How can your husband be alive after all this time? You go but to chase a dream,
doucette!”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But if Osman has said he is alive, then he is alive. I do not know how, but if I did not go to find out the answer to this puzzle, Nicolas, I should always wonder. If Niall is indeed alive I cannot in good conscience marry you, for I should be committing a mortal sin.”

“You will come back to me,” he said firmly, and he pulled back from her, looking with love into her face.

Now it was Skye who wanted to cry. “Seek elsewhere for a bride, my love,” she said softly. “It is unlikely that I will ever come back, Nicolas. I cannot ask you to wait for me. Every day that you remain unmarried you endanger your duchy, and you are the last hope of Beaumont de Jaspre. How your people love you! Since you came from your home in Poitou there has never been such gladness here. Find some sweet young girl to make your wife, the mother of the next generation.”

“No!”
He was suddenly angry; frustrated that what he wanted so desperately was being torn from him. “I will only marry you, Skye. If I cannot have you then I want no woman. I shall go back to my holding in Poitou, and to Hell with Beaumont de Jaspre!”

Skye became equally angry, and her hand flashed out to make very hard contact with his cheek. Stunned, he fell back, for she had put all her strength into the blow. “Coward!” she said furiously. “Is this how you keep your promise to Fabron de Beaumont who so generously bestowed his realm and his wealth upon you? You gave your half-brother a death-bed promise that you would rule this duchy and keep it safe from the French. You gave him your promise to care for Edmond and Garnier. Do you think a French overlord will care for them? They will be thrown into the streets to fend for themselves, if they are not driven from Beaumont entirely!”

Her hand had left a bright red mark on his cheek, and rubbing that mark, Nicolas tried to explain. “I have never loved anyone before you,” he said in a low voice. “How can I live without you?”

“You think only of yourself, Nicolas,” she said scornfully. “I told you once that wealth and power are a great responsibility, to be wielded carefully. I have been wielding both since I was scarcely more than a girl. There have been times when it has been hard for me not to yield to my own desires, but I have not, and you cannot! If you love me you will let me go, Nicolas, because you cannot keep me now. All the devils in Hell could not keep me here by your side now that I know my Niall is alive!”

For a moment he closed his eyes, and she knew that he was fighting back the tears, as she struggled to contain her own sorrow. She must be strong, and she must instill in him some of that
same strength. But she had not lied to him when she had said that she was beginning to love him. How could she not when he adored her so, and was so good both to her and the children? She had felt so safe with him.

“I will never forget you,
doucette,”
he said.

“Nor I you, Nicolas,” she answered him.

“You are sure?” For the briefest moment his green eyes held a flicker of hope.

“I must go,” was her simple reply, and for an equally brief moment Skye wondered if she was totally mad. Then, regaining control of herself, she said brightly, “You will have a wonderful time, Nicolas. You are now a most eligible man of considerable wealth. Think of all the lovely girls available to you, but choose quickly lest the French be tempted to a rash act.”

He sighed deeply, and she almost screamed with the sadness in the sound. “What kind of a girl should I choose,
doucette?
After you,
mon amour
, how will I be content with anyone?”

“I think, perhaps, a very young girl, Nicolas, but choose one with spirit, intelligence, and a sense of humor. Do not look for one who reminds you of me. Trust Edmond’s judgment, for he is a very wise man and he loves you dearly. He will want you to be happy.”

Nicolas reached out for her, but Skye quickly sidestepped him. “Will you not kiss me good-bye,
doucette?”
he said softly.

She glanced down at the gossamer of her chemise, and then shook her head. “Not as I am now, Nicolas.” A small smile lit her eyes. “You are very wicked,
mon brave
, even to suggest it. Go now, and let me dress, for I shall be late if I do not hurry.”

With another deep sigh he turned and left her to dress. She knew how difficult the interview had been when her hands began to shake as she buttoned her shirt and fastened her skirt. He was such a good man, and she knew how deeply he was hurting, for in a strange way she was hurting, too.

“It’s almost time, m’lady.” When had Daisy entered the room?

“Where are the children?”

“Waiting in the anteroom to say good-bye, m’lady.” Daisy’s honest eyes grew misty. “Are you sure I can’t go with you, m’lady?”

Skye hugged her tiring woman affectionately. “I am going to miss you terribly, Daisy,” she said, “but it is much too dangerous for you to come with me. Besides, I shall need you to
watch over the children until Dame Cecily arrives and you begin your return journey home.”

“I’ll worry about you the whole time you’re away, m’lady.”

“You concentrate on marrying Bran and making him a happy man,” Skye counseled, and then before Daisy could become overly emotional Skye gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried from the bedchamber into the anteroom where her children awaited her.

“I wish I could go with you,” Murrough said enthusiastically. “Algiers sounds so exciting, Mother.”

“Algiers is dangerous,” Skye replied.

“I should like to fight the infidel!” Robin said bravely.

“The infidel would be enchanted by your blond hair and your light eyes, my darling. He would geld you like a horse, and if you survived the operation you would become the plaything of some wealthy man with a taste for boys. Not exactly the fate for an Earl of Lynmouth. Stay home, my sons, so that I do not have to fret over you.”

“I far prefer to go home to England,” Willow said primly.

Skye smiled, faintly amused. “I am relieved, Willow, that you do not choose to seek adventure as your brothers do. You will be safer back in your own homes, my darlings. Murrough, I have written to both Lord Burghley and the Countess of Lincoln regarding Merton College. I am sure they will comply with my wishes.”

“Thank you, Mother!” His blue eyes shone with delight and gratitude, and Skye felt great satisfaction to have pleased this second son of hers by such a small act. Murrough stepped forward and bent to kiss her. “Take care, Mother,” he said. “This time I feel no sadness because I know that you but go to return to us.”

She hugged him hard. “Dearest Murrough,” she murmured. “I do love you, my son.”

Murrough stepped back, rosy with a mixture of pleasure caused by her words and embarrassment at her public affection. “God speed,” he said as he pulled away from her.

“Murrough is right,” Robin said. “I don’t feel sad either, Mother. Find Niall, and then both of you come safely home to us.” Robin put his arms about her neck and kissed her lovingly.

“Are you sure I can’t go to court while you’re away, Mama?” Willow wheedled.

Skye laughed. “No court,” she said. “You will return to
Devon with Dame Cecily, and continue with your lessons. You are not accomplished enough to go to court yet:”

Willow sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why you persist in treating me like a child, Mama,” she complained.

“I would think the answer to that is obvious every time you look in the mirror,” Murrough teased.

“She spends
all day
before the mirror,” Robin said wickedly.

“Boys!” Willow huffed, and then she hugged her mother in farewell. “Don’t be long, Mama. I miss you so when you’re away from me.”

“I will return as fast as I can, my darling,” Skye promised her daughter, then kissed her.

The little Burke children slept with their nurse in the next room, and Skye slipped into their nursery to say a silent good-bye. They were far too young to understand her going or what it was she sought, but someday, she vowed, they would comprehend and, she hoped, bless her for what she was about to do. Her own eyes misted as she looked at them in sleep; Deirdre, so much like her, and Padraic, who grew more like his father with each passing day. She wanted him to know his father! It was for them as well as herself that she went off on what many would call a mad mission.

“They are both beautiful and peaceful as they sleep so sweetly in their innocence,” Edmond said quietly in the dimness of the room. “I would to God that you had been able to give the de Beaumonts such fine children.”

“The fates have willed it otherwise, dear friend,” she answered him.

He took her hand, and with a final glance at her babies they walked from the room. “You will let us know your position before another bride is chosen? If you can come back to us …” he trailed off.

“I will get a message to you immediately,” she said rather than argue with him.

“You won’t be back, will you?” he said.

“I keep examining the messenger’s words over and over again, Edmond,” she replied, “but they are true. Osman would not lie.”

“Satisfy my curiosity,
chérie
. Just who is this Osman in whom you have so much faith? Can you really trust him? Was he that good a friend?”