The Last Heiress

by Bertrice Small

  “I am the lady’s uncle,” Lord Cambridge said, “and Otterly is my home. Go on now, dear boy, and tell us the rest, the juicy meat of the reason for your journey in such wretched winter weather.”

  The messenger began his tale, being interrupted now and again by Lord Cambridge, who wanted every detail. Not being a person of importance, the man could tell them little other than the facts he knew, the gossip he was privy to, but Thomas Bolton was able to fill in, thus gaining a reasonably accurate picture of the situation. When he had finished, the messenger looked to Lord Cambridge questioningly.

  The older man nodded slowly, and then said, “Banon, have one of your servants take this good man to the kitchens for his supper, and see he is supplied with a warm place to sleep the night. He has a long journey ahead of him. And see there is food for his travels on the morrow,” he instructed her.

  “Yes, Uncle,” Banon said quietly. She signaled to one of her serving men and, after instructing him, sent the messenger from the hall with thanks. Then she turned to her uncle, saying, “What does Elizabeth’s husband say?”

  The older man cracked the seal on the letter handed him. He spread the parchment out, smoothing the creases in it, and read it slowly through. “Your sister has been commanded to court by the new queen,” Thomas Bolton began. “She is not pleased, but she will, being your mother’s daughter, of course, obey.”

  “And Baen wants you to go with her,” Banon deduced.

  “Nay. He says Elizabeth will not ask me because she does not wish to impose upon my kindness and hopes her visit will be a short one. How she has matured in these past few years,” he said with a fond smile.

  “But you will go,” Banon said.

  “Nay, I will not,” Thomas Bolton replied, surprising them. “I shall go to Friarsgate as soon as the snow is gone, and Elizabeth will tell me then what it is she desires of me. Fortunately styles have changed little, and the gowns made for her last time will do for this visit, with alterations, of course. Motherhood does tend to enlarge a lady’s girth,” he murmured diplomatically.

  “Indeed, Uncle, it does,” Banon told him with a laugh. She was almost plump now with her many children, but still quite pretty.

  “And I shall have Will arrange for her accommodation along her route. She will be going to Greenwich without a doubt. She will be fine, dear Banon. She is the lady of Friarsgate. She has a husband, and she goes to court at the request of the queen, her good friend. Who knows what advantage that will give her, as it certainly gave your mother?”

  “Philippa must be furious.” Banon chortled mischievously.

  Lord Cambridge laughed too. “Aye. Now for her sons’ sakes she must eat a rather large slice of humble pie, I fear,” he said. “But she will. If Philippa learned one thing from your mother it is that family is everything. And since this new queen favors her, Elizabeth must help smooth your sister’s new path. If not for Philippa, then for her lads. Who knows? Having Philippa in her debt may be of use to Elizabeth one day.”

  “I should be terrified to have Philippa in my debt,” Banon said. “I can only imagine how very grand she is now after all these years as a countess.”

  “She was quite charming when we saw her two years ago,” Thomas Bolton said.

  “Aye,” Banon said shrewdly, “while there was still hope that her patroness would regain her vaunted position. But now? Uncle, I shudder to imagine her state.”

  He smiled wisely. “Philippa, like Rosamund, is a survivor, dear girl.”

  “When must Elizabeth go south?” Banon asked.

  “Baen does not say, but certainly as soon as spring breaks,” he replied. “I will depart for Friarsgate in another few days, the weather permitting. I shall learn everything once there so that when I return I can tell you. And Elizabeth will, of course, stop here on her journey south, so you may speak privily with her then,” Thomas Bolton said. Then he stood. “I must return to my own wing and tell dear Will all that has happened. He will be perishing with curiosity, as would I were our positions reversed, which—thank God—they are not.” He departed the hall.

  “The women in your family do have a knack for making friends with the mighty,” Robert Neville noted to his wife. “I am very glad you never did, dear heart. I should not be happy if you were commanded to court.”

  “Nor would I,” Banon admitted. “Poor Elizabeth. I can only imagine how much she hates even the thought of her visit. Uncle says she was most unhappy at court but for the kindness of Anne Boleyn. Yet much evil is spoken of this woman even here in the north so far from court.”

  “Blame that on Northumberland and his family,” Robert Neville said astutely. “The old earl always blamed Anne Boleyn for his son’s unhappy marriage. He claimed she put a curse on Lord Percy’s union because she could not wed him, when the truth was that the king forbade the match because he wanted the lady for himself.”

  Banon shuddered. “Too much intrigue, Rob. I am glad I was overshadowed by Philippa during my tenure at court. You are the only thing good that came from my stay.” She smiled at him lovingly. “You and our marriage and all of our children.”

  Robert Neville put an arm about his wife. “Thanks to you I far exceeded my family’s expectations, Banon,” he told her, returning her smile. “Who would have expected a younger son in a minor branch of the Nevilles to wed an heiress? Certainly not my kin.” He chuckled.

  Banon laughed. “Oh, Rob,” she told him, “I hope it is not wrong to be so happy! I want Elizabeth to be as happy with her Scot. I must ask Uncle to see if Baen will ride as far as Otterly with Elizabeth. I can only imagine how furious this royal command has made her.”

  But strangely, while annoyed to have her life disrupted, Elizabeth was not angry. Anne Boleyn was a very proud woman. The proudest Elizabeth had certainly ever known. If she wanted Elizabeth with her, there was a very good reason for it. Our acquaintance was not a long one, the lady of Friarsgate considered, but a strong friendship was forged between us. I will go to her. I wrote to her when I wed. I wrote to her when young Tom was born. She even sent him a fine silver ladle for a baptism gift. Her purse was never great, so I know that was a sacrifice for her. I do not like the court, but I do like Anne. She will not keep me long.

  Elizabeth and Nancy began unpacking the beautiful garments that Thomas Bolton had had made for her several years ago. Her bosom had increased in size, and she had gained at least a half inch in the waist with her son’s birth. They set to work altering the gowns, and Elizabeth hoped that styles had not changed greatly since her last visit to court. She wished she had Thomas Bolton’s advice, for he would surely know. She was not unhappy, therefore, when Lord Cambridge arrived at her door some two weeks after the royal messenger had gone his way back to court.

  “How did you know I needed you?” Elizabeth greeted him with a hug. “Come into the hall. The April rains have begun. Are you too wet?”

  “Dear, dear girl!” He kissed her cheeks, and then stared at the little boy looking up at him with large eyes. “Can this be my namesake, Elizabeth? God’s wounds, dear girl, he is practically as big as Banon’s little son, and not half his age. I see he is taking after your delicious Scot. Where is the good fellow?”

  “In the kennels. His Friar sired a fine litter of pups, and he is choosing one for young Tom,” she told him. “I have been commanded to court,” she said without further ado. “Anne Boleyn is the king’s new wife, and she wants me for whatever reason.”

  “I know. Baen sent a message to me with the royal messenger, but do not be angry, dear girl. He was concerned for you.”

  “I will not ask that you come with me,” Elizabeth said.

  “And I will accept your decision unless you change your mind, my dear,” he told her. “Have you gotten out your fine gowns yet?”

  “Nancy and I have been working on them for many days now. You have your ear to the court despite the distance between Otterly and London. Have the styles changed greatly, or will my barely used wardrobe do, Uncle
?”

  “We must have a few more French hoods made, for they will now be all the rage, I guarantee you, dear girl,” he replied. “Your gowns were quite stylish three years ago, and will be just as fashionable now. Perhaps something new in green, though.”

  “I am better in a darker green than light, Uncle. Anne says she is to be crowned in June. Which of my gowns should I save for that day? Though I will certainly not be among the queen’s train I know she will want me there, and I would do her proud.”

  “Then you must have a new gown, and it will be Tudor green to honor the monarch,” Lord Cambridge said.

  “No,” Elizabeth answered him. “It must be some other color, for they will all be wearing Tudor green that day in an effort to catch the king’s favor. We must think on this, Uncle, and do something extremely clever.”

  “Dear girl!” he exclaimed. “You are thinking like a courtier.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Nay, Uncle. I am being practical, I swear it!”

  At that moment Baen entered the hall and greeted his wife’s uncle. He brought with him a small black-and-white border collie pup, and Friar trotted by his side. “Tom! Would you like one of these fellows for you and Will? Friar sired eight of them on his mate. I don’t believe you and Will have a dog, do you?”

  “I do not believe that Pussums would tolerate a dog,” Lord Cambridge said, “but then she is very ancient now, and she accepted Domino without question. But he is a young fellow, and can annoy her. Is one of your pups a quiet creature?”

  “The runt is a wee female,” Baen said. “She’s gentle.”

  “Perhaps I shall take her then when I return home. I do so admire these border pups of yours, dear boy. But now all my energies must be devoted to preparing Elizabeth for her return to court. We need to fashion a gown she may wear to the coronation.”

  “You mean all those gowns she had dragged out will not suit?” Baen asked, surprised.

  “Nay, dear boy, her gowns are quite fine, yet she needs one special gown for the queen’s special day. But I have traveled for hours and must be fed before I can even begin to consider this difficult conundrum,” Lord Cambridge told them. “She must stand out from all the Tudor green that will be worn that day, yet not overshadow the queen.”

  Baen shook his head. “ ’Tis a world I am just as glad not to be a part of,” he said honestly. “I’m but a simple Highland Scot, Tom.”

  “Dear boy,” Lord Cambridge said, raising an eyebrow, “there is nothing at all simple about you. I could teach you all you needed to know to exist at court in a trice, and your own native intelligence would serve you well too.” He chuckled. “A simple Highland Scot indeed!” He turned back to Elizabeth. “When are you leaving?”

  “When the queen sends my escort. I sent back to her that she must. That I could not travel without an escort, and that my own people were all needed at Friarsgate,” she said. “Perhaps she will decide I am not worth the trouble, and I shall not have to go at all,” Elizabeth teased them. But was she teasing?

  “ ’Tis a great honor, Elizabeth,” her uncle said quietly. He looked about the hall contentedly. Friarsgate was always so welcoming, and had always seemed so to him.

  For the next few days Elizabeth’s gowns were prepared for packing. The alterations were completed, the gowns and bodices inspected for any sign of stain or wear. They were brushed. Any beading needing repair was fixed, as were hems. And Lord Cambridge considered the gown his niece should wear to the new queen’s coronation.

  “You are most beautiful in blue,” he finally announced. “The pale washed blue of a clearing sky after a storm. Pale blue with cream and gold,” he decided. “We must send for Will. I have a bolt of the fabric we will need, and he knows where it is. Your man must go immediately in the morning at first light if Will is to be here the day after.”

  So William Smythe was sent for and returned promptly, bearing with him the required fabric. When he learned the purpose of the fabric Will agreed most heartily with Lord Cambridge that Elizabeth’s coloring best suited this shade of blue. Together the two men began work with the manor seamstress to fashion the perfect gown for Elizabeth.

  “Uncle! You sew?” Elizabeth was astounded, for she had never known him to possess this particular talent.

  “Dear girl, you do not think I can keep abreast of the latest fashions for my own wardrobe this far from London without occasionally doing some of my own alterations,” he replied. “The ability to repair a garment is paramount for a gentleman.”

  “I am once again in awe of you,” she told him, and he flashed her a grin.

  The fabric that Will had brought from Otterly was not plain, but rather it was a beautiful brocade with a design of pendant flowers and leaves woven into it. The gown’s neckline was square, bordered with silver and gold embroidery. From shoulder to wrist the sleeves were narrow, with bell-like cuffs turned back at the lower edge. The cuffs was plain cream colored watered silk. The long brocade skirt of the gown was funnel shaped. About her waist Elizabeth would wear a thin gold chain from which hung a small gold mirror, its golden back embossed with a quarter moon made from mother-of-pearl, and several sapphire stars.

  Beneath the gown a chemise of the most delicate creamy lawn had been made. The sleeves of the chemise, which showed from beneath the gown’s deep-turned back cuff, were wide, with a dainty ruffle of golden lace at the wrists. It had a round neckline because Tom had dictated that modest but elegant simplicity would please the king. “In the end it matters not who the queen is,” he told his niece wisely. “It is the king in whom the power of life and death rests. The king, dear girl, though you must never say I said it, was most inordinately fond of your mother when they were young. And he holds a most paternal fondness for her daughters.”

  “His wife is just a few years older than I,” Elizabeth murmured.

  Lord Cambridge chuckled at her sharp observation. “Something that of course you would never say aloud outside of this hall, dear girl.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Elizabeth said meekly, and then she laughed.

  “You will wear pearls with this gown, and only pearls,” he instructed her. “And the pearl-edged French hood with its cream lawn veil, dear girl. You will stand out in such a gown, yet you should not overcome the queen’s coronation garments.”

  And at last everything was packed for traveling. Nancy would once more go with her mistress. Realizing this, Albert, the hall steward, came to his mistress and asked if she would permit him to marry the lady of Friarsgate’s tiring woman.

  “I must think on it,” Elizabeth told him, and then she took her servant aside privily. “Albert has asked to wed you. Will you have him?” she inquired of Nancy.

  Nancy flushed. “He’s a bit older than me, but a man should be older than his wife. And I have never heard evil said of him, mistress. We are equals within the household, though he stands just a bit higher than I do, which is proper. We would, I believe, make a good match. But I would wait until we have returned from court.”

  Elizabeth did not ask if her tiring woman loved Albert. Love was usually not a consideration in such a marriage. “Then you are willing?” she said.

  “Aye,” Nancy said. “I am willing.”

  “Then we will tell him together.” And she sent for Albert to attend her. “Nancy has told me she is content to wed you, but no banns shall be published until she and I have returned from court, Albert. Is this your wish, Nancy?”

  “Aye, mistress. I shall go out into the world one more time, and then return to marry you, Albert,” Nancy said. “If this will satisfy you then we are pledged.”

  “I am content then too,” the hall steward said.

  Elizabeth took Nancy’s hand and put it into Albert’s. “Go along now,” she told them. “Make your plans for when we return.”

  When she told her uncle and Baen they both teased her for being a fool for love, and, laughing, Elizabeth agreed she was. Now they waited for her royal escort to arrive, and even though they expect
ed it, it came as a surprise when the troupe of men-at-arms with their Tudor-rose badges arrived one afternoon. It was already past mid-April.

  Captain Yardley presented himself politely, and then told Elizabeth, “We must begin our journey tomorrow, madame. The queen has ordered that we proceed with all possible haste to Greenwich. She is most anxious to see you.” He was a grizzled old soldier who had obviously been in the king’s service for many years.

  “I am ready,” Elizabeth told him. “My baggage cart was sent ahead several days ago. We shall stay tomorrow night at Otterly, and after that my uncle, Lord Cambridge, has arranged for my accommodation.”

  “Very good, madame,” Captain Yardley said. “A baggage cart would have slowed us down.”

  “I am going to court at the queen’s invitation, sir. I cannot bring but one garment. We will meet the cart at Otterly, and after that it is up to your men to guard it. If it takes us several days longer because we are slowed by it, then the queen will forgive me for the honor I will do her by, as her friend, showing to my best advantage,” Elizabeth said sharply. She looked the queen’s captain directly in the eye as she spoke.

  “Aye, madame,” he said laconically. Another high-spirited wench like the king’s new wife, he thought.

  “Mama go?” young Tom asked in the morning as Elizabeth prepared to depart.

  “Aye, but Mama will come home soon, my lad,” she promised him, picking him up and kissing his rosy cheek. “Be a good boy, young Tom.” She set him down, and he toddled off with Sadie, who had graduated from his cradle rocker to his nursemaid along with her mother. Elizabeth felt suddenly overwhelmed. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn’t want to leave Friarsgate. She didn’t want to leave her husband and son. Why in the name of heaven had Anne ordered her to court when she knew how much Elizabeth disliked the court? Well, she told herself, she wasn’t going to learn the answer to her questions until she reached court. With a sigh she mounted her horse.