“I think your sister showed great bravery and intelligence, Countess,” the king said quietly. “It would have been difficult to rescue Elizabeth. By the time a barge could have been dispatched the pole-less punt would have been in the current with no means of guiding it to safety. The river is busy, and all the main shipping channels come up from the sea to the London pool here. She could have been hit by a larger vessel, thrown into the Thames in her heavy skirts, and drowned. We are fortunate indeed she is safe.”
George Boleyn dashed up now with an all-enveloping cape. Elizabeth was wrapped in it, and Flynn Stewart picked her up.
“Where shall I carry her, my lord?” he asked Lord Cambridge.
“We shall go back to my house,” Thomas Bolton said. He was somewhat astounded by what had taken place. “Follow me, sir.”
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” Elizabeth protested.
“Shut up!” Philippa spat furiously, and totally out of character. “You have already caused enough of a scene. Let us at least attempt to repair the damage. Can you not behave like a lady just once in your life, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth looked to Anne Boleyn and rolled her eyes. Mistress Boleyn winked back at her with perfect understanding.
Flynn Stewart followed Lord Cambridge, who hurried through the royal gardens and into a light wood. On the other side of the trees he came to a tall brick wall. Tom Bolton opened a small door in the barrier. Ducking his head, the Scot stepped through the door into the gardens of Lord Cambridge’s dwelling. “So you are the owner of this charming jewel box,” he said. “I have admired it often on our visits to Greenwich.”
“It suits me, as do all my dwellings,” Thomas Bolton said.
They entered the house, and the older man led his guest up two flights of stairs, Philippa following behind them, still spitting her outrage angrily.
“Ah, here is Elizabeth’s apartment.” He opened the door, calling, “Nancy, come quickly. Your mistress has had a slight mishap.”
Nancy came hurrying as Flynn Stewart set his burden on her feet.
“Mishap? You call this a mishap, Uncle?” Philippa exploded. “I call it social ruination of the worst kind! When in the history of the court did a respectable young woman take off her garments and jump into the river? Not in my lifetime, or yours!”
“Thank you, sister, I am quite all right,” Elizabeth said wickedly.
Flynn Stewart thought it wise to withdraw. He did so with a bow to the chamber’s inhabitants, feeling sympathy with them as he made his hasty escape.
The women did not notice him. Lord Cambridge nodded, and mouthed his thanks.
“It was an accident, Philippa,” Elizabeth tried to palliate her older sister. “We were going to go punting, then changed our minds. Master Stewart fell attempting to aid me in disembarking from the punt. The little boat got pushed into the river, and they all stood there staring, not knowing what to do next. I had no choice. And I certainly couldn’t have swum back to shore in all those heavy skirts. I would have drowned with the weight of them pulling me down. I’m sorry, but it is rather amusing in retrospect.”
Philippa drew a long, deep breath to calm herself. Why was it that Elizabeth could make her so angry? “If you had not been consorting with that creature and her minions, this would have never happened. And how was it that you were, I should like to know?”
“A bath, Nancy,” Elizabeth said quietly, and, nodding, the young servant hurried off to prepare the bath for her mistress.
“Well?” Philippa demanded.
“Master Stewart introduced me to Mistress Boleyn,” Elizabeth said.
“I knew I should not let you go off with that royal by-blow,” Philippa said. “I watched you until he broke his word and took you from my sight. Was it then he involved you with that creature? You cannot speak to her again, Elizabeth. Mother would be most distressed. The queen is our friend.”
“The queen is not here. Nor is she likely to be again,” Elizabeth snapped. She was wet, and she was chilled. She could smell the river on her skin, and it was not a pleasant scent at all. She stank of garbage, offal, and brackish salt water. “I like Anne Boleyn, Philippa. But more important, the king likes her.”
“’Tis a passing fancy, and that is all there is to it,” Philippa replied weakly.
“It has not passed in eight years,” Elizabeth shot back, “nor is it likely to, sister. The queen is finished unless a miracle occurs and she produces a healthy son for the king. Do you see that happening, Philippa? He does not even live with her any longer, which means he does not bed her either. I am mindful of Queen Katherine’s kindnesses to our family, but she is not here, and she is no longer in favor.”
“How can I possibly find you a good husband,” Philippa said, “if you will not behave properly? I know the queen is out of favor, but her favor was of value to us once. Without it, I am at a disadvantage, Elizabeth, yet it is my duty to help you make a proper match with the right man.”
“There is no man here at court who would suit me, Philippa. I could not keep Friarsgate as well as I do had I not learned to judge men’s character quickly. When I went into the river today the men with Mistress Boleyn just stood there gaping. Not one of them would soil his fine garments, and not one of them had the wit to remove them so they might enter the river and aid me. I saw that at once, which is why I saved myself. The Scot might have come to my rescue had he not been facedown in the muck, but he was. How could I entrust Friarsgate to men like that, sister?”
“If you will not cooperate with me,” Philippa said as if Elizabeth had not spoken, “I shall wash my hands of you for good and all.” She was near tears, for failure was not a part of her nature, and her younger sister was being so stubborn.
But Elizabeth would not give way to Philippa’s bullying. “You must do what you think best,” she said softly, “but there is no man here worth my time.”
“Then why did you come to court if you did not mean to take a husband?” Philippa demanded, now angry.
