“We have always fought for God, king, and country, Philippa,” he told her.
There was a very large stone fireplace on one side of the hall. It was ablaze now, warming the room. Across from it were three tall arched glass windows that looked out over the river Windrush, which flowed through the valley below the hill upon which the house was situated. At the far end of the room was the high board, and behind it two high-backed chairs. There were several bed spaces in the walls of the chamber.
“It is a very old hall,” Philippa said, seeing them.
“The house has been here in one form or another for over three hundred years,” he replied. “We have made certain improvements over the years. The kitchens are now below us, and not in a separate building. There is an open shaft over there by the fire. Inside it is a platform that can be drawn up and down from kitchens to hall by means of a rope and pulley. That way the food arrives hot at table.”
“That is a most modern arrangement,” she said, surprised. Then, “What else is on this floor of the house, my lord?”
“There is a room where the bailiff, Robert, my secretary, and I discuss the business of Brierewode between us. And I have a library of books. Can you read?”
“Of course,” she told him proudly. “And I can write and do accounts, for it was expected that one day I would manage Friarsgate. My mother does not believe in allowing others to have so great a control over her fortune. My sisters and I can do all of these things, and we speak foreign languages as well. I came to court knowing French, and both church and spoken Latin as well as Greek. I have learned a little Italian and German at court. The Venetians are so charming, I have found. My mother’s portrait was painted by a Venetian once. It hangs in the hall at Friarsgate.”
The earl looked momentarily startled. There had been a portrait of a nymph in diaphanous garments with a single bared breast in the hall of the duke of San Lorenzo. He had admired it when he had gone to attempt to repair the damage Lord Howard, the king’s ambassador, had done. He had seen it only once, for he had been received by the duke only once. Thinking back, he realized it bore a startling resemblance to his wife. He would have to learn one day why that was. It was not Philippa, he knew. She had not that sensual look about her yet. It had been the look of a woman well loved, and in love. He must remember to ask Thomas Bolton about it when they next met.
“May I use your library?” Philippa asked him.
“Of course!”
“Show me more now,” she demanded.
“There is little more to see other than the bedchambers, and the attics where the servants sleep, little one. Would you not enjoy exploring them yourself one day when I am about my business in the fields?”
“Aye, I suppose I should. It will keep me from being bored,” she told him.
“Milord, welcome home.” A tall, large-boned woman had entered the hall. She curtseyed to them politely, and then she said, “Your ladyship, I am Marian. I have the honor to be the housekeeper here at Brierewode, and I am at your service.” She handed a ring of keys to Philippa. “You will want these,” she said.
“Keep them for me, Marian,” Philippa said warmly. “I am the stranger here, and I will need you to guide my steps until I am more comfortable. And I shall be at court much of the time, for I am in the service of our good queen.”
The housekeeper’s head nodded. “Thank you for your trust in me, my lady.”
“If my husband trusts you then so do I,” Philippa responded. “I have brought my tiring woman with me. She is to have her own chamber, a small one, but hers nonetheless, and it should be near mine. Her name is Lucy, and she is no London slut, but a lass from my own home in Cumbria.”
“I will see to it, my lady,” Marian said. “May I show you your apartment now?”
“Go along,” the earl encouraged his wife. “I must speak with Barto and Robert before the day ends.” He kissed Philippa on her lips, and then went off.
“You are in service to Queen Katherine?” Marian sounded impressed by this knowledge. She led Philippa from the hall and up a wide flight of stairs.
Philippa noticed that the banisters were beautifully carved, even on the edges of the handrails. “My mother was a friend of the queen from the days before she wed with King Henry. I have been in her service since I was twelve years of age. I am now sixteen. The earl and I are invited to join the summer progress to France when our king and the French king will meet. I will remain with my mistress until she no longer requires my services. It is an honor to serve her. She is the kindest of ladies.”
“We are fortunate in our queen, yet the king has no heir,” Marian said.
“Princess Mary will rule us one day,” Philippa replied.
“Mayhap the queen will yet bear a living son,” Marian responded hopefully.
Philippa shook her head. “Alas, there is no hope of that now, I fear, unless God grants England a miracle.”
Marian stopped before a pair of double doors, and flung them open. “These are your apartments, my lady,” she said, ushering the young countess inside.
Lucy was already there, and she hurried forward, stopping to curtsey to her mistress. “It’s lovely, my lady!” she burst out. “We will be so happy here, I know.”
Philippa laughed. “When we are not at court, Lucy, I’m sure we will. Have you been properly presented to Mistress Marian, the housekeeper, yet?”
Lucy nodded politely. “Mistress,” she said.
The older woman smiled. “Lucy,” she replied, “if you feel you can leave your lady for a brief time, I shall take you and introduce you to the rest of the staff. You have traveled with Peter, my lord’s valet. He is my brother. He has already said you are a mannerly lass, with no high London ways about you.”
