She stood up. “You tower over me, my lord.”
A slight smile touched his lips, but was quickly gone. “You are a petite girl,” he told her. “Is your mam as delicately made, Mistress Meredith?”
“She is, and has birthed seven children, six of whom are living, and is expecting to give birth any day now to her eighth,” Philippa replied. “I, too, am capable of bearing my husband an heir, my lord.”
“Some women who prefer court life do not enjoy children,” he remarked.
“I am the eldest of my siblings, my lord, and I can assure you that I like children,” she told him. “If it should be decided that a match between us would be suitable, my lord, then I am prepared to do my duty.”
“And who would raise your children, mistress?” he probed.
“I serve the queen, my lord. I must be at court some of the time else I lose my place,” she told him.
“But if you wed,” he said, “you will no longer be a maid of honor. Have you considered that? Would there be another place for you among the queen’s women?”
She had not thought of that. It had not occurred to her until he had said it that her place among the queen’s maids would be gone. None of the girls with whom she had grown up at court had returned once wed. “I had not thought...” she began, and suddenly found herself close to tears.
He quickly took her hand again to comfort her. “I would not keep you from the court if you were my wife, Philippa Meredith, but I would expect you to be at Brierewode enough to oversee any children we would have. Many among my class are content to have their children raised by servants, but I am not. We might come to court to hunt in the autumn, and then return for the Christmas revels. We would remain in Oxford for the winter, and then join the king in the spring before going home for the summer. While you were at court you might offer your services to her highness, but for the first time in your life you might enjoy just playing.”
“You make it sound most pleasant, my lord,” she told him.
“It could be,” he replied, and then they sat together again.
“To be your wife would be a great coup for my family,” Philippa said, “but while some might think me foolish, I must know the man I wed before I wed him.”
“I agree,” he said, “for I must know the woman I would wed before we take vows. Still, I believe we have made a good start today, Mistress Meredith.”
“And I believe that under the circumstances in which we find ourselves, my lord, you may call me Philippa,” she told him.
“Who are you named after?” he asked, “For I am certain it is a family name.”
“My mother’s mother, Philippa Neville, though I never knew her,” the girl replied. “She died with my grandfather Bolton and their son when mama was three.”
“Neville is a well-known name in the north,” he noted.
“They were a less distinguished branch of that family,” Philippa quickly said. She would not have him thinking she sought to make herself better than she was.
“You are scrupulous in your history, Philippa. It is a quality I like in both men and women,” he told her.
“Women can be honorable, my lord,” she responded stiffly. This was a difficult conversation, Philippa thought. They were both being so formal and polite. Did he know how to be any other way? He was, after all, thirty. Yet there were men at court his age and older who possessed a sense of fun. The king was older, and he did.
“What are you thinking, Philippa?” he asked her.
“That this meeting between us is strained,” she admitted.
He chuckled. “Do you always answer a question so truthfully?” Her small hand was cool in his. “It is difficult,” he admitted. “We are strangers, and it is proposed that we marry.” He rubbed the little hand between his two big hands to warm it. “It has been a long time since I paid court to a woman, Philippa. I suppose I am clumsy at it, for the truth is I was never very skilled at courting.”
“Is that why you have never married?” she inquired.
He nodded. “And there was no time, for my service to the king was primary in my life, Philippa. I know you understand that kind of duty, for you too give faithful service to the monarch as did your late father, I am told.” Her hand was now warm in his.
“Tell me about your family,” she said.
“My parents are dead. I have two older sisters, both married, and both sure that they know what is best for me,” he told her.
Now it was Philippa who laughed. “Families are strange things, my lord. You love them always, but there are times when you wish they would be silent, and evaporate away so you might be alone to live your life in peace.”
He chuckled again. “You have old thoughts for a girl so young.”
