The two sisters departed the hall, still quarreling angrily with one another.
Rosamund sat back and closed her eyes for a long moment. Life had been so peaceful before Philippa arrived home. She was beginning to feel some strong antipathy towards the second son of the earl of Renfrew. This was really all his fault. If the life that her eldest daughter had envisioned had vanished in a puff of smoke, with Philippa’s return so had the life that Rosamund now led and loved. The girl was contentious beyond all belief. “I am going to bed,” she said to no one in particular, and then she stood up and left the hall.
In mid-morning the sound of a horn was heard from the hillside, and Sir Thomas Bolton came riding down the road accompanied by Banon Meredith. Ahead of them rode a young man blowing a trumpet, while sleek greyhounds and a wolfhound loped along beside the riders. Lord Cambridge and his heiress were accompanied by six men-at-arms. Up to the front door of the house they rode, where Rosamund, alerted, was already there to greet them. Lord Cambridge slid from his mount, and lifted Banon from hers.
Banon Mary Katherine Meredith was a beautiful girl on the brink of young womanhood. She was dressed in a deep blue silk riding gown that matched her eyes. Her auburn hair was simply dressed beneath a gabled hood that had been set back to display her hair, and from which hung a small neat lawn veil. “Mama!” she said, slipping from her uncle’s grasp. She kissed Rosamund sweetly. “Where is Philippa? I am anxious to see her!” She smiled, and Rosamund was reminded of her mother whom she could but barely remember.
“Wait, my child,” Rosamund advised. “Philippa is not as you remember her. She is unhappy, and angry.”
“She is selfish and mean,” Bessie Meredith said, overhearing as she ran up to greet Banon. “Banie! How lovely you look!”Then she turned and flung herself at Tom Bolton. “Uncle Thomas! What have you brought me?”
“Bessie!” Rosamund gently scolded her daughter, but Tom Bolton laughed.
Reaching into his elegant velvet doublet he drew forth a sleepy kitten, of a deep orange hue. “Will this do, madame?” he asked her.
Squealing with delight Bessie took the kitten, holding it up to admire its golden eyes, and kissing its nose. “How did you know I wanted a kitten?” she demanded of him.
Thomas Bolton laughed. “You always want some living thing to love, Bessie, and I have brought you enough puppies to make a hunting pack. I thought a kitten for a change would suffice your greedy nature.”
“Oh, thank you!” Bessie said, and turning, she put an arm through Banon’s, and walking off began to whisper most earnestly.
“Now what is that all about, dear girl?” Lord Cambridge asked his cousin.
“Philippa, if I don’t miss my guess,” Rosamund said as they walked into the house. “She has come home angry, and argues constantly with Bessie, of whom she very much disapproves now. I am worried, Tom, and I need your advice on how to deal with my eldest child. I am at a loss as to what to do.”
“Where is Logan?” her cousin asked. He took a cup of wine from the servant holding the tray, and sipped slowly as they entered the hall to seat themselves.
“Up at Claven’s Cam with our lads, and may he remain there, Tom, for I know he would beat Philippa if she spoke rudely to him, and she is that way with everyone now. She says she hates Friarsgate, and she almost hates me as well for loving it more than I do my children. There is no reasoning with her at all, I fear.”
“And all because of Renfrew’s lad? They are a nice enough family, but I would not have thought any of them could arouse such passion in a woman’s breast, dear girl. It has to be more than just that,” Tom Bolton said, sipping thoughtfully at his wine.
“She was sent home, Tom,” Rosamund said low. “Oh, she has been asked back when she has recovered from her disappointment, but that decision is to be mine.”
“And why was she sent home?” His look was both curious and amused.
“She and some friends, three young men and another lass, climbed to the top of the Canted Tower where they got drunk and were caught gambling. My daughter had lost all her coin, and so was pledging items of her wardrobe. She had divested herself of both shoes and stockings, her bodice, and had just stepped from her skirts when the king and the duke of Suffolk arrived to study the constellations.”
Thomas Bolton burst out laughing. “My dear, dear girl, I should have never suspected that Philippa had such devilment in her. How too too amusing!”
“Oh, Tom, it is not funny at all! If I were not considered a friend of the queen’s Philippa might have been ruined. Fortunately just about everyone had left court for the summer, having no wish to tramp from one hunting site to another with Hal, and needing to be on their own lands. The incident could have been a disaster. We need to find a husband for Philippa, and I simply do not know where to begin!” Rosamund declared.
“Why, cousin,” he said, “I have not seen you so distressed in a long time. This is indeed serious then. I think I must speak with Philippa, and hear what she has to say before I can make any decision as to how we may surmount this difficulty that has arisen. I trust that Logan will remain on the other side of the border while we consider the problem. Your wicked Scot has a good hot temper on him, and if Philippa is as out of control as you believe, then there must not be a clash of wills between the two.”
Rosamund nodded. “I will have one of the servants fetch Philippa to you. I will leave the hall, for she and I cannot speak these days without quarreling. I am breeding another son for Logan, and I do not enjoy controversy” She arose. “I will be in the garden if you wish to speak further with me before the dinner hour.”
Thomas Bolton watched as his cousin glided from the hall. He sometimes thought it was a pity that he was not a man for marriage with a woman, for his cousin would have been a good wife for him. They had from the first gotten on, and she always seemed to come to him with her problems, but not so much of late. Well, it was only proper that she confide in her Scotsman. But this was obviously an issue that would require the most delicate finesse to solve. And Logan Hepburn had never been a man noted for finesse.
“Uncle.”
Thomas Bolton looked up and saw Philippa standing before him. He gave her a quick smile, and then said, “My darling girl, while I am ecstatic to see you, the gown you are wearing is a total disaster! Surely this is not the new fashion at court?” He looked genuinely distressed, and not just a little appalled.
A tiny smile touched the girl’s lips, but it was as quickly gone as it had come. “I left my court gowns at the London house, uncle. I would not bring them here. They would be most unsuitable, and besides the journey with all its dusty summer roads would have ruined them.”
“Then what on earth is it that you wear, my darling girl? It is most unattractive.”
“I had some old gowns I left behind in my trunks altered,” Philippa explained.
Thomas Bolton shook his head wearily. “Your figure has, um, er, ripened in your time away, Philippa. There is obviously not enough fabric in the gown to do you justice. It will not do. No, no, darling girl, it will not do at all! We must have new gowns made at once. Not the kind, of course, that you are expected to wear at court, but gowns for a country visit that will at least fit you properly. God’s foot, my dear, what you are wearing makes your shoulders look quite broad, like a peasant girl who pulls the plow for her husband.” He shuddered with distaste.
