Philippa (12 page)

He didn’t like being apart from his wife. It was, he thought, his one weakness. She had received a message that her eldest daughter had come suddenly home, and she had gone at once to Friarsgate. But she had been gone a month now, and while there had been brief messages, she gave no indication that she would return soon. Logan Hepburn wanted his wife home, and she had not explained to his satisfaction why she was making no plans to return any time soon. The summer was almost over. And so he had come to bring her back, but suspecting it might not be as easy as he hoped, he had brought his lads along. Having all her children in one place at the same time, from oldest to youngest, could have a softening effect on her heart. Rosamund could be a very determined woman when she chose to be. He smiled. That was one of the reasons he loved her so deeply.

Rosamund had anticipated he would come, for she knew he was not happy without her presence for very long. When Bessie came running to inform her that her stepfather was coming down the hill road, and the lads were with him, Rosamund chuckled.

“Do not be so smug, dear girl,” Thomas Bolton said with a grin. “The man has always been totally mad over you, and you know it. ’Twill be a lovely visit, I have not a doubt, if we can but keep Philippa from quarreling with him. Of all your girls he is fondest of Bessie, and will tolerate no cruelty towards her.”

“He has come to bring me home to Claven’s Carn, and I cannot go until I have settled the dilemma over Philippa. First he will take her side, and try and cajole me into sending her back to court. When that fails he will begin to consider the sons of his friends as possible mates for my daughter. Oh, Tom, have you thought of nothing that can help Philippa? I do not like arguing with Logan.”

“I have something in mind, but I am not yet certain. Let us welcome your bold borderer to Friarsgate first. This is not quite the time for what I am considering,” Lord Cambridge said. “And Philippa must agree as well. She may decide to stay in the north and settle for a Neville, a Percy, or a Scot, even as her mother did.”

“Never!” Philippa said, entering the hall. “Logan is here, mama. Will you be leaving soon then? And may I please rejoin my mistress at Woodstock?”

“I will not quarrel with you now that Logan is entering the house,” Rosamund said through gritted teeth. “I must discuss your situation with your stepfather.”

“Have you not written him then?” Philippa pressed.

“Aye, I have. But your future is a matter of great importance. Logan and I must speak face-to-face on it, Philippa. And when we have, we will inform you of our decision in the matter.” Then she arose from her seat by the hearth and, turning, went forward to greet her husband as he entered the hall.

“Logan will persuade her to let me go back,” Philippa said smugly.

“She will not be moved until she is certain whatever is decided is what is best for you,” Lord Cambridge told his young relative.

“Logan wants her back at Claven’s Carn. She has been gone from him for several weeks. In order for her to go back she must let me return to court. He will cajole her into doing just that,” Philippa told Thomas Bolton.

“Go and greet your stepfather. Then come back to me and we will speak on this, Philippa. Know this, dear girl. I am the only one who can persuade your mother to allow you to return to the queen’s service. And I am the only one who can make certain you have everything that your heart desires.”

“Uncle?” Her look was curious.

“Go!” he told her sharply.

Philippa turned, and hurried across the hall. Her heart was beating very rapidly, and she felt almost faint. For as long as she could remember Thomas Bolton had been the maker of magic in this family. How could she have forgotten it? He was the only one who could help her! Her mouth turned up in a smile. “Logan,” she said, and standing on her tiptoes she kissed his rough cheek. “I think I am now too old, stepfather, to call you papa.” She gave him another warm smile. “Have I grown up, do you think?” She pirouetted before him, almost dancing.

“Indeed, lass, you’ve become a fine young lady,” Logan Hepburn told his stepdaughter. “I would hae nae recognized you did you nae look so much like your mother when I first knew her.” He kissed Philippa on her forehead.

“You will want to talk with mama, of course,” Philippa said sweetly, curtseying.

“Aye, I do, but first, lassie, come and greet your brothers. They will nae remember you, for Johnnie was just three when you went away, and Alex still in leading strings, and our Jamie not even born. Here, lads! Here is your oldest sister, Philippa. Show her that you all remember the manners your mam has taught you.”

John Hepburn marched up to Philippa, took her hand, and kissed it with all the grace of a courtier even as he bowed. “I can just remember you, sister, but barely. I will not forget you now, however. You are much like our mam.”

“And you, like the mother who birthed you, Johnnie Hepburn,” Philippa said. “I remember Jeannie Logan, and she was most fair, and kind too.”

“I do not remember her at all, but I thank you for your words,” John Hepburn said. Then he pulled his two younger siblings forward. “This is Alexander, and this Jamie. He cries a lot when he does not get his own way.”

“Do not!” Jamie Hepburn yelled, and he hit his eldest brother with a small hard fist. “Take it back, Johnnie!”

“Greet our sister, you little buffoon,” his elder said.

“I do not think you a buffoon, Jamie Hepburn,” Philippa said. “You would appear to be a brave lad to attack one larger than you.”

The little boy looked up at her. He had his father’s dark hair, but his mother’s amber eyes. “You’re pretty,” he said.

“ ’Tis all the greeting you’ll get from him,” Alexander Hepburn told Philippa. “I do not remember you, but I am happy to have such a pretty sister.” His father’s blue eyes met Philippa’s hazel eyes. “I’m Alexander Hepburn.”

“Do not Banon and Bessie make you happy too?” Philippa mischievously baited him with a grin.

“Sometimes, and sometimes not,” the lad told her plainly, and he grinned back.

Philippa curtseyed again. “I will leave you and mama to your reunion, Logan. Brothers, you must go to the kitchen where cook has a treat for you after your long ride. I must go and speak with Uncle Thomas.” She shooed her brothers in the direction of the kitchen stairs, and then moved gracefully across the hall to where Lord Cambridge awaited her return, seated in a tapestry-backed chair, a goblet of wine held in his elegant beringed hand. Philippa sat down opposite him, and looked questioningly at him.

“How can you help me so I may escape the tedium of this glorified sheep farm?” she demanded of him.

“You are so impatient, dear girl,” he said in an amused tone. The jewels on his fingers twinkled as he raised the goblet to his lips to drink.

“Uncle, I am bored. I have been home these six weeks now. August is coming to an end. I want to go back to court.”

“And so you shall, my pet, for I can see quite clearly that Friarsgate is not the place for you. How diverting I find that, remembering your mother in her youth. There she was in the midst of the center of the earth, as you so succinctly put it. And what did she want? Nothing more than to return to Friarsgate while you, her eldest child, want nothing more than to escape it.” He chuckled, and then he grew serious. “Now tell me, Philippa, do you mean it when you tell Rosamund that you do not want Friarsgate? Do you mean it truly, or is it just that you are having an attack of exasperation over the disappointment Giles FitzHugh visited upon you? I want the truth, Philippa. What I do to help you will depend upon what you tell me now.”

“I do not want Friarsgate, uncle. I do not!” Philippa said.

“It is a great inheritance, dear girl. Are you sure you would give it up?” he queried her further.

“Aye, I would give it up! What good is it to me? It is far too far from the king and the court. I prefer living at the court. But if Friarsgate becomes my responsibility I cannot live at court. I know the obligations involved in being the heiress of an estate like this, uncle. I do not want those duties. I prefer to serve the queen.”

He was silent and thoughtful for a long few minutes. To his surprise Philippa remained quiet as well. Finally Lord Cambridge said, “If you do not want Friarsgate, my darling girl, then what do you want other than to live at court, and serve the queen?”

“Oh, uncle, I know that you and my mother have made a success of your cloth trade. Could you not spare some of your combined wealth for me? A respectable dower and a small income would suit me well. And it is all I need to live at court, and to pay my servant her yearly wage.”

“What of a husband, Philippa?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I have spoken enough with my mother over these last weeks to know that I have never really been in love with anyone, least of all Giles FitzHugh. If he had come home to wed me I should have done so, and thought myself happy. Perhaps for a few years, but perhaps forever. Who can say, uncle? But while I have been considered an heiress, a northern estate is of no use to me. So I will content myself with a smaller portion. If one day there is a man who will love me, and I him, then at least I may offer that man a respectable dower portion. There are plenty like me at court, uncle, as you would certainly know from your own time there. My father was such. His marriage to mama took him from loyal obscurity to the rank of a landowner. Perhaps there is a man at court with a small home who would be happy to have a wife like me. I do not scorn marriage.”

“But you are a proud girl, Philippa,” Lord Cambridge reminded her. “Would simplicity truly suit you, I wonder.”

“What other choices do I have, uncle?” she asked him frankly.

“We shall see, darling girl,” he told her. “Now, promise me, Philippa, that you will trust me to aid you. That you will cease quarreling with your two sisters, for Banon is my heiress, and I will have no one gainsay her. And Bessie is your stepfather’s especial pet, being the only girl at Claven’s Carn. If you wish to have your own way in this matter then you must allow me to resolve it.”

“And I will go back to court, uncle?” she asked him anxiously.

“You will go back, and in time for the Christmas revels, I promise you, darling girl,” he said. “Now tender me your pledge, Philippa Meredith, and give me your hand in token of that pledge.” He offered his own hand, and she put her small one in it.

“I will trust you, uncle, and I will try not to be so difficult,” she promised him.

“Good!” Lord Cambridge answered her.

“Can you tell me what it is you plan?” Philippa asked eagerly.

“It is far too soon, and there are certain things I must set in motion first,” he said.

Across the hall Rosamund watched her cousin as he engaged her daughter in earnest conversation. What was he planning? It had best be soon, for Logan was already importuning her to come home to Claven’s Cam. It was difficult to say no to him when he caught her gaze with those blue blue eyes of his that had always been her weakness. She had tried to explain how disappointed Philippa was over the FitzHugh boy, and how she had said she didn’t want Friarsgate.

“The lass is daft with her displeasure,” Logan said. “Let her go back to court. She’ll come to her senses soon enough.”

She hadn’t told him but now she had to. The tale of the Canted Tower was recounted, and Logan then said exactly what she had expected.

“I know several lusty young men, sons of friends, who would gladly take the next lady of Friarsgate to wife. Obviously the lass needs to be wed, and quickly.”

“Nay. It is more complicated than that, Logan. But Tom says he can solve the problem if we will but allow him. I would, for he has always been right in his judgments of difficult situations, my love.”

The laird of Claven’s Cam nodded. “I must be honest with you, lovey. Philippa has always frightened me a wee bit, though I am shamed to admit it. She is but a lass, yet that air of determination she wears would terrify a stronger man than me. If Thomas Bolton believes he has a suitable solution to the problem then let him offer it, I say. I am willing to listen to anything he has to say. And then we may go home.”

“Bide here with us a few days, my dear lord,” Rosamund said. “It is yet a few weeks to grouse season,” she teased gently. “Once I am home again I think I will be loath to travel abroad until I have birthed this son of yours that I carry. I am heavier and more tired with this bairn than with the others. I would name him Thomas, after my cousin, if you will. I think it is time I called a child for him who has been so good to me through all these years. Would you agree?”

He nodded. “Aye. Tom is a good man for all his odd ways.”

“Then you will be patient with me?”

“Till the end of September, madame, and then you will come home to stay,” he told her with a small smile.

Philippa’s conversation with Lord Cambridge had brought about a change in her attitude. She wasn’t certain what he was planning, but she knew whatever it was, it would be to her advantage. And so she tried her best to be kind to her sisters, but Bessie, it seemed, went out of her way to irritate Philippa and bait her into conflict. Banon, however, was a different personality, and the two sisters renewed their acquaintance while carefully avoiding Bessie and her wicked tricks.

Banon loved hearing about the court. “I suppose I should go for a brief time,” she said one day as the two sisters sat together in the early September gardens. Around them the Michaelmas daisies were coming into early bloom. Above the plants fat bumblebees droned lazily while collecting pollen from the delicate blooms.

“You would love it!” Philippa enthused.

“Perhaps I would, but I must keep in mind that Otterly, like Friarsgate, is a northern estate. I will marry a man of the north, but a brief stay in the queen’s service would but add luster to my reputation, would it not, sister?” Banon’s blue eyes looked at Philippa, thinking her deliciously sophisticated even in her simple country gown. Uncle Thomas had insisted Philippa have a country wardrobe made when he had first arrived. Banon always enjoyed being around Lord Cambridge when he was choosing fabric and discussing gowns with the seamstress. He had the most exquisite taste. “It is your hairstyle, I believe,” Banon suddenly said. “That is what gives you that air of glamour.”