2

“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.