“It’s old-fashioned,” Philippa said.
“No more so than the gable,” Elizabeth murmured.
“I will not wear a French hood!” Philippa declared.
“Then either wear the English, or wear just a veil over your hair,” Elizabeth said. “Anne notices things like that. She is very conscious of fashion.”
Philippa made a derisive noise, but she pulled the gabled hood from her head, calling to her tiring woman as she did. “Lucy! Fetch the English hood. I’ve decided to wear it instead of this gabled one.” She looked at her sister. “Are you satisfied now?”
Elizabeth grinned and nodded.
“Is that the gown you arrived in?” Philippa demanded to know.
“ ’Tis all I have. My trunks are at Greenwich. Nancy refurbished it,” Elizabeth told her sister.
“Aye, and did a fine job of it too,” Philippa said. “Tell me you didn’t ride astride with your legs showing,” she begged.
Elizabeth just laughed. “You would have been more shocked if I arrived in woolen breeks of Friarsgate blue,” she said.
Philippa shook her head. “Aye, I would have,” she admitted, smiling. “The color suits you. ’Tis like doeskin. I have always liked that light creamy brown, but alas, I am too sallow for it. With your blond hair and fair skin it is quite lovely. There is no decoration on the bodice, though, and those marten cuffs are a bit plain. So is your hood.”
“But it was perfect for traveling,” Elizabeth said. “And once I have paid my respects to the king and his new wife I will return to Uncle’s Greenwich house to change into something more appropriate. But Anne will appreciate that I have come directly to her from London, not even bothering to change, so anxious am I to see her.”
“I would not have thought you so devious,” Philippa remarked, as her servant, Lucy, set the English hood on her head and settled the veil that went with it.
Elizabeth grinned. “I go the sheep and cattle markets, sister, and bargain better than most men. I may not be the courtier you are, but I still know how to dissemble in order to gain what I want. You do not have to live at court to learn such things. ’Tis the way of the world.”
Philippa thought a moment, and then she chuckled. “I suppose it is,” she agreed.
Together the two sisters exited the house, their serving women behind them, making their way down to the barge. It was the time between the two tides on the river, and their bargemen were able to row swiftly through the city, beneath the London bridge, and down to Greenwich Palace. When they arrived at the stone quay with its steps leading up to the lawns they were met by servants who helped them from their barge.
“Row back to the Greenwich house quay,” the Countess of Witton said. “We will be staying there, and will not need you again today.”
“Yes, m’lady,” the head bargeman said politely.
Their tiring women in their wake, Philippa, Countess of Witton, and Elizabeth, the lady of Friarsgate, moved across the lawns. To Elizabeth’s relief she spotted the king and the soon-to-be-crowned queen walking with a group of courtiers. Nudging Philippa, she whispered softly and set their direction towards Henry and Anne. Reaching them, Elizabeth made a deep curtsey, and then waited for Anne to acknowledge her.
“Why, look here, sweetheart,” the king’s voice boomed jovially. “ ’Tis the Countess of Witton and her sister, both come to do you honor.”
Anne looked not at Elizabeth, but rather to Philippa. “Do you come to do me honor, my lady?” she demanded to know.
Elizabeth held her breath.
“First honors must go to the king, your highness,” Philippa answered. “And then to the queen.”
“Well said! Well said!” The king chuckled before his prickly bride could demand to know which queen. He could see how difficult it was for Philippa, and he appreciated her loyalty. His gaze swung to Elizabeth. “You have answered my wife’s request to join us, Mistress Elizabeth,” he said. “I am both flattered and surprised.”
Request? Elizabeth almost laughed aloud. “I was honored, majesty, to be asked to join the court at such an auspicious time,” she murmured. “My mother sends her kind regards to your majesty, and to your highness.”
“Still wed to her Scot?” he demanded to know.
“Aye, your majesty.”
“And am I to understand that you have followed in her footsteps?” Henry Tudor said, his small blue eyes narrowing.
“I fear so, your majesty,” Elizabeth admitted. “I seem to have a weakness for Scots gentlemen, as your majesty may recall from my last visit.”
Philippa poked her sister nervously.
The king chortled knowingly. “The gentleman still resides with us. I am sure you will renew that old acquaintance, Mistress Meredith.”
“Mistress Hay, your majesty,” Elizabeth gently corrected him. “My husband’s name is Baen Hay.”
“Baen? ’Tis an odd name,” the king remarked.
“It means fair-skinned, and he is a most fair man,” Elizabeth said, “and every bit as big as your majesty.”
“Indeed,” the king said. “He did not come to court with you?”
“Nay, your majesty. He is the steward of my manor, and of necessity needed to remain home,” Elizabeth told the king. “He is no courtier, but a man of the land.”
“But he let you come?” Again the blue eyes narrowed.
“He would never disobey the king’s command,” she replied.
“Then you have tamed this Scot of yours, Mistress Hay,” the king responded.
“I have indeed, your majesty,” Elizabeth said.
The king laughed loudly. “You may both walk with us,” he said.
The sisters slipped in amid the favored courtiers. Philippa knew some of the women, and spoke to them as they strolled along. Finally, however, the king’s wife made plain her desire to sit, and a comfortable chair was sent for and hurriedly brought.
“Continue on, my lord husband,” she told the king. “I know how you love your exercise. But allow me a companion to keep me company.”
“Who would you choose?” the king asked.
“Why, Elizabeth Hay, of course,” Anne said. “Come, Elizabeth, and sit by me here in the sweet grass,” the young queen invited.
Elizabeth obeyed as the king and his party moved off. “It is good to see your highness again,” Elizabeth said.
“Anne, now that we are alone, Anne, for mercy’s sake,” the queen told her companion. “Thank God you came!”
“You gave me no choice,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “ ‘You are commanded to court,’ ” she repeated Anne’s message. “And in the spring, when there is so much to do at Friarsgate,” she scolded her friend.
“I feared if I just asked you would not come,” Anne admitted.
“I know,” Elizabeth said. “What is the matter, Anne? You are married to the king. You carry his child. You are to be crowned queen in June. Is this not all you desired? What more is there for any woman?”
Anne Boleyn’s fine eyes filled with tears that she quickly blinked back. She bit her lip nervously. “Aye, it is everything I wanted, and more. But they all hate me for it. They thought I would become the king’s mistress, and that they would reap the rewards of my sacrifice; and when the king tired of me they would wed me to some wealthy old man who would pay them handsomely for the privilege of having King Henry’s former mistress for his wife. But that was not good enough for me! And I did not give in until last September. I held him at bay for ten years, Elizabeth. You know I was not wanton, though everyone believes it of me. My father will not speak to me any longer. By replacing old Queen Katherine he says I have disgraced the family. In his eyes a mistress was a more honorable position. My mother will treat with me only in secret, for my father has forbidden her to speak with me. My uncle of Norfolk has shared his displeasure with me as well, although he will use my newly exalted state to whatever advantage is best for him. My sister is jealous of me, for I have done what she could not. As for
my brother, George, he cares for nothing but himself, not even his wife, though I do not blame him there. Jane is a silly, pretentious creature lacking in both charm and wit. And she is ambitious, but for what I cannot fathom. I am alone, Elizabeth. I have no one.”
“You have your husband who loves you,” Elizabeth began.
“Loves me? Nay. No longer. Perhaps in the beginning. Perhaps even during the chase I led him. But now? No. He wants nothing of me but a son. If I give him a son I am safe, Elizabeth. If I do not I do not know what will happen to me,” Anne said desperately. “What was my dream is becoming a nightmare.”
“Moods such as yours are common when carrying a child,” Elizabeth soothed the queen quietly. “I am here now, and I will do whatever you need me to do so that you will not be afraid, Anne.” She took the older girl’s icy hand in hers, and rubbed it to try to bring warmth back into it.
“Did you have moods of despair?” Anne wanted to know.
Elizabeth chuckled. “I was enceinte without the blessing of the church. You see, I seduced my husband that summer I returned home,” she explained. “We handfasted ourselves to each other. Then the autumn came, and he returned to Scotland. I was furious, for I foolishly believed he would remain with me. I loved him, and he loved me, but he was gone. I threw myself into my work. And after Twelfth Night I realized that I was with child. Our committal would make the child legitimate, I told myself. I did not send to Baen, but I sent for my mother and told her proudly that I was with child. There would be a new heir or heiress for Friarsgate.”
“You seduced a man?” Anne’s dark eyes were suddenly sparkling. “Oh, Elizabeth, how daring of you! As always, you do not disappoint me. Tell me more!”
“My stepfather and my uncle, Lord Cambridge, went up into Scotland in the midst of the winter snows. They spoke with Baen’s father and arranged the marriage properly. Baen is his father’s eldest son, but his bastard, you see, so the master of Grayhaven was content to have him leave his house to come to me. They brought him back to Friarsgate, and we were wed in the church. But I was angry at Baen for having left me in the first place.”
“I would have been too,” Anne agreed.
“Nay, I see now that I was wrong,” Elizabeth told her friend. “Without realizing it, or perhaps I did, I tried to force my husband’s loyalties. They could not be forced. No one’s can. But I let my anger continue to control me. Then in the midst of my labor Baen apologized for leaving me. How could I not forgive him? But the anger I felt could not have been good for my child. Fortunately by the time he was born we were reconciled,” Elizabeth explained. “You can no longer think of anything else but this child, Anne.”
“I know,” came the reply. “England needs a prince. How many times have I heard that said, Elizabeth? They do not care if I live or die. England will have its prince. That is all that matters to my husband, to the court, to the country. They will revile me, but England must have its prince.” Her tone was becoming agitated.
“Anne, Anne,” Elizabeth cautioned her. “That was not what I meant. The child within you is fragile and helpless. You are the only one who can protect it. It is Anne’s child. Not England’s. Put your hands on either side of your belly and cradle it. The bairn will be comforted by your touch.”
The queen did as Elizabeth had bidden her. Suddenly a smile lit her face. “I feel it!” she said excitedly, her voice filled with wonder. “I can feel my child!” She looked down at Elizabeth, seated in the grass next to her chair. “You see! I need you, Elizabeth! You are the only person who cares for me. I am not so afraid when you are with me.”
“I should not remain away long,” Elizabeth began, but the queen waved an impatient hand.
“You cannot leave me!” she cried low.
“Anne, I have a husband, a child, lands. My responsibility is at Friarsgate. I came not just because you commanded it, but because of my friendship for you, but I cannot remain with you forever.”
“Until my child is born,” the queen said. “You must stay by my side until I have given England its prince. Promise me, Elizabeth! Swear it!”
Elizabeth sighed. This was not what she had anticipated or wished, but this girl who had been so kind to her once needed her. “I will stay until your bairn is born,” she promised the young queen. And then she patted the hand in hers.
Anne smiled her little cat’s smile. “I knew you would not desert me,” she said. “The others all have, but I knew you would not.” She laughed softly. “We shall share all sorts of secrets, you and I. And all the fine ladies who serve me will be jealous.”
“And so will my sister.” Elizabeth chuckled. “She prides herself on being in the midst of things important here at court.”
“Your sister does not like me,” Anne said, her look dark.
“Nay, do not be angry at Philippa. She met the princess of Aragon when she was but ten years of age, just about the same age you were when you went to France,” Elizabeth explained. “She was invited as a maid of honor when she was twelve. Our mother was raised with the three princesses, which is why as unimportant a family as ours was given such an honor. And after our mother left court she remained friends with both the princess of Aragon and Queen Margaret. Philippa emulates our mother’s loyalty. She is not a woman for whom change comes easy, I fear, but she respects the king, and will never show you any disrespect, like so many others.”
“Can she lay aside her loyalty so easily?” Anne asked.
Elizabeth chuckled again. “It has nothing to do with loyalty. Philippa will be loyal to the princess of Aragon until death. But she is also ambitious for her sons. The eldest serves the king as page, but he will soon go home, for he is becoming too old for such a position, and as his father’s heir needs to take his place by Crispin’s side at Brierewode. His youngest brother, Hugh St. Clair, will take his place. The second of my sister’s sons serves your uncle as a page. He was to go to Wolsey, but Wolsey’s star dimmed and went out, did it not? And Philippa made certain her son’s career was not blocked before it began. Nay, Philippa will be respectful of you, Anne. She is prickly, but her heart is a good one, and she loves her family.”
The queen laughed. “You always tell me the truth, and you rarely couch it in diplomatic terms, Elizabeth. That is why I both like and trust you.”
“I will never betray you, Anne,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“Here you are all alone, your highness!” A sharp-faced young woman was suddenly by their side. She did not bother even to look at Elizabeth. “How is it you have been left so?” She waved at a passing page. “A stool, boy, for my lady Rochford. Quickly! Oh, poor, dear sister! Are you filled with the ennui of your condition?”
Elizabeth’s eyes met the queen’s and she swallowed back her amusement.
“Lady Jane Rochford, this is my friend Elizabeth Hay, the lady of Friarsgate,” Anne said. “Elizabeth, this is George’s wife. George always thought Elizabeth amusing when they last met,” the queen said wickedly, for she knew her sister-in-law to be a jealous woman. “I sent for Elizabeth to share in the joy of our coronation.”
Jane Rochford stared at Elizabeth, assessing whether she was to be bothered with, but noting her garment decided she was not. She nodded a bare greeting, which Elizabeth returned in the same insulting fashion. Lady Rochford was annoyed, but she could say nothing under the circumstances.
“Are you staying at your uncle’s house?” the queen asked Elizabeth sweetly.
“Indeed, your highness, I am. I shall not need accommodation at court for myself and my tiring woman. If I might now be excused, as you have other companionship. I came directly from my journey, and have not yet had time to change from my travel garments into proper clothing.” Elizabeth arose from her grassy seat.
“Of course, Elizabeth,” the queen said graciously. “And tell your sister, the Countess of Witton, that I am pleased to see her with us.”
“I will, your highness, and thank you,” Elizabeth said, curtseying gracefully, and then
she backed the proper distance away before turning and moving across the lawns.
“The Countess of Witton?” Jane Rochford said. “That rather countrified girl is the Countess of Witton’s sister?” She was surprised. This would take a reassessment.
“Why, yes,” Anne said. “And Lord Cambridge is their uncle. Elizabeth is a very wealthy northern landholder, Jane. We became friends when she last visited court. Her mother grew up at the court of King Henry VII. She is not nobility, of course, but she is very, very well connected. I sent for her, for she amuses me with her honest speech. It is something I rarely hear. She left her responsibilities, her husband, and her child to come to me. She is a true friend.”
Lady Jane Rochford heard the rebuke in the queen’s voice. She stared hard at the retreating form of the lady of Friarsgate. How was this young woman going to fit into the scheme of things? And just how amusing had George Boleyn found her? And would he seek her company out again?
Elizabeth could feel Lady Rochford’s eyes burning into her back as she hurried across the grass. She was going to go to Bolton House so she might change her garments. Not watching where she was going, she suddenly found herself stumbling into a gentleman. Surprised, she offered her apology. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth Meredith?” She heard the soft burr in his voice, and as she looked up, her eyes met those of Flynn Stewart.
“Flynn! I was told you were still at court. Did you not follow my advice and ask your brother, King James, for a rich wife?” Elizabeth asked him.
“I did, and he said he would consider it, but while I remained his eyes and ears here at court a wife in Scotland was of little use to me,” Flynn told her with a grin. “I am afraid I agree. But tell me, did you find a husband worthy of you?”
“I did,” she told him. “Like you, he is a Scot, but let me go now. I am just arrived, have paid my respects to the king and the queen, and would now hurry to my uncle’s house to change clothing.” She made a motion with her hands. “As you can see I am not dressed for court. I shall see you again.” And she moved quickly by him onto the woodland path which led to Bolton House Greenwich.
The Last Heiress Page 41
