The Virgin's Daughter (Tudor Legacy #1)(12)
Just as Dominic had chosen his vocabulary with care in referring to Lucette, Elizabeth did the same in making her promises. “I swear to you that Lucette’s welfare is ever close to my heart. She will be well watched, I promise.”
Dominic’s voice dropped, to a tone no one ever used with Elizabeth. “If she is hurt in any way, Your Majesty, I shall know where to look.”
Only because of their long association—and her own half-told truths—did Elizabeth refrain from sharp correction. But she would not let the implication pass. “Do you think I am unaware of my responsibilities, Lord Exeter? I am well acquainted with the threats offered vulnerable women. But as I have so often entrusted my own daughter to your care, surely you need not fear to do the same. Princess Anne, after all, must surely attract greater threats than Lucette.”
“And I would like it to remain that way, Your Majesty. Lucette is her own person, not a pawn in your political games.”
Elizabeth smiled with cold fury. “Lucette is most decidedly her own person. Do you honestly believe anyone could persuade that girl to be a pawn of any sort? She knows very well what she is about.”
“Or gives that impression. Elizabeth,” and it was as though all the intervening years since they were young together dropped away. “I love her dearly. Promise me she will come home safely from France.”
She looked at his straight body, the firm, well-balanced figure only slightly marred by the missing left hand, and knew that the last thing she needed in this delicate summer was Dominic Courtenay in a vengeful mood. “I promise, Dominic.”
16 May 1580
Greenwich
Dominic spoke with Elizabeth alone last night. He didn’t tell me what he said, but I can guess. He is not at all happy about Lucette going to France without him. But he will not protest, for fear of driving her further away.
Sometimes I confess a longing to shake both my husband and my daughter until they come to their senses! But, as I manifestly mishandled telling Lucette the truth, I am not at all confident that I know how to heal this. It was easier when I was the one who was twenty-two—now that I have children old enough to manage their own lives, I find myself praying at odd moments of night and day that they will come through without too many scars.
And yet…would I relinquish the scars of my own youth? Good and ill are too tightly wound, we cannot have one without the other. And after all—if Lucette is William’s daughter, a truth that only God can ever know for certain—would I wish her never born? No more than Dominic would.
Daughter by blood or not, Lucette has all of Dominic’s pride. It is distinct from royal pride, which assumes it is always right. Their pride is a bastion for their fear that if they are not perfect, no one will love them.
I believe I have gentled that fear in my husband over the years. I hope Lucette will find someone to do the same for her.
It had been years since Lucette had spent so much time alone with Dominic. Before her fifteenth birthday, she had loved traveling with him—Dominic would take her to Tiverton ahead of the rest of the family, or let her join him in touring some of his outlying lands in the West. She had always counted herself her father’s favorite.
This trip to Dover was an uncomfortable mix of nostalgia and awareness that things were not—and could never again be—the same between them. The easy adoration of a firstborn daughter for her all-powerful, all-wise father had been the dearest casualty of the queen’s interference. Sometimes Lucette hated Elizabeth for it, until she remembered that it was not Elizabeth who had created this mess. She had been living in a world of illusion. It was not the queen’s fault that disillusion hurt so very much.
For all that, Dominic Courtenay was a fairly simple man to get along with. Lucettte had once overheard her mother complain to him that it was impossible to have a satisfying argument with a man who would not fight back. As she recalled, Dominic had stopped her mother’s complaints with a kiss.
For all her promises to Pippa that she would speak to Dominic before leaving England, Lucette found herself nearly as silent as he was on the journey. They were in the company of Dr. Dee and royal guards, it was true, but she did not even attempt to make an effort. Mostly because she did not know, even after all these years, what to say.
I’m sorry I have blue eyes. I’m sorry the king loved your wife. I’m sorry to be a constant reminder of things best forgotten. I’m sorry I gave you all my love when it must have been a daily insult to your feelings to have your wife’s bastard calling you Father…
Really, far better to keep to neutral matters such as the state of the roads and the likelihood of a smooth Channel crossing.
Which was all well and good, until their final night at Dover Castle. Dominic requested to dine alone with her, and for once he carried the conversation.
“Dr. Dee tells me how much this journey will benefit your studies. He seems to think your primary interest in traveling to France is scholarship rather than courtship.”
“Isn’t scholarship always my primary interest?”
“Is it?” Dominic asked mildly. “Just as well. Perhaps you’ll have less need for a dagger among scholars.”
Lucette grinned despite herself. “You’ve never been in the midst of a scholarly debate, have you? I might very well wish for a dagger.”
“Good thing I brought one for you, then.” Dominic handed her a silver-chased casket, more than a foot long and half as wide.