Philippa (31 page)

“Aye, I know,” Philippa replied. Then she smiled at him. “Uncle dearest, you are dressed most soberly today. No embroidered doublet glistening with gold threads and pearls? No brightly colored silk hose or a bejeweled codpiece? Today is my wedding day, and you appear in a midnight blue velvet coat with furred sleeves? If it were not for the outrageous gold chain upon your chest with its great sparkling pendant, I should hardly recognize you,” she teased him. “Even your shoes are plain.”

He chortled. “Today is your day, darling girl. I would not outshine the bride, but I have seen to your bridegroom’s apparel. He is a vision in Tudor green. His sleeves are slashed and embroidered. His shirt collar has a pleated edge. His coat is full, short and pleated as well, and his codpiece! My darling girl, it is a work of art, as you shall soon see! I am most envious of the fellow, and should be quite jealous were he marrying anyone else but you. He is in the hall now, his sisters alternately twittering and weeping about him. I have left young Neville with him. Where are your jewels?”

“I was just about to adorn her when you come in, my lord,” Lucy said, and then she put a great rope of pearls about her mistress’s neck and affixed the matching pearl earbobs in the girl’s ears. “There now, don’t they look just fine!”

“Are we all ready then?” Lord Cambridge asked. “Lucy, you too.”

“Me? Oh, my lord, thank you! Give me but a moment to fetch my apron,” she cried.

“Be quick then, lass!” he told her. “The vessels are ready to take us to Richmond, where one of the queen’s chaplains will perform the sacrament. Go along, Banon, and your sister and I shall be behind in but a moment.” He gently shooed the girl out the door. Turning, he looked to his young relation. “I should not be the one to speak with you of such things, but who else, darling girl, is there?” He appeared extremely uncomfortable.

Philippa giggled. “It’s alright, Uncle Thomas. I know exactly what it is I need to know about such matters. The queen, the other maids, my sister, and Lucy have been most kind about sharing their wisdom with me. And I have been advised by the queen that too much knowledge is not a good thing for a bride.”

“Thank God!” He breathed with a great sigh. “I fear I should have swooned before I could have spoken to you of such delicate concerns.”

“I’m ready, my lord!” Lucy was back, her simple black silk gown covered with a lace and lawn apron.

“Then we are indeed ready to go,” Lord Cambridge decided.

They found everyone else awaiting them in the hall. The earl’s eyes met Philippa’s, and she gave him a tremulous smile. Lady Marjorie and Lady Susanna admired the bride’s gown effusively.

“The barges await, my lord,” William Smythe said as he came up to Lord Cambridge’s elbow.

“My dears,” Thomas Bolton said, “I shall take the blushing bride and her maidservant in the smaller vessel. The rest of you are to go in my own personal barge. Come along now. We mustn’t keep the priest waiting.”

As always, Lord Cambridge had planned everything perfectly. The river was between tides, and as smooth as glass. Their barges moved easily through the water the distance down to Richmond Palace. There was but one servant at the stone quay, as most of the servants had gone to Greenwich with their royal masters. He helped them from their elegant crafts, and they hurried up the stairs to the palace. Another servant met them at the riverside door, and with a bow escorted them through the silent corridors to the queen’s favorite little chapel where the ceremony would be performed by one of the queen’s own priests, a Spaniard of indeterminate age, who was waiting for them. Philippa recognized him as Frey Felipe.

She left the wedding party and went to him. “Thank you for remaining behind, Frey Felipe, to perform the sacrament.”

“I am honored, my lady,” he replied in his accented English. “You are dear to her highness’s heart, and you have served her well as has your mother.” He gave her a slight bow, and then said, “Shall we begin?”

The earl of Witton stepped forward to take Philippa’s hand. He gave it a little squeeze, and smiled at her. Lord Cambridge stood on the other side of the bride with Banon, Robert Neville, Lady Marjorie, Lady Susanna, and Lucy pressing about them. The chapel was very quiet but for the murmur of the priest’s voice as he intoned the Latin words of the ceremony. The chamber’s windows faced the river, and the sunlight on the dancing waters reflected and flickered upon the stone floor. There was a lace cloth and heavy gold candlesticks with beeswax tapers on the altar. There was a matching carved and jeweled crucifix in the center of the altar. There were crimson velvet cushions for the wedding party to kneel upon. Frey Felipe was aided by a little boy in a fine white linen and lace surplice.

It was suddenly very much like a dream, Philippa thought, as the sweetly scented incense was wafted over them. She reacted instinctively, saying the Latin words she had been taught by Father Mata at Friarsgate. This was her wedding day. The ceremony was even now being performed. A small wave of panic hit her. Was it too late to change her mind? Then she felt the gentle pressure on her hand, calming her, reassuring her. Was she breathing? She opened her mouth perfunctorily to receive the host. She repeated the words as she was instructed. The earl slid a heavy gold ring encrusted with rubies on her finger. Frey Felipe was briefly binding their hands together with a silken band, speaking about their union being unbreakable. And finally he was blessing them, and it was done. Philippa Meredith was a married woman in the eyes of both English law and Holy Mother Church. She was no longer plain Mistress Meredith. She was Philippa, countess of Witton. The earl tipped her face up to his and gently brushed her lips with his. There was much laughter and clapping.

“You can breathe now,” he said softly in her ear. “It’s over and done with, and we are properly shackled till death parts us, little one.”

And she smiled at him. “It was like a fantasy,” she told him as he led her from the chapel. “A maid waits all her life for this day, and then it is done in a trice.”

Lord Cambridge had stayed behind to press a small bag of coins into the priest’s hand. “Please thank her highness for her generosity towards my young relation,” he said.

“My mistress is always pleased to see her maids well matched, and this match was a particularly good one for the girl. She is deserving, my lord, for she has always been chaste and devout and most loyal to her mistress,” Frey Felipe said. “More so than many,” he concluded.

“The flesh is weak, good father, and men weaker yet, and kings are men too,” Lord Cambridge replied.

“Indeed,” the priest said dryly. Then he bowed. “Good day, my lord.” And, his brown robes swaying, he departed the chapel through a side door.

Thomas Bolton knew to what the priest had referred. Bessie Blount might be gone from court, but the knowledge that her child was due to be born shortly was hardly a secret. Her child, and the king’s child. God help the queen if Bessie birthed a healthy boy. There had been rumors, and Lord Cambridge was always privy to the latest gossip when he came to court. The rumors whispered of the king’s unhappiness and growing concern that perhaps God was not happy with his marriage. I think I am glad to be going home to Otterly shortly, he thought to himself.

Hurrying to the larger of his two barges, he squeezed himself aboard. “I see,” he said archly, “that our love-birds have already headed upriver back to Bolton House. I have arranged a small feast to celebrate this event. And afterwards I have a wonderful surprise for you all.”

“Oh, Uncle Thomas, tell us now!” Banon pleaded prettily.

“Nay, darling girl,” he replied. “Philippa and Crispin must hear it too.” And he chuckled to himself.

“It is always something marvelous when he chortles like that,” Banon told Robert Neville. “He is the kindest and most generous of men, Rob.”

The tide had turned, and was with them now. It swept both vessels up the river, making it far easier for the oarsmen who rowed. Philippa and Crispin had already disembarked as the larger barge nosed itself into the quay. Lord Cambridge’s servants were there to help their master and the ladies out. They walked chattering through the garden into the house, finding their way to the lovely hall again. Settling themselves at the high board they waited as the servants brought in the feast.

There were raw oysters fresh this morning from the sea. There was creamed codfish, the sauce flavored with celery and dill. There was whole trout lying on beds of watercress and surrounded by carved lemons, and large fat winesteamed prawns. There was duck in plum sauce, lark pies hot from the ovens, a roasted peacock redressed with its tail feathers, a large haunch of beef encrusted in rock salt, and another of venison, as well as a whole country ham. There were platters of artichokes that had been steamed in white wine, braised lettuces, and roasted leeks. The breads had been baked into fanciful shapes, and came to table hot. There were crocks of sweet butter to spread upon them. There was cheese: a French brie and a hard English cheddar.

“I have never seen such a feast in all of my life,” Lady Marjorie whispered to her sister, Susanna. “He is odd to my way of thinking, but Thomas Bolton is a host without peer. The food is so fresh, and so beautifully cooked it has little need of spices.”

Lady Susanna nodded. “I wonder what his surprise is to be?”

When the main meal had been cleared away the servants brought in jellies, candied violets, and bowls of strawberries with thickly clotted Devon cream. There were sugar wafers served with the sweet wines poured. Several toasts were drunk to the couple’s health and happiness. The afternoon was growing late, and finally Lord Cambridge stood up.

“Now, my dears,” he told them, “I have a surprise for you. I am taking Banon, Robert, Lady Marjorie, and Lady Susanna to my house at Greenwich. Your trunks are packed, my dears, and already on their way with your servants. We will bid the bride and groom farewell, and depart immediately afterwards.” He turned to Philippa. “You shall have Bolton House to yourselves, my darling girl.” He looked most pleased with himself.

“Greenwich?” Lady Marjorie gasped. “That is where the court is now.”

“Indeed, dear lady, it is. And tomorrow is May Day, and one has never celebrated May Day unless they have done so at court. I will wager you have never been to court on May Day. ’Tis the king’s favorite holiday of them all. My house is right next to the palace, and we are invited to join in the celebrations.”

“Oh my!” Lady Marjorie said, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“And when you have had your fill of Maying, dear ladies, you can return home, while my ward, young Neville, and I will go north to Otterly.”

“Uncle Thomas,” Philippa began, but he waved a languorous hand at her.

“Do not thank me, darling girl,” he purred, his blue eyes twinkling.

And Philippa laughed. “I do not think I was going to,” she told him. “Crispin and I are leaving on the morrow for Brierewode.”

“I know, but I felt you deserved your privacy for the rest of your stay Do you really want the sisters looking archly at you when you depart the hall this evening?” he murmured low. “Banon, young Neville, and I will return but briefly in a few days, and then begin to make our way home.”

“I will miss you,” she told him. “Life is always more fun when you are around.”

He chuckled. “I will see you when you return to Friarsgate with your husband, and at Banon’s wedding to young Neville. Her match is not as spectacular as yours, of course, but I believe they care for each other, which is more important, is it not?”

“How would I know such a thing?” Philippa answered him.

“Did you note how he looked at you this morning in the chapel, darling girl? He is a man on the verge of falling in love. Accept his love, and return it whole-heartedly.”

“I don’t understand this love. God knows I have had a good example of love from my mother, but what does love feel like?” Philippa looked genuinely confused..

“You will know it when you feel it. Now I expect all the gossip, in minute detail, of this summer in France with the two kings when I see you again,” he told her, bending to kiss her brow. Then he addressed his guests once more. “Come, and bid Philippa and Crispin farewell. Our barge awaits us, my dears!”

Banon hugged her older sister. “I have enjoyed being with you again, Philippa. Now I have another reason to be eager for my wedding to Rob. I shall see you then.” The two sisters kissed. Then Banon moved to speak with her new brother-in-law. “Farewell, my lord. I will be pleased to welcome you to Otterly when you come. Godspeed in your journey in the coming months.”

The earl took Banon gently by the shoulders. “Farewell, sister. I, too, look forward to seeing your beloved north country.” He kissed her forehead.

Young Robert Neville bid the bride and groom good-bye. He was followed by Lady Marjorie and Lady Susanna, both of whom became teary, hugging Philippa and their brother in turn. Lord Cambridge brought up the rear, smiling.

“Lucy will be here for you, and will travel with you. Crispin and I have arranged the trip. Good-bye, my darling girl! Be happy! I shall see you in October!” And then he was gone, leading his guests from the hall.

They stood silent for several long moments, and then Philippa ran to the windows that overlooked the Thames. She watched as the guests were helped into Lord Cambridge’s large barge. And then just before he climbed down into the boat, Tom Bolton turned and waved. Philippa burst into tears, surprising her new husband.

“What is the matter, little one?” he asked, not certain if he should hold her, but then enfolding her in a gentle embrace.

“I have just realized that my childhood is over,” Philippa sniffled. “I thought it so when I came to court, but I still had my family. Now I am alone! When Uncle Thomas turned to wave at us I suddenly knew it to be so.” She pressed her face against his velvet-clad shoulder.