“The queen knew how much you wanted to go, little one, and she has rewarded your loyalty. But once the summer progress is over you must take up your role as the countess of Witton first. I want an heir, and it is your duty to give me one. No one knows the obligations of a wife better than Queen Katherine, and should you ask her she would counsel you thusly, Philippa.”
“You said you would let me remain with the court,” Philippa replied.
“I said we would go to court. If you are not with child, then we shall go twice a year. For the Christmas revels, and for the month of May. I did not marry you because you were a maid of honor, little one.”
“Nay, you did not!” she snapped at him. “You married me for Melville’s lands.”
“Aye, your dowry was of consequence in the matter,” he agreed sanguinely.
Philippa glared angrily at him. “I could hate you!” she told him fiercely.
“Aye, I expect you could,” he admitted, “but I hope you will not, little one. I find I am becoming used to your company. I should be lonely without it now. Is it really so terrible, not being at court?” He took her hand and kissed the palm, and then each finger.
“From the time I was ten years old and first went to court it has been all I have ever wanted,” she told him.
“A girl’s dream,” he responded, “but you are now a woman, Philippa. Did you not dream of marriage and children, like other girls?”
“With Giles FitzHugh,” she said, “aye, but then he deserted me for the church.”
“And Lord Cambridge sought another husband for you, and by coincidence found me,” the earl reminded her. “You said you were willing, little one, and you have hardly been reticent in my arms at night, or in a willow glade by the Thames.”
“Should I not like our coupling then?” she demanded of him.
He chuckled. “Aye, you should like it, and I am well pleased that you do, Philippa, but part of the purpose of our bedsport is that you give me children. You cannot do that if you spend all your time at court, for I will not be with you. I will be here at Brierewode looking after my lands as I should.”
“You are beginning to sound like my mother,” she huffed at him.
“And you are beginning to sound like a spoiled child who will not accept the responsibilities that belong to her,” he said seriously.
“If you feel that way, then why don’t you just stay home while I go to France with the court?” she snapped. “You can husband your precious land then by yourself, for you surely do not need me for that.”
“Because you are my wife now, and you will not go to France if I am not accompanying you, Philippa,” he told her.
“Are you forbidding me to go?” she demanded, and he saw the light of battle in her hazel eyes.
“Nay, I am not, for I know how much it means to you, and I believe this meeting between King Henry and King Francois will be an amazing event that we will want to recount to our children one day.” He kissed her little hand again. “Come, little one, release your anger, and make peace with me now. We have many years ahead in which we can fight with one another.”
Philippa laughed in spite of herself. Her husband had great charm, and there was no denying it. “I will forgive you for upsetting me, Crispin,” she told him wickedly.
He chuckled. She would always want the upper hand, he realized in that moment, and it would be up to him to let her think she had it most of the time. “I will send Lucy back to you so you may prepare yourself for bed, little one,” he said. “I shall go down to the hall to eat now. You shall rest undisturbed tonight.” Then he arose from his place at her bedside and, bowing, left her.
Lucy came back a few moments afterwards, and fetching the brass basin from the warm ashes of the fire helped her mistress bathe, and then don a clean night chemise. The tiring woman tucked the countess of Witton into her bed, and bidding her good night, left her. Philippa was quickly asleep, but she did awaken briefly once in the night to feel her husband’s comfortable bulk against her back. It was, she decided before she fell back asleep, a very good sensation.
Chapter 15
Their brief time at Brierewode was a revelation to Philippa. Her mother’s lands were vast in comparison with her husband’s, even with the addition of the Melville properties that she had brought Crispin as part of her dowry. Brierewode was far more civilized as well. Where Friarsgate had huge meadows and fields, Brierewode’s small fields were neatly tilled and planted. The meadows where the earl’s cattle grazed were enclosed by low hedges as a means of keeping the beasts from roaming. This new enclosure of pastures was raising a number of eyebrows, and in some cases causing outright disagreements between landowners, but the earl seemed to have no difficulty with any of his neighbors over it.
And the area was far more civilized than she had anticipated a country estate would be. Philippa was pleased. Any time she had to spend at Brierewode would not be dull. They had near neighbors, Crispin told her. It would be a fine place to raise the children that they would have. And there was the difficulty, for Philippa could find no way to explain to Crispin that her service to Queen Katherine came before all else in her life. The Merediths had a history of service to the Tudors. It was just that simple.
To her surprise Philippa had found a letter from her mother awaiting her at Brierewode. In it her mother included a recipe for preventing conception should she wish it. Enclosed had been a packet of wild carrot seeds, the brew’s main ingredient.
“I don’t know if the priest here would approve what you’re doing,” Lucy fretted. “It’s your duty to give the earl an heir, my lady, and I know I’m bold to say it, but it is!”
“Mama takes the brew,” Philippa said.
“Your mama has done her duty by both your da and the laird,” Lucy shot back.
“It’s only until we get back from France,” Philippa replied.
