“Oh, Uncle, must you leave us?” Banon Meredith Neville asked him as they broke their fast in the hall. “When will you return? Jemima, stop teasing your sister!”
“My dearest girl, you know how your mother relies upon me in such matters. Elizabeth must have a husband, and seems not of a mind to find one for herself. I must drag her off to court and seek a miracle, Banon, my angel. I hope you will pray for our success.” He spooned some egg into his mouth, smiling as he tasted a hint of both chive and cheese. Then he took a swallow of his morning wine. “Your youngest sister is not an easy creature, as you well know.”
“Will you ask for Philippa’s help?” Banon queried him, her pretty face curious. “Katherine, Thomasina, Jemima, and Elizabeth, it is time for your lessons. Run along to your tutor now, and take Margaret with you. I know she is but three, but perhaps an early start will help.” Banon sighed.
“I fear I have no choice,” he answered her. “Philippa’s connections at court are impeccable, as you know.” He waved to the little girls leaving the hall, for he did love them all despite their high spirits, and his heart warmed as they blew him kisses.
“Perhaps no longer,” Banon noted. “Even here, Uncle, we get the gossip. Later than most, but eventually it comes. You know the queen is no longer in favor with the king. And he pays most public court to the younger Boleyn girl. I doubt my eldest sister approves, for like our mother her devotion to Queen Katherine is deep.”
“Indeed it is,” Lord Cambridge agreed, “but I suspect now her loyalty to her sons will be even stronger. She must look to their future, and the king will decide their fate, not the queen. Philippa may love the queen, but it is the king who wields the power, Banon. Your sister will not embrace Mistress Boleyn, but neither will she offend her.”
“Well, Uncle, you shall soon see,” Banon replied. “How long will you remain at Friarsgate, and when will you depart for court?”
“There is so much to do.” He sighed, taking a piece of fresh, warm cottage loaf and buttering it lavishly. The butter ran down his fingers as he popped it into his mouth. “Elizabeth must be reminded of her heritage and her breeding. She must begin to practice her social skills again. The court is not filled with sheep. At least not those with woolly coats,” Lord Cambridge amended. “And she will need clothing.” He licked his fingers clean of the butter. “Maybel and Edmund have little authority over her, I fear.”
“They are old, Uncle. Edmund will be seventy-one in the spring, but he is still strong enough to steward Friarsgate for Elizabeth.” Her blue eyes grew thoughtful, and her plump fingers drummed upon the tabletop. “But what will she do when Edmund cannot aid her? I do not know if my sister has even considered such a possibility. Elizabeth seems to think that nothing changes, but of course it does.”
“First things first, my angel girl. And the first thing is to recivilize your little sister, and then take her to court to show to her best advantage. There has to be one younger son of some sense who could find it in himself to live in the north. I shall track him down and get Mistress Elizabeth married properly before year’s end.” He stood up. “I must go now, Banon, if I am to reach Friarsgate by nightfall. I shall send word when I plan to return. In the meantime Otterly is yours to care for and watch over.” He kissed her cheek and gave Banon’s husband, Robert Neville, a friendly wave as he turned and departed the hall.
“Well,” Banon said, turning to her husband, “what do you think of all of this?”
“Tom knows well what he is doing,” Robert Neville said. He was a man of few words, which was fortunate, since everyone else around him had a great deal to say. And he had quickly accepted the fact that his wife ruled Otterly. It suited him, as he far preferred hunting and other gentlemanly pursuits. Leaning over he gave her a kiss on the cheek, knowing it was expected of him. Then, grinning lecherously at Banon, he remarked, “We shall have Otterly to ourselves all winter, my sweet. Only the children to consider, and the nights are yet long.”
Lord Cambridge’s party rode hard the day long, and as he had anticipated it was dusk as they came down the hills to Friarsgate. The fields about them lay fallow, the plow ruts frozen and touched with white frost. The lake had a skim of ice upon it, and already a moon was rising in the half-light to reflect itself in the frozen waters. William Smythe rode ahead to alert the house to their arrival. The cook would need to be informed, and places must be made in the stables for the horses and their riders. But stable lads were there to take Thomas Bolton’s horse and lead his men-at-arms to the stable.
The front door was flung open, and light poured forth through its opening as Elizabeth Meredith came forth to greet her uncle. “You did not wait very long after receiving my mother’s plea,” she teased him. “Or have you come to tell me you are too old to go to court? That is what Mama said.” She kissed his cheek, and then, linking her arm in his, brought him into the house and through into her hall. She was wearing a long blue wool skirt, a wide leather belt about her narrow waist, and a long-sleeved white linen shirt.
It suited her, Lord Cambridge thought. “I shall never be too old to go to court,” he replied a trifle indignantly. So Rosamund thought because he had begun his sixth decade he was not the man he had always been. Well, she would see soon enough. He would turn Elizabeth into a little princess in spite of herself. “Nor will I ever grow too old to fail Rosamund’s daughters, my pet,” he said, smiling with pleasure as she kissed his cold cheek in welcome. He plunked himself into a tapestry-backed chair by the fire and, pulling off his gloves, held his hands to the fire. “God’s wounds, ’tis cold!” he exclaimed.
“Wine for my lord!” Elizabeth shouted to her servants.
Lord Cambridge winced. “Dear child,” he pleaded, “do not call out as if you were in the taproom of a crowded inn. A lady’s voice should be gentle but firm in tone when instructing her servants.”
“Oh, lord!” Elizabeth said almost wearily. “Are my lessons to start at once?”
“Aye, they are,” he said, taking the goblet of wine from a hovering servant. “You are obviously in sore need, Elizabeth Meredith, of civilizing. And I shall not be driven off. Your mother is correct: You must have a husband. Friarsgate needs to be assured of another generation of those who love it and will care for it. I am going to turn you back into the lady you were born to be, and then, dear girl, we shall go hunt for a nice young man who will not be frightened of you, and who shall wed you and give you the sons and daughters this estate nurtures so well.” He put the goblet to his lips and drank half of the contents down. “Now what is for dinner? I have not eaten since we left Otterly, except for a wedge of hard cheese and a bit of bread. I must have a good meal if I am to take on this incredible task, dear girl.”
Elizabeth laughed aloud. “Uncle, you have not changed, and if anyone can make me presentable long enough to snag a healthy young ram to mate with, ’tis you!”
He raised a sandy-gray eyebrow. “You will have to learn to temper your speech no matter your thoughts, my pet,” he advised, and drank down the rest of his wine. This would be a herculean task indeed.
Elizabeth grinned back at him. “Well, isn’t that what we’re going to do, Uncle? Find me a mate for the purpose of getting heirs for Friarsgate?”
“You might put it a bit more delicately, dear girl, and there is always the possibility that you might fall in love,” he suggested dryly.
Elizabeth made a rude noise. “Love? No, thank you! Love weakens a body. Philippa gave up Friarsgate for love. Even Mama gave up Friarsgate for love. I shall never give up Friarsgate.”
“Ahh,” Lord Cambridge responded, “but the right man will never ask such a sacrifice of you. Your own father, who had lived all his life at court, was more than willing to come to Friarsgate, for love of your mother. And he quickly grew to love this land. And Philippa made her own decision in the matter. She did not want Friarsgate, for her passion is for the court. And your mother would have never left to live at Claven’s Carn had not you been here to accept her responsibilities as she has always accepted them. Even now she raises her sons in their father’s house as she should. You would not have had Friarsgate so soon otherwise, Elizabeth. Remember that.”
“Oh, Uncle, I doubt I will find a man who can love Friarsgate as I do! Philippa threw away her inheritance because no young man at court would have it,” Elizabeth said. She pushed a lock of her long, straight blond hair from her face. “I shall never do such a thing, I assure you.”
“Philippa was a creature of the court from the moment she first visited it when she was ten, Elizabeth. For her, Friarsgate paled in comparison after that first visit. I saw it, but your mother would not until she could no longer avoid it,” Thomas Bolton said.
“What if I find the court fascinating, and do not want to return?” she asked him.
“I doubt that will happen, my dear child,” he reassured her. “Your heart is here, and wherever your heart is, is home. Somewhere out there, Elizabeth, is a man who will make Friarsgate his home because you are here.” He patted her arm. “Now, where is my supper? I am about to swoon with hunger. And where is Will?”
“I am here, my lord,” William Smythe said, entering the hall. “I was seeing to your things. Good evening, Mistress Elizabeth.” He bowed politely.
