“I will never drink wine again!” Philippa declared.
Bessie laughed. “Trust me. A bit of the hair of the dog who bit you will solve all of your problems. Well, perhaps not your headache.”
“I am going to die,” Philippa repeated. Then she rinsed her mouth, but she could not rid herself of the sour taste.
They hurried to the Chapel Royal, reaching it just as the queen was entering. Katherine turned, and looked at Philippa. Then turning away, shaking her head, she walked to her place. She knows, Philippa thought. Three years without a misstep, and now I have disgraced myself well and good. And all over a man who decided that he would prefer to be a priest rather than my husband. What was I thinking? Was I thinking at all? I don’t want to live at Friarsgate for the rest of my days. I want to stay here at court. What am I to do if I am sent away? I’ll never see Ceci again. Oh, damn! And all over Giles! I am a fool! A great and featherheaded booby. Oh, Lord! I think I’m going to be sick again, but I can’t. I just can’t! She swallowed back the bile in her throat, praying she might keep it down, and not embarrass herself further.
The mass was finally over and, escorted by Bessie Blount, Philippa made her way to the king’s privy chamber. The two girls stood waiting in the antechamber among petitioners and secretaries and foreign merchants seeking an audience with the king. Finally a page in the king’s livery came to fetch them.
“The king says that you may go, Mistress Blount,” he told Bessie, bowing politely to her. “Mistress Meredith is to follow me.”
“Good luck!” Bessie said, giving Philippa’s cold hand a quick squeeze, and then she hurried off to find her breakfast.
“This way, mistress,” the page said, leading her to a small door. He knocked upon it, and then flung the door open to usher her inside. Then he closed the door behind her.
“Come, my child,” she heard the queen’s voice say.
“Yes, come forward, Mistress Meredith, and explain to me your behavior of last night,” the king said sternly.
The royal couple were seated side by side behind an oak table before her. Philippa curtseyed, but she thought her head would fall off when she did. She swallowed hard, attempting to find her voice, and finally said, “There is no excuse for my wretched behavior, your majesty. But in my defense I can say I have never before acted in such a terrible manner, and I can assure your majesty that I never will again.”
“I should hope not, Philippa Meredith,” the queen said softly. “Your mama will be most upset to learn of this breach of good manners on your part.”
“I am so ashamed, your highness,” Philippa told the queen. “I remember little. Bessie Blount told me what happened when I awakened this morning. I have never done anything like that before. You know that to be so.”
“You were drunk,” the king said quietly.
“Yes, your majesty,” Philippa admitted, hanging her aching head.
“And most disorderly as well,” he continued.
“Yes, your majesty.” She felt the tears beginning to run down her face.
“You sang bawdy songs. A song I was surprised to find you knew,” the king said.
“I heard it in the stables,” Philippa told him.
“You gambled with your clothing, and had I not come upon you when I did who knows what else might have happened,” the king scolded her. “Why would a girl of such a good family endanger her reputation so? I knew your father, Philippa Meredith. He was a most honorable fellow. And your mother has always been a good subject as well, despite her marriage to a Scot. Her own service and kindness to this house ensured you a position with our queen. Would you throw away this chance given you?”
Now Philippa began to sob noisily. “Oh, no, your majesty! I am so proud that I serve my queen. I always want to serve her. I am so sorry! You must forgive me, your majesty. I cannot bear it that I have disappointed you so!” And she wept, her small hands covering her face.
The king looked uncomfortable. He did not like crying females. Getting up, he came from behind the oak table and put an arm about Philippa. He took out his own silk pocket square, wiping her eyes and face. “Do not wail, lass. It is not the end of the world,” he assured her. Then leaving the pocket square with her he retreated behind the table once again.
Philippa struggled to pull herself together. This was terrible. One did not howl like a baby in front of the monarch. But her head was aching so terribly, and her belly was roiling horrifically. “I ... I am so afraid you are going to send me away,” she finally managed to say. She wiped her wet face, and straightened her carriage.
“We are,” the king said, and he held up his hand to still further defense of herself. “But you will be allowed back, Philippa Meredith, when your family believes you are ready to come. The queen and I think you need to return to your family for a time. You have not been home in several years. We can see that your disappointment in Giles FitzHugh has unnerved you badly. And then to be forbidden your best friend’s wedding was a cruel disappointment as well. Your mother will need to see and speak with you about a possible new match, for you must certainly be married within the year, my child. And when your heart is at peace again, Philippa Meredith, and your mother is content to let you return to court we will welcome you gladly. We have arranged for you and your servant to begin your journey tomorrow. You will go with the queen’s party as far as Woodstock, and then continue on under our protection.”
I cannot argue, Philippa thought silently to herself. One does not argue with the king. And they have said I may come back. She curtseyed. “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Be thankful few remain here at Richmond, Philippa Meredith,” the king said, “that few know of your indiscretion. It will be forgotten by the time you return, I am certain.” He held out his hand to her, and Philippa took it, and kissed the king’s ring.
“Thank you, your majesty. Your highness. Please accept my apologies for my unthinkable behavior of last evening. It will not happen again.” She curtseyed.
“You will carry a letter to your mother,” the king said, and then with a wave of his hand he dismissed her.
With an almost audible sigh of relief Philippa backed from the little privy chamber.
The queen turned to her husband. “Be as diplomatic as only you know how, my lord, when you write to Rosamund Bolton. I do want to see Philippa back at court in the future, and I know she does not wish to live her entire life in the north as her mother does.”
