“I overhead the king saying his wife was inviting the lady of Friarsgate to court. I immediately asked his highness, or his majesty, as he now prefers to be styled, and most recherché, I think, if the lady was a Bolton by birth, and this Friarsgate was in Cumbria. When he answered aye to both of my questions, I explained that I was your most distant cousin. When the queen learned of it, and of my curiosity about Friarsgate, she assigned me the task of coming north to escort you, dear cousin. And thank heavens she did! There is so much that has happened at court since you were there last. I shall catch you up on all the best gossip, some of which may even have a bit of truth in it. Now, take me to see your wardrobe, so I may decide what needs help before we depart. I hope what you are wearing isn’t a sample of what you intend to bring to court, my darling.”
“Nay,” Rosamund said, laughing despite the insult. “I purchased material in Carlisle, and the mercer’s wife had recent sketches from her sister in London.”
Sir Thomas shuddered and made a face. “I can but imagine,” he said with a great sigh.
“But I am already packed, sir,” Rosamund protested.
“My darling cousin, we can always repack. What we cannot do is erase the impression you will give the court with a bad fashion appearance. Lead on!” He set down his pewter cup and stood up.
Rosamund laughed again. Aye, she did like this cousin who had appeared out of the blue to bring her to court. “Come along, then, but be advised that my gowns are sober in both color and style. I am, after all, in mourning for my husband, Sir Thomas.”
“Just Tom, or cousin,” he told her, and as he passed the three little girls, he stopped, and reaching into his doublet, brought forth a handful of sweetmeats, which he casually gave them. Then he continued on, following Rosamund up the stairs of the house to her bedchamber.
They entered, and Rosamund said to Annie, “This is my cousin, Sir Thomas Bolton, who has come to escort us south, Annie. He wants to see my gowns. Unpack them now.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Annie said, eyes wide as she viewed Sir Thomas.
“What kind of jewelry do you possess?” he demanded to know.
Rosamund fetched the small velvet bag and poured it onto the bed so he might view it.
His long graceful fingers pushed the ornaments about, and then he pronounced, “The pearls and the broach with the emeralds and pearls are worthy of you. The rest is not. You will leave them behind.”
“But I have nothing else,” she told him.
“I do,” he said. “My branch of the family is quite filthy rich, darling girl. I have jewelry to spare, and no wife to wear it.”
“Why do you have no wife?” she asked him. “You would, I think, be considered a most eligible parti, cousin.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “I do not wish a wife,” he said simply. “A wife,” he explained, “should encumber me. I am, I fear, a selfish man who prefers his pleasures to siring a brood of puling offspring, all waiting for me to die so that they can squander my wealth so carefully built up by my family. I am, darling girl, quite capable of squandering my wealth all by myself. I shall bedeck you in the family gems, and I shall probably have a slightly more fashionable wardrobe, in more cheerful hues, made for you after a short while.” He eyed the gowns Annie spread out for him to view. “Not bad,” he finally said. “A bit conservative, but not bad at all considering the source. The mercer’s wife did well by you, and I am surprised. These will do for a start. Repack, Annie, for we are leaving in the morning, though not too early. Just early enough to reach St. Cuthbert’s by sunset. Do you know it at all?”
“My uncle Richard has just been elected its new prior,” Rosamund said. “Come back into the hall with me, cousin, and I shall tell you of the family’s most recent history. In return you will tell me how a Bolton from Friarsgate ended up in the south a rich man.”
He chuckled. “I am glad to see you are not some silly milk-and-water creature like so many of the women about the queen. All so very fashionable, all so very proper, all so terribly proud of their perfect breeding, and frankly not a bit of sense or backbone among them all.” He followed her downstairs into the hall where Edmund had come in from the estate and Maybel was now directing the servants as they prepared for the evening meal. They would have sixteen extra mouths to feed this night, and the tables were already laid with bowls and spoons and polished wooded cups.
“This is Sir Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge,” Rosamund said to them. “This is my uncle Edmund and his wife, Maybel, who raised me after my parents died.”
Edmund came forward and shook Sir Thomas’ hand. “You will be descended from Martin Bolton,” he said. “You are welcome to Friarsgate, my lord.”
“You know who he is?” Rosamund said. “Why is it that I have never heard of this offshoot of our family?”
“There was no need for you to know about them,” Edmund said with practical sense.
“Come and sit at the high board,” said Maybel, awed by the elegance of Sir Thomas.
They seated themselves, and Edmund continued. “Several generations back there were twins born into the family. Henry and Martin. Henry, the firstborn, was to inherit Friarsgate. Martin, the second-born twin, was to marry his first cousin, the daughter of a very wealthy London merchant, for Henry and Martin’s mother had come up from London. Martin went down to London when he was sixteen, and at eighteen the marriage took place. A son was born, but then Martin’s wife caught the eye of King Edward IV. The foolish lass, I am told, allowed herself to be seduced, then killed herself in shame. Has the story reached my ears intact, Sir Thomas?”
“Remarkably so, cousin Edmund. Now I shall finish it. The king was not a bad fellow, just amorous. He felt guilty for what he had done and what had happened to Martin’s wife as a result, particularly as Martin and his father-in-law had supported King Edward and been most generous in forgiving his debts to them. So the king created Martin Bolton, Lord Cambridge, and gave him another wife, the daughter of minor nobility and a small holding in Cambridge. He withdrew from the business and left that to his former father-in-law and others who seemed to have a great knack for increasing the family wealth. We have lived to be amused ever since,” he concluded with a grin.
Now it was Rosamund’s turn to explain how Sir Thomas had ended up as her escort. She finished by saying, “We shall leave in the morning after the mass and after we have broken our fast.”
When she had finished the evening meal, Rosamund departed to her chamber. Edmund took Sir Thomas aside and related the story of his niece’s life to date. “She is wise in many ways,” he explained, “but sometimes a bit too trusting, I fear, as she has been very lucky in her friends and husbands. You are our kin. Will you give me your solemn pledge to look after her?”
“I will,” Lord Cambridge promised. “You have my word. Now tell me why you are not lord here. Was Rosamund’s sire the elder? I understand her uncle is prior of St. Cuthbert’s.”
“I am the eldest of our father’s sons,” Edmund said. “My brother Richard was the second born, but we were on the wrong side of the blanket. Rosamund’s father, our brother Guy, was the first legitimate born, and lastly came Henry. While Richard, Guy, and I were all as close as brothers can be, Henry always looked upon his two eldest bastard siblings with disdain, despite the fact that our father loved us all. He has never gotten over the fact that Rosamund survived the death of her parents and her brother to become the heiress to Friarsgate.” Then Edmund explained the story further.
“Sir Hugh was a clever fellow to have outsmarted our greedy relation so well,” Sir Thomas noted with a grin. “So that is how she came to court. I do not recall her, but then I would not have been in the slightest interested in a little maid in the queen’s household. Besides, I lived in terror of the Venerable Margaret. She was a true dragon!”
