ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER THIRTY

Maurette and Dominic made their way into the throne room and edged among festively attired courtiers and gentlewomen who greeted Dominic with much tittering and great enthusiasm. Fluttering feathered fans in his direction and waving their perfumed scarves, one particularly bold group of ladies surrounded Dominic, and Maurette decided that she might as well have been invisible. Loosening her grip on Dominic's forearm in the crush of lace and silks, she moved apart from the group.

Dominic glanced helplessly over his shoulder at her. She waved and indicated that she was going into the main ballroom. She hoped to spot Imogene and Greg there.

A man of medium height and thick build impeded her progress when he was shoved into her path. He apologized but shrugged helplessly as they were both carried willy-nilly into the ballroom. Bowing courteously, once they had been deposited in the crowd, he offered Maurette one of the silver goblets he carried.

"I was bringing this to another lady," he said, "but methinks 'tis needed more here."

Maurette smiled and accepted the refreshment. She murmured a polite thank you. "In truth, I would not purloin the lady's drink, but I perceive there is little hope of your getting back across the floor, she said lightly.

The man chuckled amiably. "You have been deprived of escort, I see."

"Yes," said Maurette, smiling in the direction of the gallery where Dominic was still holding court among the ladies.

"Forgive them, my lady," said the man. "they have not had the pleasure of the Silver Raven's company in many months. They are exhausted with the waiting and over amplify their welcome."

"You know Dominic?" Maurette looked up quizzically at the bearded man.

"My dear;" he said, smiling down at her, "all Britannia knows lord Warbrooke. The ladies in particular mourned his going from court and have much looked forward to his return. You can understand their enthusiasm, can you not?"

"I understand it," said Maurette rather more coldly than she had intended, "but I do not like it." She immediately regretted her abruptness with this amiable fellow. "Forgive me," she said and raised her cup in salute to him. "I suppose 'tis a bit of a come uppance for me. In London, you see, I had quite a following of my own."

The man smiled. "'Tis hard," he said genially, "But he is, after all, the Silver Raven." Maurette gazed down into her drink and swirled it reflectively. "He is that famous then." she said, not a question.

"Oh, yes," said her companion. "He is that famous, though he would have it otherwise. Dominic Warbrooke has never sought the attention of the public. I believe that, unlike the likes of me, he would have been perfectly content with a quiet unremarked residence out of the notice of public life. I, you see, am much more in need of recognition than the average courtier and have, therefore, struck my own bargain with the devil, or" he smiled rakishly-"as we know him, the queen."

Maurette gasped at such audacity. "Dare you speak thus, sir?" she breathed.

"I dare," said the gentleman. Then he broke into a comfortable laugh. "She knows well, does our good Majesty, the price this old man has paid for her approbation. She knows and"-he leaned confidentially into Maurette"-she does dote upon it."

"And just what is it you have given up?" Maurette said smiling.

"Why, all," the man said expansively. "My wife, my work, my freedom, my peace of mind, my happiness. I have, you see, loved unwisely but too well."

" 'Tis hard to credit, sir, that you gave all that up for love. You must needs explain yourself to me," she said.

"I shall explain in a word or, rather, two words, My name, dear lady, is Robert Dudley."

"The earl of Leicester," Maurette gasped.

"That one," said the earl.

Maurette had known, as had all of London, of the queen's long and tempestuous love affair with Leicester. His secret marriage and Elizabeth's subsequent dismissal as well as her later recall of him back to court were subjects of constant gossip among the London gentry.

"And here you are once more," Maurette said, "back at court and back in the queen's good graces."

"And I pray in yours." He bowed again and cocked an eyebrow at his pretty companion.

Maurette chuckled. "Your reputation precedes you, sir. I should, if I were wise, be mindful of my chastity and of Dominic Warbrooke's temper."

"Would that were so," he said ruefully. "In truth, I am old now and much abused by life and, if I am to employ the most rigorous honesty, no longer able to play the stag. I have the one more battle, and I shall retire to the aging arms of my good Elizabeth."

" 'The one more battle?' " Maurette inquired.

> "Has your husband not told you of the coming warfare?"

Maurette lowered her eyes. "Lord Warbrooke is not my husband," she said softly.

"Forgive me," said the earl.

Maurette looked up at him and smiled ruefully. "We are precontracted."

"Ah," said Dudley in understanding. " 'Tis a perfectly honorable estate."

"Tell me of the coming battle. It is with the Spanish?"

" 'Tis with the Spanish, my lady," he said mildly. "It much puzzles me that you would inquire on it. Most women of my acquaintance except, of course, Her Majesty would prefer to lie abed in sweet ignorance of men's doings. 'Let them go and fight the storms, and labor in whatever painful way they must,' say those women-though not often in words. 'Let me lie here in warmth and peace and blissful unawareness,' they pray. They obey their husbands dutifully for their pains, but they pray to remain unaware of what happens beyond the garden."

"I am not one of those," said Maurette.

"Nay," said Robert, chuckling.

Just then, Dominic appeared at Maurette's side and smiled at Sir Robert. "I have not abandoned you, my lady," he said into her ear. "I see that you have not been lonely."

"The earl has kept me well companioned," she said, eyeing the older man piquantly.

"And I have enjoyed the company of your lady," the earl said and drew Maurette's and to his lips. "You are a most unconventional woman, my dear." He offered a courtly leg and moved off into the crowd.

"Leicester seems in a felicitous humor this night," Dominic said as he watched the older man.

"He has made a deep impression this night." Maurette said stonily.

Dominic glanced down at her. "Has he?" he said lightly, for he did not know what she implied.

"Indeed he has. Before this night is through, my lord, we will speak of what Sir Robert has revealed."

Dominic stiffened; realizing that Leicester's penchant for intrigue had reared its ugly head to Dominic's misfortune. "Oh, my lady," Dominic said, quietly pleading, "for all that I have done, I have begged for and received your forgiveness. Now I ask if for my lapess." He turned Maurette to face him and winced at her stern visage. "G-d grant me mercy, lady, and please you grant it too."

Maurette desired to remain firm in her chastisement of him, but his face was so filled with chagrin that she relented. Reaching up, she brushed his cheek with her fingertips. "You have much to learn about accepting the love of a partner in life," she said softly.

"What has that old Robin Dudley told you?" he said in piteous tones. "Relieve my torment, Maurette, and allow me to deny it."

Maurette could not contain her amusement at his dramatic skill and responded in kind. "You must needs cry real tears, if you expect me to be moved, Dominic."

"If that will urge you to explain you ire, I will do so," he said, joining her in laughter.

When their laughter had died, Maurette said seriously, " 'Tis about the coming battle with the Spanish."

"Ah," said Dominic with understanding. "So he has mentioned that. It may happen, Maurette," he said solemnly, gazing down into her eyes where lavender lights danced in their depths. "I was not keeping it a secret, little one. 'Tis only that no one really knows what will happen on that front. By the summer, we are sure," he said gently. "you have my vow that I shall discuss it with you."

Dominic smiled. "I have had a most excellent teacher, my lady." They entwined their arms and moved off to enjoy the party.

The main ballroom at Nonsuch was centrally placed in the lover level of the palace. Lofty French windows banked one solid wall and opened onto a terraced courtyard. A magnificent stone fireplace, in which a blazing fire lapped truculently at blackened stone carvings, covered another wall. To create a gracious and informal atmosphere of gentility and warmth in this room, Elizabeth had ordered silver bowls of her favorite roses set on every table. The room was hung with Persian tapestries, and chairs, tables, and low benches were draped with brown velvets set with jewels. Polished brass horns and stringed instruments of glowing wood, placed here and there on tables, invited the courtiers participation in the festivities. Before the night was over, Elizabeth would be urged to play the gold and silver virginal dominating one corner of the great room. For the dancing, seven young men in jester's livery played a consort of seven ivory flutes. They piped among the gay-spirited guests, who needed no urging to enjoy the revelry.

Maurette and Dominic stood apart from the merrymaking, catching snatches of conversation, which, as Dominic had warned, revolved mostly around gossip. He and Maurette exchanged secret looks of amusement, recalling his words on the prevailing pastime.

Soon Queen Elizabeth herself entered the room to a light extended chord trilled by the flutists. As small and light as the music, she passed through an aisle created the courtiers and their ladies bowing and backing away Maurette stood on tiptoe to see the tiny sovereign, who had a dainty figure though her bosom was ample and well displayed. Elizabeth's deep amber eyes seemed to sparkle like coals against her fair, white skin. Ropes of pearls wound through her head of abundant auburn curls, gems dripped from her throat and earlobes, and magnificent jeweled rings adorned every finger of her delicate hands. The queen curved her thin lips into a small smile. Maurette now understood Her Majesty's often solemn countenance, for her teeth were blackened with decay. The smile vanished almost immediately in what Maurette recognized as a self-conscious display of vanity.

The great woman progressed to a small dais, where she sat upon an ornately carved stool, flanked by two handsome young men who bent low to hear the intimate words she whispered first to one and then the other. Low chuckles were heard in the hush of the great chamber before the queen turned to the company and indicated with a wave of her feathered fan that the festivities should resume. Surveying the room, her dazzling eyes came to rest on Dominic and Maurette. She immediately smiled that quicksilver expression of pleasure and bade them, with a flick of her bejeweled hand, to attend her.

Escorted by Dominic, Maurette moved in awed reverence toward the great lady and offered a deep curtsy. She had been presented once before to the queen after Elizabeth had asked to be introduced to the young woman who exhibited such prowess with her sword arm. Maurette wondered if the queen would remember. Lifting solemn lavender eyes, she heard Dominic introducing her. The queen smiled that disconcerting blackened smile, and her small hooked nose hung just above her upper lip. She held out her hand, and Maurette brushed it with her lips.

"Your grandmother is well, child?" inquired the queen in a soft clear voice.

"She is, Your Majesty-though I have not seen her-in some weeks." Maurette's voice came in a softly whispered stammer.

"Speaking with a monarch disturbs you." Elizabeth had kept Maurette's hand in her small soft one and was now regarding the younger woman with fond amusement.

" 'Tis that I am honored that Her Majesty remembers me."

"Oh, I recall you well, child," said Elizabeth.. She paused for a moment. "The countess of Audley has spoken of you often, and I remember a breeched and booted girl who delighted me one summer in Islington, I believe it was, with her valiant display of swordsmanship." The queen chuckled. "It Was very soon after that I engaged my good Robin as a tutor in that sport. But, we soon went back to archery lessons, for I never knew whether I was truly competent or whether the old rapscallion was merely indulging me." Elizabeth was silent for a long moment. "Does Lady Violet ever speak of me?"

"Oh, Your Majesty," Maurette blurted, "you must know she does." Maurette gasped and dropped a humble curtsy at her bold words. "Forgive me," she gasped. "I did not mean to speak so familiarly."

The queen reared back her head, and musical laughter erupted from her slender throat.

"I am that fearsome," she said to the man standing at her right. Then she turned to the one on her left in genuine amusement. "If I am that fearsome that I frighten gentle maidens. Pray tell me why my ministers are not thus cowed in my presence," she added.

"They are not gentle maidens, methinks," murmured the gentleman.

Elizabeth nodded in hearty agreement. "'Tis true, Essex, 'tis too, too true." She smiled fondly up at the extraordinarily handsome young courtier and patted the hand he had placed upon her slender shoulder before turning back to Maurette. The queen's eyes were soft and pleasantly warm.

"'Twould be either a curse or a blessing to enjoy such sweet humility in the members of my Privy Council, dear Lady Maurette. What think you, Dominic? Do you not agree that my councilors affect an all-too-familiar air with me?"

Dominic allowed a small smile to cross his lips. "Perforce Her Majesty should bid my lady to attend her at the next meeting of state. She might serve up an excellent lesson in how to address the queen."

Elizabeth laughed another soft musical ripple of pleasure. "'Tis excellent, good Dominic" she stated in her soft dear voice. "Perhaps, we shall have your lady attend us. We might find such a circumstance both amusing and instructive," she said with the arch of a thin painted brow. "In the meanwhile, I would see the handsome Raven take his lady, to the floor for a dance. You have been absent far too long Dominic," she said, leaning forward. "I have missed the sight of your comely form, and before this night is over," she said, looking to Maurette with a mischievous smile, "I shall feel those longed-for 'arms' round my waist." Her voice had taken on an intimate tone.

Maurette, watching the queen grace Dominic with a piquant smile, understood, in a sudden rush of enlightenment, Elizabeth's fabled charms. She liked men, admired them, and they could not remain long in her presence without realizing that fact. Any man would be flattered by such open adulation, and Maurette hid a smile when she noted that Dominic was no different from the queen's other conquests. His bronzed face took on a copper glow at the elderly woman's obvious recognition of his manly charms. Her delight in his virility had actually made the Silver Raven blush.

The hours passed in a swirl of gossip and music. Maurette found herself twirled and lifted in the arms of many handsome courtiers and noted that Dominic also did not lack for partners. The admiration for the couple was as much caused by the queen's attention as it was by their own attractiveness. Imogene, who had appeared at her sister's side after the presentation, could barely contain her pride in Maurette's success.

"You could live here forever," whispered Imogene, twittering, into Maurette's ear. "Her Majesty is so obviously taken with you that 'twould not surprise me if she ask you to attend her on a permanent basis."

Maurette smiled, enduring her sister's rapturous esteem and was much relieved when Imogene progressed to the other topic of the evening; the whereabouts of the queen's intended betrothed.

"The duke, of Alencon has not made an appearance this night," Imogene said incredulously." 'Tis the talk of all at court. He is an odd wooer of a queen," she huffed, "in that he tends not to woo but to disdain her company. I have wondered that the queen should endure such arrogant behavior."

Imogene was obviously titillated, as were the other members of the court, and wondered in very intimate tones what amorous mysteries 'the young son of' the aging Catherine de Medici possessed to light the flame of Elizabeth's forbearance. Other ladies had joined Imogene and Maurette throughout the course of the conversation and made their own observations on the situation.

"He is French," twittered one girl to the ribald amusement of the others.

"And he is rough and a soldier," giggled another.

The gossip became bold in equal measure to the sugared wine that was consumed, and Maurette found herself becoming bored with the often irreverent speculations. She was astonished that those who enjoyed so well the queen's hospitality and good grace were the same who so disrespectfully discussed her private affairs. She sighed, realizing that Imogene was very much a part of this scornful bantering. The sweet and guileless girl of Maurette's memory seemed to have disintegrated into the spiteful sophistry of court life.

By degrees, Maurette moved from the insolent cynicism of her contemporaries and found herself at last apart from them. Alone, she wandered to one of the lofty French doors and pushed it ajar to find that the late December night was cool and pleasant by comparison to the heated conversation and revelry within the ballroom. She stepped outside onto a silver-shadowed terrace.

Maurette felt the silken night-cooled air embrace her. Gazing up at the mellow nimbus of the winter moon, her cloth of silver gown, shimmering in its soft light, she was unaware that she was being observed.

In the darkness a dark shape huddled, watching in silence the cascading blue-black waves and the luster of pale skin as gentle night breezes lifted luminous silver skirts. The opalescent moonlit garden, it observed, reflected the pearl-like radiance of the quiescent woman.

A twig snapped, and Maurette shot a glance in the direction of the sudden noise. Just then, a wispy cloud shrouded the pale moon, and shifting shadows hid the movement of the dark form.

"Who is it?" Maurette breathed.

"'Tis but me, lovely one," whispered a male voice. The man emerged from the low bushes and, as the cloud moved on to unveil the moon's pale light, his features revealed themselves to Maurette. He was short and thick-set, his hair dark, and his skin swarthy.

"Who are you?" said Maurette sharply.

"I am the proposed and disesteemed betrothed of Her Majesty, the queen," he said laconically as he advanced to Maurette.

"You are Francis?" Maurette blurted.

In the silvered shadows, the features of the man claiming to be the affianced of the queen, took shape. The bold and arrogant duke of Alenon was something less than Maurette had expected. He was about twenty-five and his countenance seemed both heavy and soft. His face was a mass of skin eruptions, his dark hair hung in greasy tendrils over his forehead, and his eyes were hooded in a lazy, unfocused, watery gaze. When he smiled, he exposed teeth blackened by decay. He seemed to expect her reaction and laughed low in his throat.

"'Tis hardly what you expected," he said, offering Maurette an unsteady bow. "but I vow I am, in truth, the rash young duke of Alenon of whom you have heard so many bold tales. I am that prince, that son of Catherine de Medici, that hope and prayer of France and your beloved England." He chuckled as he regarded Maurette's look of disbelief with understanding.

"Forgive me," she said uncertainly and dipped a curtsy to show her deference to the man's rank if not his present condition. He carried a flagon, from which he took a long draught. As he tipped the vessel to his lips, wine spilled out to dribble down his chin and neck. His cheeks puffed with the liquid, he held the dripping pitcher out to Maurette. She murmured a polite disinclination to share his refreshment. He swallowed audibly and belched. Swiping with the back of his forearm at the liquid that had run in rivulets down his jaw, he smiled a lazy smile.

"You do not partake of spirit," he slurred. "Good," he added before she could answer. "'Tis good." He wiped again at the offending liquid, which now lay in puddles in his neckcloth. He wavered and, attempting to correct his stance, stumbled. Maurette grasped his wrist in an attempt to steady him, and laboriously he regained his balance. He splayed a palm toward her.

"Nay, dear lady," he said gently, "do not waste your aid on the likes of me." With a great effort, he shuffled to a low bench where he sat heavily. He patted the bench, nearly keeling over with the motion. "Come join me," he said with forced brightness. "I shall not try to take advantage of you, m' lady, for my affections is otherwise engaged." He laughed a foolish chuckle.

"Why do you not attend our queen?" inquired Maurette gently.

He turned to look intently into Maurette's eyes. For a long moment he seemed on the brink of a response, then he simply laughed again, this time a soft laugh. It was a manly laugh, and Maurette wondered what he might be like in other and better circumstances. The duke lowered his eyes and then as quickly raised them.

"Are your affections otherwise engaged, my lady?" he asked evenly.

"They are, my lord," Maurette said softly. "I, too, am affianced. Dominic Warbrooke is the gentleman's name."

"Ah," breathed Francis. "The duke of Ravenshead. His name is much touted in this court. Dominic Mar…broo…ke," he said; rolling the name on his tongue.

"Warbrooke," corrected Maurette in a gentle tone.

"War," he said softly. ..... brook." He gave each syllable its own emphasis. "Warbrooke. Did you ever stop to think how dichotomous that name is?" He looked into her face. "War, you see is. .. war." He looked away from her and, in the moonlight, his profile seemed sculpted in sadness. "War," he repeated, elongating the word. He gazed up at the moon. "'Tis a terrible thing, war," he said sadly. He was silent for a long moment. "I have been to war." He turned to face Maurette Once again. "But a brooke, well..." he said, a slow smile forming on his lips. "A brook is a bed, a lovely, rippling bed."

Maurette smiled too. She could not help but be taken with this sweet, sad, drunken man. "Perchance I could help you to yours," she said gently.

"Let me tell you something about beds," he said, ignoring her suggestion. "On a ship a bed is a swaying miracle of comfort. If you are a lowly seaman, you may enjoy that miracle. However, if you are a prince, if you are the son of a great queen, you may not. For the son of a great queen, they install a feather bed. I sleep where I am told, my lady," he said with aching sadness. "'Tis a truth not to be toyed with. I know it well enough, for I have been a son to a great queen all my life, and now, it seems, I shall be a husband to another great queen." He dipped his head and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, sweet Jesus," he breathed.

Maurette felt her throat close in pity for the man. "Do you not wish to marry Her Majesty?" she asked softly.

His head bobbed up. "Do you know something? I have not thought of wanting to or not." He let out a sigh of resignation. "There has never been a question of wanting or not wanting. The only question has been whether or not she wanted me."

"And she does?" asked Maurette.

He turned to face her, and in the moonlight, his soft brown eyes shimmered. "I have flattered, and she has been flattered. I have played the enamoured young wooer and she the not easily wooed. I have delighted her with my antics." He stood and shambled over the short grasses of the terrace. "I play the dashing knight," he said and mimed a sword fight. "I play the pet." He became a scratching, long-armed monkey. "I play the blind man." He closed his eyes and swiped futilely at the air; ending his efforts with an empty embrace. "And for an encore," he said, scraping the ground with a sweeping bow, "I play the heir to the throne of France."

He eyed Maurette, who was attempting to stifle her amusement at his antics. His own amusement was apparent. "I bring the lady gifts, which she accepts with great reluctance. I write her love poems," he said, dropping to one knee before Maurette and placing his hands over his heart in an exaggerated gesture of amorous longing. "I whine for her, I wallow for her, and, most of all, I wait for her." He paused and stood heavily.

"Then," he continued, returning to his seat next to Maurette, "I receive a letter from my mother telling me that she bas received a message saying that Her Majesty may deign to consider my marriage proposal, on the condition," he said, raising an imperious finger, "that my mother sign some treaty or other." He shook his head with a resigned smile. "And all this time, dear lady," he said softly, "I must content myself with lying abed in a snug four-poster on an English ship in an English harbor, eating English food, and bedding vapid English whores."

He glanced at Maurette and apologized ruefully. "Once I begin being truthful, I am even in danger of being a boor. 'Tis why I so seldom allow myself that indulgence." Seeing Maurette's smile of understanding, he continued. "English whores are nothing like the French, but English food exceeds itself each day in pale comparison to that which I am used to." They both laughed.

"I am not familiar with French or English whores, my lord," said Maurette, "but I have been eating English food my whole life and have found it most pleasing for my taste."

"Ah," said Francis enthusiastically, "but you have not enjoyed the delights of French cuisine, my lady." He took both Maurette's hands in both of his. "I shall tell you what we shall do. I shall leave tonight, and I shall spirit you back to my mother's house and introduce you to some real food. We shall eat together until we both become very fat." The man's audacity was both startling and refreshing. Maurette smiled warmly at him.

"I think I should enjoy that with you, Francis, but I fear that Dominic Warbrooke would not approve our sojourn. Tell me this," she said conspiratorially, "would you allow me to take him with us? Then he, too, could enjoy your French cuisine and find himself as fat and happy as we two."

"I had the impression that you did not like fat men, my lady," said a voice from the darkness behind them.

Startled, they both looked up to find Dominic standing over them. Francis was the first to rise.

"Forgive me, lord Warbrooke," he said with profound solemnity. "I have drunk too much, I fear, and your lady but humors me. She is a good lady, and I am the rogue to have imposed myself upon her."

"Please, sir," Dominic said gently, attempting to mollify the duke's embarrassment, "rest your mind, Sir Francis. I fear not for the propriety of this situation. My appearance and interjection were meant merely to join in your jest." Dominic glanced down at Maurette, who shrugged one elegant shoulder to indicate her bemusement at the duke's unnecessary penitence. "Ease your heart, noble Francis," Dominic said, returning his attention to the subdued duke of Alencon. "I have every confidence in my lady's ability to discourage unwanted advances." He smiled. "Had she been displeased with your company, she would have made her displeasure known. I am in a position to attest to that. Let me also promise you that, had she taken offense to anything that you said or did, you would not now be standing your ground. You would instead be riding the hilt of a sword into eternity."

"Or back to France?" the duke offered in a lighter tone.

Dominic nodded pleasantly. "This lady is most definite in her choice of companions."

Francis regarded Maurette fondly. "Then I am doubly honored at her sharing with me a few moments of her time."

Maurette rose from the bench. "Why do we not all go inside, for I am feeling the chill of this winter night?" Extending an arm to each man, she said, "May I be escorted by the two gentlemen here, who seemed to be enthralled by my womanly charms? The court will certainly have something about which to gossip if the three of us appear together among their company." The three laughed gaily as they entwined their arms and moved toward the yellow light of the ballroom.

"Perhaps one of you would tell me about this trip we all must make to France." Dominic said.

"Oh yes, in search of food, my lord," said Maurette. "And-other things," she added, tilting a glance at Francis. Francis smiled but paused at the doorway to the palace.

"I do not think I will go inside with you," he said.

Dominic regarded him sternly. "You shall, indeed, enter with us, my lord."

Francis looked up at the intimidating figure of his new friend. "I am drunk, Lord Warbrooke," he said softly, "and unkempt."

"You are no different than the rest of the company," Dominic answered, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Come in with us, sir." he said in a quiet tone.

"Perhaps I shall go in," he said, a new confidence in his voice. Her Majesty may say me nay, but she shall, before this night is out, say it to me and not my mother." They all laughed and then, composing themselves, made their way into the palace.