“Who is she?” his sibling demanded. “I am told she is a maid of honor.”
“Her name is Philippa Meredith,” he began.
“Meredith? Meredith? I do not recognize the name. Who are her people?” his sister wanted to know.
“Come and sit with me,” he invited her, and ushered her into an alcove where two chairs were set. “Her father was Sir Owein Meredith. He served the Tudors from the time he was a small child until the Venerable Margaret herself arranged his marriage with the heiress to Friarsgate, Rosamund Bolton.”
“Bolton? ’Tis a northern name, Crispin. They are absolutely uncivilized, those northerners. Surely you could do better than that?” Lady Marjorie Brent looked askance at her brother. She was an extremely beautiful woman, with light blue eyes and deep brown hair. “Her dower will have to be excellent to overcome her deficiencies.”
He laughed. “You are going to be very surprised when you meet Philippa. Her mother lived at court as a girl. She gained the friendship of both Queen Katherine and Queen Margaret. That is why Philippa was given a position in the queen’s household. Her highness is most fond of Philippa Meredith. And as for her dower, it is rich enough to be almost obscene, and it includes Melville, dear sister.”
“Ahh,” Lady Marjorie Brent said, “so that is the attraction the girl has for you, Crispin. Well, I cannot fault you for wanting Melville, but could you have not purchased it, and married better?”
“I am not a wealthy man, Marjorie,” he reminded her. “And her cousin, who is her guardian here in London, would not sell the property for any price.”
“Oh,” his sister laughed, “you paid his price alright, little brother.”
“It was time for me to wed, and Philippa is lovely. You will like her. She is mannerly, and a consummate courtier, Marjorie,” he told his sister.
“I shall reserve my judgment, Crispin,” she told him. “I have sent for Susanna to come from Wiltshire. You cannot wed until we have both met this girl.”
“I have told you the wedding is set for the thirtieth of the month,” he said.
“Why such unseemly haste? Have you already lain with the wench, and put a child in her belly? Did she entrap you in this way, brother?”
He laughed aloud. “Philippa is almost overly chaste, Marjorie. The marriage is being celebrated quickly because Philippa will go with the queen to France this summer. The only way I could remain with her, for you know that only the highest will be chosen to accompany the summer progress, was to marry her. The queen promised I should go with them then, for her heart is soft and she would not separate a newly married couple.”
“Hmmm,” his sister said.
“With luck she will return enceinte, and I will have an heir by this time next year,” the earl said. “Isn’t that what you and Susanna want to see?”
“Well, I certainly do,” Lady Marjorie said. “As for Susanna, I think she always anticipated you choosing her second son for your heir should you not wed. I believe she has almost counted upon it.”
“And you did not consider my title for your son?” he teased her.
“My lad has his own title. He did not need another,” Lady Marjorie said dryly.
“Can you be certain this girl is fertile and capable of bearing children?”
“Her mother has birthed five sons and three daughters by two of her husbands,” he told his sister. “Only one of the lads died.”
“ ’Tis most promising, Crispin,” his sister said thoughtfully. “I am beginning to feel more reassured by what you have told me.”
“The king will witness the betrothal signing,” he said, knowing this would impress her even more.
“No!” Lady Marjorie exclaimed. “You are telling me the girl is that important?”
“She is not important, but both the king and the queen have known her mother since their shared childhoods, and the friendship has never been broken. Philippa’s uncle asked both the monarch and his wife for their blessing on this union between me and Philippa. It was freely given, sister.”
“Well, perhaps I need not have come up from Devon after all,” Lady Marjorie Brent said, “but since I am here I may as well remain until your union is celebrated.”
“Where are you sheltering?” her brother asked.
“I thought to find a place here in the palace, Crispin.”
“Nay, there is too much going on with preparations for the summer progress to France, and the queen’s nephew, the emperor, arriving at the end of May. You will stay at Bolton House with me. It is owned by Philippa’s cousin, Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge. You will find him a most hospitable gentleman, Marjorie, and Susanna will stay as well.”
“There will be room enough?”
