So Elizabeth Meredith fidgeted less at her fittings, and eventually she had a dozen beautiful gowns to take to court. And a boxful of contrasting bodices and sleeves so she might appear to have even more garments. And there were undergarments and underskirts, ribbons, embroidered girdles for her gowns, a cordeliere, a particularly fine marten skin, and other accessories necessary for a lady of the court. There were caps and headdresses and veils, as well as gloves of both silk and leather, and beautiful shoes.
While Thomas Bolton had given much jewelry to his cousin Rosamund and her two elder daughters, he had kept some back for Elizabeth. “For you, dear girl,” he said, handing her an ebony box edged in silver.
“What is this?” she asked, opening the box. “I do not wear jewelry, Uncle.”
“A lady of the court always wears jewelry, dear girl.” He lifted a strand of pale pink pearls from the box. “These belonged to my sister,” he said. “Now they are yours.” Then he showed her pear-shaped matching pearl earrings.
Much to her surprise, Elizabeth began to cry. “Uncle,” she sobbed, “I shall never forget this kindness. To think you would have saved these for me.” Her fingers lifted two more strands of pearls together. One was black and the other a creamy shade of white. They had matching earrings. There were two fine gold chains: one with a gold enameled cross, and the other of gold squares studded with blue stones he told her were called sapphires. She found a cream-colored ribbon Lord Cambridge told her was to be worn about her forehead. In the center of the ribbon was another large oval-shaped stone of pale blue. An aquamarine, he explained. There were two brooches. One was of diamonds and pearls set in gold filigree. The other of sapphires and diamonds set in Irish red gold. There were several rings for her fingers, which would be refitted if necessary.
Elizabeth closed the box finally. “I am really going to court,” she said softly.
He nodded with a small smile. “You are, dear girl,” he replied.
She sighed. “It is so difficult to watch my tongue, Uncle. If they are all like Philippa, I shall have such a hard time of it.”
“The fun of the game, dear girl,” he told her, “is in being able to outwit your opponent. Philippa will be expecting the outspoken little girl she hasn’t seen in eight years. But you are no longer that little girl. You will be a beautifully dressed and coiffed young lady. An heiress of respectable, if not grand, lineage.”
“But alas, Uncle, I am still quite outspoken, and Philippa can irritate me so.”
“I will tell you a secret, Elizabeth. She can irritate me too,” Lord Cambridge said. “But you will fool her by not giving in to your temper when she is annoying. Philippa likes her world to be an orderly one. You will surprise her greatly if you remain calm in her presence, and we can use her help in this delicate matter. Now, you cannot travel without a tiring woman, dear girl. Do you have someone here who is suitable?”
“I will ask Maybel, Uncle. She will know.”
And indeed Maybel did have a serving woman in mind. “No young and flighty lass for you, Mistress Elizabeth. Nancy is who I have in mind. A sensible woman is Nancy. And she knows how to do hair nice. You know her, my lord.”
“The creature is terrifying,” Thomas Bolton said. “She has a face like a hawk. Will she appreciated being uprooted and dragged to London, and Greenwich, and probably Windsor? She doesn’t have an adventurous look to me. I want no one accompanying Elizabeth who will grumble and grouse at every turn.”
“Not old Nancy, my lord. Young Nancy, her daughter,” Maybel said, chuckling. “Her face is more like a ewe sheep’s. She’s just two years older than Mistress Elizabeth.”
“And not married?” Lord Cambridge was surprised. Country girls married young as a rule, and had a houseful of children aging them long before their time.
“Left at the altar, she was, by a shepherd lad who run off with a Gypsy girl,” Maybel said disapprovingly. “She needs to get away from Friarsgate, if only for a short time, my lord. Like Mistress Elizabeth she knows nothing of the world outside of Friarsgate. If she did it might help ease her sorrow. And when she comes home there is a fine widower with but one little boy who would gladly have her to wife. He does not think now is the time to ask her. He’s a better match for her, I can tell you.”
“It’s Ned, the blacksmith, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said, grinning.
“Now you just mind your beeswax, Mistress Elizabeth,” Maybel said sternly.
“It’s Ned,” Elizabeth replied, turning to her uncle and Will Smythe. “He lost his wife almost a year ago in childbirth. One of his married sisters is nursing his son along with her child. So he likes young Nancy, does he? Does she know?”
“Of course she knows, but she’s so set on bemoaning her loss of the shepherd she can’t be bothered. I’ve trained her myself to be a lady’s maid for the day when you should need one, Mistress Elizabeth. As I said, she’s good with hair, and she is clever with her needle.”
“Is she pleasant?” Lord Cambridge asked.
“Sweet as honey is Nancy, but not as wise as she ought to be,” Maybel answered him frankly. “She’s just what Mistress Elizabeth needs, and is looking forward to serving her. Now shall I tell her it’s time to begin her service?”
Elizabeth turned to her uncle. “What think you?”
“It is still some weeks before we must leave,” Thomas Bolton said. “It is probably wise for the girl to begin serving you now so you may both get used to each other. You must have a woman servant, dear girl. All fine ladies do.”
Elizabeth looked to Maybel. “Tell Nancy I’ll have her then,” she said to the older woman. “But she must have her own chamber. I will have no one sleeping in my room, and particularly not at the foot of my bed on a trundle.”
“’Tis no problem here, although it may be on the road, my child,” Maybel said.
“There are more fine inns now, Maybel, than in the days you went to court with Rosamund,” Lord Cambridge said. “I shall send ahead before we depart, and book our accommodations. There may be a time, Elizabeth, when you and Nancy will share a bed, but I shall try to avoid it for your sake, dear girl. And, of course, in my houses there will be no difficulty.” He smiled broadly. “Just a few more weeks and we shall begin our adventure, my pet. Your wardrobe is almost finished, and you will take the court by storm with your fair beauty.”
“I am not beautiful, Uncle,” Elizabeth replied.
Lord Cambridge looked startled by her words. “Not beautiful?” he cried, his hand going to his heart. “My darling Elizabeth Julia Anne Meredith! Why, you are the loveliest of Rosamund’s three daughters with your pale golden hair and hazel-green eyes. Such coloring is quite unique at the court. My hope for you is that your beauty will overcome any prejudice toward your northern estates. Your features are even, your teeth are white, and your breath sweet. You will be very sought after, for you are indeed beautiful, Elizabeth.”
