Page 20 of Until You (Friarsgate Inheritance #2)

Rosamund awoke to hear the birds singing in Tom’s garden. A warm breeze blew through the windows. She yawned and stretched her limbs. Turning her head, she looked through the half-open door in the paneled wall. Philippa was still sleeping. Poor child, Rosamund thought. It had been a long and hard trip for her, but she had never once complained.

The return home was always easier, Rosamund considered. She threw back the coverlet on her bed and arose, then pulled the chamber pot from beneath her bed, used it, leaving it for Lucy to empty. Then she went to the windows and leaned out, sniffing the air, which smelled so different from country air.

There was more traffic on the river than she had remembered. The two barges made fast to the quay bobbed in the morning sunlight. She turned back into her bedchamber, went to the door of her daughter’s room, and closed it softly.

“Good morning, my lady,” Lucy said, coming in with a tray for her mistress. She set the tray down on the table near the fireplace.

“Good morning,” Rosamund responded. “Philippa is still sleeping. Let her be until she awakens naturally.”

“Yes, my lady,” Lucy responded. “Now, come and eat. It is past eight o’clock, and you have not much time if you are to be at Westminster on time.”

Rosamund sat down at the table. “Nay,” she agreed. “It would not do for me to be late. Is Lord Cambridge up yet?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. And he is already driving his man to distraction with all his fussing about what he will wear today. He wished to know what you will wear.”

“What did you choose, Lucy?” Rosamund asked her tiring woman.

“Well, my lady, considering your position right now, I thought it best to err on the side of flattery when you go to reacquaint yourself with the queen. I chose a gown of Tudor green for you,” Lucy said. “It is a simple garment, modest in its design, for you do not wish to appear ostentatious.”

“I was not aware I had a gown of Tudor green,” Rosamund said slowly.

“It is one that was made for you in San Lorenzo. I remade it with a more suitable neckline and sleeves,” Lucy informed her mistress. “Let me show you.” The tiring woman hurried from the bedchamber to return a moment later with the gown. She spread it out for her mistress to view.

Rosamund would not have recognized it for one of the dresses that Celestina had made her but for the paneled underskirt with its delicate windflower and butterfly embroidery in silver matte threads. Gone was the bodice with the deeply scooped neckline, and billowy sheer silk sleeves. In its place was a bodice with a square-cut neckline, the sleeves now tight at the wrist with silver embroidery and covered by wide new sleeves of the same silk brocade as the gown, with large turned-back cuffs. It was a gown made to suit the height of fashion.

“You did this?” Rosamund was very surprised.

“Yes, my lady,” Lucy said, blushing with pride.

“You are extraordinarily skilled with your needle, Lucy,” her mistress said. “Thank you, for you have rendered a gown otherwise unsuitable for England most suitable. Go and tell Lord Cambridge’s man that I shall be wearing Tudor green.”

Lucy colored, pleased by her mistress’ compliments. “I’ll be but a moment, my lady, and then we must get you dressed,” she said.

Rosamund sat down at her breakfast table. The cook had sent her a dish of eggs poached in a cream sauce flavored with nutmeg; fresh bread; butter; jam; and a mug of cold, sharp ale. Finding she was hungry, Rosamund ate it all and drained her mug. Lucy was already back, moving about her bedchamber and laying out petticoats and stockings, shoes and jewelry. She brought her mistress a bowl of warm water and a small cloth. Rosamund washed her face and hands. Then she scrubbed her teeth with the cloth and a mixture of pumice and ground mint. She was proud of her teeth, for unlike many others, she had them all, and they were white and even. She donned her stockings, petticoats, and chemise. Next came her bodice with its beautiful sleeves. Now Rosamund sat down so Lucy might dress her hair properly.

The tiring woman brushed her mistress’ long auburn hair free of tangles. It shone with rich color. Lucy thought it a shame that Rosamund’s hair must be hidden beneath a cap and a veil, but that was the custom of the court. She parted the hair in the middle, gave it a final brush, and then set a green silk French hood trimmed with pearls on Rosamund’s head back just enough so that some of her beautiful hair would show. A sheer white silk veil was attached to the French hood. “I don’t like these caps and veils,” Lucy said. “You have such beautiful hair, my lady.”

“ ’Tis the fashion, and we must follow it,” Rosamund replied.

Lucy set a shakefold on the floor for her mistress to step into and then drew the hooplike contraption up. She then carefully lowered Rosamund’s brocade skirts over her head, careful not to jostle the French hood. They settled over the hooplike shakefold, giving the garment a graceful look. The tiring woman quickly fastened the skirts. “There,” she said. “You look most proper, my lady. Let me get your jewelry case.”

Rosamund chose a heavy gold chain of square links from which hung a gold and pearl crucifix. She also slipped a long rope of pearls about her slender neck and several rings upon the fingers of both hands. Thanks to her cousin she had a fine collection of jewelry now. She was no longer the little girl who had first come to court. She was the lady of Friarsgate, a woman of property and some small wealth.

“You’ll need no cape, my lady,” Lucy informed her. “The day promises to be warm and fair.”

“Mama?” Philippa stood in the doorway to her little chamber. “Are you going to court now? Oh, how beautiful you look! I have never seen you in so fine a gown.”

“I was going to wake you before I left,” Rosamund told the little girl. “You slept most soundly.”

“Aye. I was tired. I did not know London was so very far from Friarsgate. Edinburgh is not as far,” Philippa said.

Rosamund laughed. “I remember making the trip the first time when I was thirteen. I thought we would never get here. Your father had been sent to escort me, and he was very entertaining, so I did not get discouraged or bored. Especially as it was the first time I had ever been away from my home overnight.”

“Papa was always a great deal of fun,” Philippa agreed. “I do miss him.”

Rosamund nodded, thinking how much more simple her life would have been if Owein had not died. But then she should never have known her cousin Tom, or Patrick Leslie. Everything, she was beginning to realize, happened for a reason. “Although the queen has sent word that I am welcome and she wishes to see me, Philippa, her day is always a busy one. I may not be recognized until late in the day, and so I might not be home until long after dark. Lucy will be with you, and you know your uncle’s servants, as they have come from Otterly,” Rosamund explained to her daughter. “I want you to rest and enjoy the garden.”

“Yes, mama,” Philippa said dutifully.

Rosamund bent and kissed her daughter’s brow. “Tomorrow I hope to bring you to court to meet the queen and mayhap even the king.” Then she turned and hurried from the room and downstairs, where she found her cousin awaiting her.

“Come, dear girl, or we shall be late!” he admonished her.

“Shall we each take our own barge?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he agreed. “We are back at court, and who knows when either of us shall be willing to come home.” Then he chuckled mischievously as he escorted her from the house and down to where the two little vessels waited, bobbing in the morning sun.

“Wait for me if you get there first,” she implored him. “I would go in on your arm, cousin.”

“Of course, dear girl!” he assured her, helping her down into her own watercraft.

Rosamund settled herself, bidding her two rowers a good morning. They returned her greeting and then, loosing the little vessel from the quay, they maneuvered out into the broad channel of the river and began their trip downstream to Westminster Palace. Both barges moved in tandem so that they arrived at the king’s current residence together. Lord Cambridge was on the royal quay in time to help his cousin from her transport. Together they entered the palace, and as both had been there before, there was no need to ask for directions to the queen’s apartments.

Upon reaching it, Lord Cambridge said to one of the guardsmen at the door, “Lady Rosamund Bolton is expected by the queen.” Then, kissing his cousin on the cheek, he told her, “I’m off to find some of my former playmates, dear girl. You can seek me if you truly desire to find me.” Then, with a wink, he was gone.

The guardsman opened one of the tall double doors for Rosamund, and she stepped through into the queen’s apartments. It was, as usual, filled with chattering women. At first Rosamund saw no one with whom she was familiar. Then a woman servant of the queen’s, a Mistress Drum, hurried over to her.

“Lady Rosamund of Friarsgate, is it?” she said.

“Yes,” Rosamund replied. “How nice to see you once again, Mistress Drum. Will you tell the queen I have come?”

“Yes, my lady. You may wait here among the magpies.” Mistress Drum bustled off across the chamber.

Rosamund chuckled. It was an apt description for all the women gathered in the queen’s antechamber. She waited for some minutes and then Mistress Drum returned.

“Her highness cannot see you now, my lady, but she says you are to remain here awaiting her pleasure,” Mistress Drum reported.

“Here in the palace?” Rosamund queried politely.

“Nay. Here in her antechamber,” Mistress Drum said apologetically. She glanced about the room. “Ah,” she said, “I see a comfortable chair there for you, my lady,” and she led Rosamund over to it. Then, with a sympathetic smile, she hurried off.

Rosamund sat down. She had no other choice. And then she waited. And she waited. The hour for the main meal of the day came, and the queen and her ladies glided through the antechamber on their way to the Great Hall. Rosamund stood up as the queen came into the room, but passing her by, Katherine of Aragon gave no indication that she even saw her old friend waiting. She exited her apartments. Rosamund sat back down. She had not been invited to the meal and therefore could not go. The antechamber was empty now even of maidservants, and it remained empty for the next few hours while Rosamund continued to wait. Once, she got up and went to the necessary, returning quickly lest she be found gone. She could see the progress of the day into early evening through the windows of the queen’s antechamber. The long twilight deepened into night, and Rosamund remained seated. Finally the door to the room opened, and Mistress Drum came back in, the look on her face a surprised one, for she had not expected to see Rosamund still there.

“You are still here, my lady?”

“I think perhaps the queen has forgotten me,” Rosamund replied quietly.

“I shall find her at once and tell her you are still here,” the servant said, obviously distressed that Rosamund had waited all day. She departed the chamber, and when she returned she wore an even more distressed look upon her face. “I am sorry, my lady. The queen says you are to go home and return tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mistress Drum. Please tell her highness that I shall return and wait upon her pleasure tomorrow,” Rosamund said, rising, shaking her skirts, and leaving the antechamber of the queen’s apartments. She could feel her anger rising, and she needed to leave the palace as quickly as possible. What was the matter with Kate that she had been treated in such an unkind fashion? She had been sitting all day, alone most of the time. No one had spoken to her. She had been offered no refreshment, and then she had been summarily dismissed. Well, tomorrow she would find out what it was all about.

But when Rosamund returned the next day, and the next, she was treated in the same fashion. She was made to wait the day alone, without so much as a cup of water. Then she was sent home without any apology.

On the fourth morning when she arrived at Westminster, Mistress Drum greeted her with an encouraging smile. “She has said she will see you today, my lady,” the servant informed Rosamund.

Then she lowered her voice. “I’ve been with her for years, and I’ve never seen her be so unkind to an old friend.”

“It’s all right, Mistress Drum,” Rosamund replied softly. “It isn’t always easy being a queen.”

Mistress Drum nodded her head in agreement. “ ’Tis the lack of a child that troubles her muchly. And her so devout and faithful, too.”

“God will work his miracles in his own time,” Rosamund said.

“Amen!” The servant crossed herself, then she said, “You’ll have to wait again, but it will be sometime today. I promise.”

So Rosamund sat down in her chair to wonder again why the queen was being so rude. It was not like Kate. As loyal as she was to her queen, Rosamund considered that she could be home now doing many other things. It was a long and arduous journey from Friarsgate. And then, too, there was Logan whom she had promised to allow to court her. Did she really want him do so? Why was everyone so determined she remarry? How could she give herself to any man after Patrick Leslie? She let her mind wander back to their sojourn in San Lorenzo. It had been the most perfect time in her life, and she doubted anything could ever be as wonderful as those months she had had with him there and at Friarsgate. It had been a perfect dream.

The morning passed. The queen and her ladies departed for the main meal of the day. Rosamund continued to wait. And then, in late afternoon, the door to the queen’s antechamber opened, and Katherine of Aragon entered the room. She looked directly at Rosamund and said, “Come!” Rosamund jumped up and followed her old friend into her privy chamber.

The queen whirled about and said in a cold voice, “How dare you ignore my summons of a year ago, Rosamund Bolton!”

“I did not, your highness,” Rosamund protested. “I was not at Friarsgate when your invitation came. I was in Edinburgh, where I had gone to be married.”

“And did you marry?” the queen asked. Her dark eyes were unreadable.

“Nay,” Rosamund said softly.

“Why not?” The question was snapped like a whip crack.

“When I arrived, Lord Leslie had suffered a seizure of the brain. I spent over a month nursing him, but his memory only partly returned. He recalled nothing of the past two years. He did not remember me. We could hardly wed under the circumstances.”

“Perhaps he had just changed his mind, and the illness was his excuse to avoid marriage with you,” the queen said cruelly. It seemed she wanted to hurt Rosamund.

Tears, unbidden, slid down Rosamund’s pale cheeks. “If you had seen him, Kate, if you knew him, you would understand why such a thing was not possible.”

“I have not given you permission to use my Christian name,” the queen said.

“I beg your highness’ pardon,” Rosamund responded.

“Was this the same man with whom you whored in San Lorenzo?” the queen queried.

“Yes,” Rosamund said without hesitation. There could be no convincing the queen of their love. Katherine was too devout a woman to comprehend that kind of passion.

“You have no shame, do you?” the queen said. “I should have never thought that you had the soul of a born whore when we knew each other as girls, Rosamund Bolton.”

Rosamund did not answer. Even though they were alone, it would do no good. She quietly accepted the insult. The queen would not remain angry forever.

“Did you enjoy whoring with my husband?” the queen suddenly demanded.

“What?” Rosamund was staggered by the queen’s accusation, but no matter what happened she would never admit to Katherine of Aragon of her brief affair with the king. It had been a private matter, and few knew of it.

“Do you deny that you were my husband’s whore when you last came to court?” the queen said furiously.

“Yes!” Rosamund cried. “I most certainly do deny it! How could you even think such a thing of me, K—your highness?”

“I have it on the best authority,” the queen replied stonily.

“Whoever has told you this lied,” Rosamund declared indignantly. But she knew who had told the queen, and the bitch would regret it.

“Why would a friend to me since my childhood, a countrywoman, lie to me, Rosamund Bolton?” Katherine said.

There was nothing for it, Rosamund thought. She must take the bull by its horns now and reassure the queen, regain her friendship for Philippa’s sake. “I think I know who has told you this terrible untruth, your highness. I know she believed what she thought she saw, and though I swore on the Blessed Virgin it was not so, she said she would tell you. I begged her not to, for your sake, your highness.”

“Inez would not lie to me,” the queen responded, now sounding a bit unsure. Inez was an old friend, but then Rosamund had helped her in her darkest hour. “Why would she lie to me?”

“Because Inez thought it was the king with me that night. It wasn’t. It was Charles Brandon. We had had a harmless little flirtation, and I was departing the next day. We met to kiss and cuddle. That was all. There was nothing more serious than that, your highness. In the darkness of the hallway Inez mistook Charles Brandon for the king. I could not convince her otherwise, though I certainly tried. You know yourself that they are often mistaken for each other at a distance. I begged Inez not to distress you with her groundless suspicions. She was insulting to me and now attempts to embarrass me publicly with her evil and slanderous tongue!” Rosamund sounded properly indignant.

“I want to believe you,” Katherine said slowly.

“Madame, I would have you believe me, but whether you do or not, my conscience is clear,” Rosamund swore, thinking as she did, I am surely damned now.

“I thought you ignored my summons last year because you were ashamed to face me,” the queen told her.

“I returned from Edinburgh brokenhearted, your highness. I threw myself back into Friarsgate and its care. I nurtured my daughters and oversaw their education. I prayed for Lord Leslie. I could not face the world. And then the Scots marched into England, and we were at war. I dared not leave Friarsgate then. I had to remain to defend my home from the ravages of the intruders. But we were, thank the Blessed Mother, kept safe.” She crossed herself.

The queen sighed. “Inez can be impetuous, and she is very stubborn when she takes a position,” Katherine reasoned.

“I remember,” Rosamund said, and she smiled a small smile.

“I am of a mind to believe you, Rosamund Bolton,” the queen told her.

“I would be most grateful if you did, your highness. If you remain angry at me you will not receive my eldest daughter, Philippa. I have brought her with me to meet you. She is ten years old, and in another two years I must seek a good husband for her. I thought it was time she gained a bit of polish.”

“Oh!” the queen exclaimed excitedly. “I remember when your daughter was born. Is it really that long ago? It must be if you say it is. What is she like, Rosamund?”

“She looks like me,” Rosamund answered the queen. “But I am told she is very much like her great-grandmother, a practical woman of strong common sense. She is very excited about meeting you and perhaps even meeting his majesty.”

Katherine of Aragon held out her hand to Rosamund. “Kiss my ring, Rosamund Bolton. I will forgive you,” she said. And when Rosamund obeyed, the queen kissed her on both cheeks. “We are friends again,” the queen said. “Bring your daughter with you tomorrow. I will tell Inez that she was indeed mistaken. I have treated you harshly, Rosamund, and I now regret it.”

“Your highness is a busy woman. I was content to wait for your notice,” Rosamund murmured, curtsying. She was amazed that she had not been struck down in the good queen’s presence by her great lie. Still, she had lied to protect the queen’s heart as much as to protect her own reputation. Perhaps it was not so terrible a lie, and for some reason the memory of the king’s grandmother, the Venerable Margaret, as she had been known, popped into her head. Rosamund knew that that good lady would not have approved her affair, but she would have thoroughly approved the lie to protect Katherine, the queen. In order to produce an heir, the queen must be happy with her spouse. And she must be content with her life and those around her.

“You may join your cousin in the Great Hall now,” the queen said. “We shall be here at Westminster for only another couple of days. The weather grows too warm for London, and plague does tend to arise here in the summer months. We are decamping for Windsor. The king does enjoy Windsor in the summertime. You will remain with us, of course.”

“I am honored to be asked,” Rosamund said. “But, dear highness, remember that I am necessary to Friarsgate. My bailiff uncle grows old, and all my daughters need me. I would hope when you prepare to move on from Windsor I may be permitted to return home again.”

“Should we choose a husband for you, Rosamund Bolton, while you are with us?” the queen wondered aloud. “You should have a husband.”

“I do not disagree, madame, but remember that the Venerable Margaret said a woman must wed first for her family and then was permitted to marry for herself. A nearby neighbor has expressed an interest in courting me.

We have been known to each other since I was six years old. When I was widowed before, he sought my hand, but I had already been promised to Owein Meredith,” Rosamund explained smoothly. The one thing she did not need, or want, was another husband chosen for her. And there was no need for the queen to know her “neighbor” was a Scot.

“Oh, how exciting!” trilled the queen, smiling. “Is he handsome?”

“I suppose some would say it, but his best feature is very, very blue eyes,” Rosamund answered, returning the smile.

The queen nodded. “A man with blue eyes is difficult to resist,” she agreed. “The king has blue eyes.”

“Yes, I recall,” Rosamund murmured, not wanting to get any further into a conversation regarding Henry Tudor. She curtsied again, saying as she did, “With your highness’ permission, I will go and seek out my cousin now.”

“Of course,” Katherine replied graciously. “You may give him my regards. I have seen him in the Great Hall these past nights but have had no opportunity to speak with him. A most amusing gentleman. Did I hear he had sold his estates in the south and moved north to Cumbria to be near your family?”

“Indeed, madame, he did,” Rosamund replied. “It is comforting to have him nearby. Family is so important.”

The queen nodded in agreement, and taking this as her cue, Rosamund curtsied once again, backing out through the door between the queen’s privy chamber and the anteroom. That room was once again filled with chattering women, and as she crossed it, her eye caught that of Inez de Salinas. Rosamund smiled sweetly at her, nodding in a friendly fashion, restraining the laughter that threatened to burst forth from her at the look of surprise on the Spanish woman’s face. Then she hurried to the Great Hall, where she found Tom dicing with some gentlemen. Seeing her, he murmured something to his companions, gathered his winnings, and joined her. Together they sought a secluded spot where they might talk without being overheard.

“She has seen you.” It was a statement, not a question. “What excuse did she give for keeping you waiting for four days after demanding you come down from Friarsgate?” he asked.

“Inez,” was all Rosamund said.

“What?” For a moment he looked puzzled, but then, as she explained, it all became clear to Lord Cambridge again.

“Remember the night we left the summer progress several years ago to return home to Cumbria? Remember what she saw, and how I denied it, naming another gentleman? She did not believe me, but I did think I had prevailed upon her to be silent. She was not. She ran rumormongering to the queen,” Rosamund said.