Free All the Sweet Tomorrows by Bertrice Small Page A

Skye went about the business of writing her uncle, her stepmother, and the others necessary to the smooth running of her world, of her plans to travel to Beaumont de Jaspre. These letters went off to their destinations by the fastest of the Lynmouth horses, for Skye wanted to hear from her family prior to her departure. She had decided to travel upon an O’Malley ship, and asked that her flagship,
The Seagull
, be awaiting her by month’s end in the London Pool. She would insist that she be given a proper naval escort to avoid the danger of pirates, and so she might reach her destination safely. Remembering the evil Capitan Jamil in Algiers, she worried about reaching Beaumont de Jaspre at all; yet she felt she should reach the duchy easier by sea than by having to travel through France during troubled times, and indeed France was in turmoil at the moment.
    Just prior to her departure for London Skye received a long letter from her sister, Eibhlin, who wrote of her visit to St. Mary’s and of what she had learned regarding the tragic death of Niall Burke.
Darragh is truly mad
, Eibhlin wrote.
As for the evil Claire, she has disappeared as mysteriously as she appeared
.
    Skye crushed between her two hands the parchment upon which her sister’s letter was written.
Claire O’Flaherty!
“Damn your black soul to Hell!” she whispered fiercely. “I swear by St. Patrick himself that if our paths ever cross, I will kill you with my own hands!” Having said the terrible words, she felt better.
    Skye had decided to take Willow to London with her in order to have more time with her eldest daughter, and so Willow might see her beloved half-brother, Robin. She had carefully explained her difficult situation to her daughter, and Willow had understood. She was very much her mother’s daughter with regard to finances, and knew that without property and gold a person was helpless; even with them, as her mother was, one was helpless to supreme authority.
    “Can I not come with you, Mama?” was her only question.
    “Not until I know if this marriage is to work out, my love,” Skye said. “I do not even know the duc by reputation, Willow. He may turn out to be a fine gentleman whom I may learn to care for, and who will be good to my children; but he also might turn out to be not quite as nice, in which case I would prefer that my children are safe in England and Ireland. Do you understand?”
    “I think so,” Willow said quietly. “If he is not a nice man, and I were with you, he might use threats against me to make you do things you would not do otherwise, like Lord Burghley.”
    “God bless me!” Dame Cecily cried. “She is but nine, and already understands the way of the world!”
    “Better she does,” Skye said, “and then she will not be disillusioned. You are correct, my love.”
    “Then it is better I remain here with Dame Cecily,” Willow said calmly.
    “Much better,” her mother agreed. “At least for the present.”

Chapter 2

    E XACTLY
one week after William Cecil had departed Lynmouth Castle for London, the Countess of Lynmouth followed after him. The great traveling coach with the Southwood family crest emblazoned upon its sides lumbered along the muddy spring roads toward the capital. Inside, however, Skye, Dame Cecily, Willow, and Daisy were quite comfortable. The vehicle itself was well sprung; the red velvet upholstery hid suitably full horsehair and wool padding, which made for comfortable seats; and tucked at their feet were hot bricks wrapped in flannel, which, along with the coach’s red fox lap robes, made for luxurious warmth. Skye absently rubbed the soft fur, remembering other and happier times when it had covered her and Geoffrey.
    The coachman and his assistant sat upon the box, controlling the four strong horses that pulled the vehicle. Six armed outriders preceded the coach, and six rode behind them. The horses were changed regularly, allowing them to keep up a fairly even rate of speed,