The Last Heiress

by Bertrice Small

  “Society in Cumbria is scant at best, as you well know, sister,” Elizabeth answered. “And when one has my responsibilities there is little time for merriment.”

  “Was there not a Neville you might wed? Certainly Robert has cousins aplenty,” Philippa remarked. She had changed little over the past few years. Perhaps her waistline had thickened a trifle with her four children, but the auburn hair was as thick and rich as it had always been, and her hazel eyes were as bright with interest as they had ever been.

  “I will admit that Rob dragged several of his cousins before me, but I did not find them suitable. All of them were most obvious in their desire to gain control of Friarsgate. None of them could have managed the estate or the cloth trade. And most of them had debts of one kind or another that I was not of a mind to pay to gain a husband,” Elizabeth replied. “One of them even attempted to seduce me in order to have his way.”

  “You did not ever tell me that, dear girl!” Thomas Bolton exclaimed. “Dare I ask what happened to him?”

  Elizabeth grinned wickedly. “Let us say it was necessary to carry the fellow from my presence. I understand he kept to his bed for several days afterwards, and then said the most unkind things about me. I was not troubled with any more Nevilles after that.”

  Philippa was forced to smile at this revelation. “I am glad you are wise enough to know how to deal with a seducer, sister. You will, I fear, meet many at court interested in your wealth, but not in Friarsgate.”

  William Smythe entered the hall of Bolton House in the company of another man and a boy. “Master Althorp is here, and he has brought your new wardrobe, my lord.” He stood waiting for Lord Cambridge to give his instructions.

  “Take the tailor and his lad to my apartments, dear Will. I will join you shortly,” Thomas Bolton said. “And tell Nancy to unpack her mistress’s gowns. Althorp must look at them and correct any deficiencies in the fashion for us. We will be leaving for Greenwich in a few days.”

  “So Uncle,” Philippa teased him as William Smythe and his companions left the hall, “you cannot resist a new wardrobe, eh?”

  “My dear girl,” Thomas Bolton said, “can you imagine me appearing at court in anything less than the latest fashions? It would be absolutely unthinkable.” He chuckled. He then looked across to hall to where Elizabeth had settled herself in a window seat overlooking the river. Her blond head was nodding towards her shoulder. “Be kind, Philippa,” he said to the Countess of Witton. “It is all really a great deal for Elizabeth to take in, for she had never before left the north. You were still half-grown when you first set eyes on Londontown, dear girl. Your sister will be twenty-two next month. She is not a child, but neither is she a woman.”

  “She is beautiful,” Philippa said. “The fairest of us all, I must admit. And she wears her clothing well, but I sense a deep reluctance in her to even be here, Uncle. And how will she behave at the court? She was an impetuous girl, as I recall, and one apt to say the first thing that came into her head. Things are not now as they once were.”

  “Tell me,” he said quietly. “I want to hear it from you before Master Althorp begins his litany of gossip. What is happening with the king and the queen?”

  “My poor lady,” Philippa began. “We all know that the king has had his little friends, but until now he has behaved in a most discreet manner. He wants his marriage declared invalid so he may wed a younger woman who will give him a son. The cardinal was his ally in this, but when he failed the king he fell from power. Everyone knew that Wolsey would eventually be destroyed. He had few friends, I fear. As much as I love Queen Katherine even I am beginning to feel she is being very stubborn in regard to this matter.”

  “I understand her desire to want to protect Princess Mary’s position. To have the princess declared a bastard would ruin any chances of her making a good marriage. And the princess is an innocent party in all of this,” Lord Cambridge acknowledged. “What says Rome about the matter?”

  “The pope has agreed to say that the previous pope was in error when he gave the king and the princess of Aragon, his brother’s widow, a dispensation to wed. He is willing to grant a divorce to the king which at the same time would preserve Princess Mary’s status as the king’s legitimately born daughter, and also as his heir until a male child is born.”

  “ ’Tis quite a reasonable solution,” Lord Cambridge said. “But what arrangements will be made for the queen?”

  “Under such an arrangement the queen would enter a convent to live out the remainder of her days,” Philippa explained. “But she would live out that time in the utmost comfort, for the king has said he will be most generous in the matter of her support. And she may choose her own place of refuge, either here or in Spain.”

  Lord Cambridge nodded. “There is precedent for such an arrangement, and there would be no shame in her agreeing to it.”

  “But Queen Katherine will not countenance this arrangement. And the king will persist in his efforts to remove her from his life.”

  “Perhaps if the queen were to be replaced by the French Princess Renee she could be convinced. The French girl is the cardinal’s choice,” Tom Bolton noted.

  “But the king is besotted by the younger Boleyn girl. I have never seen him behave in such a manner as he now does,” Philippa almost wailed. “While the queen still appears at public functions like May Day, Easter, and the Christmas courts, her presence is embarrassing, for she is virtually ignored. It is Mistress Anne who presides over the court now, and the king will have it no other way, Uncle. My family and I are put into a most difficult position, for you know our ties with and our devotion to the queen. My two older sons have coveted places within the court, Henry as a page in the king’s household, Owein in Norfolk’s household. If we incur the royal disfavor my sons’ careers could be ruined. But how can I desert Queen Katherine now, when she has been so good to me, Uncle?”

  “This is a far more serious situation than I had been led to believe, dear girl,” Thomas Bolton said gravely. He sighed. “I see no other course for you than to continue to serve the queen while avoiding the wrath of both the king and Mistress Anne. This means you must remain silent no matter your outrage. Can you do that, Philippa?”

  “I have to, for my lads’ sake,” she answered him. “Now I am beginning to understand my mother better, Uncle, which would amuse her, I am certain, if she but knew how I feel. She protected us and worked for our happiness even as I do for my sons’.”

  “And what is Crispin’s position in all of this?” Lord Cambridge inquired.

  Philippa laughed. “Brierewode is his domain, and the court is mine. He has said that as long as I do not endanger the family he trusts in my judgment. He is a model mate for me, isn’t he?”

  Thomas Bolton chortled. “Aye, you are fortunate in each other, dear girl. Well, you have given me much to consider. Does the king know we shall be coming to Greenwich, and are we welcome at court?”

  “Aye. Henry told him of your impending visit, and that you would bring the last of Rosamund’s daughters to present to him. My son said the king was delighted, and says you are always welcome in his presence, and that he looks forward to meeting Elizabeth.”

  “Good! Good! Then that is settled, and all that remains is for our garments to be approved and improved by Master Althorp before our trip down to Greenwich. We will go by barge, of course. When does the court leave? The thirtieth, as usual?”

  “Aye, Uncle,” Philippa answered him.

  “I will go now and greet my tailor. I have kept him waiting long enough,” Thomas Bolton said. “See to your sister. I think you must take her to her chamber. If she will not wake up have one of the footmen carry her.”

  “There is no one in the north for her, Uncle?” the young countess asked again.

  He shook his head. “None, and Friarsgate must have an heir for the next generation. Your mother is most upset about it.” Then, turning, he left the hall and hurried up to his apartments, where William Smythe,
Master Althorp, and his assistant awaited him. “Althorp!” he greeted the tailor effusively, shaking his hand. “What wonders have you fashioned for me this trip, my good fellow?”

  “We have laid everything out here in the dayroom and your bedchamber, my lord,” the tailor said. “The newest trend is much slashings on full sleeves this year, the sleeves with circular shoulders, and high necklines. Both doublets and jerkins are being wrapped over in the front. Wine and black are the colors favored for a gentleman. And, of course, silk and velvet trimmings on the breeches,” Master Althorp concluded.

  “Thank God I have you, Althorp. None of this has filtered into the north. My tailor there is adequate, but not the genius that you are with fashion and fabric,” Lord Cambridge said. “I can always rely on you to keep me looking perfect.”

  “I note that your lordship has perhaps gained a bit of girth since our last meeting three years ago,” the tailor said.

  “Do you think so?” Lord Cambridge sounded genuinely surprised.

  “I do, my lord, and we both know the key to a perfect appearance is a well-tailored and well-fitting garment,” Master Althorp replied. “If you will allow my helper to assist your lordship in disrobing we will have a fitting. These minor adjustments should not take long, and I am assuming you are leaving London with the court on the thirtieth.”

  “Indeed we are,” Thomas Bolton said. Then, “Will, see that young Nancy has her mistress’s gowns out and displayed so Master Althorp may see them when we are finished. Put everything in the dayroom. I believe my dear Elizabeth is already asleep.”

  “Yes, my lord,” William Smythe said, and hurried out.

  “So, Althorp,” Lord Cambridge said, “I understand his majesty would rid himself of an old queen to take a young one. Tell me all, and spare nothing of the most intimate details, for I know you know them all.” He stood quietly as the young tailor’s assistant helped him from his outer garments and into his new ones.

  “Well, my lord,” Master Althorp said as he began to note the adjustments he must make, “it is all true, and while the cardinal wanted a French princess for the king, I can tell you that the king would have none of it. His heart is set on Mistress Boleyn. And now that the cardinal is disgraced and dying, I have heard, none can keep the king in check, and the Howards are an ambitious family, though you did not hear me say it.”

  “And what is she like? Mistress Anne?” Lord Cambridge wanted to know. “As round, soft, and fair as was her sister, Mary?”

  “Nay, my lord. She is nothing like Mistress Mary at all. She is tall, slender, and very elegant in a most French way. I have never seen a more fashionable woman at the court. All the young girls are copying her manner of dress. She has the most beautiful long and thick dark hair. Her eyes are almond shaped, and dark too. Her skin is perhaps a bit sallow for certain colors like apple green and saffron, which have been popular. She favors bright, clear colors that flatter her best. I would not call her beautiful, but rather intriguing and exotic. And the king is besotted by her, there is no doubt. It is said she will not go to his bed, for she will not be compared with her sister, who whored for little advantage to herself or her family. Her Howard relations expect more of Mistress Anne, and they may well get it. It is said the old duke himself directs her behavior.”

  “Interesting,” Thomas Bolton noted. He looked at the sleeves on the doublet he was now wearing. “My dear Althorp, so many slashings?” He turned to look questioningly at Will Smythe who had just hurried back into the room.

  “ ’Tis fashion, my lord,” the tailor replied.

  “It seems a bit excessive even for me,” Lord Cambridge noted, “but I do like the silk beneath the velvet. And the bright blue with the black is pure genius!”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “What do they say of Mistress Boleyn?” Lord Cambridge inquired casually. “Is she charming, or quiet like the more recent mistress I heard of in my northern eyrie? What was her name now? Something quite outrageous, as I recall.”

  “ ’Twas the Countess of Langford, Blaze Wyndham,” the tailor answered. “A lovely woman. Not only discreet, although everyone knew the king was swiving her, but very deferential and polite to the queen. She never used her position for personal gain, I am told. Quite unusual in a royal mistress. Nay, Mistress Boleyn is nothing like Blaze Wyndham. She is very lively, and clever, and has a quick tongue. She has attracted quite an amusing coterie of young courtiers to her side. It is said of her that she is quite high-strung, my lord, and has a bad temper; but there are always those ready to speak badly of any, especially women like Mistress Boleyn. She makes enemies as easily as she makes friends. The cardinal never approved of her. ’Tis said she vowed to overcome Wolsey and have her revenge on him for taking Northumberland’s heir away from her. They had planned to marry, but the king wanted her, and Wolsey was ever his loyal servant. He got the duke to claim his son was precontracted to another girl, and saw them married so the king might be free to pursue Mistress Boleyn. Disgrace was how the cardinal’s loyal service was rewarded, and Mistress Boleyn has indeed had her revenge upon him.”

  “She sounds like a most complex young woman,” Lord Cambridge noted.

  “Indeed, my lord, a fair assessment,” the tailor said. “We are finished now. If you will approve the garments I shall return them to my shop and have the alterations done. We will bring them back to you in two days, which is in time for your valet to see to the packing, my lord. I trust that will be satisfactory.”

  “Most, Althorp. Now if you will go with Will and view my dear Elizabeth’s garments to be certain they are every bit as fashionable as they should be, I would appreciate it. If she is sleeping, as I suspect, you will not see her. The colors have been chosen to flatter her, for she is blond and fair.”

  “Of course, my lord,” the tailor said. Then he followed William Smythe from the chamber and down the hallway.

  When Will returned he told Lord Cambridge that Elizabeth’s gowns passed the tailor’s muster, but for some minor alterations that could be easily managed without removing any of the garments. “Standing collars are the fashion for the ladies, my lord. Master Althorp will have several made to match the gowns, along with the rebatos necessary to hold them up. Other than that everything is in order, thanks to Lady Philippa. Her fashion sense was, as always, perfect.”

  “Excellent!” Lord Cambridge said, and then, “If you will look in your room, dear boy, you will find several new suits that Althorp has made for you. You need no alterations, as you never change. And you will find a new gold chain I will expect you to wear, as well as a pearl-drop earring that is particularly fine. I cannot treat myself, dear Will, without treating you. I do not know what I would do without you. Now go and tell Garr that I am ready to be dressed for the evening.”

  “Thank you, my lord! At once!” William Smythe said.

  Thomas Bolton smiled and, reaching out, patted his secretary’s hand. “Dear Will,” was all he said, and then he waved him off. He was already looking forward to joining the court. Perhaps tomorrow he would venture to Richmond, where he knew the king was now in residence, and announce his arrival. He would not remain long, and one of his old suits would do for that brief visit. But he did not intend introducing his lovely charge until they were at Greenwich. Let the king’s appetite be whetted to meet Mistress Meredith, the last of Rosamund’s daughters. He would be quite surprised, for of the three sisters it was said that Elizabeth was the most like her father, with her fair hair and hazel-green eyes. She was quite different from her auburn-haired mother and sisters.

  But in the matter of the queen Lord Cambridge was not quite certain how to proceed. He could not ignore Katherine, but neither did he consider it wise to involve Elizabeth with her under the circumstances. He would have to introduce Elizabeth to her, for Rosamund, not realizing the scope of the breach between Henry and Katherine, would be distressed if he did not. And whatever the difficulties between the royal couple, Katherine was still England’s q
ueen. But he would attempt to see that there was no other contact between the out-of-favor queen and his charge. He needed the right husband for Elizabeth, and to accomplish that impossible task he needed the king’s favor. Yes, he thought to himself. It would be a difficult balancing act, given Rosamund’s long association with the queen, but he knew his cousin would understand his reasoning when he wrote her, which he intended doing this very night.

  Their journey had been a pleasant one, but for the April rains that had begun three days after they had departed Friarsgate. Still, they had ridden hard those first three days, and it had allowed them to reach London in plenty of time for their business here. He was surprised that Elizabeth had become so tired when they arrived, for she was an active young woman. But perhaps the excitement of it all had overcome her. He ate with Philippa that evening, having sent a tray up to Elizabeth’s chambers. She sent back her thanks with young Nancy.

  In late morning the following day Lord Cambridge, clad in a suit of Tudor green, a flat cap decorated with ostrich tips on his head, a jeweled codpiece and matching pouch hanging from his girdle, departed Bolton House in the smaller of his two barges for Richmond Palace, where he knew the king would be in residence these few days before he left for Greenwich. Giving his name as he stepped from his little transport, he was surprised to find young Henry St. Clair waiting for him.

  “Greetings, my lord,” the royal page said. “The king expected you might come today, as my mother told him of your arrival. I was sent to wait for you and escort you to him when you came.” He bowed neatly.

  “How old are you, young St. Clair?” Lord Cambridge asked.

  “I shall be nine on the first of May, my lord,” was the reply.

  “Astounding! How long have you been in the king’s service?” Thomas Bolton followed along with the boy.

  “Like my maternal grandfather, my lord, I have served the Tudors since I was six,” was the proud answer. “It is an honor to continue in my family’s tradition. I hope someday to have a son who will follow in our footsteps.”