“And you, my lord, have allayed all of my fears of the marriage bed,” she replied. She slipped from the bed and, finding her chemise, drew it on. Then opening the door to the dayroom she called, “Lucy! His lordship and I will have a bath now.”
Lucy jumped from the chair where she had been sitting awaiting her mistress’s call. She had not dared to enter the bridal chamber this morning. “At once, my lady. Where shall I have them set it up? Out here?”
“Aye, ’tis best. Is the fire hot?” Philippa asked her serving woman.
“Aye, ’tis blazing and very warm,” Lucy replied.
Philippa turned back into the bedchamber. “We shall bathe this morning, for we shall not have the opportunity along the road. Here is something you must learn about me. Unlike so many at court I bathe regularly, and not just once or twice a year. I should like you to bathe with me this morning, my lord.”
“ ’Tis not a habit I find distasteful, madame,” he answered her. “I will be pleased to share your bath.”
“I shared with Banon yesterday, but usually I bathe alone,” Philippa explained. “Please be as modest as you can before my tiring woman, my lord.”
It took some time, but the tub was eventually ready for them. Lucy waited in the dayroom for her mistress and her new master. She had already asked the earl’s valet to lay out fresh clothing for his master in the little chamber next to the bedchamber where Philippa had once slept as a girl. The man moved briskly through the dayroom as the newlyweds washed each other in the large tub. Lucy busied herself in the bedchamber, taking the sheet with the bloodied evidence of her mistress’s virtue off the bed, and setting it aside for Lord Cambridge’s view. Then she laid out clothing for Philippa. The trunks were already packed, although Philippa would leave all of her court clothing in London where it . would be ready when they returned on their way to Dover. Lucy smiled as she heard Philippa giggle, and the earl’s guffaw of laughter. The wedding night had obviously gone well, and she was glad for her mistress’s sake that it had.
“How long will it take us to reach Brierewode?” Philippa asked the earl as they bathed in their tub by the fire.
“Several days. Lord Cambridge and I arranged the trip together. We will go by barge to Henley and then ride cross-country to Cholsey where we will take the river as far as Oxford. From there we will ride. It is probably quicker to ride all the way, but I wanted us to have time alone, little one. I hope you are not unhappy with my plans.”
“It sounds most romantic, my lord,” she told him. “I have never been up the river so far. And it is May. Everything will be coming into bloom.”
Finished bathing, they each joined their servants and dressed. Philippa’s gown of deep blue light velvet had a filled-in neckline with a little wing collar of linen. The sleeves were fitted from shoulder to elbow and had a ruffled linen cuff. The skirt was of one piece with a cord and chain belt from which hung a pomander case. It was the perfect traveling gown, and she would wear it each day. The earl wore a deep blue coat which was pleated from a high yoke and had a velvet collar and lining. It hung to his ankles. His shoes were embroidered.
Descending to the hall they ate a hearty meal of oat stirabout, sharing a bread trencher from which they dipped the cereal. There was ham, hard-boiled eggs, butter, cheese, and Philippa’s favorite cherry jam for the cottage loaf. Remembering Lucy’s warning of yesterday about morning ale and the bloat, Philippa drank watered wine as she had when she was a child. When they had finished eating they prepared to embark on the river.
“His lordship’s man and I will meet you and the earl at the inn where you will be spending the night,” Lucy said.
“You aren’t coming with us?” Philippa was surprised.
“No room for a tiring woman and a middle-aged valet on a honeymoon voyage,” Lucy chuckled. “There’s a basket of food for your midday repast, and the oarsmen have food as well. You’ll be fine, my lady.”
“Come along, little one,” the earl called to his bride, and he took Philippa’s hand in his to lead her from the house and down through the garden to the riverside stairs, down to the quay where their barge awaited them.
It was a fair day, a perfect first of May.
“They will already be dancing at court,” Philippa noted with a smile.
“Are you sorry not to be there?” he asked her.
“I should like to be there,” she admitted, “but only if we might be together, Crispin.”
He chuckled. “Lord Cambridge is correct when he says you are a perfect courtier, and I might add that you have a diplomat’s tongue, Philippa, and I should certainly know that, having been in his majesty’s diplomatic service.” He helped his wife down into the beautiful little barge that Thomas Bolton had had made for his cousin, Rosamund, many years before.
It was a pretty little vessel with a cabin containing a bench upholstered in sky blue velvet. There were glass windows that could be lowered on either side of the bench, which was hollowed beneath so braziers of coals could be set there in the winter months. Outside and behind the cabin on the open deck were two upholstered oak chairs, with arms, beneath a blue and gold striped awning. In front of the cabin the two oarsmen sat in a recess in the deck, ready and waiting for their orders. The earl seated his wife in one of the chairs beneath the awning, and sitting next to her called to the oarsmen that they were ready. The barge pulled away from the quay belonging to Bolton House.
The tide was with them, and the barge moved smoothly up the river. Philippa gazed fascinated at the river traffic as it passed them on its way down into London. There were barges carrying early farm produce and flowers. Some barges carried livestock, and others, building materials. Eventually, however, they had the river to themselves. They passed farms, meadows, and small villages. Here and again as the river narrowed their barge glided beneath a bridge. There were waterfowl nesting in the reeds and marshes along the river’s edge. There were even several swan couples, with their cygnets swimming neatly in a row between their parents.
“It has been a long time since I have been in the countryside,” Philippa noted.
“You do not like the country,” he said.
“Nay, I do. I just need to be near enough to court that I may enjoy it as well. My mother’s Friarsgate is so very far from London that it takes forever to get back and forth. She never really liked the court. Her passion is for her estates,” Philippa explained. “And she and Uncle Thomas set up their cotters in a manufactory to weave the wool mama’s sheep produce. They decided it was foolish to send the wool to the Low Countries to be woven when it would provide work for the cotters in the winter. Our wool is exceedingly fine, especially a blue cloth that we do, and so it has been quite successful. They even regulate the amount of that blue the mercers in Carlisle and the European countries can have.”
“That is very clever,” the earl said. “They keep the demand high by keeping the supply low. Your mother, it would appear, is a very clever woman, Philippa.”
“Aye, she is,” Philippa agreed, “but you can understand, knowing me as you do, why I did not want the responsibility of Friarsgate.”
“You will find Brierewode a less complicated home, little one. You need only manage the household, and our children.”
