“Oh, you plan on giving up the Christmas revels, and your position at court?” Lucy inquired innocently.
Philippa’s eyes narrowed. “Are you unhappy in my service, Lucy?” she asked sweetly. “Would you like to return to the wilds of Cumbria perhaps?”
But Lucy had served her mistress long enough to know the threat was an idle one, and so she countered, “You would ask me to endanger my immortal soul, my lady?”
Philippa stamped her foot. “If my mother sent this to me, then she wants me to use it. Would you question the lady of Friarsgate? Annie would never question mama.”
“Well, I ain’t my sister!” Lucy said. Then she sighed. “Alright then, until we get back from France, my lady. You’re fortunate he ain’t got you with child by now. He’s a vigorous husband, I can see.”
Philippa blushed. “How can you see?” she demanded.
“You sleep side by side, and I’m the one that straightens your bed every morning,” Lucy replied with a grin. “Those bedclothes are well rumpled more nights than not.”
“Your eyes are too sharp, and your nose too long,” Philippa answered sharply.
“I’ll make the brew for you,” Lucy promised. “You won’t need it, however, until your monthly courses are run now, my lady. That’s what the letter says.”
“Sometimes I regret ever teaching you to read,” Philippa muttered. Then she added, “And not a word to my husband, or anyone else. Agreed?”
Lucy nodded. “If the earl knew, he’d pack me off to Cumbria himself,” she said. “I like the south even as you do, my lady. If I went home they’d marry me off to some farmer’s son, and I’d live in the north forever. Like I said, I ain’t my sister, and content to look after a man and her bairns. Ever since that first trip we took together to Edinburgh when you was just a little girl I’ve had an itchy foot like you.”
“But when I have children, Lucy, we will be stuck here at Brierewode,” Philippa said wickedly, but Lucy was not in the least disquieted by her mistress’s words.
“Now, my lady, you and I both know that once you have given the earl an heir or two you will cajole him into letting you go right back to court. So go to France, come home and do your duty, and all will be well,” Lucy said sensibly.
Philippa nodded. “Did you know that Uncle Thomas has hired us a ship to go to France? We’ll sail with the royal fleet, and the queen has asked me to take along several of her maids of honor. And we will have our own pavilion and not have to beg for sleeping space.”
“Well, at least we’ll be comfortable in that foreign place,” Lucy said dubiously. “I ain’t never been in a sailing ship, my lady. Will we be out of sight of the land?”
“I don’t know,” Philippa said. “I’ve never been to France myself.”
“Well, I suppose if Annie, my sister, can cross the water in a sailing ship I can too,” Lucy finally decided. “I ain’t going to like it, but I’ll do it.”
Philippa rode across her husband’s estates, and found herself relaxing with each passing day. It had been a long time since she had been away from the court. Crispin was diligent in his duties to both his lands and his wife. Philippa had to admit that she enjoyed the time spent in his arms. She had never really considered what this side of marriage would be like, but she was learning that she liked it. She liked it very much. She was almost sorry to realize their time at Brierewode was coming to an end, but they had to get to Dover to join the court.
The queen’s nephew, who was both king of Spain and the new Holy Roman Emperor, would be coming just before they departed for France. Those of the court invited on the summer progress to France would be expected to be at Dover in time to greet Charles V. The emperor was just twenty, the son of Queen Katherine’s deceased sister, and he had never met his aunt. He and the French king did not get on at all, for Francois, like Henry, had hoped to be elected Holy Roman Emperor. The honor, however, had gone to Charles of Spain.
They departed Brierewode on a rainy May morning. Philippa was more rested than she had been in years, and she was very excited. “We shall see you in the late autumn,” she told Mistress Marian, her housekeeper, “before we return to court for the Christmas revels. I know Brierewode is safe in your capable hands.”
The housekeeper nodded and smiled. It was difficult to be annoyed with Philippa. She was charming and mannerly. But all this traveling about! When was the lady going to remain home and do what was expected of her? “God speed you, my lady, my lord,” she murmured politely.
They traveled directly down to London, stopping at Bolton House where Lucy, who had gone before them, was waiting with Philippa’s trunks packed and ready.
“Wait until you see the gowns Lord Cambridge had made for you,” she whispered excitedly to her mistress. “And suits for his lordship as well. I’ve packed them in a separate trunk. And I’ve taken your jewels from the secret place. ’Tis going to be such a grand event. Everyone is talking about it. Supper will be simple, for it’s me doing the cooking. Everyone else has gone with his lordship back to Otterly, and the extras were paid and sent on their way.”
“Serve the supper then in our apartments,” Philippa said to her tiring woman. Then she sighed. “I suppose with none to haul water I can have no bath. I’m already filthy with our travel.”
“I can do a little tub in the kitchens, my lady,” Lucy said.
“And Peter and I will carry the water from the kitchen well,” the earl said, coming upon them and hearing his wife’s conversation.
“Oh, thank you, my lord!” Lucy dimpled.
Crispin St. Claire slid an arm about his new wife. “I shall remain to scrub your back, madame,” he told her with a leer.
“And I will scrub yours, for you shall share the water with me, my lord,” she replied. “We have been wed long enough for me to recognize that look in your eye, and I’ll not lie with a man stinking of horses and the road.”
“How fastidious you are, madame,” he teased her. “I have never known such a woman for bathing, but I will admit you smell better than any woman I have ever known.” He kissed the top of her head. “We may not be so fortunate in France.”
