Fool's Paradise

by Tori Phillips

  “Perhaps you mistook…” he suggested halfheartedly.

  Elizabeth expelled a short, bitter laugh. “I think not. He once told me he had a lady love here at court. At least, he was honest about that. Nay, I was… convenient, and, in truth, ‘tis all my fault. As to telling him about… about the child, I want to do that myself. Have you seen him since we came to Greenwich?” Elizabeth tried to keep her voice level.

  “Nay,” said Philip, nurturing black thoughts against the faithless jester. “I have not spoken to him.” He pressed his lips tightly together.

  “I must think of what to do,” Elizabeth murmured beside him.

  “You must rest, eat lightly five or six times a day. You must drink plenty of milk and take walks in the air when the days are fair. You must wear your gowns a trifle looser. Most of all, you must not fret, my lady.” Philip tried his best to soothe her concerns, though he knew his words were merely feathers in the wind.

  “Philip, I owe you so much, but may I ask you one more service?” Elizabeth held his hand tightly.

  “I am ever yours to command, my lady,” Philip answered with heartfelt sincerity. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to marry him on the spot, but he knew she was not his for the asking, nor would her heart ever be his for the taking, no matter how injured it was.

  Elizabeth’s green eyes looked deeply into his. “When my time comes, no matter where they hide me away, will you deliver my child?”

  Smiling warmly, Philip kissed her hand. “I wouldn’t miss it for all the world, my lady. I will be there,” he promised.

  And I will damn Tarleton with every labor pain she suffers, he promised himself grimly.

  As luck would have it, Philip met Tarleton face-to-face in the stable as the medical student saddled his horse. It had been a difficult day, first questioned at length by the enigmatic Walsingham, then his equally nerve-racking time with Lady Elizabeth. The young doctor was almost out of patience, especially with the man who now stood before him.

  “No smile for an old comrade-in-arms, Philip?” Tarleton greeted him, looking warily over his shoulder.

  The jester had been keeping company with Philip’s deuced horse for nearly two hours, and it had not been a pleasant experience for either man or beast. Tarleton knew he was taking a chance to even speak with Philip, but the weeks of enforced silence had nearly driven him mad.

  “‘Tis been a hard day and I am tired,” replied Philip shortly, cinching the gelding’s girth strap. He avoided looking at the jester.

  “How does the fair lady?” Tarleton asked softly.

  “Well enough,” Philip replied coolly. “I am much surprised you are asking me. Surely, you could find that out yourself. Have you thought of walking up to her door and knocking?”

  “God’s blood, man! Don’t you think I’ve wanted to?” Tarleton’s heartfelt outburst took Philip aback. “There is not a day that passes in this blasted place that I don’t think of her, watch for her, listen for the sound of her sweet voice. At night, she haunts my dreams.”

  “Then why, in the name of heaven, haven’t you sought her out before this?” Philip knew he was dangerously close to losing his temper. She needs you more than ever, you blackguard!

  Tarleton nodded with understanding at the wrath he spied in the student’s face. “Because I am forbidden by the Queen’s express command to speak her name. I cannot ask for her, nor inquire her health of anyone in the palace. I am treading upon eggs even to speak to you. The Queen has locked away my Robin Redbreast like a lark in a cage. She has been here almost a month, and I have yet to catch a glimpse of her, though I loiter near her gallery as often as I dare. I see the disgust in your eyes, good Philip. Believe me, no one is as disgusted with me as myself!”

  Philip felt his anger drain away as Tarleton spoke. He sought for something comforting to say to the player.

  “Would it make you feel any better to know that my lady asks after you?” Philip was tempted to tell Tarleton of his impending fatherhood, but he feared the consequences. That fire storm would come down soon enough. Besides, it was Elizabeth’s choice to tell whom she pleased, not Philip’s.

  Tarleton raised his head as if Philip had just given pure water to a man dying of thirst. A soft glow lit up his brown eyes. “She has?”

  “Do I tell her that you miss her company so much that you must chase the Queen’s maids around the rose gardens?”

  Tarleton smiled grimly at Philip’s rebuke. How could he tell the student that scene was played as broad farce to hide the real truth? No, Tarleton had sworn an oath to silence on that score. “You saw that? ‘Twas my own physic, prentice doctor. I thought perchance I could chase away my memories by dallying with others.”

  “And?” Philip observed Tarleton carefully. He divined some inner struggle, but what it was Philip could not fathom.

  “I found my remedy for naught, so I have taken a great deal of beer instead.”

  “Truly? Then do I tell Lady Elizabeth that you are lying around a stable, drunk as a sailor on leave? That news will cheer her marvelously well.”

  “Am I as bad as that, my friend?” Tarleton smiled crookedly. Better to let Philip think he was drinking in the stable than to suspect he had lain in wait for the boy.

  Philip nodded. “Aye. Is that my report to the lady?”

  “Nay.” Tarleton ran his fingers through his hair. “‘Tis a false medicine I have been taking. Please tell my lady that I love her, and that my love is true. Will you tell her those words for me?”

  “I will, whenever I see her again. Now, I must be off before the rain comes. Fare thee well, friend jester.” He paused, then tossed Tarleton a crumb of comfort. “Believe me when I tell you, you are close to the lady. In faith, you are under her heart.” Not trusting himself to say another word, Philip hastily saluted Tarleton, then mounted his horse.

  “God speed you, doctor of hearts!” Tarleton called after him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two days after Tarleton’s meeting with Philip, Sir Francis sent for the jester.

  “My lord?” Tarleton inquired politely, when the two were alone in Walsingham’s neat office.

  “Help yourself to some wine. It has just arrived from Beaujolais,” Sir Francis offered. “I perceive this past month has been a trial for you?”

  Nodding his thanks at Walsingham’s unusual hospitality, Tarleton poured himself a large goblet. “In sooth, I have been in hell, Sir Francis. ‘Tis not a gladsome place.” He drank down the new wine in one ferocious gulp.

  “Perhaps I can make it more merry for you, Tarleton.” Sir Francis leaned across his desk, his black eyes glowing. “‘Tis time to set our trap.”

  Tarleton’s fingers tightened around the goblet’s stem. “Does Her Grace know?”

  Sir Francis chuckled. “There is nothing under her roof that the Queen does not know.”

  “And… she approves?”

  Sir Francis inclined his head. “Wholeheartedly. ‘Twill be soon.”

  “Not soon enough for me,” Tarleton poured himself more wine, though this time, he was content to sip it. “And… my Lady Elizabeth?” He uttered her name softly.

  “She is the golden pawn.”

  Tarleton shot his patron a pleading look. “She will find her role most distressing. Surely, it would ease her mind if we told…”

  Sir Francis shook his head. “Nay. Her reactions must be natural. We agreed upon this point, if you recall.”

  “Aye.” Tarleton winced when he considered how distressed Elizabeth was going to be.

  Sir Francis held up his hand to stop all further protests. “Screw up your great courage, Master Player. The lady— and ourselves—will need all your skill if we are to catch our rat, who grows fatter with self-importance by the day.”

  “I will not fail you, my lord. I have waited too long for this!” Tarleton drained the goblet.

  At last, Elizabeth was summoned to wait upon the Queen. After weeks of confinement in her few rooms while she supp
osedly recuperated, Elizabeth sparkled with anticipation at the thought of finally seeing more of her surroundings—and meeting with her illustrious godmother. She was bubbling with nervousness and excitement when Sir Walter Raleigh presented himself as her escort.

  “You are looking much better than when I last saw you, Lady Elizabeth,” complimented the tall gentlemen as he bowed over her hand.

  “I am feeling much better, Sir Walter,” Elizabeth replied, sweeping him a curtsy. “I am not feverish, nor on horseback, nor dressed unusually.”

  “So I observe, my lady.” Raleigh’s eyes twinkled as he regarded the golden pawn whose name was spoken in certain quarters of the great palace. Now that he could observe her in the daylight, Raleigh agreed completely with everything he had heard. Lady Elizabeth was, indeed, a most unique young woman.

  “La! Let us be gone,” exclaimed Lady Anne. “Her Grace does not like anyone to be late. She never is!”

  To Elizabeth’s awestruck eyes, Greenwich Palace was far more magnificent than what she had seen of Hampton Court. Brightly colored flags waved from its many white towers, announcing the presence of the Queen. A thousand panes of glass glinted from its many windows. Its halls and galleries were a rabbit warren of confusion. People arrayed in jewel-colored clothing rushed importantly about the polished galleries. The two ladies stayed close to Raleigh’s heels as he conducted them to the Queen.

  As she scurried after the tall knight, Elizabeth glanced about her, hoping she would spy Tarleton among the courtiers. She knew she must tell him about the baby soon, before her condition became obvious and she was banished in disgrace. She prayed she could go home to Esmond Manor and have the child there, instead of the forbidding Tower where another young mother, Lady Catherine Grey, spent some very unpleasant months for the crime of marrying without the Queen’s approval. Since Philip’s diagnosis, Elizabeth had done a great deal of thinking. No matter the cost, she vowed to keep the child. He would be the living reminder of the man who ensnared her heart.

  Though Elizabeth hopefully searched amid the hundreds of faces in the halls and galleries of Greenwich, none was the one she pined for. The only bell she heard was the battered brass one she wore on a red ribbon at her waist. It jingled softly as she moved.

  “My dearest godchild!”

  Rising slowly from her deep curtsy, Elizabeth gazed at the Queen for the first time. She looks old, was Elizabeth’s candid impression, which she quickly squelched.

  Elizabeth smoothed down the simple pale blue gown she had chosen for this first important meeting. Compared to the Queen and her ladies, Elizabeth felt like a small homely dove who had landed among a flock of stately peacocks. “Please excuse my poor attire, Your Grace. I am not used to being in such glittering company.”

  “You are a glad sight for these old eyes of mine, my child!” said the Queen kindly. “Come, sit down here beside me.” She pointed to a low padded footstool. The air around the Queen was heavy with musk rose.

  Elizabeth gratefully sank down on the offered seat, spreading her silken skirts out around her. “Your Grace looks younger than I remember,” she complimented, hoping she said the right thing. The Queen’s obsession with youth was well-known.

  The Queen glowed. “And you, my dear, have obviously grown up since we last met.” The Queen took one of Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “I am very sorry to learn of your father’s sudden death. He was a gentleman of the old school—not like the brash young upstarts we have at court these days.”

  Elizabeth bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Grace is most kind.”

  Cupping Elizabeth’s chin in her hand, the Queen peered into the girl’s face. “And I trust you are recovered from your ordeal? Yes, you certainly seem better than when I last saw you looking like a drowned kitten. Rest assured, I have taken Tarleton to task for it.”

  At his name, Elizabeth felt a warm glow flow through her. Dropping her gaze to her lap, she spoke carefully, hoping that her true feelings would not be betrayed by her voice.

  “I am most grateful to Master Tarleton for helping me…” she began, but the Queen snorted.

  “A fine lot of help he gave! At least, your hair is growing back, no thanks to that jackanapes! But let us speak of more pleasant topics. Advent will soon be upon us, and after that—the Christmas season! And I have devised a special happiness for you, my dearest child.”

  “What is that, Your Grace?” A little warning jangled inside her head. There was something in the Queen’s pale eyes that looked out of tune with the Queen’s cheerful voice.

  “Your marriage, child! That is what your father wanted before he died, and, as the guardian of your estates, that is now my concern.”

  “You are most kind,” said Elizabeth, her mind a-whirl with a mixture of happiness and apprehension. This could be my salvation and the baby’s! Grasping her little bell with her good hand, she smiled up at the Queen.

  “I have given much thought to the matter,” continued the Queen easily. “Your scandalous roaming about the countryside with such a rogue as Tarleton has made it difficult for me to match you.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. For Tarleton’s sake, she was glad the Queen had no idea how “damaged” the goods were.

  “I am so very sorry to have caused you inconvenience, Your Grace,” she murmured. “But I was frightened. You see…”

  The Queen waved her hand; her many rings flashed in the firelight. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ve heard your story from several sources. I will not tire you to repeat it to me again. I trust you have learned much since you decided to strike out on your own?”

  “Oh, aye, Your Grace! Indeed I have.” Elizabeth hung her head so that the Queen would not see the blush her goddaughter felt creeping into her cheeks. The best of all her lessons were the ones in Tarleton’s arms.

  Though she noticed Elizabeth’s secret smile, the Queen continued as if she had not. “The long and the short of it is this, my dear girl. Thanks to your gadding about unchaperoned, there is only one gentleman who is willing to accept you as his wife—Sir Robert La Faye!”

  The color draining from her face, a cold knot formed in Elizabeth’s stomach. Feeling faint, Elizabeth gritted her teeth to keep from falling over.

  Unwittingly she gripped the Queen’s hand fiercely. “Your Grace, I would rather not marry at all. Please, I beg of you. Send me to a nunnery somewhere. But, please, not marriage with Sir Robert! He is…”

  “Ungrateful wretch!” The Queen snatched her hand out of Elizabeth’s moist grasp. “How dare you question my decisions! Sir Robert is whom your father picked, and who is still willing to take you!”

  Elizabeth numbly shook her head. “All he wants is my estates, Your Grace. He hates me!” Elizabeth could not control her sobs.

  Rising, the Queen moved away from the abject girl at her feet. “That’s all any man wants, my fine headstrong miss! What did you think marriage was about? Love? Bah!” She spat out the word. “‘Tis property and heirs! In time, perhaps Sir Robert will come to like you.”

  “But, Your Grace…” The walls, heavily hung with thick tapestries, closed around Elizabeth. The room grew stiflingly hot.

  The Queen stamped one of her golden slippers. “Silence! I will hear no more whining from you! I have decided you shall marry Sir Robert on All Saints’ Day in the evening, and that is that! Set your mind to it! You have a week to prepare yourself. Now, you may go!” The Queen’s harsh words rang in her ear long after Elizabeth was escorted in silence from the chamber.

  Property and heirs, Elizabeth thought as she lay on her bed in the early evening darkness, without so much as a fire to cheer her spirits. She gritted her teeth and called up from deep inside her a wellspring of courage and determination. If that is the name of the game, then I shall play it to the end. Elizabeth rolled the little bell around her palm, willing Tarleton’s spirit into her own. Sir Robert will have my property, and good riddance to him! As for me, I already have the heir. That will be my revenge!

  She fell asleep, cla
sping the bell tightly in her left fist.

  Though he knew what to expect, when Tarleton heard the formal announcement of the Lady Elizabeth Hayward’s impending nuptials, he disappeared into the stews and alehouses of Bankside for two days. When he returned, red eyed, everyone noticed that the imp was gone from his smile.

  “So, my drunken fool! Have you finally decided to stop sulking?” Queen Elizabeth affectionately cocked one carefully drawn eyebrow at the bowed head of her wayward player.

  “Aye, Your Grace, I have been a fool beyond fools, but I have purged myself of such foolishness.” Tarleton looked up at his Queen.

  His hair was washed and trimmed; his cheeks clean shaven and his brown eyes clear. Only around the corners of his mouth did the Queen detect a new hardness.

  “Good! I am glad to hear it. I am planning a small supper to be served in my apartments on All Hallows’ Eve. It will be in honor of Sir Robert La Faye and Lady Elizabeth, who are to be married the following night—as you well know.” Her lips twitched, watching for his reaction. Tarleton’s face remained impassive. He’s a good actor, applauded the Queen to herself.

  “Aye, Your Grace?” Tarleton asked politely.

  “I trust you will devise some entertainment for us— something that will please the company?” The Queen looked deeply into her fool’s eyes. Yes, the spark was there, just waiting for the moment to ignite.