Philippa (22 page)

“Why?” Wolsey snapped.

“I am planning on marrying one of the queen’s maids of honor. Hopefully the nuptials will be celebrated prior to the summer progress. Whether they are or not, I do not wish to have Philippa in France without me, my lord.”

“Philippa?” The hooded eyes looked at him briefly.

“Mistress Philippa Meredith, my lord,” the earl responded.

The cardinal thought a long moment, and then he said, “Her father was Sir Owein Meredith, and her mother a Cumbrian heiress.” He stopped, then continued. “Rosamund Bolton, I believe she was called. The Venerable Margaret arranged the marriage. This is their daughter? Surely you could do better, my lord?”

“The girl suits me, my lord cardinal. She has beauty, wit and intellect.”

“That in itself would recommend her to a lesser man, Witton, but certainly there is something else that has attracted you.” Thomas Wolsey was no fool.

The earl smiled briefly. “Her dower contains land that matches mine, and that I would possess,” he answered truthfully. “Her family will not sell.”

“Hah!” the cardinal responded. “How did a northern family like hers gain such land? Wait! I see the fine hand of Thomas Bolton in this. Of course! He would be a dangerous fellow if he chose to enter the political arena seriously, and God will bear witness that I have difficulty enough with the king’s minions as it is. He arranged this match, didn’t he?”

Again the earl of Witton nodded truthfully.

The cardinal was silent for a time, and then he said, “Very well. I could use a pair of eyes and ears among this summer progress. One that would not be suspected of me. There are always plots, and plotters abound. This is an enormous, an incredible, and a dangerous undertaking, but his majesty would meet with the French king, and Francois would meet with Henry Tudor. You must wed the girl before we depart in May. The queen is most fond of this maid, and will have the girl with her. I will perform the ceremony myself for you. Choose a date. I will convince the queen that while she may certainly have her favorite with her, we cannot separate newly wed lovers. There is your excuse to be with the court.”

“Thank you, my lord cardinal. You do me honor,” the earl said. “I will report anything of interest to you.”

“Of course you will, Witton. You were ever the consummate diplomat while you were in our service.” He waved his hand at the earl. “God bless you, my son.”

He was dismissed. The earl bowed, saying, “Thank you, my lord cardinal,” as he backed from the cleric’s presence. In the antechamber he placed a coin upon the table where the secretary sat. Then saying nothing, he departed, as the sound of the coin scraping across the wood reached his ears.

Choose a date. The cardinal’s words echoed in his ears. I have not said it! Philippa’s words rang in his head. He almost laughed aloud. How was he to get her to accept their betrothal, and agree to an almost immediate marriage? It would take a miracle, and he had never before asked God for a miracle, but now was as good a time as any. He sought out Lord Cambridge, but he could not find him. He did see Philippa, however, in her usual place by the queen’s side. He walked towards her, and when she looked up and blushed he was hard-pressed not to chuckle, but he didn’t.

Instead he bowed to Queen Katherine. She nodded, giving him permission to address her. “Your highness, might I steal Philippa away from you briefly?” he asked.

The queen smiled. “I am told there is to be a betrothal, my lord,” she said.

“There is, madame,” he answered her.

“I am well pleased by such a match,” the queen told him. “Philippa Meredith is a most virtuous maid. She will be a good wife to you, my lord. Aye, you may walk with her for a short time.” The. queen gently pushed Philippa forward off her stool. “Go along with your betrothed, child.”

Philippa stood, and curtseyed meekly to the queen. She did not flinch openly when the earl of Witton took her hand and tucked it into his arm as they moved away.

“Go into the gardens,” the queen called after them. “You will have some privacy if such a thing is possible at court.”

“It is March,” Philippa murmured low. “I hardly think the royal gardens conducive to a romantic ramble in March.”

“It is not romance I seek at this moment, Philippa,” he replied softly. “We need to speak with one another, and for that privacy is essential.”

“The day is chill, and I have no cloak at hand,” she responded. “Come, the chapel will be empty.”

“What if someone comes to pray?” he asked her.

Philippa laughed. “At court? Most of them go into the chapel for the morning mass, and then only to be seen by the king and queen. The chapel will be empty even of the queen’s priests, who are usually napping or gambling, and in some rare cases bent on seduction at this time of day.” She directed their steps.

He was surprised by her acumen once again. She might be untried in the ways of love, but as Lord Cambridge had pointed out, Philippa was a consummate courtier. She was a female, and a young female at that, but he decided he must take her into his full confidence from the start. She would not be fooled by half-truths. They had reached the chapel. It was, as she had predicted, quite empty. He watched with astonishment as Philippa peeped into the confessional to make certain it was empty. Then she chose the exact middle of the room to seat herself.

“It will be difficult to be overheard from either end of this chamber if we are here,” she told him.

He sat down next to her. “You are amazing,” he told her, and he kissed the hand he still held.

To his surprise she did not blush this time, but she gave him instead a genuine smile. “Since your purpose is not romantic, my lord, and you wished privacy, I can only assume you have a more serious matter to discuss with me.”

He nodded, and then he said, “I must know I can trust you, Philippa, and you are really still a girl in many ways.”

“I have learned how to keep a confidence, my lord,” she told him quietly, “but the decision you must make is yours alone. If you require me to be silent, you have but to ask it of me, and I will be silent.”

“We need to marry in haste,” he told her, and wasn’t at all surprised when her eyes grew wide.

“Why?” The single word was tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

“I must go on this progress, but I am not important enough to be asked, and so must have an excuse. The queen will want you with her. You are her favorite among the maids though you are yourself unimportant. If we are newly wed she will make certain we are not separated, for she is a romantic lady at heart. I will be able to accompany you and the court to France.”

“As an agent of the cardinal, I take it,” Philippa said.

“Aye,” he admitted. “He wants someone no one will suspect, with eyes that are trained to see and ears sharp enough to hear. He did not say it, but I know him well from my many years of service. He thinks he smells a plot of some sort on the wind, though he has yet to learn exactly what it is, or if it even really exists, but his instincts have always been infallible. By chance I came to him at the right time to offer my services, but of course no one must learn I am in his service. And none will suspect that the bridegroom of the queen’s favorite maid is in France for anything more than a summer of love.”

Philippa giggled. She simply couldn’t help it. “A summer of love, my lord? Gracious! You make it sound most salacious, but then that is nothing new at this court.”

He smiled back at her. “Perhaps I did not phrase it properly.”

“Oh, I quite liked your phrasing, my lord,” she assured him, grinning up at him.

He was very tempted to kiss her adorable mouth, but he did not. “The cardinal has said he will marry us himself.”

“Thomas Wolsey would perform the ceremony? Nay, my lord, I think it not a good idea. It will draw attention to us, and if you wish not to be noticed I think it better the great cardinal show no favor to two unimportant people lest others ask why. I am certain that one of the queen’s priests would, with her gracious permission, perform the sacrament of marriage uniting us,” Philippa said.

Again he was surprised by her. “You are right, Philippa!” he said. And then he realized that she had not protested the idea of a quick marriage. “You are willing?”

She nodded. “My lord, I needed time to consider all that has happened. A match between us is a good thing. I ask only one favor of you.”

“And that would be?” What could she possibly want of him?

“I do not really know you, my lord. While I see the advantages to us both in this match, I am inexperienced in the ways of love. I cannot yield myself to you wholly simply because we are man and wife. I would not deny you your rights, my lord. I just want some time to learn more about my husband before we unite our bodies. Can you understand that?” She had looked him directly in the eye while she had spoken.

“Aye, I can understand, Philippa. And I am willing to give you a certain amount of latitude in this matter. We will wed first, and then we will court as lovers do. But the marriage will be consummated on our wedding night for obvious reasons.”

“I do not really understand the nature of courting,” she told him.

“There is kissing, and touching,” he replied.

“Oh, I have heard that, but what else is there to courting?” she wondered. She was purposefully ignoring his statement regarding consummation.

“I am not certain myself,” he admitted. “I have never paid serious court to a girl before, Philippa. We shall explore this mystery together. Now, when shall our wedding day be? I shall leave it to you to choose the date.”

“The queen’s nephew, the emperor, is coming to England at the end of May, and then we depart for France in early June. My birthday is the twenty-ninth of April. Let us wed the day after, on the last day of April, my lord. It will give me time to prepare properly. Would that suit you?”

“Tom says your mother will not be able to come,” he said. “Would you not prefer to go home for your marriage?”

“There is no time. Mama will have a new bairn, and knowing my stepfather, he will not want her to travel even to Friarsgate with it. She nurses her own children, you see,” Philippa explained. “We shall, with your permission, my lord, go north for my sister Banon’s wedding in the autumn. If you are content with that, then so am I.”

“I am content,” he agreed.

“One thing I must tell you before the betrothal is signed, and the marriage celebrated,” Philippa said. “I am my mother’s heiress to Friarsgate, but I have told her I do not want it. Her lands and her flocks are great. She has a commercial enterprise in cloth that she and Lord Cambridge manage. I don’t want any of it. I should have to live in Cumbria, and while I find it beautiful there, I do not want to live there. And an estate like Friarsgate must be watched over by its mistress or master. That is why Uncle Thomas purchased Melville for me. And in addition I have a most exceptional dower portion in gold and silver coin, as well as plate, jewelry, and all the possessions that a respectable girl would have. I am very well dowered, my lord, as you will see. But I renounced Friarsgate, and you must know it before this match is settled between us.”

“I should have little use, Philippa, for a large northern estate that requires tending,” he told her. “You will find Brierewode is more than enough for me.”

“Do you have sheep?” she asked him.

“Cattle and horses, only,” he told her.

“Thank God,” Philippa exclaimed, “for I cannot abide the stink of sheep!”

L
ord Cambridge had managed to catch the queen before the midday meal to tell her of the impending betrothal of Philippa Meredith. “With your highness’s blessing, of course,” he had said, bowing. And the queen had been delighted, and sent him to the king to impart the happy news. He had caught the king at his dinner, and been allowed to stand just to one side of the royal diner while he spoke his peace.

“Will Rosamund agree?” the king wanted to know.

“I have her permission to arrange a match for Philippa, aye, my lord.”

“How did you manage it, Thomas Bolton? An earl, and one who has never wed, and is young enough to get children on the girl. You are obviously more clever than I would have given you credit for, but then Wolsey has always said it.” The king took a bite from a small haunch of venison in his grip.

“I purchased the late Lord Melvyn’s estate. It matches with Witton lands,” Lord Cambridge said simply.

The king laughed. “You are fortunate he wanted it.”

“He has been pasturing his cattle on it, so I thought he might,” Lord Cambridge answered with a small smile.

Henry Tudor chortled. “Wolsey is always right.” He took a gulp from the large footed wine goblet by his right hand. “And the queen approves?”

“Aye, my liege, she does.”

“Then I must approve as well, and I do,” the king replied. “When will the marriage be celebrated?”

“I shall ask Philippa, and return with her answer, majesty,” Lord Cambridge said.

“I shall stand witness to the event even as I did to the betrothal of her mother to our good servant, Sir Owein Meredith,” the king said. “I was but my father’s son then, and I recall he remonstrated with me when I boasted that one day Rosamund could say her betrothal was witnessed by a king and a queen. My sister, Margaret, was already Scotland’s queen, but my father was still king.”

“I know that both Philippa and the earl of Witton will be honored by your gracious presence,” Thomas Bolton said, and then he withdrew to seek out his young cousin and Crispin St. Claire. He found them walking in the gallery near the royal chapel.

“We have agreed on everything, Uncle Thomas,” Philippa greeted him.

“And what is everything?” he replied, kissing both her cheeks.

“Why, our marriage, uncle. We have decided to marry on April thirtieth, the day after my sixteenth birthday. You must have the papers drawn up at once.”