“You don’t understand,” Philippa said, drawing away from her mother. “I don’t want Friarsgate, mama. I don’t want to live here for the rest of my life. That was your dream. I love the court! I love the excitement, the pageantry, the intrigue, and the color. It is the center of the world, mama, and I want to be there forever!”
“You are upset, Philippa, and you do not understand what you are saying,” Rosamund said calmly. Not want Friarsgate? Certainly Philippa didn’t mean it. Of course she wanted Friarsgate. She was just distressed, and now was certainly not the time to discuss it. “I am sending to Otterly for Tom, and your sister Banon,” she said, turning the subject away from what was obviously an uncomfortable place for both of them.
“I hope Banon is cleaner than Bessie is. And better bred,” Philippa told her mother sourly. “How can you allow your daughter to run about barefoot and dirty, mama? She spends all of her days in the meadows with the sheep. I never found sheep to be of great interest. Does she not take lessons anymore with Father Mata?”
“She is far better read than you are, Philippa,” Rosamund said. “She is extremely proficient in several languages including Latin and Greek. She can speak Dutch, and German, which I certainly cannot.”
“Why would she speak Dutch and German, mama? French is a far more cultured tongue,” Philippa replied. “My French is much improved by my service at court. I know papa would be very proud, for he taught you to speak it. Who is there to teach Bessie such clumsy and coarse tongues?”
“Bessie is much interested in our wool business. She has accompanied me to the Netherlands twice. We have a factor in Amsterdam now who apprenticed his son to us. The boy’s name is Hans Steen. He is learning the business of wool from the sheep onward. And he teaches your sister the languages she will need to deal with northern Europe. I don’t think Bessie will ever want to go to court, Philippa.”
Philippa looked absolutely scandalized. “Bessie would prefer to act like a man of business, mama? Oh, how can you permit it? We are not common merchants. I should be totally ruined socially if anyone knew my sister behaved in such an unladylike fashion. You cannot really want her to do this. I know we are not old nobility, mama, but we have certainly climbed the social ladder a short ways since your birth.”
“Your youngest sister is landless, Philippa. While she will have a good dower portion thanks to my cousin, Tom, she would not make a good farmer’s wife. But she will one day be a valuable spouse for a successful merchant’s heir. Besides, she is intelligent, and would be unhappy being an ornament for some man.”
“I cannot believe that you would allow my father’s child to fall so low,” Philippa replied disapprovingly.
“Philippa!” Rosamund exclaimed. “Where do you think your own wealth comes from, you foolish lass?”
“Uncle Thomas is rich,” Philippa said naively.
Rosamund laughed. “And where do you think his wealth came from? Trade. Tom’s great-grandfather and mine were twins. Martin Bolton was sent to London to wed the daughter of the merchant to whom he was apprenticed. They married, and she bore a son, but she was a pretty girl, and King Edward IV saw her, and seduced her. She killed herself in shame. King Edward felt guilt over the matter, especially as Martin Bolton and his father-in-law were staunch adherents of this king, and had been generous financially to him. So the king gave Martin Bolton a peerage, and that is how it came into the family, Philippa. But trade of one kind or another has always kept this family prosperous. I am sorry you do not understand that, and think it shameful to earn one’s bread. You have lost your sense of morality and ethic while you have been at court. I think you will not go back until you have regained these virtues, my daughter. And do not scowl at me, Philippa. My mind is made up, and you will only change it when I see a change for the better in your attitude.”
“You do not understand, mama!” Philippa cried. “You have never been young!”
“Only in years, Philippa, but then I was never allowed to be young. The burden of Friarsgate was on my shoulders from the tender age of three. There was little time to be young as you know it. Perhaps, my daughter, I have been too generous to you. You have come to believe it is your right to be spoiled and selfish, but it is not! Now go to your chamber. I am disappointed in you.”
“I will go back to court at Christmas if not before!” Philippa cried. “Even if I have to ride all the way to Greenwich myself! I will not stay here. I hate Friarsgate, and I am near to hating you, for all you can see is this damned estate. You do not understand me, and you never have!” Then Philippa ran from the hall, and up the stairs.
Rosamund sighed deeply, and taking up the queen’s letter read it a third time. She had known from the first time she had taken Philippa to court that her daughter was lost to her. That was why she had kept Philippa from going until the summer she was twelve. And in that time before her daughter’s first visit and departure Philippa had practiced her French and Greek and Latin. She had struggled with her embroidery until it was perfect. She had learned every dance that anyone could teach her. She sang, and she played upon her lute and small Irish harp until her music was almost angelic. She bathed far more often than either of Rosamund’s other daughters, and tended to her complexion as if it were the rarest of flower gardens. Each morning and each night she had Lucy brush her long auburn tresses one hundred strokes. Everything she did was to prepare her for court, and her position as one of the queen of England’s maids of honor. And when she was fifteen she would be betrothed and married to the second son of an earl. Philippa’s life was exactly as she had wanted it. Until now.
“You have weathered the storm, I see,” Maybel said, reentering the hall and coming to sit by Rosamund.
“Barely,” Rosamund replied. “She is very angry. I have told her she will not go back to court until I see a change in her demeanor. She has replied she will go back even if she has to walk the whole way by herself. I do not ever remember being that headstrong, Maybel.”
“You were,” Maybel responded, “but your passion was for Friarsgate, and those for whom you were responsible as its lady. Philippa has become selfish. Perhaps she always was selfish, and we did not notice it because she was a child. I fear for Friarsgate, for your eldest daughter has absolutely no interest in it at all. Her passion is for this court of hers, and for herself. If you could but see, but of course you will, how scornful she is of Bessie who loves the land so greatly.”
“I must speak with Tom,” Rosamund said.
“Not your husband?” Maybel was surprised.
Rosamund shook her head. “Nay. Logan may be my husband, but he has never really understood me where Friarsgate is concerned. It is his one weakness.” She smiled. “Tom understands, and he will know what we are to do about Philippa. Logan would marry her off to the first suitable husband he could find, and devil take the hindmost. My husband will most certainly not put up with my daughter’s bad behavior. Nay, Tom must come quickly, for if I remain too long here right now Logan will come. He will not put up with Philippa’s haughty ways. As her stepfather he has the right to beat her, and I have no doubt he would take a hazel switch to her bottom should he feel she needed it. And though I would never admit it, I think she does.”
“Surely the man would not beat his children,” Maybel said, horrified.
“He’s a rough man, Maybel, and while he is not cruel, he has taken a switch to Alexander once or twice. And my wee Jamie as well. Rowdy laddies both, I fear. ’Tis his John who is the gentle lad. Nay, we must send for Tom right away.”
“Edmund did, when he sent for you,” Maybel told Rosamund. “He should be here if not late today, tomorrow for certain, and Banon with him. Mistress Philippa will certainly have her nose put out of joint when she sees our Banon, for she is surely the most beautiful of your lasses. When she was young I thought she would resemble you as does Philippa, but she has grown into a mix of both you and lord Owein, may God assoil his good soul. With those blue eyes of hers you would think she was the laird’s child.”
“My uncles have blue eyes,” Rosamund noted. “But aye, Banon is lovely even at thirteen. Imagine what two more years will do for her.”
“Another one to find a husband for,” Maybel said almost grimly.
“I am leaving that to Tom,” Rosamund replied. “She is his heiress. Let him choose the man who would husband Banon, and be the next lord of Otterly. It is not my concern, although I will want some small say in the matter, of course.”
The evening meal was a grim one. Philippa hardly spoke a word except to criticize her little sister. And Elizabeth Meredith was not one to sit meekly with her hands folded and accept the unkind words her sister spoke. At first Rosamund attempted to keep the peace between her eldest and her youngest daughters, but finally she gave up.
“Go to your beds, both of you! I am not of a mind to listen to your quarreling. If you cannot be civil to one another then I do not want you at my board.”
