Friarsgate Inheritance: Until You Part 38

"Because, my darling, you would have never gone back to sleep," her mother said.

"What am I to wear?" Philippa asked. "What time are we due? Will I meet the king, too, mama?"

"We will arrive before the main meal of the day so you may eat in the Great Hall," Rosamund said with a smile. "You will wear what you choose from among your gowns, my child, although I do think the lavender silk is very flattering with your hair and your skin."

Philippa jumped from the bed. "I must have a bath!" she exclaimed. "You have said the king's nose is a sensitive one, mama. Lucy!" she called. "Lucy!"

"Gracious, Mistress Philippa," the tiring woman said, entering Rosamund's bedchamber, "what is the matter?"

"I am going to court today, Lucy! I shall wear the lavender silk, and I want a bath!" Philippa cried.

"My lady?" Lucy asked politely.

"I think the violet brocade gown, Lucy. It will blend nicely with my daughter's wardrobe," she finished with a smile.

"Yes, my lady," Lucy chirped. "I'll see to the bath right away."

Philippa scampered back into her bedchamber and began riffling through her little trunk. "Jewelry, mama! I have no jewelry! How can I meet the king and the queen without jewelry?"

"But you do have jewelry, my poppet," her mother replied. "When you were born the king's grandmother sent you a broach of emeralds and pearls. I brought it with me for you to wear. And you will have a rope of pearls from my own jewels. It shall be yours to keep, Philippa. You will always remember that I gave it to you on the day you met King Henry and Queen Katherine."

"Oh, thank you, mama!" Philippa cried.

The bath was drawn, and the young girl bathed, was.h.i.+ng her hair again and drying it in the open air as she sat in the window seat of her mother's chamber, brus.h.i.+ng her long auburn tresses. Rosamund used the bathwater after her daughter, and while she bathed her cousin came to speak with her.

"Philippa will need adornment," he said.

"She has the broach the Venerable Margaret sent at her birth, and I am giving her a rope of my pearls, but she could use some pretty rings, Tom. Do you have something that would suit her?"

He nodded. "I'll give them to her before we leave. What are you both wearing? I would match my clothes to yours, dear girl. We should not clash on such a momentous occasion."

"Philippa will wear her lavender silk gown and I my violet brocade," Rosamund said. "Do you still possess that burgundy short coat with the pleated back, Tom? It would be quite marvelous, you know."

"My dear girl, I have indeed taught you good taste over the years, haven't I? It is the perfect suggestion. I shall go and have my man prepare it now." Blowing a kiss at her with his fingers, he left her to complete her ablutions.

When she finished bathing Rosamund dried herself, for Lucy was busy helping Philippa. Then she managed to don her own undergarments, but Lucy was necessary for getting into her gown, a beautiful creation of violet silk brocade with a silver-embroidered and quilted underskirt of a lilac-colored velvet. The low square neckline of the dress was also embroidered in silver thread. False undersleeves with slas.h.i.+ngs and frilled linen cuffs showed from beneath her wide violet brocade cuffs. Rosamund wore a violet silk French hood edged in pearls with a pale lilac-colored silk veil flowing behind, allowing the fine color of her hair to show. Her square-toed shoes were covered in purple silk.

Little Philippa was now brought forth in her lavender silk gown with its plain quilted underskirt of satin. The long, tight sleeves of the gown had small cuffs embroidered with tiny pearls. The square neckline of her bodice was also embroidered in pearls. About her waist was a twisted gold rope with a long ta.s.sel, and her shoes matched her gown. Her hair was left long, bound only by a lavender ribbon.

Rosamund put a rope of pearls over her daughter's head, letting it fall on the girl's flat bodice, where she pinned the emerald and pearl broach in the center. "There," she said. "You are quite elegant, my child." Then she reached into her jewelry box and drew out the gold chain with its gold-and-pearl crucifix and a second rope of pearls and put them on. On her fingers she affixed several rings. Satisfied they were both ready, she said, "Lucy, put on a clean cap. Today you will come to court with us."

The young tiring woman's mouth fell open in surprise. "I must change my gown," she gasped. "Is there time?"

Rosamund nodded, and Lucy ran off. "A lady should generally travel with her maidservant," she explained to her daughter. "I have left Lucy behind these last few days to watch over you, as we have traveled simply from Friarsgate, without a large retinue. Today, however, she comes with us."

Lucy quickly returned wearing a gown Rosamund had not known her servant possessed. "Annie gave it to me, my lady. She thought I might need something better than my everyday." The dress was a silk one Rosamund had given Annie once. It was dark blue with a plain bodice and single skirt. The neckline was square, as was the fas.h.i.+on. It was edged in pleated linen. Lucy also wore a lace-edged lawn ap.r.o.n and a matching cap. She looked every inch an upper servant.

The three women descended into the hallway below, where Lord Cambridge was now impatiently awaiting them. He nodded with approval, then said, "Cousin, you must take my barge with Philippa and Lucy. It is larger and will accommodate you better. I will follow in your little vessel. Come. We will be late if we do not hurry."

Philippa was almost sick with her excitement as they entered the s.p.a.cious barge and began their journey down-river to Westminster Palace. The river traffic had been interesting from the gardens of her uncle Tom's house, but out upon the water it was even more exciting and fascinating. She didn't know where to look next, and she was joined in her enthusiasm by Lucy.

Rosamund pointed out interesting sights as they traveled, but the tide was with them this morning, and they were quickly at the Westminster quay. A manservant helped the women from their vessel onto the stone dock. Lord Cambridge was right behind them.

"Philippa," he said, "there was something I meant to give you back at the house." He opened his hand to reveal several small rings. "There is a pearl, an emerald, a fine green agate, and an amethyst to match your gown. Put them on, my child. All the fas.h.i.+onable court ladies wear a mult.i.tude of rings."

With a delighted smile, Philippa took the rings offered and put them on her hands, holding them out to admire. "Thank you so much, uncle," she said to him, kissing his cheek. "Do you think I should wear two on each hand?"

"I think three on your right hand-the pearl, the emerald, and the agate-and on your left hand wear the amethyst to display it to its best advantage. Put the pearl between the two green stones, my child," he advised her.

They entered the palace, going to the Great Hall where the court would now be a.s.sembled to watch the king and the queen break their fast after the first ma.s.s of the day. As they walked, they were greeted, bowed to, and nodded to by many of the courtiers. The lady of Friarsgate was back in favor with the queen, and the child with her was her heiress. Fathers with second sons eyed Philippa and nodded. The girl looked strong of limb and with all her wits. She would, it was rumored, not only inherit from her mother, but from her uncle, as well. The Boltons were not a particularly n.o.ble family, but they were landed gentry with a goodly estate. And the queen favored them.

"Why do they all stare at me, mama?" Philippa asked, noticing the interest in her small person.

"You are my heiress," her mother said softly. "You are already being appraised as a marriage possibility."

"I know I must marry well one day," Philippa noted, "but I would hope to love my husband as you and my father loved each other. I know I shall not find the kind of love you found with Lord Leslie, but I remember my father well. He had a great care and respect of you, mama."

"Aye, he did," Rosamund said, remembering Owein Meredith, her third husband and the father of her three daughters and deceased son. He had been a good man, and he had loved her as much as he was capable of it. Until they had been matched, Owein had spent all of his life but six years in the service of the Tudors. "I shall not give you to just anyone, Philippa. I will have to be satisfied that the man you wed does indeed care for you. Do not fear, my daughter. You and your sisters will go to good husbands. I promise."

They were now in the Great Hall. About them the courtiers milled, waiting. Rosamund moved through the crowd until they were before the high board. There she stopped, waiting for the king and queen to enter the hall. The trumpets sounded a flourish. The people in the hall drew back, opening an aisle down which Great Harry and his queen traveled, smiling and nodding to those in the hall, their attendants following them.

Seeing Rosamund and her daughter, the queen stopped. "This is Philippa, isn't it?" she said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our court, my dear child."

Philippa curtsied deeply, replying a bit breathlessly, "Thank you, your highness."

"Henry, here is the lady of Friarsgate, and she has brought her child to greet us," the queen said softly to her husband.

Henry Tudor took Rosamund's hand in his and kissed it. "We are happy to greet you again, madame, and your child." Then he turned his attention to Philippa, and he was all charm, smiling down from his great height at the little girl. "Why, poppet, you quite resemble your mama. I see nothing of Owein Meredith in you, but for your gentle manner. You are most welcome to our court, Philippa Meredith. Your sire was a fine man and a good servant to the House of Tudor. I believe he would be proud to have such a beautiful little daughter. I know I would be."

"We all pray for your majesty's wish to be fulfilled," Philippa said tactfully.

The king lifted the little girl up so they were face-to-face, and then he kissed her cheek. "Thank you, my child," he said as he set her down, and then he moved on.

Philippa almost swooned with her excitement. "He kissed me, mama!" she trilled. "The king kissed my cheek!"

"The king can be kind, Philippa, and he likes children. You said the right thing to him, and he will remember it. You have his favor, and that is important."

"Wait until I tell Banon and Bessie that the king kissed me," Philippa said. "They will be so jealous. They were jealous when you decided to take me to court, mama."

"Of course they were," Lord Cambridge chuckled. "All little girls want to come to court. It is every girl's dream, Philippa. But you must not boast and brag when we return to Friarsgate."

"But I can tell them that the king kissed me, can't I, Uncle Tom?"

"Of course, my child," he told her. Then he turned to Rosamund. "My friend Lord Cranston has a young son from a second marriage who is two years older than Philippa. I see him across the hall, and I would like to introduce Philippa to him."

"She is too young for a match, Tom," Rosamund said.

"Of course she is," he agreed. "But Cranston's family is very well off, and it cannot hurt for Philippa to meet them. When she is older and ready to wed, can she not love a rich man's son as well as a poor man's son?" he teased her.

Rosamund laughed, but then she grew serious. "I hope to obtain a t.i.tle for her," she said. "There must be some poor earl whose heir could be matched with Philippa, provided they were suited to each other."

"Ah, cousin, you are more ambitious than I thought. I am not unpleased. But let me introduce Philippa to Lord Cranston, anyway. He may be of help to us one way or another," Lord Cambridge said. "And I do know an earl with a son who might do."

"My lady?" A young page stood at her side.

"Yes?" Rosamund replied. The boy wore the king's livery.

"His majesty would see you immediately. I will escort you," the page responded.

"And I will take Philippa off to be introduced about," Tom said. "Keep your temper in check, dear girl. Philippa, my angel, walk with your uncle. I shall be the envy of every man here today."

Philippa giggled and moved off with her uncle as Rosamund turned and followed the boy in the Tudor livery from the Great Hall.

Chapter 17.

The little page led her from the Great Hall down one long corridor and into a narrower, dimmer one. Finally he stopped before a paneled door, and opening it, ushered her inside. "I will wait outside to escort you back," he said politely, closing the door behind him.

Rosamund looked about her. It was a small chamber with a corner fireplace in which a fire was now burning, warming the damp room. The walls were of linen-fold paneling. The well-worn floor of wide boards was darkened with age. There was a single lead-paned cas.e.m.e.nt window looking out on an empty courtyard, above which she could see the blue sky of the late June day. The small courtyard itself was seasonless. Had she been a prisoner in this room she would have had absolutely no idea of the day, the month, or the time of year. There were but three pieces of furniture: a small square oak table and two chairs with high carved backs, each containing a single tired tapestry cus.h.i.+on of an indeterminate color and design. Rosamund sat down and waited. By now she was well used to waiting for Tudor monarchs, she thought to herself with a wry smile.

Finally a door she had not even noticed, for it was so well constructed and concealed, opened in one of the walls, and Henry Tudor stepped into the room. Had he gotten bigger? she wondered, until she realized that the design of his costume was meant to convey that very impression. Still, a man who stood well over six feet needed little else to make an impression. He looked straight at her with his small blue eyes as she came to her feet and made a deep curtsy.

"Well, madame, and what have you to say for yourself?" he opened the conversation forcefully.

"What would your majesty have me say?" Rosamund replied.

"Do not attempt to fence with me, madame!" he thundered. "You have not the skill for it."

"I am also not gifted with the long eye, sire, and so you must be more specific in your queries of me," Rosamund told him. She was not afraid. She should have been, but she was not. What was happening to her? What would happen if the king's anger could not be stemmed?

Henry Tudor drew a deep breath and seated himself in one of the chairs. "Stand before me, Rosamund," he said.

She moved to face him.

"Now kneel," he commanded her.

Rosamund swallowed back her outrage and knelt before him.

"Now, madame, why did you go to Scotland?" he said.

"Because your majesty's sister invited me, and as your majesty well knows, Queen Margaret and I are friends from our youth," Rosamund responded.

"And why did you go to San Lorenzo, madame? It was my understanding that you disliked travel," the king replied.

"I went because the Earl of Glenkirk asked me to go," Rosamund said.

"He was your lover." It was not a question.

"Aye, he was my lover," Rosamund told the king quietly.

"I would not have expected such behavior from you," Henry Tudor said primly.

"I was to confine my whoring, then, only to your majesty?" Rosamund snapped at him. The floor beneath her knees was hard, and she was becoming angry. For all he was her king, he was still a spoiled lad.

Henry Tudor jumped to his feet, towering over her as his big hand gripped her arm, yanking her up. "Do not try my patience, madame. You well know how dangerous I can become when provoked." The blue eyes met her amber ones.

Rosamund pulled away from him. "Then, Hal, let us both sit down. I will freely answer any question you have of me, but this charade you attempt to play with me is both childish and hardly worthy of Great Harry." Her gaze did not waver beneath his.

He motioned her impatiently to one of the chairs, seating himself in the other. "Do not forget I am your king," he growled.

"I have never forgotten it, Hal." He had not reprimanded her use of his name, and so she continued it.

"Richard Howard, my amba.s.sador, saw you in San Lorenzo," the king told her.

"I know," Rosamund answered. "San Lorenzo is a tiny place, my lord, and there are no secrets there that can be kept for long. Lord Howard recognized my face and was told my name. He knew he had seen me before."

"He said you lied to him when he asked if you knew him," the king noted.

"Nay, Hal, I did not lie. He had seen me at court long ago, and I had seen him. But we had never been introduced, so we could hardly know each other, now, could we?"

The king emitted a short burst of laugher, then grew serious once again. "What was Lord Leslie doing in San Lorenzo? He had been my brother-in-law's first amba.s.sador there years ago. Why did he go back, madame?"

"When the earl and I first met at Stirling, Hal, something odd happened to us. We fell in love, if indeed you believe in love, but whatever happened between us happened. We could not bear to be parted. The Scots court, however, was hardly the place for us to carry on our liaison, any more than your court would have been the right place. It was cold and snowy that winter. The earl conceived the idea of taking me to San Lorenzo, where we might enjoy the warmth of the south and pursue our pa.s.sion for each other."

"You lived in the amba.s.sador's residence," the king said suspiciously, still not convinced that her tale was completely innocent of deception.

"Aye, we did. It had been Patrick's home once, and Lord MacDuff insisted that we make it our home. I saw no harm in it. Our apartments looked out over the town, a charming place whose buildings are all the many colors of the rainbow, Hal. We could view the blue sea from our terrace. We had a large bath set out upon the tiled terrace, and we bathed daily in the fresh air, beneath the warm sun. There were flowers in bloom in February! It was a paradise!" Rosamund's face was alight with the memory.

"You were introduced to the duke," the king said.

"He was an old friend of Patrick's. His court is very informal, Hal. We visited several times, meeting a famed artist from Venice, a German countess, your own Lord Howard, and many others. Our servants fell in love there and were wed in a chapel within the cathedral by San Lorenzo's bishop himself."

"Lord Howard says this artist, a relation of the Venetian doge, painted you without garments," the king accused, looking shocked.

"The portrait that hangs in my hall, Hal, is fully clothed. The maestro painted me as the lady defender of Friarsgate. He made my home a castle, which of course it is not. I am surrounded by a sunset. It is quite colorful," Rosamund said, but then, because she realized the king was very well informed, added, "but he also painted me as a G.o.ddess. I wore a Greek chiton that left a shoulder and my arms bare. He vowed he wished to keep that painting for himself, which is why he also painted the other."

"That portrait now hangs in the Great Hall of the Duke of San Lorenzo, madame! Lord Howard informs me that your naked limbs can be easily seen through the diaphanous draperies you have called a costume and that one of your b.r.e.a.s.t.s was quite bare!" Henry Tudor sounded outraged.

"What?" The surprise on Rosamund's face convinced the king that her own tale was true, as far as she knew. "The maestro sold the G.o.ddess painting to the duke?"

Then she burst out laughing. "The duke, Hal, is a man of vast appet.i.tes where women are concerned. He would have enjoyed seducing me but that I would not have it. And the artist, as well. These men from the south are quite different from us, I fear. It took all my wits about me to prevent a disaster," she concluded. Then she said, "My cousin tells me that Lord Howard is back in England. He is not a good amba.s.sador, Hal. He is much too abrasive and rude. He quite irritated the duke."

"When you returned in late spring you went back to my sister, did you not?" He ignored her remark about Richard Howard. It was not necessary Rosamund know that Duke Sebastian had sent him home to England for the very qualities Rosamund mentioned. It had been most embarra.s.sing, especially as the duke had sent a message with Lord Howard saying he wanted no further English amba.s.sador in San Lorenzo.