“I want the betrothal papers drawn up as soon as possible,” the earl began. “Philippa will accompany the queen in a few months’ time, but I have decided I would prefer it if we were man and wife before we leave for France. I am going to Wolsey this morning to offer my services for the event. The king will take only a chosen few, so I must put myself in the cardinal’s service if only for a brief period of time.”
“And is Philippa as eager to be wed as you are, dear boy?” Thomas Bolton asked.
“I have not discussed it with Philippa. It is not her decision when we wed,” the earl told Lord Bolton.
“Tch, tch, dear boy!” Lord Cambridge clucked, shaking his head. “You cannot simply announce to my cousin that you have set your wedding date. I will have the papers drawn up for you, and I will seek the king’s permission for the match, but you must tell Philippa that you desire to wed before the summer progress to France. Surely you learned last night that she is not a meek creature whom you may treat like a little ewe lamb. I believe you will have to use all your diplomatic skills to get her to agree, but then I will remind her that Banon cannot wed until she is wed. And Banon and Robert Neville want to marry soon. If Philippa will settle herself, her sister can be married at Otterly in the autumn or early winter. You, of course, will wed my cousin here. Her mother will be disappointed not to be with her daughter at such an auspicious time in her life, but Rosamund will understand. Besides, she will have delivered her child by now, and not be fit to travel so far from Claven’s Cam.”
“Can you act on the lady of Friarsgate’s behalf?” the earl asked.
“I can, and the king is aware of it. Still, my dear Crispin, I will not force Philippa into marriage with you. Her mother would never allow it. Rosamund was brought three times to the altar by others. Her fourth husband was her own choice, and she has always said she wanted her lasses to have the choice as well. Would she approve of you? Oh, my, indeed she would! But it is not Rosamund whom you must convince. It is her daughter, Philippa. Be assured that I will speak in your favor, and I am not against a marriage before the summer journey to France. Actually I believe it would be better for Philippa to have the protection of a husband.”
“Will you go with the court?” the earl inquired.
Lord Cambridge shook his head. “This is an enormous undertaking, the meeting between England’s king and France’s king. Only the crème de la crème will be invited. I have wealth, and am considered amusing by my betters, but I will not be asked to accompany Henry Tudor and his queen. I am simply not important enough. Nor will Philippa’s sister go. I will return north with Banon Meredith and young Neville. My heiress’s betrothal agreement will be executed, and the marriage celebrated sometime in the autumn. Perhaps you will be able to come north then to meet Philippa’s family. I know that she will want to be at her sister’s wedding.”
“You are certain that Philippa will be invited to go with her mistress?” the earl said. “I should not want to offer my services to Wolsey only to find myself separated from my wife for the next few months.”
“Philippa is an especial favorite of the queen’s despite her own humble birth,” Lord Cambridge said. “The queen will want her by her side. She cherishes that link with her past, and Philippa is very good with her when the queen grows sad. She soothes her. Oh, yes, I can be certain that Philippa will be invited to go with the court to France. And what an adventure it will be for her, my dear Crispin! She has visited Scotland with her mother, and God only knows that is a foreign enough place, but to go to France! Ahh, dear boy, that is something she will never forget. The memory of it will surely sustain her during her first confinement, eh?” He chuckled. “Now, however, all you must do is convince the little wench to wed you before the summer progress. Do you think you can do it?” Thomas Bolton smiled. He knew Philippa far, far better than Crispin St. Claire. The task that the earl had set himself was almost Herculean, but he would support him, for he did believe it was better Philippa wed before the journey.
“I don’t know,” the earl admitted in a moment of rare candor. I have not said it! He could hear her voice in his head. How was he to approach her? Directly? Stealthily?
“If the decision were mine,” Lord Cambridge suggested, “I think I would woo the lass with all the skills at my command. Poetry. Little gifts. But most of all, passion. Virgins are skittish, but they are curious, and rarely immune to passion, dear boy.”
“Surely you aren’t suggesting that I seduce Philippa,” the earl said slowly.
“If it were me,” Lord Cambridge murmured, “I would do whatever I had to do to gain the fair maid’s consent, dear boy. A skillful seduction is a marvelous way around a stubborn lover.”
“I think,” the earl said slowly, “that Cardinal Wolsey has lost a skillful and wickedly clever servant in you, my lord.”
Thomas Bolton barked a sharp laugh. “I would think, dear boy, that I am far too wise to involve myself in the political dealings of any nation or government. I leave that to those others who need to enhance their own self-importance.”
Now it was the earl of Witton who laughed. “Are you a cynic or a skeptic, Tom Bolton?” he asked.
“Neither,” Lord Cambridge responded. “I believe I am a realist. And so must you be if you are to win Philippa over in time to go to France. Court her, but do not underestimate her, dear boy.”
And just how was he going to do that, the earl asked himself as he prepared to join Lord Cambridge at court that day? And next to Thomas Bolton he looked like a sparrow beside a peacock. But then, so did most of the court but for a very few.
“I shall seek appointments with both the king and the queen,” Lord Cambridge said as they exited his barge at Richmond.
“Won’t that take time?” the earl replied.
“Under normal circumstances it would, but I have a new friend among the ranks of the king’s secretaries, and a fat purse. Both will gain me a few minutes with the monarch and his spouse today, so we may not have to wait.”
“Then I shall go and offer my services to the cardinal,” the earl said.
The two men separated, each going in a different direction. The earl of Witton found his way to Cardinal Wolsey’s apartments. There he told one of the cardinal’s men that he wished to speak with his old master. “Today,” he emphasized strongly. “I come to offer my services for this great meeting to be held between our good King Henry and the French king.”
The cardinal’s second secretary to whom he spoke knew who the earl of Witton was, and of his service to his master. “You do not need much time then,” he said, his gaze anxiously scanning the earl’s face. “He is frightfully busy with all of this.”
“Five minutes,” the earl told the second secretary.
“You will have to wait, but I will get you in,” was his reply.
Crispin St. Claire sat down in a tall-backed chair, and waited. Having been in the cardinal’s service before, he was more than well aware of how busy Wolsey was. Wolsey served a hard master in the king. It was no easy task to do his bidding, to keep ahead of him, to be seriously useful to Henry Tudor, to dodge his detractors. And Thomas Wolsey had more against him than stood for him. A brilliant and hardworking man, he had an unfortunate inability to tolerate fools. But worse, he was arrogant, and thought nothing of keeping the high and the mighty cooling their heels in his antechamber. Even the earl of Witton now waited, more patiently than most.
Finally the secretary beckoned to him, and rising quickly he followed the man into the cardinal’s sanctum. “My lord, the earl of Witton,” the secretary said, and then scuttled back through the door where they had entered.
Thomas Wolsey did not bother to look up from the papers on his desk. “I am told you wish to offer me your services once again, my lord.”
“Only briefly,” the earl said. “I want to go to France with the court, but know I am not important enough to be invited merely for my charm.”
“Why?” Wolsey snapped.
“I
am planning on marrying one of the queen’s maids of honor. Hopefully the nuptials will be celebrated prior to the summer progress. Whether they are or not, I do not wish to have Philippa in France without me, my lord.”
“Philippa?” The hooded eyes looked at him briefly.
“Mistress Philippa Meredith, my lord,” the earl responded.
The cardinal thought a long moment, and then he said, “Her father was Sir Owein Meredith, and her mother a Cumbrian heiress.” He stopped, then continued. “Rosamund Bolton, I believe she was called. The Venerable Margaret arranged the marriage. This is their daughter? Surely you could do better, my lord?”
“The girl suits me, my lord cardinal. She has beauty, wit and intellect.”
“That in itself would recommend her to a lesser man, Witton, but certainly there is something else that has attracted you.” Thomas Wolsey was no fool.
The earl smiled briefly. “Her dower contains land that matches mine, and that I would possess,” he answered truthfully. “Her family will not sell.”
“Hah!” the cardinal responded. “How did a northern family like hers gain such land? Wait! I see the fine hand of Thomas Bolton in this. Of course! He would be a dangerous fellow if he chose to enter the political arena seriously, and God will bear witness that I have difficulty enough with the king’s minions as it is. He arranged this match, didn’t he?”
Again the earl of Witton nodded truthfully.
The cardinal was silent for a time, and then he said, “Very well. I could use a pair of eyes and ears among this summer progress. One that would not be suspected of me. There are always plots, and plotters abound. This is an enormous, an incredible, and a dangerous undertaking, but his majesty would meet with the French king, and Francois would meet with Henry Tudor. You must wed the girl before we depart in May. The queen is most fond of this maid, and will have the girl with her. I will perform the ceremony myself for you. Choose a date. I will convince the queen that while she may certainly have her favorite with her, we cannot separate newly wed lovers. There is your excuse to be with the court.”
“Thank you, my lord cardinal. You do me honor,” the earl said. “I will report anything of interest to you.”
“Of course you will, Witton. You were ever the consummate diplomat while you were in our service.” He waved his hand at the earl. “God bless you, my son.”
He was dismissed. The earl bowed, saying, “Thank you, my lord cardinal,” as he backed from the cleric’s presence. In the antechamber he placed a coin upon the table where the secretary sat. Then saying nothing, he departed, as the sound of the coin scraping across the wood reached his ears.
Choose a date. The cardinal’s words echoed in his ears. I have not said it! Philippa’s words rang in his head. He almost laughed aloud. How was he to get her to accept their betrothal, and agree to an almost immediate marriage? It would take a miracle, and he had never before asked God for a miracle, but now was as good a time as any. He sought out Lord Cambridge, but he could not find him. He did see Philippa, however, in her usual place by the queen’s side. He walked towards her, and when she looked up and blushed he was hard-pressed not to chuckle, but he didn’t.
Instead he bowed to Queen Katherine. She nodded, giving him permission to address her. “Your highness, might I steal Philippa away from you briefly?” he asked.
The queen smiled. “I am told there is to be a betrothal, my lord,” she said.
“There is, madame,” he answered her.
“I am well pleased by such a match,” the queen told him. “Philippa Meredith is a most virtuous maid. She will be a good wife to you, my lord. Aye, you may walk with her for a short time.” The. queen gently pushed Philippa forward off her stool. “Go along with your betrothed, child.”
Philippa stood, and curtseyed meekly to the queen. She did not flinch openly when the earl of Witton took her hand and tucked it into his arm as they moved away.
“Go into the gardens,” the queen called after them. “You will have some privacy if such a thing is possible at court.”
“It is March,” Philippa murmured low. “I hardly think the royal gardens conducive to a romantic ramble in March.”
“It is not romance I seek at this moment, Philippa,” he replied softly. “We need to speak with one another, and for that privacy is essential.”
“The day is chill, and I have no cloak at hand,” she responded. “Come, the chapel will be empty.”
“What if someone comes to pray?” he asked her.
Philippa laughed. “At court? Most of them go into the chapel for the morning mass, and then only to be seen by the king and queen. The chapel will be empty even of the queen’s priests, who are usually napping or gambling, and in some rare cases bent on seduction at this time of day.” She directed their steps.
He was surprised by her acumen once again. She might be untried in the ways of love, but as Lord Cambridge had pointed out, Philippa was a consummate courtier. She was a female, and a young female at that, but he decided he must take her into his full confidence from the start. She would not be fooled by half-truths. They had reached the chapel. It was, as she had predicted, quite empty. He watched with astonishment as Philippa peeped into the confessional to make certain it was empty. Then she chose the exact middle of the room to seat herself.
“It will be difficult to be overheard from either end of this chamber if we are here,” she told him.
He sat down next to her. “You are amazing,” he told her, and he kissed the hand he still held.
To his surprise she did not blush this time, but she gave him instead a genuine smile. “Since your purpose is not romantic, my lord, and you wished privacy, I can only assume you have a more serious matter to discuss with me.”
He nodded, and then he said, “I must know I can trust you, Philippa, and you are really still a girl in many ways.”
“I have learned how to keep a confidence, my lord,” she told him quietly, “but the decision you must make is yours alone. If you require me to be silent, you have but to ask it of me, and I will be silent.”
“We need to marry in haste,” he told her, and wasn’t at all surprised when her eyes grew wide.
“Why?” The single word was tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.
“I must go on this progress, but I am not important enough to be asked, and so must have an excuse. The queen will want you with her. You are her favorite among the maids though you are yourself unimportant. If we are newly wed she will make certain we are not separated, for she is a romantic lady at heart. I will be able to accompany you and the court to France.”
“As an agent of the cardinal, I take it,” Philippa said.
“Aye,” he admitted. “He wants someone no one will suspect, with eyes that are trained to see and ears sharp enough to hear. He did not say it, but I know him well from my many years of service. He thinks he smells a plot of some sort on the wind, though he has yet to learn exactly what it is, or if it even really exists, but his instincts have always been infallible. By chance I came to him at the right time to offer my services, but of course no one must learn I am in his service. And none will suspect that the bridegroom of the queen’s favorite maid is in France for anything more than a summer of love.”
Philippa giggled. She simply couldn’t help it. “A summer of love, my lord? Gracious! You make it sound most salacious, but then that is nothing new at this court.”
He smiled back at her. “Perhaps I did not phrase it properly.”
“Oh, I quite liked your phrasing, my lord,” she assured him, grinning up at him.
He was very tempted to kiss her adorable mouth, but he did not. “The cardinal has said he will marry us himself.”
“Thomas Wolsey would perform the ceremony? Nay, my lord, I think it not a good idea. It will draw attention to us, and if you wish not to be noticed I think it better the great cardinal show no favor to two unimportant people lest others ask why. I am certain that one of the queen’s priests wou
ld, with her gracious permission, perform the sacrament of marriage uniting us,” Philippa said.
Again he was surprised by her. “You are right, Philippa!” he said. And then he realized that she had not protested the idea of a quick marriage. “You are willing?”
She nodded. “My lord, I needed time to consider all that has happened. A match between us is a good thing. I ask only one favor of you.”
“And that would be?” What could she possibly want of him?
“I do not really know you, my lord. While I see the advantages to us both in this match, I am inexperienced in the ways of love. I cannot yield myself to you wholly simply because we are man and wife. I would not deny you your rights, my lord. I just want some time to learn more about my husband before we unite our bodies. Can you understand that?” She had looked him directly in the eye while she had spoken.
“Aye, I can understand, Philippa. And I am willing to give you a certain amount of latitude in this matter. We will wed first, and then we will court as lovers do. But the marriage will be consummated on our wedding night for obvious reasons.”
“I do not really understand the nature of courting,” she told him.
“There is kissing, and touching,” he replied.
“Oh, I have heard that, but what else is there to courting?” she wondered. She was purposefully ignoring his statement regarding consummation.
“I am not certain myself,” he admitted. “I have never paid serious court to a girl before, Philippa. We shall explore this mystery together. Now, when shall our wedding day be? I shall leave it to you to choose the date.”
“The queen’s nephew, the emperor, is coming to England at the end of May, and then we depart for France in early June. My birthday is the twenty-ninth of April. Let us wed the day after, on the last day of April, my lord. It will give me time to prepare properly. Would that suit you?”
“Tom says your mother will not be able to come,” he said. “Would you not prefer to go home for your marriage?”
“There is no time. Mama will have a new bairn, and knowing my stepfather, he will not want her to travel even to Friarsgate with it. She nurses her own children, you see,” Philippa explained. “We shall, with your permission, my lord, go north for my sister Banon’s wedding in the autumn. If you are content with that, then so am I.”
Philippa Page 17
