Until You

Chapter 16

Rosamund awoke to hear the birds singing in Tom’s garden. A warm breeze blew through the windows. She yawned and stretched her limbs. Turning her head, she looked through the half-open door in the paneled wall. Philippa was still sleeping. Poor child, Rosamund thought. It had been a long and hard trip for her, but she had never once complained. The return home was always easier, Rosamund considered. She threw back the coverlet on her bed and arose, then pulled the chamber pot from beneath her bed, used it, leaving it for Lucy to empty. Then she went to the windows and leaned out, sniffing the air, which smelled so different from country air. There was more traffic on the river than she had remembered. The two barges made fast to the quay bobbed in the morning sunlight. She turned back into her bedchamber, went to the door of her daughter’s room, and closed it softly.

“Good morning, my lady,” Lucy said, coming in with a tray for her mistress. She set the tray down on the table near the fireplace.

“Good morning,” Rosamund responded. “Philippa is still sleeping. Let her be until she awakens naturally.”

“Yes, my lady,” Lucy responded. “Now, come and eat. It is past eight o’clock, and you have not much time if you are to be at Westminster on time.”

Rosamund sat down at the table. “Nay,” she agreed. “It would not do for me to be late. Is Lord Cambridge up yet?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. And he is already driving his man to distraction with all his fussing about what he will wear today. He wished to know what you will wear.”

“What did you choose, Lucy?” Rosamund asked her tiring woman.

“Well, my lady, considering your position right now, I thought it best to err on the side of flattery when you go to reacquaint yourself with the queen. I chose a gown of Tudor green for you,” Lucy said. “It is a simple garment, modest in its design, for you do not wish to appear ostentatious.”

“I was not aware I had a gown of Tudor green,” Rosamund said slowly.

“It is one that was made for you in San Lorenzo. I remade it with a more suitable neckline and sleeves,” Lucy informed her mistress. “Let me show you.” The tiring woman hurried from the bedchamber to return a moment later with the gown. She spread it out for her mistress to view.

Rosamund would not have recognized it for one of the dresses that Celestina had made her but for the paneled underskirt with its delicate windflower and butterfly embroidery in silver matte threads. Gone was the bodice with the deeply scooped neckline, and billowy sheer silk sleeves. In its place was a bodice with a square-cut neckline, the sleeves now tight at the wrist with silver embroidery and covered by wide new sleeves of the same silk brocade as the gown, with large turned-back cuffs. It was a gown made to suit the height of fashion.

“You did this?” Rosamund was very surprised.

“Yes, my lady,” Lucy said, blushing with pride.

“You are extraordinarily skilled with your needle, Lucy,” her mistress said. “Thank you, for you have rendered a gown otherwise unsuitable for England most suitable. Go and tell Lord Cambridge’s man that I shall be wearing Tudor green.”

Lucy colored, pleased by her mistress’ compliments. “I’ll be but a moment, my lady, and then we must get you dressed,” she said.

Rosamund sat down at her breakfast table. The cook had sent her a dish of eggs poached in a cream sauce flavored with nutmeg; fresh bread; butter; jam; and a mug of cold, sharp ale. Finding she was hungry, Rosamund ate it all and drained her mug. Lucy was already back, moving about her bedchamber and laying out petticoats and stockings, shoes and jewelry. She brought her mistress a bowl of warm water and a small cloth. Rosamund washed her face and hands. Then she scrubbed her teeth with the cloth and a mixture of pumice and ground mint. She was proud of her teeth, for unlike many others, she had them all, and they were white and even. She donned her stockings, petticoats, and chemise. Next came her bodice with its beautiful sleeves. Now Rosamund sat down so Lucy might dress her hair properly.

The tiring woman brushed her mistress’ long auburn hair free of tangles. It shone with rich color. Lucy thought it a shame that Rosamund’s hair must be hidden beneath a cap and a veil, but that was the custom of the court. She parted the hair in the middle, gave it a final brush, and then set a green silk French hood trimmed with pearls on Rosamund’s head back just enough so that some of her beautiful hair would show. A sheer white silk veil was attached to the French hood. “I don’t like these caps and veils,” Lucy said. “You have such beautiful hair, my lady.”

“ ’Tis the fashion, and we must follow it,” Rosamund replied.

Lucy set a shakefold on the floor for her mistress to step into and then drew the hooplike contraption up. She then carefully lowered Rosamund’s brocade skirts over her head, careful not to jostle the French hood. They settled over the hooplike shakefold, giving the garment a graceful look. The tiring woman quickly fastened the skirts. “There,” she said. “You look most proper, my lady. Let me get your jewelry case.”

Rosamund chose a heavy gold chain of square links from which hung a gold and pearl crucifix. She also slipped a long rope of pearls about her slender neck and several rings upon the fingers of both hands. Thanks to her cousin she had a fine collection of jewelry now. She was no longer the little girl who had first come to court. She was the lady of Friarsgate, a woman of property and some small wealth.

“You’ll need no cape, my lady,” Lucy informed her. “The day promises to be warm and fair.”

“Mama?” Philippa stood in the doorway to her little chamber. “Are you going to court now? Oh, how beautiful you look! I have never seen you in so fine a gown.”

“I was going to wake you before I left,” Rosamund told the little girl. “You slept most soundly.”

“Aye. I was tired. I did not know London was so very far from Friarsgate. Edinburgh is not as far,” Philippa said.

Rosamund laughed. “I remember making the trip the first time when I was thirteen. I thought we would never get here. Your father had been sent to escort me, and he was very entertaining, so I did not get discouraged or bored. Especially as it was the first time I had ever been away from my home overnight.”

“Papa was always a great deal of fun,” Philippa agreed. “I do miss him.”

Rosamund nodded, thinking how much more simple her life would have been if Owein had not died. But then she should never have known her cousin Tom, or Patrick Leslie. Everything, she was beginning to realize, happened for a reason. “Although the queen has sent word that I am welcome and she wishes to see me, Philippa, her day is always a busy one. I may not be recognized until late in the day, and so I might not be home until long after dark. Lucy will be with you, and you know your uncle’s servants, as they have come from Otterly,” Rosamund explained to her daughter. “I want you to rest and enjoy the garden.”

“Yes, mama,” Philippa said dutifully.

Rosamund bent and kissed her daughter’s brow. “Tomorrow I hope to bring you to court to meet the queen and mayhap even the king.” Then she turned and hurried from the room and downstairs, where she found her cousin awaiting her.

“Come, dear girl, or we shall be late!” he admonished her.

“Shall we each take our own barge?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he agreed. “We are back at court, and who knows when either of us shall be willing to come home.” Then he chuckled mischievously as he escorted her from the house and down to where the two little vessels waited, bobbing in the morning sun.

“Wait for me if you get there first,” she implored him. “I would go in on your arm, cousin.”

“Of course, dear girl!” he assured her, helping her down into her own watercraft.

Rosamund settled herself, bidding her two rowers a good morning. They returned her greeting and then, loosing the little vessel from the quay, they maneuvered out into the broad channel of the river and began their trip downstream to Westminster Palace. Both barges moved in tandem so that they arrived at the king’s current residence together. Lord Cambridge was on the royal quay in time to help his cousin from her transport. Together they entered the palace, and as both had been there before, there was no need to ask for directions to the queen’s apartments.

Upon reaching it, Lord Cambridge said to one of the guardsmen at the door, “Lady Rosamund Bolton is expected by the queen.” Then, kissing his cousin on the cheek, he told her, “I’m off to find some of my former playmates, dear girl. You can seek me if you truly desire to find me.” Then, with a wink, he was gone.

The guardsman opened one of the tall double doors for Rosamund, and she stepped through into the queen’s apartments. It was, as usual, filled with chattering women. At first Rosamund saw no one with whom she was familiar. Then a woman servant of the queen’s, a Mistress Drum, hurried over to her.

“Lady Rosamund of Friarsgate, is it?” she said.

“Yes,” Rosamund replied. “How nice to see you once again, Mistress Drum. Will you tell the queen I have come?”

“Yes, my lady. You may wait here among the magpies.” Mistress Drum bustled off across the chamber.

Rosamund chuckled. It was an apt description for all the women gathered in the queen’s antechamber. She waited for some minutes and then Mistress Drum returned.

“Her highness cannot see you now, my lady, but she says you are to remain here awaiting her pleasure,” Mistress Drum reported.

“Here in the palace?” Rosamund queried politely.

“Nay. Here in her antechamber,” Mistress Drum said apologetically. She glanced about the room. “Ah,” she said, “I see a comfortable chair there for you, my lady,” and she led Rosamund over to it. Then, with a sympathetic smile, she hurried off.

Rosamund sat down. She had no other choice. And then she waited. And she waited. The hour for the main meal of the day came, and the queen and her ladies glided through the antechamber on their way to the Great Hall. Rosamund stood up as the queen came into the room, but passing her by, Katherine of Aragon gave no indication that she even saw her old friend waiting. She exited her apartments. Rosamund sat back down. She had not been invited to the meal and therefore could not go. The antechamber was empty now even of maidservants, and it remained empty for the next few hours while Rosamund continued to wait. Once, she got up and went to the necessary, returning quickly lest she be found gone. She could see the progress of the day into early evening through the windows of the queen’s antechamber. The long twilight deepened into night, and Rosamund remained seated. Finally the door to the room opened, and Mistress Drum came back in, the look on her face a surprised one, for she had not expected to see Rosamund still there.

“You are still here, my lady?”

“I think perhaps the queen has forgotten me,” Rosamund replied quietly.

“I shall find her at once and tell her you are still here,” the servant said, obviously distressed that Rosamund had waited all day. She departed the chamber, and when she returned she wore an even more distressed look upon her face. “I am sorry, my lady. The queen says you are to go home and return tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mistress Drum. Please tell her highness that I shall return and wait upon her pleasure tomorrow,” Rosamund said, rising, shaking her skirts, and leaving the antechamber of the queen’s apartments. She could feel her anger rising, and she needed to leave the palace as quickly as possible. What was the matter with Kate that she had been treated in such an unkind fashion? She had been sitting all day, alone most of the time. No one had spoken to her. She had been offered no refreshment, and then she had been summarily dismissed. Well, tomorrow she would find out what it was all about.

But when Rosamund returned the next day, and the next, she was treated in the same fashion. She was made to wait the day alone, without so much as a cup of water. Then she was sent home without any apology.

On the fourth morning when she arrived at Westminster, Mistress Drum greeted her with an encouraging smile. “She has said she will see you today, my lady,” the servant informed Rosamund.

Then she lowered her voice. “I’ve been with her for years, and I’ve never seen her be so unkind to an old friend.”

“It’s all right, Mistress Drum,” Rosamund replied softly. “It isn’t always easy being a queen.”

Mistress Drum nodded her head in agreement. “ ’Tis the lack of a child that troubles her muchly. And her so devout and faithful, too.”

“God will work his miracles in his own time,” Rosamund said.

“Amen!” The servant crossed herself, then she said, “You’ll have to wait again, but it will be sometime today. I promise.”

So Rosamund sat down in her chair to wonder again why the queen was being so rude. It was not like Kate. As loyal as she was to her queen, Rosamund considered that she could be home now doing many other things. It was a long and arduous journey from Friarsgate. And then, too, there was Logan whom she had promised to allow to court her. Did she really want him do so? Why was everyone so determined she remarry? How could she give herself to any man after Patrick Leslie? She let her mind wander back to their sojourn in San Lorenzo. It had been the most perfect time in her life, and she doubted anything could ever be as wonderful as those months she had had with him there and at Friarsgate. It had been a perfect dream.

The morning passed. The queen and her ladies departed for the main meal of the day. Rosamund continued to wait. And then, in late afternoon, the door to the queen’s antechamber opened, and Katherine of Aragon entered the room. She looked directly at Rosamund and said, “Come!” Rosamund jumped up and followed her old friend into her privy chamber.

The queen whirled about and said in a cold voice, “How dare you ignore my summons of a year ago, Rosamund Bolton!”

“I did not, your highness,” Rosamund protested. “I was not at Friarsgate when your invitation came. I was in Edinburgh, where I had gone to be married.”

“And did you marry?” the queen asked. Her dark eyes were unreadable.

“Nay,” Rosamund said softly.

“Why not?” The question was snapped like a whip crack.

“When I arrived, Lord Leslie had suffered a seizure of the brain. I spent over a month nursing him, but his memory only partly returned. He recalled nothing of the past two years. He did not remember me. We could hardly wed under the circumstances.”

“Perhaps he had just changed his mind, and the illness was his excuse to avoid marriage with you,” the queen said cruelly. It seemed she wanted to hurt Rosamund.

Tears, unbidden, slid down Rosamund’s pale cheeks. “If you had seen him, Kate, if you knew him, you would understand why such a thing was not possible.”

“I have not given you permission to use my Christian name,” the queen said.

“I beg your highness’ pardon,” Rosamund responded.

“Was this the same man with whom you whored in San Lorenzo?” the queen queried.

“Yes,” Rosamund said without hesitation. There could be no convincing the queen of their love. Katherine was too devout a woman to comprehend that kind of passion.

“You have no shame, do you?” the queen said. “I should have never thought that you had the soul of a born whore when we knew each other as girls, Rosamund Bolton.”

Rosamund did not answer. Even though they were alone, it would do no good. She quietly accepted the insult. The queen would not remain angry forever.

“Did you enjoy whoring with my husband?” the queen suddenly demanded.

“What?” Rosamund was staggered by the queen’s accusation, but no matter what happened she would never admit to Katherine of Aragon of her brief affair with the king. It had been a private matter, and few knew of it.

“Do you deny that you were my husband’s whore when you last came to court?” the queen said furiously.

“Yes!” Rosamund cried. “I most certainly do deny it! How could you even think such a thing of me, K-your highness?”

“I have it on the best authority,” the queen replied stonily.

“Whoever has told you this lied,” Rosamund declared indignantly. But she knew who had told the queen, and the bitch would regret it.

“Why would a friend to me since my childhood, a countrywoman, lie to me, Rosamund Bolton?” Katherine said.

There was nothing for it, Rosamund thought. She must take the bull by its horns now and reassure the queen, regain her friendship for Philippa’s sake. “I think I know who has told you this terrible untruth, your highness. I know she believed what she thought she saw, and though I swore on the Blessed Virgin it was not so, she said she would tell you. I begged her not to, for your sake, your highness.”

“Inez would not lie to me,” the queen responded, now sounding a bit unsure. Inez was an old friend, but then Rosamund had helped her in her darkest hour. “Why would she lie to me?”

“Because Inez thought it was the king with me that night. It wasn’t. It was Charles Brandon. We had had a harmless little flirtation, and I was departing the next day. We met to kiss and cuddle. That was all. There was nothing more serious than that, your highness. In the darkness of the hallway Inez mistook Charles Brandon for the king. I could not convince her otherwise, though I certainly tried. You know yourself that they are often mistaken for each other at a distance. I begged Inez not to distress you with her groundless suspicions. She was insulting to me and now attempts to embarrass me publicly with her evil and slanderous tongue!” Rosamund sounded properly indignant.

“I want to believe you,” Katherine said slowly.

“Madame, I would have you believe me, but whether you do or not, my conscience is clear,” Rosamund swore, thinking as she did, I am surely damned now.

“I thought you ignored my summons last year because you were ashamed to face me,” the queen told her.

“I returned from Edinburgh brokenhearted, your highness. I threw myself back into Friarsgate and its care. I nurtured my daughters and oversaw their education. I prayed for Lord Leslie. I could not face the world. And then the Scots marched into England, and we were at war. I dared not leave Friarsgate then. I had to remain to defend my home from the ravages of the intruders. But we were, thank the Blessed Mother, kept safe.” She crossed herself.

The queen sighed. “Inez can be impetuous, and she is very stubborn when she takes a position,” Katherine reasoned.

“I remember,” Rosamund said, and she smiled a small smile.

“I am of a mind to believe you, Rosamund Bolton,” the queen told her.

“I would be most grateful if you did, your highness. If you remain angry at me you will not receive my eldest daughter, Philippa. I have brought her with me to meet you. She is ten years old, and in another two years I must seek a good husband for her. I thought it was time she gained a bit of polish.”

“Oh!” the queen exclaimed excitedly. “I remember when your daughter was born. Is it really that long ago? It must be if you say it is. What is she like, Rosamund?”

“She looks like me,” Rosamund answered the queen. “But I am told she is very much like her great-grandmother, a practical woman of strong common sense. She is very excited about meeting you and perhaps even meeting his majesty.”

Katherine of Aragon held out her hand to Rosamund. “Kiss my ring, Rosamund Bolton. I will forgive you,” she said. And when Rosamund obeyed, the queen kissed her on both cheeks. “We are friends again,” the queen said. “Bring your daughter with you tomorrow. I will tell Inez that she was indeed mistaken. I have treated you harshly, Rosamund, and I now regret it.”

“Your highness is a busy woman. I was content to wait for your notice,” Rosamund murmured, curtsying. She was amazed that she had not been struck down in the good queen’s presence by her great lie. Still, she had lied to protect the queen’s heart as much as to protect her own reputation. Perhaps it was not so terrible a lie, and for some reason the memory of the king’s grandmother, the Venerable Margaret, as she had been known, popped into her head. Rosamund knew that that good lady would not have approved her affair, but she would have thoroughly approved the lie to protect Katherine, the queen. In order to produce an heir, the queen must be happy with her spouse. And she must be content with her life and those around her.

“You may join your cousin in the Great Hall now,” the queen said. “We shall be here at Westminster for only another couple of days. The weather grows too warm for London, and plague does tend to arise here in the summer months. We are decamping for Windsor. The king does enjoy Windsor in the summertime. You will remain with us, of course.”

“I am honored to be asked,” Rosamund said. “But, dear highness, remember that I am necessary to Friarsgate. My bailiff uncle grows old, and all my daughters need me. I would hope when you prepare to move on from Windsor I may be permitted to return home again.”

“Should we choose a husband for you, Rosamund Bolton, while you are with us?” the queen wondered aloud. “You should have a husband.”

“I do not disagree, madame, but remember that the Venerable Margaret said a woman must wed first for her family and then was permitted to marry for herself. A nearby neighbor has expressed an interest in courting me.

We have been known to each other since I was six years old. When I was widowed before, he sought my hand, but I had already been promised to Owein Meredith,” Rosamund explained smoothly. The one thing she did not need, or want, was another husband chosen for her. And there was no need for the queen to know her “neighbor” was a Scot.

“Oh, how exciting!” trilled the queen, smiling. “Is he handsome?”

“I suppose some would say it, but his best feature is very, very blue eyes,” Rosamund answered, returning the smile.

The queen nodded. “A man with blue eyes is difficult to resist,” she agreed. “The king has blue eyes.”

“Yes, I recall,” Rosamund murmured, not wanting to get any further into a conversation regarding Henry Tudor. She curtsied again, saying as she did, “With your highness’ permission, I will go and seek out my cousin now.”

“Of course,” Katherine replied graciously. “You may give him my regards. I have seen him in the Great Hall these past nights but have had no opportunity to speak with him. A most amusing gentleman. Did I hear he had sold his estates in the south and moved north to Cumbria to be near your family?”

“Indeed, madame, he did,” Rosamund replied. “It is comforting to have him nearby. Family is so important.”

The queen nodded in agreement, and taking this as her cue, Rosamund curtsied once again, backing out through the door between the queen’s privy chamber and the anteroom. That room was once again filled with chattering women, and as she crossed it, her eye caught that of Inez de Salinas. Rosamund smiled sweetly at her, nodding in a friendly fashion, restraining the laughter that threatened to burst forth from her at the look of surprise on the Spanish woman’s face. Then she hurried to the Great Hall, where she found Tom dicing with some gentlemen. Seeing her, he murmured something to his companions, gathered his winnings, and joined her. Together they sought a secluded spot where they might talk without being overheard.

“She has seen you.” It was a statement, not a question. “What excuse did she give for keeping you waiting for four days after demanding you come down from Friarsgate?” he asked.

“Inez,” was all Rosamund said.

“What?” For a moment he looked puzzled, but then, as she explained, it all became clear to Lord Cambridge again.

“Remember the night we left the summer progress several years ago to return home to Cumbria? Remember what she saw, and how I denied it, naming another gentleman? She did not believe me, but I did think I had prevailed upon her to be silent. She was not. She ran rumormongering to the queen,” Rosamund said.

“And what did you do?” he asked her.

“I denied it, of course. I will always deny it, Tom. I was vulnerable. He was all-powerful. I could not refuse. It was a supreme moment of weakness, and I not only regret it, but I am ashamed it ever happened, though at the time it was exciting even if it was forbidden. I will always deny it, for I should never deliberately harm Kate. She is too important to England. And he will certainly never admit to it, even to his confessor, I suspect. He believes too strongly in his divine right.” Rosamund smiled mischievously.

“And she believed you?” He was anxious for her.

“She wants to believe me,” Rosamund replied, “but she will always be suspicious, for that is her nature and Inez has played on it. But I have been no less duplicitous, for I have played on her desire to retain our long-standing friendship. She can never forget what Owein and I did for her when she was in such dire straits.”

“We must help her believe you over Inez,” Lord Cambridge said.

“We must leave the issue alone,” Rosamund said. “She has agreed to receive Philippa tomorrow.”

“Nay. It will but take one small thing to make your lie more palatable to accept than Inez de Salinas’ truth,” he told her. “Trust me in this matter, cousin.”

“I am told the court is moving to Windsor shortly,” Rosamund said, attempting to turn the subject. “Did you know? Do you perchance have a house in Windsor, cousin?” she teased him.

He laughed. “Nay, but I knew, and so I have reserved an entire floor of one of the town’s finer inns for us. We shall not be sleeping in a hayrick, my dear girl.”

The day moved into the summer twilight, and the Great Hall began to fill with courtiers. The women Rosamund had known casually during her last stay at court now approached her and greeted her as if it were her first day back with them. Rosamund was gracious, but amused. It was obvious that her censure had now been officially lifted. Inez de Salinas was not among these women.

And then suddenly Charles Brandon approached her, smiling toothily. “My dear Rosamund,” he purred like a large tomcat anticipating a meal of finch, “how delightful to see you returned to court.” He lifted her hand, his gaze meeting her own startled one, and kissed it, retaining it afterwards and tucking it through his arm. “Come, my lovely, and let us speak of old times.” And he led her off, murmuring as he did, “Try not to look so surprised, my pet. After all, am I not an old lover?”

Rosamund looked up into the handsome face, and her laugh tinkled loudly enough for the ladies left behind to hear it. But then she said, “My lord, please explain yourself.”

“Your little prevarication must be made real to those who would gossip unkindly, should it not, Rosamund Bolton?” His dark eyes scanned her face. “Aye, you are very lovely. What a pity you insist on sequestering yourself in the north.”

“I still do not understand, my lord,” she told him.

“I knew years ago, just after you had gone,” he said. “The king’s Walter told me what had happened and requested that if ever asked, I confirm your lie. But no one ever asked until tonight, when Walter once again approached me. He said this little charade would be necessary to convince a certain lady.”

“But she was nowhere near us,” Rosamund replied.

“Trust me, dear lady,” he told her. “The little incident is already being reported to her as we speak together. You were surrounded by her minions, were you not?”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, then, Charles Brandon,” Rosamund said quietly.

“Nay, madame, ’twas I who owed you. But now my debt is paid in full, I believe,” he said to her.

“How is it you owe me a debt?” Rosamund asked.

“When you were a girl first at court in the Venerable Margaret’s care, God assoil her good soul”-he crossed himself-“there was a plot devised that Prince Henry seduce you. Perhaps you will remember it. Though I did advise against it, I held the wagers.”

“I remember,” Rosamund told him. “And I agree that we are now even, my lord.” She chuckled softly. “I remember that my husband insisted you turn over the wagers to the king’s mother for charitable purposes. Richard Neville was very angry.”

“Did you tell his father, as you had threatened?” Brandon asked her.

“Nay, but I refused to sell him warhorses after that,” she said with a grin. “The horses Owein raised and trained were most prized.”

He laughed. “You may be a country lass, madame, but you were always a very clever one. I believe we have now satisfied whatever curiosity there was about the gossip bruited about by Senora de Salinas.” He raised Rosamund’s hand to his lips once more. “Good evening, madame,” he said, and with a bow, he permitted her to move away from him first before he turned to find and rejoin his own friends.

In an instant, Lord Cambridge was at her side. “My dear girl, what was that all about?”

“You spoke to the king’s man Walter, did you not, Tom?” Rosamund queried him. “I am very much in your debt, cousin, for it.”

“I thought it the best way to stem any gossip and defeat Inez de Salinas’ wicked tongue,” he told her. “I know you like fighting your own battles, Rosamund, but this was one engagement I felt must be won immediately for Philippa’s sake.”

Rosamund leaned over and kissed her cousin on the cheek. “Aye, Tom, you were right,” Rosamund agreed. Then she sighed. “May we go home now? I want to tell Philippa that she is to meet the queen tomorrow.”

“First you must pay your respects to his majesty,” Tom advised her. “Now that you have the queen’s forgiveness and friendship again, he will know it and expect you to come to him.”

Rosamund sighed again. “Very well. But come with me, Tom. I cannot face Hal by myself. Especially after what has transpired in the last few hours.”

“I watched Brandon,” he told her. “I thought he played his part quite nicely, my dear girl. A former lover, hopeful of rekindling an old friendship. And you were perfect. Surprised he would approach you, but charming even as you rejected his advances. It was well played out, cousin.”

“I have taken part in enough court masques to know how to act my part, Tom,” she told him with a wicked smile. “Come along, now, and let us greet the king.”

They made their way through the Great Hall arm in arm. Reaching the foot of the dais upon which the king’s throne was set, Rosamund curtsied deeply and her cousin bowed with his usual elegant flourish.

Henry Tudor viewed them through his small blue eyes. She was lovelier than ever, he thought. He considered another liaison with her, but then recalled that they had barely escaped exposure the last time. Only her quick wit had saved them. But Inez de Salinas had attempted to make difficulties with Rosamund’s return. She was foiled again by the lady of Friarsgate, and he had seen Charles Brandon play his part in the charade. The queen was now fully convinced Inez had been mistaken, but Inez was too stubborn, or proud, to admit to her error. The woman would have to go back to Spain shortly with her merchant husband. He could not have Katherine distressed.

“You are welcome back to our court, Lady Rosamund,” he said.

“I thank you, your majesty,” she replied. Then Rosamund curtsied again and backed away from the foot of the throne with her cousin.

The king turned to speak with the queen as the lady of Friarsgate and her cousin disappeared into the crowd. “My dear wife,” he said quietly, “I think Maria’s sister must leave us soon.”

The queen nodded. “As much as I regret losing another old friend, my dear husband, I believe you are correct. Inez has grown troublesome as she has grown older.”

“You will see to it, then, Kate?” he asked.

“I will, Henry,” she promised. Then she said, “Rosamund has brought her heiress to court. The little girl is ten now, and Rosamund would have her presented to us. I have invited them for tomorrow, Henry. Will you receive the child, too?”

“Of course, Kate,” he told her with a smile.

Having paid their respects to the king and the queen, Rosamund and Tom departed Westminster in their separate barges to return home to Bolton House. The night had already fallen, but the moon silvered the Thames River as they went. Philippa was already abed when they arrived, and Rosamund let her daughter sleep. She knew the girl would not be able to go back to sleep on learning she was to go to court the following day to meet Great Harry and Spanish Kate. The morning would be time enough. Philippa was more than ready, and so was her wardrobe.

Rosamund prepared for bed; then after dismissing Lucy, she sat down in the window seat in her bedchamber that overlooked the gardens and the river below. Contemplating her day, she realized again that the court was a dangerous place. I should far rather face a pack of rampaging borderers, she thought, than have to spend my life dealing with those people. Life at Friarsgate was far simpler. Everything was as it seemed. Poor Inez de Salinas would suffer the deceptions that had been played upon her this night because they all sought to protect Katherine of Aragon from heartbreak. Inez had once been her friend. But in a moment’s time that all changed.

Inez would be disgraced. Rosamund knew that wasn’t fair, but if she had admitted to her indiscretion with the king several years back, Rosamund would have suffered far greater difficulties. Inez, in her great desire to protect her mistress, would be penalized only for allowing her imagination to get away from her and persisting in it. It was no great crime, but it was an annoyance neither the king nor the queen wanted to be bothered by any longer. Inez had outlived her usefulness. Had it been known, however, that Henry Tudor and Rosamund Bolton had indulged their passionate natures in a brief affair, Rosamund would have not only lost the queen’s friendship and patronage, but the king’s, as well. Henry did not want to flaunt his mistresses. Discretion was the key to success with England’s king. And Rosamund had not fought so long and so hard to protect Friarsgate, impeded by her very sex, to lose it and the king’s friendship, which was in the end more valuable than the queen’s.

No, she thought to herself. I do not like court. Nor do I like the person I become when I visit the court. Everything I do is controlled of necessity by others. I have always hated other people running my life. We will go home as soon as we can. Perhaps we will not even wait for the summer to end. Once Philippa has met the king and the queen, is there any reason for us to stay? There was, and she knew it. Rosamund had made her peace with Queen Katherine, but she had yet to make it with the king. He had not cajoled his wife into asking Rosamund to court simply for social reasons. Lord Howard had obviously said something to the king. She thought she had seen him briefly tonight in the Great Hall, but she was not certain of it, and if it was he, he had not noticed her.

The river outside lay quiet in the time between the two tides. The water looked like a sheet of beaten silver. There was no traffic to mar its surface now, for it was very late. There was the scent of roses and honeysuckle from Tom’s garden. It wafted into her bedchamber on the faintest of breezes. It was a night for lovers, Rosamund thought to herself. Patrick. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, but the tears still pushed from beneath her lashes and slipped down her cheeks. She sighed, resigned, and brushed the tears away with her hand. The last time she remembered a night like this, he had been with her. He would never be with her again. She knew it. But still her heart had great difficulty accepting the knowledge. But I have to accept it. When I return home, Logan Hepburn will come courting, and this time I must either accept him or send him away forever. I am not certain I want to lose Logan’s friendship, but I am also not certain I want another husband. Rosamund arose from her place by the window and found her bed. She knew she would be awake all night if she didn’t quiet her mind.

In the morning Philippa came from her little bedchamber and climbed into her mother’s bed. “Good morrow, mama,” she greeted her parent.

Rosamund opened her eyes, and drawing her daughter near, kissed her cheek. “You are going to court today, Mistress Philippa,” she said, laughing aloud at the look of delight that suddenly appeared on her daughter’s face.

“Today?” Philippa squealed excitedly. “You spoke with the queen yesterday? Oh, mama, why did you not wake me last night when you came home?”

“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, washing her hair again and drying it in the open air as she sat in the window seat of her mother’s chamber, brushing 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 slashings 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 tassel, 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 fashion. It was edged in pleated linen. Lucy also wore a lace-edged lawn apron 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 spacious 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 fashionable court ladies wear a multitude 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 assembled to watch the king and the queen break their fast after the first mass 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 noble 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 title 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.