“Philippa?” The hooded eyes looked at him briefly.
“Mistress Philippa Meredith, my lord,” the earl responded.
The cardinal thought a long moment, and then he said, “Her father was Sir Owein Meredith, and her mother a Cumbrian heiress.” He stopped, then continued. “Rosamund Bolton, I believe she was called. The Venerable Margaret arranged the marriage. This is their daughter? Surely you could do better, my lord?”
“The girl suits me, my lord cardinal. She has beauty, wit and intellect.”
“That in itself would recommend her to a lesser man, Witton, but certainly there is something else that has attracted you.” Thomas Wolsey was no fool.
The earl smiled briefly. “Her dower contains land that matches mine, and that I would possess,” he answered truthfully. “Her family will not sell.”
“Hah!” the cardinal responded. “How did a northern family like hers gain such land? Wait! I see the fine hand of Thomas Bolton in this. Of course! He would be a dangerous fellow if he chose to enter the political arena seriously, and God will bear witness that I have difficulty enough with the king’s minions as it is. He arranged this match, didn’t he?”
Again the earl of Witton nodded truthfully.
The cardinal was silent for a time, and then he said, “Very well. I could use a pair of eyes and ears among this summer progress. One that would not be suspected of me. There are always plots, and plotters abound. This is an enormous, an incredible, and a dangerous undertaking, but his majesty would meet with the French king, and Francois would meet with Henry Tudor. You must wed the girl before we depart in May. The queen is most fond of this maid, and will have the girl with her. I will perform the ceremony myself for you. Choose a date. I will convince the queen that while she may certainly have her favorite with her, we cannot separate newly wed lovers. There is your excuse to be with the court.”
“Thank you, my lord cardinal. You do me honor,” the earl said. “I will report anything of interest to you.”
“Of course you will, Witton. You were ever the consummate diplomat while you were in our service.” He waved his hand at the earl. “God bless you, my son.”
He was dismissed. The earl bowed, saying, “Thank you, my lord cardinal,” as he backed from the cleric’s presence. In the antechamber he placed a coin upon the table where the secretary sat. Then saying nothing, he departed, as the sound of the coin scraping across the wood reached his ears.
Choose a date. The cardinal’s words echoed in his ears. I have not said it! Philippa’s words rang in his head. He almost laughed aloud. How was he to get her to accept their betrothal, and agree to an almost immediate marriage? It would take a miracle, and he had never before asked God for a miracle, but now was as good a time as any. He sought out Lord Cambridge, but he could not find him. He did see Philippa, however, in her usual place by the queen’s side. He walked towards her, and when she looked up and blushed he was hard-pressed not to chuckle, but he didn’t.
Instead he bowed to Queen Katherine. She nodded, giving him permission to address her. “Your highness, might I steal Philippa away from you briefly?” he asked.
The queen smiled. “I am told there is to be a betrothal, my lord,” she said.
“There is, madame,” he answered her.
“I am well pleased by such a match,” the queen told him. “Philippa Meredith is a most virtuous maid. She will be a good wife to you, my lord. Aye, you may walk with her for a short time.” The. queen gently pushed Philippa forward off her stool. “Go along with your betrothed, child.”
Philippa stood, and curtseyed meekly to the queen. She did not flinch openly when the earl of Witton took her hand and tucked it into his arm as they moved away.
“Go into the gardens,” the queen called after them. “You will have some privacy if such a thing is possible at court.”
“It is March,” Philippa murmured low. “I hardly think the royal gardens conducive to a romantic ramble in March.”
“It is not romance I seek at this moment, Philippa,” he replied softly. “We need to speak with one another, and for that privacy is essential.”
“The day is chill, and I have no cloak at hand,” she responded. “Come, the chapel will be empty.”
“What if someone comes to pray?” he asked her.
Philippa laughed. “At court? Most of them go into the chapel for the morning mass, and then only to be seen by the king and queen. The chapel will be empty even of the queen’s priests, who are usually napping or gambling, and in some rare cases bent on seduction at this time of day.” She directed their steps.
He was surprised by her acumen once again. She might be untried in the ways of love, but as Lord Cambridge had pointed out, Philippa was a consummate courtier. She was a female, and a young female at that, but he decided he must take her into his full confidence from the start. She would not be fooled by half-truths. They had reached the chapel. It was, as she had predicted, quite empty. He watched with astonishment as Philippa peeped into the confessional to make certain it was empty. Then she chose the exact middle of the room to seat herself.
“It will be difficult to be overheard from either end of this chamber if we are here,” she told him.
He sat down next to her. “You are amazing,” he told her, and he kissed the hand he still held.
To his surprise she did not blush this time, but she gave him instead a genuine smile. “Since your purpose is not romantic, my lord, and you wished privacy, I can only assume you have a more serious matter to discuss with me.”
He nodded, and then he said, “I must know I can trust you, Philippa, and you are really still a girl in many ways.”
“I have learned how to keep a confidence, my lord,” she told him quietly, “but the decision you must make is yours alone. If you require me to be silent, you have but to ask it of me, and I will be silent.”
