Philippa (16 page)

“He probably wants to sell me the property at a profit,” the earl said, irritated. “He may even be in league with the royal secretary in this matter. I will not be diddled by some scheming courtier, damnit!”

“I don’t think he is that, my lord,” the secretary responded. “His garments are grand, and say he is a fop. But his manner is assured and direct. I cannot reconcile the two, but I must tell you that I liked him. I did not think him dishonest.”

“Interesting, Rob, for you are a good judge of character, and always have been,” the earl noted. “Shall I go then, and meet this Lord Cambridge?”

“It is winter, my lord. The land is lying fallow. The cattle are in the barns, and there is little to do right now for any of us. Is winter not the time when the nobility go to court? What harm can it do you to speak with Lord Cambridge? You can be no worse off after you have spoken with him than before, I am thinking.”

“I could be in great debt, Rob,” the earl told his secretary.

“The land is worth no more than I offered, my lord, and you would be foolish to go into debt to obtain it. I deposited your coin with your goldsmith in London, and there it will remain until you have need of it.”

“I will admit to being curious,” the earl said slowly, “and you are here to act on my behalf, Rob. Yet I swore I would not go back until I had found a wife.”

“You are more apt to find one at court, I am thinking,” the secretary said, “than here. None of our near neighbors have daughters of an age to wed.”

“I do not want some spoiled lass who thinks only of gowns, and how to spend my coin. A man must have a wife he can speak with now and again. These girls at court are naught but dancing, preening featherheads in my opinion. They giggle, and flirt, and kiss every gentleman they can find in whatever dark corners they can find. Still, there might be just one who would suit me. A biddable lass who would manage my home, and bear my children without complaint. And not waste my coin on fripperies.”

“You’ll never know, my lord, unless you go back to court,” Robert Burton said. “You know the king would welcome you. You served him well for eight years.”

“I did,” the earl agreed. “Being a diplomat for Henry Tudor is not an easy task, Rob, but I served him with honor both in San Lorenzo after that idiot Howard was called home, and in Cleves as well.”

“And you never found a lass in either place, my lord? ’Tis a pity, I think. We would have been happy to see you bring a bride home. Even a foreign lass.”

“In San Lorenzo the ladies of the south were too free with their favors to suit me,” the earl said. “And in Cleves they were too large, and too straightlaced. Nay, give me a good English wife. If I can find one.”

“Go back to court for the rest of the winter, my lord,” the secretary advised his master. “See what Lord Cambridge desires of you. And see if there is a pretty lass there who would suit your lordship.” Robert Burton was a servant of long and good standing with his master, and so was able to speak so freely to him.

“Well, I must go to London if for no other reason than to see what Lord Cambridge desires from me, and whether I can cajole him into giving me the lands that are rightfully mine. If only I could have convinced Lord Melvyn to sell me his properties, but towards the end there he became dotty, and convinced that everyone around him was stealing from him. I could not reason with the man at all.”

“He was very old, my lord,” Robert Burton reminded the earl. “They get that way sometimes when they are so old. Not all, but some.”

The earl of Witton departed for court a few days later. By the time he reached London the court was up from Greenwich and settled at Richmond again. Presenting himself first to Cardinal Wolsey’s majordomo, he begged a place to stay from him. It had been the cardinal who had assigned him to his various missions and postings for the king. The earl of Witton doubted if King Henry would even know who he was, but the cardinal did. He was given a small cubicle where he might leave his few belongings and lay his head at night. His food would be his own concern. He might eat in the cardinal’s hall if he could find a place. The earl of Witton thanked Cardinal Wolsey’s head of household, insisting he take a little bag of coppers for his trouble.

The morning after his arrival he dressed carefully, but soberly, and hailing a wherryman asked to be taken to Bolton House. The boatman nodded, and began to row upstream with the incoming tide. They were well past Richmond when the wherryman began guiding his boat towards the shore where a fine slate-roofed house of several stories, set in a garden, was situated. They drew up to a little dock, and the earl got out, tossing the wherryman a large coin.

“Shall I wait, me lord?” the wherryman asked.

Seeing the two barges tied to the other side of the dock, the earl shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I suspect my host will get me back when I need to go.” He watched as the boat moved back off, now fighting the tide as it came upriver. He walked up the carefully raked gravel path towards the house, and he was halfway there when a servant hurried forth. “I am the earl of Witton to see Lord Cambridge,” he said.

“Yes, indeed, my lord, my master is expecting you. Please come with me,” the servant said, and moved quickly up the path and into the house.

The earl followed, and was surprised to be brought into a wonderful room that appeared to run the entire length of the house. There were windows along one wall overlooking the river. The room was paneled with a coffered ceiling, and the wood floors were covered in the finest eastern carpets the earl had ever seen. At one end of the room great iron mastiffs flanked the huge fireplace where a fire roared. The fine oak furniture was polished, and there were bowls of potpourri. On a large sideboard was a silver tray with matching goblets and crystal decanters.

Suddenly a door in the paneled wall opened, and a gentleman stepped into the room. He was wearing a burgundy velvet midcalf-length coat that was obviously lined in fur. It had full puffed sleeves and black silk undersleeves edged in lace. There was a fine fur collar enclosing the neckline of the coat. “My dear lord St. Claire,” the gentleman said, extending an elegant hand with more rings than the earl had ever seen in all his life. “Welcome! Welcome! I am Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge. Please, let us sit by the fire. Are you thirsty? I have some excellent Spanish wine, but no, perhaps afterwards to toast our agreement.”

The earl took the extended hand, and was surprised by the firm handshake. Then he sat down, frankly overwhelmed by Lord Cambridge. “What agreement are we going to toast, my lord?” he managed to ask.

Thomas Bolton chuckled. “The one we make so you may have Lord Melvyn’s lands, which is what you want. In exchange you will give me what I want. It is really quite simple, my lord.”

“I do not know if I can raise more than you paid for Melville,” the earl said.

“Dear boy, the land wasn’t worth what I paid for it,” Thomas Bolton laughed.

“Then why did you offer such a ridiculous amount?” the earl asked.

“Because you wanted it, of course,” Lord Cambridge said to the surprised earl. “I am delighted that your agent was able to convince you to come. He is a good man, and serves you well, I expect. And since he returned to Brierewode, for that is the name of your estate, isn’t it, I have made some inquiries about you.”

“Have you?” the earl said weakly. This was the oddest conversation he had ever had with anyone, he thought.

“You are the fourth earl of Witton. Your family is old, and loyal to whoever is on the throne. A wise course to follow, I might add,” Lord Cambridge said, and then he continued. “You have served Henry Tudor in the capacity of ambassador and negotiator on the continent for several years. Your mother died when you were two. Your father died a year ago, which is why you came home. You have two older sisters, Marjorie and Susanna. Both are wed to respectable men, but not great names, of course, for their dower portions were modest. You are known to be an honest man, intelligent, and scrupulous in your dealings. You have never been married, or even betrothed.”

“There has been no time for it,” the earl said as if defending himself, and then he wondered why he would defend the fact he was in service to his king.

“Have I forgotten anything?” Lord Cambridge asked aloud. And then he answered himself, “No, I think not.”

The earl laughed in spite of himself. “What is it you want of me, my lord?”

“I want to give you Lord Melvyn’s lands, dear boy. Isn’t that what you want?” Thomas Bolton said, smiling at the earl of Witton.

“And what do you want in exchange, my lord?” Crispin St. Claire asked, piercing Lord Cambridge with a direct look. “What is it you want so much of me that you would pay such an exorbitant sum for Melville?”

“You need a wife, my lord earl. Are you willing to take one in exchange for Lord Melvyn’s lands? Which by coincidence now belong to my young cousin, Philippa Meredith.”

The earl of Witton was more than surprised by Lord Cambridge’s words. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it was certainly not this. Warily he asked, “What is wrong with the lass?”

“Nothing at all. She is fifteen. Fair. Intelligent. Chaste. And her dower, in addition to Melville, has both gold and silver coin, jewelry, clothing, linens, all that a young woman who is marrying is expected to have.”

“I repeat, what is wrong with her? Has she been seduced, and her reputation compromised? I will have no slut for a wife.” My God! Surely he wasn’t even considering such an outrageous proposal, but his gray eyes were thoughtful.

“Philippa Meredith is the heiress to a great estate in Cumbria. She was to wed the second son of the earl of Renfrew,” Tom began. “Unfortunately the lad decided after his time in Paris and Rome that he was more suited to the priesthood. He came home to announce this right after Philippa’s natal day. Philippa serves the queen as one of her maids of honor, and has for several years. She is pure, I guarantee you. But she is also, if I am to be honest, stubborn. She decided that Giles FitzHugh had so desperately sought to escape living at Friarsgate that he became a priest rather than wed her.”

The earl laughed again. “Poor lass,” he said. “But if she has this great estate in the north, why do you want Melville?”

“She has renounced her inheritance in Friarsgate, although her mother refuses to accept it yet. So because I adore my cousin, Rosamund, and her daughters, I looked for an estate nearer to the court for Philippa. I chose Lord Melvyn’s estate. But Philippa needs a husband. And you desire those same lands, but you cannot afford them. I see a marriage between you as a perfect solution,” Lord Cambridge said. “You have an old and respected name. Philippa has wealth. It would appear to be a perfect match. I know Rosamund and her husband, the laird of Claven’s Cam, would agree. They trust me in matters such as this.”

“The girl is half Scots? Oh, no, my friend. No!”

“Nay, the laird is Philippa’s stepfather. Her late father was Sir Owein Meredith, a knight in service to the house of Tudor since his childhood. Her mother, Rosamund Bolton, the lady of Friarsgate. King Henry VII was Rosamund’s guardian for a time. It was his mother who arranged the marriage between my cousin and Owein. My cousin is held a friend by both Queen Katherine and the Scots queen with whom she was raised. That is why Philippa has a place in the queen’s household.”

“But the girl’s family is hardly the equal of mine,” the earl said.

“No, it is not,” Lord Cambridge agreed. “Yet you have no family but two sisters, my lord. Philippa Meredith’s mother has produced seven children, of whom six live, and she is with child again even now. Think! I offer you a nubile young girl of good family, in favor with the king and queen, whose dower is rich in everything you desire.”

“It is tempting, my lord,” the earl said, “but you will understand that I am not of a mind, even in order to gain Melville, to agree easily to your proposition. I would meet your young cousin. Get to know her. We must suit, for whatever she possesses I will not have discord in my house. I want a biddable wife who will obey me.”

“I can promise you that Philippa would be a good wife, but she is intelligent, my lord, and educated as many of these young courtiers are. She will not always be agreeable to you, but then I have never known a wife who was, have you?”

“You argue your point well. I will not say nay, but neither will I say yea. Let us be introduced, and we shall see what comes of it, Lord Cambridge. Is the girl in the house now?”

“No, she is at court with her mistress,” Thomas Bolton said. “She is devoted to Queen Katherine in her service, as her father was devoted to the Tudors.”

The earl nodded. “It speaks well of your young cousin,” he said. “When then shall I meet her?”

“I have a barge at my disposal,” Lord Cambridge said. “If you do not mind waiting while I change my garments, we shall go to Richmond together, my lord. My servants will bring you something to eat. Where do you reside in London?”

“I was given a cubicle at the cardinal’s home,” he said. “But food is another matter entirely. I would welcome something to eat, but why would you change clothing? Your gown is most handsome.”

“Dear boy, I should not appear at court in my house garb!” Lord Cambridge cried. “I have a reputation to keep up, as you will soon learn. The servants will bring you food and wine while I am preparing myself. We shall talk on the way to court.” And arising from his chair Thomas Bolton retreated through the door by which he had entered the chamber, leaving his guest both slightly amused, and bemused.

The servants now entered, bringing with them a tray upon which the earl found a dish of poached eggs in a cream sauce flavored with marsala wine, a thick slice of a country-cured ham, a small cottage loaf which had obviously just come from the ovens, a crock of sweet butter, and a little dish of cherry jam. A little table was brought to him and draped with a white linen cloth. The tray was set before him. A goblet was placed at his right hand.