Lovestorm by Judith E. French

Author:Judith E. French [French, Judith E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

The splendid banqueting house at Whitehall Palace glittered with the light of thousands of candles. Lords and ladies, bedecked in silks and satins and priceless jewels, flowed in and out of noisy clusters. Like rare exotic birds, they bobbed and chattered, laughing and slyly whispering to one another, sharing all manner of scandalous gossip and subtle insinuations.

Edward’s count of seventy guests for King Charles’s intimate gathering had doubled, and there were more servants and musicians than Elizabeth cared to count. Between the talking and the music, the noise was nearly overwhelming.

She had accepted Lord and Lady Maxwell’s escort, and they had traveled to Whitehall by river rather than coach or sedan chair. “London is far too dangerous at night,” Lord Maxwell had insisted. “Footpads and scoundrels. The hanging trees at Tyburn bear heavy fruit, but it has scant effect on the crime.”

The journey by boat was not without its own dangers. The tide was swift in the Thames, and the tricky run beneath London Bridge never failed to make Elizabeth’s heart pound with excitement. Tonight, a heavy black, choking fog, fueled by thousands of smoking chimneys, had hung over the city. Even though the tilt-boat was canopied, the ladies had been forced to mask their faces and cover their hair to keep from becoming dirty before they reached the palace.

When they had safely disembarked at Whitehall Stairs, Elizabeth was surprised to see that Lady Maxwell was adorned with beauty patches and a great deal of facepaint. She also wore a vermillion damask gown that revealed much more of her person than Elizabeth thought seemly for a lady of advanced years and plain countenance.

Nevertheless, Lady Maxwell was a favorite of Queen Catherine, and she and Elizabeth were soon formally presented to their majesties. Her majesty was kind enough to ask after Elizabeth’s health and to inquire about the climate in the New World. The King had murmured only a few gracious words, but the expression in his eyes let Elizabeth know that the hours spent in fittings for her mulberry watered-silk gown had been well spent.

Left to her own devices, Elizabeth was soon surrounded by soft-spoken, dazzling young courtiers paying her extravagantly false compliments. Although she laughed and made the correct responses, she was shocked to discover that the pageantry of the opulent Stuart court no longer held the same fascination for her that it had before she left for Virginia. The glittering gentlemen with their gilt swords, false curls, and beribboned, high-heeled shoes seemed oddly effeminate, and she found herself giving acid replies to their overtures.

The King disliked sit-down suppers. Instead of being served in the normal manner, the guests wandered about and selected tidbits from small gilt tables set at intervals around the magnificent banquet hall. Forwarned, Elizabeth had eaten before she left Sommersett House. She had no intention of spilling a sauce of hummingbird tongues down the front of her new gown. It was enough to seem to sample the dozens of highly spiced meats and dainty pastries without soiling one’s fingers or lips.

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