“Agreed,” the earl responded, “and I thank you. Were I still in service to the king I have no doubt my accommodation would have been better, but it was grudgingly given, and it is without a fire. And of course I am not invited to Wolsey’s table either.”
Lord Cambridge shuddered. “The man may be clever, and a cardinal, but blood will tell in the end. He has no manners, nor does he have any common sense. His palaces at York Place and Hampton Court are larger and grander than any the king possesses. One day Henry Tudor will stop to consider that. No man, even a cardinal, should put himself above the king. One day the cardinal will make a slip, and his enemies will be quick to point it out to the king. He is not a well-loved man though he be useful to the king. His rise has been great. His decline will be greater.”
“But he is extremely intelligent, and crafty,” the earl said. “While I served the king my instructions always came through Wolsey. Some say he manages the country while the king plays, but knowing both men I see it differently. The king uses Wolsey as anyone would a good servant. The king takes the glory, and the cardinal the contempt.”
“Ah, you have surprised me, my lord earl,” Thomas Bolton said. “You are obviously more astute than I would have taken you for, and I find that pleasing. Now, however, I am going to join a few friends. If you wish to leave before me just send the barge back, and I will do the same.” Lord Cambridge bowed, and moved off into the crowd, smiling and greeting people as he went.
An interesting man, the earl of Witton thought. Odd, but interesting. He moved into a recessed alcove, and looked for Philippa again. She was no longer seated next to her mistress, but dancing a boisterous country dance with a young man. When he swung her up and around with great vigor she threw her head back and laughed. The earl smiled. It was obvious she was having a good time, and why not. She was young, and fair. His interest was piqued further when the next dance began, and the king partnered Philippa Meredith. The king only danced with those he considered the best dancers in his court. Consequently his partners were limited, as many young women were afraid to dance with him lest they displease him. But Philippa Meredith wasn’t one bit afraid of Henry Tudor. Holding her skirts up she pranced daintily next to her monarch while the musicians played. She was graceful, and the smile on her lips never wavered. When the dance was over and done with, the king kissed the girl’s hand and she curtseyed, then backed away to rejoin her mistress. She was flushed, and a single tendril of auburn hair had slipped from beneath her elegant French hood. He found it charming.
Before he left court that day Thomas Bolton sought out his young cousin, and begged a moment of her company from the queen who graciously gave it, smiling warmly at Lord Cambridge. He took Philippa’s small hand in his, tucking it in his arm, and they left the great anteroom where the king and the court were now amusing themselves. Walking quietly through a gallery hung with magnificent tapestries, Lord Cambridge began to speak.
“My darling girl, we have had the most incredible piece of luck!”
“Were you able to obtain the property you sought, uncle?” Philippa asked him.
“Aye, and it is already in your name, but that is not the half of it. There was someone else who sought the property. A gentleman whose lands match with Melville. He is the earl of Witton, and he is unattached, and seeking a wife.”
Philippa stopped. “Now, uncle, I am not certain I like where this is going,” she said nervously.
“You can be the countess of Witton, darling girl! Think on it! Your husband would be an earl, of an old and illustrious family,” Lord Cambridge gushed.
“What is the matter with him, for there must be something wrong with an earl who would take a plain knight’s daughter to wife,” Philippa replied suspiciously.
“His name is Crispin St. Claire,” Lord Cambridge said. “He has been in service to the king as a diplomat. His father died last year, and he has come home to take up his responsibilities. There is nothing wrong with him.”
“Then he is old, uncle. Do you want me shackled to some graybeard?” Her look was almost fearful.
“He is thirty, Philippa, and I could not by any stretch of the imagination call him a graybeard. He is a mature man, and ready to take a wife. Can you not see what an incredible piece of good fortune this is for you? He wants Melville, and it is a part of your dower portion, darling girl.”
“He must be desperate to have it then, that he would offer to wed me,” Philippa replied.
“He did not,” Thomas Bolton said, deciding that his young cousin needed a bit of cold water thrown upon her fine opinion of herself. “He tried to buy Melville from me, but I paid a ridiculous price for it in order to get it when I learned this earl was wife hunting. I told him if he would have the land he must have you to wife to get it.”
“Uncle!” Philippa’s pretty face grew red. “You deliberately ensnared this man?”
“I wanted the estate for you. It is within an easy distance of London and the court. When I learned afterwards that the earl wanted it too I simply took advantage of the situation. You mother would fully approve my actions,” he responded.
“Your audacity, you mean,” Philippa said. “What must this earl of Witton think of you? Of me? I cannot believe you would do such a thing, uncle!”
“Nonsense, darling girl!” he said, unaffected by her criticism. “The earl of Witton’s is an old and an honorable family, but they are not a great family. He is not poor, but neither is he wealthy. Your father was a knight, Philippa. Your mother is a woman of property. Your connections here at court are impeccable. Even without Lord Melvyn’s property you are a most respectable prospect. A marriage with this man gives you a title. It ennobles your children. And in return he gains the lands he wants to add to his own, and a wife with a large purse. It is a perfect match.” He smiled at her.
“But where is the love, uncle? If I must be shackled to this man should there not be something between us other than money and property?” She was very pretty in her concern, her hazel eyes thoughtful.
“First you must meet him,” Lord Cambridge said. “I would not force you into any marriage, darling girl. Let us see if you and the earl are compatible, for if you are not you shall not be his wife. I want you happy, as does your mother. But think, darling girl! An earl instead of the second son of an earl. All the advantage would have been for Giles FitzHugh had you wed him. What advantage would you have gained by such a match? Oh, once I thought it a good possibility, before you came to court, but this prospect is so much better. And you are in the queen’s favor, and the king’s. I saw him dance with you this evening, Philippa.”
“Oh, that was because he could not dance with Bessie, and she said he should dance with me. That I was a fine dancer,” Philippa explained.
“Why would Mistress Blount not dance with the king?” Lord Cambridge was curious at this turn of events.
“She does not feel well, uncle. She says her belly makes her ill these days,” Philippa answered innocently.
He debated a moment, and then he said, “You know the rumor, darling girl?”
Philippa bit her lower lip, and a blush suffused her cheek. “That she is the king’s lover, uncle? Aye. I have heard it, but if it is so, what am I to do? I love the queen, but I do so like Bessie Blount.”
“You continue on as always, my dear. You are respectful and loving of your mistress, but you are also kind to Mistress Blount. You would be foolish not to be, for she is in the king’s favor without a doubt. And something else you should know, darling girl. It is most likely that Mistress Blount is expecting the king’s child. She will shortly, I am certain, disappear from the court, for the king will not embarrass the queen by allowing his mistress to parade her big belly about, especially now that it has been determined the queen will conceive no more.”
“I had heard the whispers, uncle, but I could not believe them. Who will have Bessie Blount to wife now that she has disgraced herself?” Philippa wondered.
Thomas Bolton smiled
to himself. Philippa’s naivete was sometimes charming, and it reminded him of how truly innocent she was. “The king will be generous to Mistress Blount, darling girl, and particularly if she births him a son. She will have a husband as a reward, and a pension, I have not a doubt. And the king’s child will be given certain honors, particularly a son.”
“I feel almost guilty retaining my friendship with Bessie in light of the queen’s distress,” Philippa said slowly.
“Do not make the mistake so many at court do of taking sides, darling girl,” he warned her. “Royalty are changeable as the winds, and it is best to blow with the wind rather than against it. The king favors Mistress Blount, who behaves with respect and discretion towards the queen. Both king and queen behave as if naught is amiss between them. And that is how you will behave. Does the queen show any anger towards Mistress Blount?”
“Nay,” Philippa said, “although others of the queen’s women have begun to shun her, uncle. And some are outright mean.”
“Do not follow their example, Philippa. Behave towards both Bessie and the queen as you always have. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.”
Philippa nodded.
“Now, darling girl, let us get back to the subject of the earl of Witton. I have asked him to stay with me at Bolton House. I will ask the queen to allow you home in a few days, and you will meet each other then. Will that please you?”
“A countess,” Philippa mused. “I would be the countess of Witton. Millicent Langholme would be pea green with envy. She is only just wed to Sir Walter Lumley. And Cecily would be certain that Giles knew. And Giles’s parents, who forbade me my best friend’s wedding, would certainly be impressed, especially if Witton has better estates than Renfrew. Imagine, Renfrew offered to help me find a husband. He could not have found a husband such as you have found for me, uncle.” Philippa was beginning to consider the situation, and it was not unpleasant.
“Nothing is graven in stone, darling girl,” Lord Cambridge warned her. “He must like you, and you must like him.”
“He wants my land,” Philippa said dryly. “Is there any doubt that I should not please this earl of Witton?”
“He wants Melville, it is true, darling girl, but he is a man of honor,” Lord Cambridge said. “He will not marry just for the land.”
“Neither will I, uncle,” Philippa told him.
He grinned at her. “Darling girl, I suspect you will enchant Crispin St. Claire. This is a great coup, should you manage it. An earl. A diplomat. And a man who will enjoy coming to court every bit as much as you do. But of course you must do your duty by the man first, and give him an heir.”
Philippa stopped. “Children,” she said slowly. “I had not thought about children, uncle. But, aye, if I am in any way like my mother it is that I know my duty.”
Lord Cambridge smiled and nodded. “Aye, you will delight the earl, darling girl. Of that I am absolutely certain.”
“I shall come home in two days’ time, uncle. May I explain to the queen that you are negotiating a match for me?” she asked.
“Mention no names,” he advised her. “The queen will understand.”
“Of course,” she agreed. They had come to the end of the gallery. “I must get back, uncle,” she told him. “The queen is a kind mistress, but I should not take advantage.”
“Tell me quickly how Banon does?” he said.
“She has found favor, but like mama she longs for the north, and is anxious to return to Otterly,” Philippa told him. “The Neville boy’s grandfather was a first cousin of our Bolton grandmother, who was born a Neville. Such a liaison seems promising, uncle. You should speak with Banon.”
“I shall,” he promised her.
She stopped, and kissed his cheek. “I must fly,” she said, and hurried away back down the gallery.
Suddenly Thomas Bolton was exhausted, and felt every bit of his forty-nine years. He sighed. He was surprised to realize that he did not enjoy the court any longer. He wanted to be home at Otterly, snug by his fire and heedless of the Cumbrian winter outside his windows. While the business of seeing that Banon and Philippa were well matched interested him, it was the cloth trade that he and Rosamund had created that was of more interest to him. How could he watch over their commerce in London? And Rosamund was at Claven’s Carn awaiting the birth of her child. Would she be paying attention to their endeavor as she should?
“Lord Cambridge?” William Smythe had appeared from the dim recesses of the gallery. He was soberly dressed in a black velvet midcalf-length coat which Thomas Bolton noted was a bit worn, and dusty in color.
“Ah, Master Smythe,” he greeted the younger man.
“I did not want to disturb you when you were with your cousin, my lord,” William Smythe began. He offered Lord Cambridge a smile.
Why, what a pretty fellow, Thomas Bolton thought suddenly, and he smiled in return. “Most thoughtful,” he replied.
“I have been considering what your lordship intimated when we last met. Perhaps I misunderstood your lordship, but were you implying that I might benefit from a change of employment?”
“You would have to reside in the north,” Lord Cambridge said. “And there would be occasions when I would require you to travel. Our cloth trade grows larger, and more profitable. My cousin and I can no longer manage without help, but of course I would want someone sophisticated in the ways of business to aid us. You would live at Otterly. At first in the house, and later on if you decided to remain in my service I would see you had your own cottage in the village. You would be paid fifty gold guineas each Michaelmas for your year’s service, and you would have a space in the church cemetery.”
William Smythe could not keep the surprised look from his usually emotionless face. “My lord! ’Tis most generous. More than anything for which I could have hoped.”
“You must consider my offer carefully,” Lord Cambridge said. “ ’Tis an honor to be in royal service. And what of your family?”
“I have no family left, my lord. And I am merely one of many here, with little chance for advancement. I know my own worth. I am a clever man with little chance to show off my talents. Yet you saw them, and are willing to offer me this opportunity.” All the haughtiness of their previous encounter was gone. “I need not consider any further. If your lordship will have me in his service, I will be content, and I will work hard for you.” He knelt, and grabbing up Thomas Bolton’s hand, kissed it.
“Give your notice, William,” Lord Cambridge said. “Then come to me at Bolton House. I do not know when we shall be ready to return home to Otterly, but you should begin your new duties as soon as possible.” He reached into the purse beneath his ornate doublet and drew out a coin which he handed to the younger man. “Pay your debts,” he said. “You must come into my service unencumbered.”
The secretary arose, saying nervously, “One thing, my lord. I have a cat. She has been my most faithful companion for several years now. I would bring her with me.”
“A cat?” Lord Cambridge laughed aloud. “Of course you may bring the cat. I can see that you will get on quite well with my young cousin, Bessie Meredith.” He laughed again. “I like cats myself. It is a good mouser, William?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. Pussums is an excellent mouser,” he answered.
“I will send my barge to bring you to Bolton House when you are ready. You and Pussums.” Lord Cambridge chuckled, and then turning away, he continued down the gallery. He was tired, but this visit to court was proving quite entertaining in the most unexpected ways.
Philippa had returned to the queen’s side now.
Katherine looked up. “Everything is alright, my child, is it not?”
“Aye, madame. My cousin wanted to tell me that he may be ready to make a match for me, but first he would like me to meet the gentleman in question. In two days he would like me to come to Bolton House, if your highness can spare me.”
“Can you tell me the name of the gentleman in question?” the queen
asked softly.
“My cousin has said until the arrangement is agreed upon he would prefer I say naught, madame. He hopes your highness will understand,” Philippa ventured nervously. She could not imagine saying no to the queen, her mistress, but in effect that was just what she was doing.
“Of course,” the queen agreed, to Philippa’s surprise. “You do not want to embarrass the gentleman in question, or yourself, my child.” Then she smiled a small conspiratorial smile. “I shall not even tell the king.”
That night Philippa lay with her sister in the bed they shared in the Maidens’ Chamber. Banon was filled with excitement, for her Neville suitor’s father was going to speak with Lord Cambridge regarding a betrothal between his son and Banon Meredith.
“Uncle Thomas will say yes, of course,” Banon confided. “Robert may be a younger son, but he is a Neville.”
“So was our grandmother. Uncle will not necessarily be impressed,” Philippa said. It galled her somewhat that her younger sister was to be betrothed before she was.
“Do you know that small lake that borders Otterly lands?” Banon replied. “It belongs to the Nevilles. Robert’s father has said he will give it to Robert, and a strip of land on its far side. It will belong to Otterly if we wed.”
“Lord Neville loses nothing by that gesture,” Philippa told her sister. “After all if Robert marries you, then Otterly becomes his.”
“Otterly will belong to our eldest son,” Banon said.
“Who will be a Neville, not a Bolton or a Meredith,” Philippa countered. “The Neville family will increase their holdings by their younger son’s marriage to you.”
“But I will be happy!” Banon said. “Why do you always make everything so difficult, Philippa? You are just jealous because I am to be betrothed, and you are not.” She turned away from her older sister, dragging the coverlet over her shoulders.
“Uncle Thomas has found a possible husband for me,” Philippa replied. “And I shall not have to leave the court if I marry him.”
Philippa Page 14
