court by her cousin Willow, the Countess of Alcester, who took great pride in being one of the people the queen trusted.
A place had already been found for Valentina among the queen’s ladies, for one of those fortunates had gone home to York for Christmas, caught a severe chill, and died most unexpectedly. Learning of it, Willow quickly importuned the Lady Howard, Countess of Nottingham, to put forward her cousin’s name.
“Although my cousin is but twenty, madam, she is a most serious and learned woman,” Willow said.
“A widow, you say?”
“Aye, madam. The widow of Lord Barrows of Hill Court in Oxfordshire. They were wed but a short time, and there are no children or other encumbrances to take Lady Barrows away from her duties to Her Majesty.” Willow knew that at this stage in her life the queen disliked change, and she sought eagerly to place Valentina in as good a light as possible.
Lady Howard, who had been Catherine Carey, daughter of the queen’s late first cousin, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, did not recognize Lord Barrows’s name. “Who are your cousin’s parents?” she demanded.
“Her father is my mother’s brother, born an O’Malley but known these many years as Conn St. Michael, Lord Bliss. Her mother is the only child of the late Payton St. Michael, the former Lord Bliss,” replied Willow.
“Conn O’Malley!” A small smile of remembrance touched Lady Howard’s lips. “ ‘The Handsomest Man at Court,’ he was called. He caused a most frightful scandal, and the queen married him off to an heiress and sent him from court. He was later allowed back, but I’ve not seen him in years. He was a charming man!” Then the good woman caught herself and said, “So he settled down, did he?”
“A model husband and father to seven,” said Willow with a small smile. Uncle Conn had the most staggering effect on court ladies of a certain age, though she herself could not see it.
“Well,” said the countess of Nottingham, “you are not a frivolous woman, Lady Edwardes, and I cannot remember your ever asking for a position for a relative or a friend. You will guarantee your cousin’s behavior?”
“Of course, madam, but there is no need. Valentina is a most circumspect woman, as was her mother when she served the queen.”
“Aidan St. Michael,” mused Lady Howard, and her brow wrinkled in concentration as she searched her memory. “A tall, rather plain girl, was she not?”
“Aye, madam.”
“I remember, though vaguely,” said the countess. “I also recall that Lincoln’s wife was a distant relation, and that when she found out the girl and her wealth had slipped through her fingers, she was most disappointed. Is your cousin as plain as her mother?”
“Nay, madam. She, and in fact all of my uncle’s children, tend to favor him,” replied Willow.
This conversation took place on the last day of December and, Valentina’s place guaranteed, Willow sent a messenger to her mother at Queen’s Malvern. On the seventh day of January, 1601, immediately following the family’s Twelfth Night festivities, Valentina, Lady Barrows, departed from her childhood home for the second time in six months. The last time she had left a bride. Now she went to seek her fortune.
The servants, most of whom had known Valentina since her childhood, lined up to bid her farewell. Beal, the family butler, was close to seventy now, but was still more capable than most of doing his job. His wife, the housekeeper, still served the family and had lined up the maids in a row. Erwina, the fat cook, and Leoma, the laundress, wept unashamedly and hugged Lady Barrows. It seemed to Valentina that they were more emotional about her going off to court than they had been when she married. Martin, the coachman, gave strict instructions to Tam, his assistant, for it was Tam who would be driving Lady Barrows’s coach. Her own coachman had never been to London and was frankly afraid to make the trip. He would remain
A place had already been found for Valentina among the queen’s ladies, for one of those fortunates had gone home to York for Christmas, caught a severe chill, and died most unexpectedly. Learning of it, Willow quickly importuned the Lady Howard, Countess of Nottingham, to put forward her cousin’s name.
“Although my cousin is but twenty, madam, she is a most serious and learned woman,” Willow said.
“A widow, you say?”
“Aye, madam. The widow of Lord Barrows of Hill Court in Oxfordshire. They were wed but a short time, and there are no children or other encumbrances to take Lady Barrows away from her duties to Her Majesty.” Willow knew that at this stage in her life the queen disliked change, and she sought eagerly to place Valentina in as good a light as possible.
Lady Howard, who had been Catherine Carey, daughter of the queen’s late first cousin, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, did not recognize Lord Barrows’s name. “Who are your cousin’s parents?” she demanded.
“Her father is my mother’s brother, born an O’Malley but known these many years as Conn St. Michael, Lord Bliss. Her mother is the only child of the late Payton St. Michael, the former Lord Bliss,” replied Willow.
“Conn O’Malley!” A small smile of remembrance touched Lady Howard’s lips. “ ‘The Handsomest Man at Court,’ he was called. He caused a most frightful scandal, and the queen married him off to an heiress and sent him from court. He was later allowed back, but I’ve not seen him in years. He was a charming man!” Then the good woman caught herself and said, “So he settled down, did he?”
“A model husband and father to seven,” said Willow with a small smile. Uncle Conn had the most staggering effect on court ladies of a certain age, though she herself could not see it.
“Well,” said the countess of Nottingham, “you are not a frivolous woman, Lady Edwardes, and I cannot remember your ever asking for a position for a relative or a friend. You will guarantee your cousin’s behavior?”
“Of course, madam, but there is no need. Valentina is a most circumspect woman, as was her mother when she served the queen.”
“Aidan St. Michael,” mused Lady Howard, and her brow wrinkled in concentration as she searched her memory. “A tall, rather plain girl, was she not?”
“Aye, madam.”
“I remember, though vaguely,” said the countess. “I also recall that Lincoln’s wife was a distant relation, and that when she found out the girl and her wealth had slipped through her fingers, she was most disappointed. Is your cousin as plain as her mother?”
“Nay, madam. She, and in fact all of my uncle’s children, tend to favor him,” replied Willow.
This conversation took place on the last day of December and, Valentina’s place guaranteed, Willow sent a messenger to her mother at Queen’s Malvern. On the seventh day of January, 1601, immediately following the family’s Twelfth Night festivities, Valentina, Lady Barrows, departed from her childhood home for the second time in six months. The last time she had left a bride. Now she went to seek her fortune.
The servants, most of whom had known Valentina since her childhood, lined up to bid her farewell. Beal, the family butler, was close to seventy now, but was still more capable than most of doing his job. His wife, the housekeeper, still served the family and had lined up the maids in a row. Erwina, the fat cook, and Leoma, the laundress, wept unashamedly and hugged Lady Barrows. It seemed to Valentina that they were more emotional about her going off to court than they had been when she married. Martin, the coachman, gave strict instructions to Tam, his assistant, for it was Tam who would be driving Lady Barrows’s coach. Her own coachman had never been to London and was frankly afraid to make the trip. He would remain
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