“Why?” He had piqued her interest. “Philippa says she is no better than her older sister, and that Mary Boleyn is a whore who had the king’s child.”
“I think Philippa’s words stem from her deep loyalty to Queen Katherine,” Lord Cambridge said. “And now she must avoid any show of that loyalty lest she endanger her sons’ careers. She wants everything back the way it was. But time does not stand still for any of us, Elizabeth. Philippa will have to come to terms with what is happening, and her first loyalty must be to the sovereign. And her son does serve the lady’s uncle. Now, as for Mistress Anne, I found her intelligent and, while the most fashionable woman I have ever seen, a lady I would hardly consider a coquette or a wanton.”
“But the king has a wife,” Elizabeth said.
“And no male heir,” Thomas Bolton reminded her. “And that wife is old and dried-up now, dear girl.”
“What is so wrong with a woman ruling England, Uncle?” Elizabeth demanded to know. “Is not England just a larger version of my estates? And I rule Friarsgate quite well, do I not?”
“The last woman to claim England put the country into civil war for years,” Lord Cambridge said. “A queen must have a king. Princess Mary’s husband will come from either France or Spain, and more likely Spain, if Queen Katherine has anything to say about it, which she will. Even if a female inherits, dear girl, her husband will take precedence over the land. Would you have a foreigner ruling England? Better the princess be queen of France or Spain, with a brother ruling England. But Queen Katherine cannot give the king a living son. She is incapable of giving him any child now. I do not know if you heard your sister yesterday, for it appeared you were falling asleep, but there is a reasonable solution to the problem. Unfortunately Queen Katherine will not take it. I am afraid I find that most unreasonable of her, dear girl.”
“I heard,” Elizabeth said. “It was just before I nodded off. It cannot be easy for the queen, Uncle. She loves her husband, Philippa says. She prays for him daily.”
“A most devout woman, to be sure,” Lord Cambridge agreed, “but if she did indeed love Henry Tudor she would want what is best for him. He needs a son. She cannot provide one. She should step aside. But she will not, I think, for Katherine of Aragon is a very proud lady. And for all her Christian piety she cannot help but be angry at her husband, and want to punish him for his neglect of her. What better way than to refuse his petition to dissolve their marriage so her daughter may one day inherit, and not some other woman’s son?”
“I never knew that love could be so cruel,” Elizabeth said. Then, changing the subject, she remarked, “Uncle, your garden is already filled with flowers, while at home the plants were just beginning to show faint signs of life. And your statuary is certainly quite unique.” Her hazel-green eyes twinkled.
“Italian marble,” he replied. “I had them imported years ago. In the garden at Greenwich, however, you will find both male and female figures represented.”
“When will we go to Greenwich, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked.
“In two days, dear girl. We shall go by the river with the rest of the court. I mean to send my dear Will down tomorrow to see to the opening of the house. He must take some of the servants with him to see to the cleaning and airing. You will adore Greenwich, dear girl, and my house is next to the palace. I cannot tell you how many have offered for it over the years, but I have refused. I am perfectly happy to rent it out when I do not need it, but I will keep it and one day give it to Philippa, as I will this house. Banon and I have discussed it. She does not want it, but to have a home in London and at Greenwich will mean much to the Countess of Witton and her clan.”
They walked together arm in arm in the spring sunshine as they returned to the house. The breeze off the river had a damp warmth to it.
“You are so generous to us all, Uncle,” Elizabeth said.
“I would be generous to you as well, dear girl, but there seems to be nothing I have been able to do for you. A few trinkets and escorting you to court is no more than I did for your older sisters. Yet they will inherit my properties one day, for these are things that they want. You, it would seem, want for nothing as long as you possess your beloved Friarsgate,” Lord Cambridge noted. “I find I am distraught by this knowledge.”
“Then give me something I do want, uncle,” Elizabeth said.
“What?” he asked her, curious, for of all of Rosamund’s daughters, Elizabeth was the least acquisitive.
“A favor,” she said. “There could come a time when I want something that perhaps seems wrong to everyone around me. If that time ever came then I would want your support no matter your own feelings in the matter. Please do not ask me what I want for I do not know, Uncle. But if that time ever comes, will you promise me you will stand with me?”
He thought it an odd request. What could the sensible Elizabeth Meredith ever seek to have that might gain everyone else’s disapproval? But he nodded to her. “You have my word on it, Elizabeth,” he promised her. “If the day comes that you need my support, I will give it to you no matter my own sentiments.”
“Then I am content, Uncle,” she told him.
Two days later, on the thirtieth of April, the court departed Richmond for Greenwich. Lord Cambridge’s barge came down from Bolton House on the edge of the city to join the royal party. Philippa was in her element, waving to all of her friends as they went. She was garbed in lime green, one of the new fashionable colors this year. If their barge drew next to someone she knew, she would point at Elizabeth and say, “My younger sister has come to court.” Heads would nod, and Elizabeth would acknowledge it with a nod of her own head.
The king had Mistress Boleyn with him in the royal barge. The queen had been forbidden to come to Greenwich this May. She had been sent to her favorite house at Woodstock with the few ladies she was still allowed. Without her presence the entire atmosphere of the court was lightened. Even Philippa was relieved, for it meant she would not have to choose sides this time. It was becoming more difficult to keep out of the terrible divide between the royal couple. Secretly the Countess of Witton agreed with her uncle. The queen had been offered a perfect and graceful exit with no harm to her child. Philippa didn’t understand why she would not take it. But Katherine of Aragon had been her mother’s friend, and Philippa had been in her service at one time. There was love and loyalty between her family and the queen.
“Is that the palace?” Elizabeth’s voice broke her older sister’s reverie. She gazed, impressed, at the fine brick buildings along the river.
“Aye,” Philippa said. “Lovely, isn’t it? And there is Uncle Thomas’s house nearby. There is a gate from his garden into the royal gardens. You will find it most convenient. Tomorrow is May Day, and it is the king’s favorite holiday. We will celebrate the day long, and it is just the beginning of this holiday month. We must retire early if we are to be there at the beginning of it all,” she said enthusiastically.
Their barge turned towards the shore and the stone quay that belonged to Lord Cambridge’s house. It bumped against the dock, where servants were already waiting to tie it fast. They were all helped out and began to move towards the house. Elizabeth stopped to view a statue in the garden of a young girl and a creature that seemed to be half-boy and half-goat. The creature had clasped the girl tightly to him, obviously catching her in flight. One hand clasped a round stone breast. And the creature’s male member was quite visible as it probed between the flowing draperies of the maiden’s gown from the rear. The face of the creature was avid with his lust. The girl’s mouth was open wide in a shriek.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, turning to her uncle. “Aye, these statues are quite different from the garden in London, Uncle,” she said.
“Uncle’s statuary is quite disgraceful,” Philippa said primly.
“How so, dear girl?” Thomas Bolton asked, knowing Elizabeth would have a clever answer, and enjoying the gasp of outrage from Philippa.
“The statues in your city garden are passive, while the statues here seem to be most active,” Elizabeth replied with a small smile. Then she turned to her sister. “I am not shocked, Philippa, for while I am yet a maid, I am a farmer. I have seen all of this activity in the animal kingdom, and have stumbled upon several of my people in similar situations. I think it is better to know what to expect of marriage before the fact rather than after it.” And she patted her oldest sister’s hand.
“Elizabeth! Do not say you are a farmer! You are the heiress to Friarsgate, a great northern manor, not some milkmaid!” Philippa cried.
