Lost Love Found (11 page)

This cannot be how it is between my mother and my father, Valentina had thought each time her husband came to her. She had lain quietly, her arms at her sides as he had bidden her, while Edward Barrows had opened her nightgown to fumble with her breasts. His fingers had kneaded her flesh and, soon, his breathing had grown harsher. He had raised her garment, tucking it neatly about her waist, and his fingers had sought her. When he was satisfied that she was ready to receive him, he had mounted her, entering with one thrust and riding her, his breathing growing hoarser until finally he had collapsed upon her with a small whimper. When he had recovered himself, he would arise, say “Thank you, my dear,” and with unerring accuracy find his way across the pitch-black chamber to the connecting door.

Other than their wedding night, he had never spent an entire night with her. Once she felt impelled to push her hips up at him, but he had immediately ceased his action, saying, “My dear, you are not a whore. Lie quietly beneath me.”

Now it terrified Valentina to realize that but for an accident of fate she might have spent her entire life as his wife, never knowing the joyous feelings that Padraic Burke’s kisses had given her.

Still, it was those kisses that caused her to consider other men. If Padraic Burke could make her feel so marvelous, perhaps there were other men who would have the same effect. Was that possible?

Valentina rolled over and gazed up at the blue velvet canopy. She must not allow this new knowledge to overrule her good sense. Of all her mother’s children she was generally credited with having Aidan’s practical nature. This was surely no time to lose her head. She had come to court to serve the queen, not to cause a scandal like poor Mary Fitton.

It surprised her to find that Padraic Burke loved her. Padraic the bachelor. Padraic, whose mother despaired of his ever finding a wife. Aunt Skye thought Padraic was a dreamer. In some ways, Padraic reminded Valentina of her father, and if she was like her mother, then theirs would not be an unhappy match.

“No!” she said aloud. She was not going to allow herself to settle for the first thing that came along just to make everyone happy. Not again! This time
she
was going to be happy!

There was a knock. “Lord Burke wants to know if yer going to have supper with him,” came Nan’s voice, “or if you’re still having a fit of the sulks.”

Valentina leaped up off the bed and opened the door. “Did he say that?”

“About the sulks? Nay. He just wants to know if yer eating with him.”

Valentina thought a moment, then said, “Tell him I am too tired. I will see him tomorrow. Ask him what time I should be ready for the theater.”

“Yer not going to the theater? ’Tis an ungodly place, full of the worst element in all London!” Nan looked horrified.

“You are singularly well-informed for a woman who has spent all of her life in the country, the same as I have,” Valentina teased. “What’s worse, you sound like a Puritan!”

“I needn’t have lived in this stinkhole to have heard that the theater is a dreadful place. Full of cutpurses and whores! Because I’m a servant doesn’t mean I am ignorant,
m’lady.
”

“Oh, Nan!” Valentina hugged her. “I did not mean to offend you. As I am going to the theater with Lord Burke, I am certain I will be well looked after.”

“Humph! He’s no more sense than you.”

Valentina smiled. “Go and tell Lord Burke that I will see him in the morning, and then please find me some supper. I shall eat in my bedchamber before the fire.”

With another “humph!” Nan hurried off.

Valentina closed the chamber door. What would she do without her faithful Nan? Nan, who was her dearest friend as well as her servant. Nan, who was going to have a fit when she saw what Valentina had decided to wear to the theater. M’lady Barrows chuckled mischievously at the thought.

She chuckled again the next day when the put-upon Nan reacted precisely as her mistress had expected.

“You cannot wear that gown in public in the afternoon,” Nan argued. “You’ll catch yer death of cold for one thing!”

“I’ll have my cloak, and ’tis fur-lined. Besides, the day is fair, Nan.” Valentina gazed at herself in the long pier glass, admiring the way the amethyst-colored velvet brought out the identical color of her eyes.

“I do not like these overlow necklines, m’lady,” said Nan with stern disapproval. “Yer whole chest is open to the elements, and I don’t care what you say, yer going to catch a cold! ’Tis bad enough indoors, but standing outdoors at that theater … I tell you no good will come of it.”

“Nevertheless, dearest Nan, I am dressed most fashionably, and as a member of Her Majesty’s court, I cannot be seen any other way. Fetch me the purple lace neck whisk, please. And my jewel box.”

Nan went off, grumbling about certain people’s willfulness, while Valentina, smiling like a pleased feline, continued to admire her gown. Since Edward had been dead for over six months, she was out of black and allowed to add gray, white, purple, blue, brown, and dark shades of green to her wardrobe. The queen preferred her ladies to wear black and the maids of honor to wear white except for festive occasions, so when in attendance upon Her Majesty, Valentina would have to don more somber garb.

Valentina’s gown was of a single amethyst color on the bodice, overskirt, and underskirt. The bodice was decorated with silver threads and pearls in an interlaced design. The panel of the underskirt was sewn with silver threads in a pattern of leaves and vines. The tiniest ruffle of violet lace sprinkled with tiny seed pearls edged the neckline.

Valentina opened a small ivory box and, after carefully studying the contents for a moment, removed two heart-shaped, tiny black patches. She placed one just barely above the right-hand corner of her mouth, the other on the swell of her left breast.

“Scandalous, it is!” fumed Nan, returning with her mistress’s jewel case and the required neck whisk. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into you, m’lady. Your mother would be very upset.”

“Patches are in fashion, Nan. There is nothing scandalous about patches. Open the jewel box, and then attach the whisk for me, please.” Valentina turned her attention to her jewelry, most of which she had inherited from the Barrows family. She drew forth a triple strand of pink pearls, each strand longer than the one on top of it. A large teardrop baroque pearl surrounded by diamonds hung from the longest strand. When Valentina fastened the necklace around her neck, the great teardrop nestled between her breasts. She next chose fat pearl earbobs and then a variety of pretty, though not spectacular, rings. The pearls were probably the best jewels in her possession.

The neck whisk fastened into place, Nan assured herself that Valentina’s elegant chignon had not been disturbed. Then she said, “Since it does no good to reason with you, I suppose I had best get your cloak and gloves. Promise me at least that you will wear the hood, for the wind coming off the river is icy damp.”

“I will,” Valentina assured Nan, smiling.

As Valentina descended the main staircase of Greenwood House, Padraic was openly admiring. She was garbed in a lovely pale amethyst velvet cloak edged in soft gray rabbit fur and carried a small and decidedly frivolous muff of the same fur, to which she had attached a nosegay of silk Parma violets. She held out a hand encased in a scented pale purple glove. He kissed her hand, his eyes meeting hers.

“Good day, cousin,” he said, pleased to see her blush.

“Good morrow, m’lord. Are we ready to leave? Which theater are you taking me to, the Rose or the Globe?” she asked.

“The Globe, and we must hurry if we are to get seats on the stage. I will not allow you to be exposed to the rigors of the pit. On the stage we are safer from the pickpockets and cutpurses, but whatever you do, don’t let go of your muff or your cloak, Val.”

“Nan is scandalized that you would take me to the theater at all,” Valentina admitted as they entered their carriage.

“On reflection, I am not so certain that Nan is wrong. She may have more sense than either of us. The theater crowd is apt to be a rough one. Stay by me at all times, Val,” he warned.

“Where is the Globe?” Valentina asked.

“Across the bridge in Southwark,” he answered her. “ ’Tis really the New Globe. The city council and their Puritan allies got the old theater torn down several years ago. The new one was built across the river near the Bear Garden. ’Tis a pretty rough district, but generally safe in the daytime.”

“Is it like the mummers, Padraic?”

He smiled. “No, a thousand times better, Val. The mummers act out old plays that go back so far in time that the words have been altered over the centuries. Besides, they are simple stories. A play by Master Shakespeare or poor Christopher Marlowe is a totally different experience. I do not understand how they can form words so that they sound so extraordinary.”

“Why ‘poor’ Christopher Marlowe?”

“He was killed in a tavern brawl several years ago. The man was a genius … and a complete madman.”

“I remember your sister, Velvet, saying that she had met him during her time at court. She did not like him at all. She said he attempted to take liberties with her.”

“Aye, that would have been just like Marlowe. He held himself in great esteem.” Padraic chuckled. “I imagine Velvet sent him packing.”

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, and there was almost no wind at all, most unusual for January. They traveled upriver into the city toward the London Bridge. Southwark, with its theaters, Bear Garden, and taverns, was just on the other side of the bridge. The bridge itself was actually more of a street extending itself over the Thames. There were buildings on either side of the bridge containing shops, homes, and elegant whorehouses. River traffic made its way under the bridge except for twice daily during the hours of high tide when “shooting the bridge” became too hazardous except for fools and lovers of danger.

London was a noisy city, and Valentina wondered if she would ever get used to it. There was also the matter of the refuse in the streets, which became muddy during rain or snow. The stink was bad enough in winter, Padraic told her, but worse in summer. As for the rats, she was astounded to see them boldly rifling through the piles of garbage in the streets, neither unimpeded nor fearful of man. The passing crowds paid them little attention, going about their business past the fetid piles without so much as a glance at the red-eyed rodents.

The carriage clattered across the London Bridge. Once in Southwark, it was immediately surrounded by beggars, and Lady Barrows understood why Lord Burke had insisted on their taking along the coachman’s assistant and two grooms who rode behind. It was the job of those three men to beat the beggars off and keep the coach free of encumbrance so that John, the coachman, might guide the vehicle safely. When they reached the theater, the four men would guard the carriage so that nothing might be stolen.

“Sit back,” Padraic warned Valentina. “When they see a woman, they know there’s jewelry—and some are bold enough to leap inside and tear it from you.” Although her cape was fastened securely with silver and purple jade frogs, Lady Barrows heeded her companion’s advice, drawing the cape even more tightly about her. She pulled the fur-lined hood far forward to hide her face.

The carriage turned down a narrow lane that led directly to the theater, and most of their followers disappeared. A pennant flew above the theater, announcing that there would be a performance that day.

Valentina leaned forward, and to Lord Burke, the lovely face peering from the fur-edged velvet hood was the excited one of a young girl receiving something she had wanted all her life. He longed to kiss her, but he knew this was neither the time nor the appropriate place.

“Remain inside the carriage,” Lord Burke told her, “while I see if I can obtain seats for us.” He climbed from the coach. The grooms stood guard at each door so that Lady Barrows would not be disturbed.

Fascinated, Valentina watched the street traffic Gazing up, she could see a cloth-of-gold globe sewn on the bright scarlet silk banner floating from a gilded ash pole atop the tower of the playhouse. Outside her coach the playgoers hurried by, common people for the most part, apprentices, shopkeepers and their wives, some foreign visitors who had heard of Master Shakespeare. There were young girls selling fruit from wooden trays; a fat, red-cheeked woman crying, “Buns! Sugar buns! Who’ll buy my buns? Two for a ha’penny!” There was a water seller and another woman crying her cakes and ale.

The carriage door opened, and Lord Burke handed Valentina out into the street. “I’ve managed to get us the last two seats on the stage,” he said, and led her into the theater. “Keep your cloak tightly about you, Val. Moll Cutpurse is rumored to be here today.”

“Who on earth is Moll Cutpurse, Padraic?”

“A most notorious thief. Her name is Mary Frith, and she was born, I’ve heard, respectable enough. She dresses in men’s clothing—itself quite an oddity. She gained quite a reputation over the years and shows no mercy even to her own sex. I hope you haven’t worn a great deal of jewelry.”

“You cannot expect me to appear in public without adornment,” she said sharply, and he grinned.

“Keep your cloak closed, Val,” he told her. “I am unarmed and in no mood to get into an altercation over some trifle of yours.”

They made their way through the pit, where the common folk sat for a penny apiece. The benches were already filled with a noisy, jostling mob. Sellers who had paid the theater manager a small fee were hawking ale, cider, fruits, nuts, and cakes inside the pit. A group of men were playing cards in a corner of the theater, while in the very center of the pit a hotly contested and vocal game of dice was underway. At the foot of the stairs leading up to the stage they were stopped by an attendant.

“No entry,” he said. “This section of the stage is reserved for my lord, the Earl of Pembroke, and his party.”

“But I have my threepenny chits,” Padraic Burke argued.

“No entry,” said the attendant firmly.

“The Earl of Pembroke will not be coming,” said Valentina, speaking up boldly.