“Aye, and knowing how you love your food, sister, I am happy to tell you that Tom Bolton’s cook is a marvel. He travels with his master from Cumbria to London to the Greenwich house,” the earl said.
“The more I learn of this girl’s background the more I am pleased, Crispin. Will her parents be here for the marriage celebration? I am most anxious to meet them.”
“Sir Owein is long dead, I fear, and Philippa’s mother has just recently been delivered of twin sons, Marjorie. But one of her sisters is here at court in service to the queen as well. She will shortly wed a Neville. She is Lord Cambridge’s heiress.”
“Perhaps this is not a bad match after all, Crispin,” his sister opined. “The St. Claire family is an old one, but we have never been particularly distinguished in the history of our country. We are in fact rather dull. We have always obeyed the law of the land, and I believe the only time we took a stand against a ruling monarch was with the other barons against King John. We remained clear of the Lancaster/York squabbles, and supported the Tudors when they took the throne.”
“All of which has allowed us to survive as a family,” he said quietly. “And while we are not rich, neither are we poor.”
“I should have trusted to your judgment, Crispin,” Lady Marjorie Brent said, “but since I am now here I shall make the best of it.”
“The queen has been generous to Philippa, allowing her more time away from her duties recently. You will pay your respects this evening, and meet Philippa then,” he told his sister. “And then I shall bring you back to Bolton House. Lord Cambridge may come to court today, or not.”
Thomas Bolton did come to court that day. He had departed his house and taken the smaller of his barges, the one he had had built for Rosamund long ago, into London, where he had seen his goldsmith first, and then visited his tailor and the tailor’s wife, who was a seamstress of extraordinary talent. It was the tailor’s wife who would be sewing the gowns for Philippa’s betrothal and wedding day, as well as Banon’s new gown. He was then rowed to the palace, and for some reason he did not dismiss the smaller barge and send it home.
In the queen’s antechamber he found the earl of Witton with an older woman, and was introduced. “Madame,” he told Lady Marjorie, “I knew your husband once. I was devastated when he wed, but seeing you I can understand his eagerness to leave the court behind.” He kissed Lady Marjorie’s hand while smiling his most endearing smile.
She was instantly charmed with him. “You are too kind, my lord,” she gushed.
He smiled at her again. “Have you met my cousin Philippa Meredith yet, madame?” he asked her, still holding her hand.
“I am to shortly,” she told him, smiling back, and more than well aware that he had not yet released her hand. What a delightful man he was, she thought.
“She is a dear girl, madame, and if I may be permitted to say it, she will make your brother a fine countess,” he murmured.
“Everything Crispin has told me reassures me,” Lady Marjorie said.
The door to the queen’s privy chamber opened. Philippa hurried out and over to them. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “One of the pages said you needed to see me, my lord,” she addressed the earl.
“This is my sister, Lady Marjorie Brent,” the earl of Witton said. “She has surprised me by coming up from Devon, where she lives. She had heard of our betrothal through a friend just returned from court.”
“Had you not written to your sisters, my lord? That is most bad of you, and our wedding to be celebrated so soon,” Philippa gently scolded him, curtseying.
“Oh, dear Philippa, that is so typical of my brother, but I can see that you have manners,” Lady Marjorie said. She embraced the girl warmly. “May I welcome you to our family.”
“I thank you, madame,” Philippa replied. “I regret that I have so little time to give you, but alas, my duties must come first.”
“My dear Philippa, I completely understand,” Lady Marjorie said.
“Then you must excuse me,” Philippa replied, curtseying once again, and turning away to hurry back to the queen.
“Wait,” Tom Bolton said to the girl, who turned questioningly. “You must come home tomorrow afternoon, for the seamstress will be there to begin your two gowns. Bring Banon with you, darling girl.”
Philippa nodded, and then was gone.
“You will stay with me, of course,” Lord Cambridge said to Lady Marjorie.
“How kind you are,” she replied, not mentioning that her brother had already asked her, but then it was not his house, was it?
“I cannot imagine being anything but kind to you,” Lord Cambridge murmured, and Lady Marjorie tittered, well pleased. “If your business here is finished, dear lady, then perhaps you will accompany me back to Bolton House in my barge. Crispin, dearest boy, the small barge will be here for you.” He took Lady Marjorie’s arm and led her off.
Crispin St. Claire, watching them go, was hard-pressed not to laugh. He was not certain exactly what kind of man Thomas Bolton was, although he had his suspicions, but Lord Cambridge had obviously sized up his sister, and knew just how to handle her. The earl wondered if his host really knew his brother-in-law. He decided he would not ask. The answer might prove too disconcerting.
Chapter 10
The twenty-eighth of April dawned wet. The court was preparing to leave for Greenwich on the twenty-ninth. The betrothal ceremony would be held at Bolton House, and the papers signed there. The great hall had been decorated with flowering branches. A small feast would be held following the formalities, although neither the king nor the queen would stay for the festivities. They would drink a toast to the couple and then return to Richmond.
Philippa had been sent home to Lord Cambridge’s house the previous evening so she might sleep in her own bed. The queen had learned from the mistress of the maids that she was not resting well. Bridal nerves, both women had concurred. But she had slept no better at Bolton House. Her soon-to-be sisters-in-law could not, it seemed, stop chattering, and she found them irritating. Both Lady Marjorie Brent and Lady Susanna Carlton adored their younger brother, and insisted on imparting to Philippa what they considered good advice on the care and feeding of Crispin St. Claire. Philippa felt near to screaming, and seeing it, Banon took charge.
