“You will remember, Philippa, that I am Elizabeth, not Bessie. Not even our mother calls me that any longer.” She shook the dust from her burgundy velvet riding skirts. “Are we to go in? Or do you wish to remain outside so all may partake of our tender reunion? How long has it been now since we have seen each other?”
“Eight years,” Philippa snapped.
“And you are as beautiful as ever, dear girl,” Lord Cambridge said, attempting to ease the tension already building between the sisters. “How do you do it, and yet have those fine children of yours?” He kissed her on both cheeks.
“Uncle, you are ever the scamp,” Philippa replied, but she was smiling. Thomas Bolton was responsible for her happiness, and she could never forget it. She adored him, and she always had. Hopefully he could do something for her youngest sister. It was obvious that Bessie—or Elizabeth, as she now preferred to be called—was still a difficult creature.
“Thank you so much,” Lord Cambridge said as they entered Bolton House, “for meeting us in London, dear girl. I know you meant to entertain us at Brierewode, but I so feared not arriving in time to get down to Greenwich for the May celebrations. Did you bring your little daughter, my pet? Another little girl for me to spoil.” He chuckled.
“Nay, Uncle, you will have to come to Brierewode if you wish to meet this new relation of yours. I did not wish to travel with an infant and her wet nurse,” Philippa replied. “There is so much involved when one travels with children. I am going to Greenwich to enjoy May as well. Hugh Edmund was left at home too. Next year he is to go into Princess Mary’s household as a page,” she said proudly.
“And will we see the others?” Thomas Bolton asked.
“Oh, yes! We have been so fortunate in obtaining positions for Henry and Owein, Uncle. You know how important these things are if one is to advance within the court. And there is the matter of marriages to be made too. Henry, of course, will succeed his father one day, but it cannot hurt him to be well-known and respected within court circles. His brothers, of course, have not the advantage of his inheritance, which is why it is even more important that they succeed,” Philippa said. “My eldest sons are already perfect little courtiers, Uncle.”
Elizabeth, in a great show of restraint, swallowed her observation of her sister’s ambitions. Children, she believed, belonged at home with their parents. Instead she looked about her. They had been brought into a long hall with windows overlooking the river Thames. It was very beautiful. While she had not wanted to leave Friarsgate, she had to admit that she had enjoyed the trip so far. She had never been any farther than Carlisle, and then only once. The countryside and the towns they had passed through on their way south were a revelation to her. And now London. She had already decided that she didn’t like London.
“My sister is very quiet,” Philippa noted. “I hope this is not her usual manner, for the court prefers lively girls, Uncle, as you well know.”
“I think you will find I am very lively, sister, perhaps even too lively for your tastes,” Elizabeth spoke up, “but I am tired now, and wish to rest. I have also learned that it is better to observe new surroundings and get one’s bearings before leaping into the fray. I am a careful and practical creature, I fear. Do you think I shall find such a man at court to love and wed?” She was baiting Philippa, and Philippa knew it.
“You will not be an easy girl to match, Elizabeth, but we will do our very best, I promise you,” the Countess of Witton answered her sister. “But when I was the Friarsgate heiress there were none who would accept me or my northern estates. Why is it that you have not found a suitable young man near you?”
“Society in Cumbria is scant at best, as you well know, sister,” Elizabeth answered. “And when one has my responsibilities there is little time for merriment.”
“Was there not a Neville you might wed? Certainly Robert has cousins aplenty,” Philippa remarked. She had changed little over the past few years. Perhaps her waistline had thickened a trifle with her four children, but the auburn hair was as thick and rich as it had always been, and her hazel eyes were as bright with interest as they had ever been.
“I will admit that Rob dragged several of his cousins before me, but I did not find them suitable. All of them were most obvious in their desire to gain control of Friarsgate. None of them could have managed the estate or the cloth trade. And most of them had debts of one kind or another that I was not of a mind to pay to gain a husband,” Elizabeth replied. “One of them even attempted to seduce me in order to have his way.”
“You did not ever tell me that, dear girl!” Thomas Bolton exclaimed. “Dare I ask what happened to him?”
Elizabeth grinned wickedly. “Let us say it was necessary to carry the fellow from my presence. I understand he kept to his bed for several days afterwards, and then said the most unkind things about me. I was not troubled with any more Nevilles after that.”
Philippa was forced to smile at this revelation. “I am glad you are wise enough to know how to deal with a seducer, sister. You will, I fear, meet many at court interested in your wealth, but not in Friarsgate.”
William Smythe entered the hall of Bolton House in the company of another man and a boy. “Master Althorp is here, and he has brought your new wardrobe, my lord.” He stood waiting for Lord Cambridge to give his instructions.
“Take the tailor and his lad to my apartments, dear Will. I will join you shortly,” Thomas Bolton said. “And tell Nancy to unpack her mistress’s gowns. Althorp must look at them and correct any deficiencies in the fashion for us. We will be leaving for Greenwich in a few days.”
“So Uncle,” Philippa teased him as William Smythe and his companions left the hall, “you cannot resist a new wardrobe, eh?”
“My dear girl,” Thomas Bolton said, “can you imagine me appearing at court in anything less than the latest fashions? It would be absolutely unthinkable.” He chuckled. He then looked across to hall to where Elizabeth had settled herself in a window seat overlooking the river. Her blond head was nodding towards her shoulder. “Be kind, Philippa,” he said to the Countess of Witton. “It is all really a great deal for Elizabeth to take in, for she had never before left the north. You were still half-grown when you first set eyes on Londontown, dear girl. Your sister will be twenty-two next month. She is not a child, but neither is she a woman.”
“She is beautiful,” Philippa said. “The fairest of us all, I must admit. And she wears her clothing well, but I sense a deep reluctance in her to even be here, Uncle. And how will she behave at the court? She was an impetuous girl, as I recall, and one apt to say the first thing that came into her head. Things are not now as they once were.”
“Tell me,” he said quietly. “I want to hear it from you before Master Althorp begins his litany of gossip. What is happening with the king and the queen?”
“My poor lady,” Philippa began. “We all know that the king has had his little friends, but until now he has behaved in a most discreet manner. He wants his marriage declared invalid so he may wed a younger woman who will give him a son. The cardinal was his ally in this, but when he failed the king he fell from power. Everyone knew that Wolsey would eventually be destroyed. He had few friends, I fear. As much as I love Queen Katherine even I am beginning to feel she is being very stubborn in regard to this matter.”
“I understand her desire to want to protect Princess Mary’s position. To have the princess declared a bastard would ruin any chances of her making a good marriage. And the princess is an innocent party in all of this,” Lord Cambridge acknowledged. “What says Rome about the matter?”
“The pope has agreed to say that the previous pope was in error when he gave the king and the princess of Aragon, his brother’s widow, a dispensation to wed. He is willing to grant a divorce to the king which at the same time would preserve Princess Mary’s status as the king’s legitimately born daughter, and also as his heir until a male child is born.”
“’Tis quite a reasonable solution,” Lord Cambridge said. “But what arrangements will be made for the queen?”
“Under such an arrangement the queen would enter a convent to live out the remainder of her days,” Philippa explained. “But she would live out that time in the utmost comfort, for the king has said he will be most generous in the matter of her support. And she may choose her own place of refuge, either here or in Spain.”
Lord Cambridge nodded. “There is precedent for such an arrangement, and there would be no shame in her agreeing to it.”
