“What are you thinking?” he asked her. “You are very silent, little one.”
“I wish my mother were here, for there is much I have to ask her,” Philippa said.
“I expect ignorance and inexperience of you, Philippa,” he said, guessing the direction her thoughts must be taking. Then to his surprise Philippa laughed.
“You must not read my mind, my lord,” she told him. Then she turned and kissed him on the lips without any prompting at all. “Thank you again. The chain and the pendant are lovely, and I will cherish them.”
They walked out into the garden to discover that the river was filled with barges making their way from Richmond down the Thames to Greenwich. Philippa recognized many of the vessels, with their colorful flags flying, and their inhabitants as well. She waved at them gaily, and hailed many by name. The royal barge appeared, and as it came even with Lord Cambridge’s quay she curtseyed low, as by her side the earl bowed low.
“Philippa! Philippa!” A small figure in a bright scarlet gown waved wildly from the royal barge.
Philippa waved back, and curtseyed again as the earl bowed as well. “It is the princess Mary,” she told him. “Safe journey, your highness!” she called as the royal barge moved past Bolton House with stately grace. “We can sit down now,” Philippa told the earl, settling herself on a marble bench.
“Does everyone go to Greenwich by barge?” he asked her. “And why, when Richmond is downriver of Bolton House, did we see them at all?”
“In the spring, aye. And of course not everyone can afford to keep a barge, so it is important to have friends that have one, or a friend who has a friend. The court departs when the king decrees, and sometimes the tide is not with them. They come upriver first, turn with the tide, and then go back down again. The king could just as easily wait, but he will not.” She smiled. “If you listen you can hear the baggage carts rumbling along the road outside of our gates now. And here and there among them those who could not find seats on the barges, pretending they wanted to ride anyway. One must be very rich or have important relations or friends to succeed at court. I have been very fortunate. From the first time I came to court I knew it was where I wanted to be. I cannot imagine any other life.”
“You know I cannot allow you as much time at court as you have had,” he said. “You will have other duties to attend to as the countess of Witton. We can go for the Christmas revels, and in May, of course.”
“Of course,” she agreed amiably, thinking to herself that once the queen recalled her to be one of her ladies her husband could not gainsay her. And the queen had hinted that she would be recalling Philippa eventually. I can wait, Philippa thought.
Lucy came into the garden and, finding them, curtseyed. “Cook says he has your basket ready, mistress. Good morning, my lord!”
“I had best go tell Uncle Thomas that we are going to take the barge, and picnic,” Philippa said. “Put the basket in the barge, Lucy, please.” She arose and went off.
“Are my sisters up yet, Lucy?” the earl asked.
“I ain’t heard a peep out of them or their tiring women, my lord,” Lucy replied.
“Do you think you will be happy at Brierewode? It is not Cumbria,” he told her.
“I am content wherever my mistress is, my lord,” Lucy said, curtseying again. “I must put the basket in the barge now.”
He stood up. “I’ll take it, lass,” he said, taking it from her hand. “Which barge?”
“The one with the Friarsgate blue and silver curtains,” Lucy said. “Lord Cambridge had it made for my mistress’s mother when she came to court after Sir Owein’s death. My sister is in service to the lady of Friarsgate.”
“Do you think the lady of Friarsgate will like me?” the earl wondered.
“If you’re good to her lass, aye, she will,” Lucy responded pertly.
“I am endeavoring very hard to be good to your mistress, Lucy,” Crispin St. Claire said with a small smile at the young tiring woman.
“She takes to heart too much what the queen says, my lord, but you never heard me say it,” Lucy told him with a broad wink. “If you gets my meaning.”
The earl laughed. “I do, and I shall struggle to overcome that influence as swiftly as possible, Lucy.” Then he walked away with the basket towards the little barge bobbing on the river by Lord Cambridge’s quay.
In the meantime Philippa had gone back into the house and hurried up the staircase to her cousin’s apartments. She knocked softly, to be admitted by Thomas Bolton’s personal servant.
“Good morning, Mistress Philippa,” the man greeted her.
“Is he awake yet?” she asked.
“For over an hour, and already dictating his orders to Master Smythe. Shall I tell him you are here?” the serving man asked politely.
She nodded, and was quickly admitted.
“Darling girl, a most happy natal day!” Lord Cambridge called to her as she entered his bedchamber.
