No, she thought to herself. I do not like court. Nor do I like the person I become when I visit the court. Everything I do is controlled of necessity by others. I have always hated other people running my life. We will go home as soon as we can. Perhaps we will not even wait for the summer to end. Once Philippa has met the king and the queen, is there any reason for us to stay? There was, and she knew it. Rosamund had made her peace with Queen Katherine, but she had yet to make it with the king. He had not cajoled his wife into asking Rosamund to court simply for social reasons. Lord Howard had obviously said something to the king. She thought she had seen him briefly tonight in the Great Hall, but she was not certain of it, and if it was he, he had not noticed her.
The river outside lay quiet in the time between the two tides. The water looked like a sheet of beaten silver. There was no traffic to mar its surface now, for it was very late. There was the scent of roses and honeysuckle from Tom’s garden. It wafted into her bedchamber on the faintest of breezes. It was a night for lovers, Rosamund thought to herself. Patrick. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, but the tears still pushed from beneath her lashes and slipped down her cheeks. She sighed, resigned, and brushed the tears away with her hand. The last time she remembered a night like this, he had been with her. He would never be with her again. She knew it. But still her heart had great difficulty accepting the knowledge. But I have to accept it. When I return home, Logan Hepburn will come courting, and this time I must either accept him or send him away forever. I am not certain I want to lose Logan’s friendship, but I am also not certain I want another husband. Rosamund arose from her place by the window and found her bed. She knew she would be awake all night if she didn’t quiet her mind.
In the morning Philippa came from her little bedchamber and climbed into her mother’s bed. “Good morrow, mama,” she greeted her parent.
Rosamund opened her eyes, and drawing her daughter near, kissed her cheek. “You are going to court today, Mistress Philippa,” she said, laughing aloud at the look of delight that suddenly appeared on her daughter’s face.
“Today?” Philippa squealed excitedly. “You spoke with the queen yesterday? Oh, mama, why did you not wake me last night when you came home?”
“Because, my darling, you would have never gone back to sleep,” her mother said.
“What am I to wear?” Philippa asked. “What time are we due? Will I meet the king, too, mama?”
“We will arrive before the main meal of the day so you may eat in the Great Hall,” Rosamund said with a smile. “You will wear what you choose from among your gowns, my child, although I do think the lavender silk is very flattering with your hair and your skin.”
Philippa jumped from the bed. “I must have a bath!” she exclaimed. “You have said the king’s nose is a sensitive one, mama. Lucy!” she called. “Lucy!”
“Gracious, Mistress Philippa,” the tiring woman said, entering Rosamund’s bedchamber, “what is the matter?”
“I am going to court today, Lucy! I shall wear the lavender silk, and I want a bath!” Philippa cried.
“My lady?” Lucy asked politely.
“I think the violet brocade gown, Lucy. It will blend nicely with my daughter’s wardrobe,” she finished with a smile.
“Yes, my lady,” Lucy chirped. “I’ll see to the bath right away.”
Philippa scampered back into her bedchamber and began riffling through her little trunk. “Jewelry, mama! I have no jewelry! How can I meet the king and the queen without jewelry?”
“But you do have jewelry, my poppet,” her mother replied. “When you were born the king’s grandmother sent you a broach of emeralds and pearls. I brought it with me for you to wear. And you will have a rope of pearls from my own jewels. It shall be yours to keep, Philippa. You will always remember that I gave it to you on the day you met King Henry and Queen Katherine.”
“Oh, thank you, mama!” Philippa cried.
The bath was drawn, and the young girl bathed, washing her hair again and drying it in the open air as she sat in the window seat of her mother’s chamber, brushing her long auburn tresses. Rosamund used the bathwater after her daughter, and while she bathed her cousin came to speak with her.
“Philippa will need adornment,” he said.
“She has the broach the Venerable Margaret sent at her birth, and I am giving her a rope of my pearls, but she could use some pretty rings, Tom. Do you have something that would suit her?”
He nodded. “I’ll give them to her before we leave. What are you both wearing? I would match my clothes to yours, dear girl. We should not clash on such a momentous occasion.”
“Philippa will wear her lavender silk gown and I my violet brocade,” Rosamund said. “Do you still possess that burgundy short coat with the pleated back, Tom? It would be quite marvelous, you know.”
“My dear girl, I have indeed taught you good taste over the years, haven’t I? It is the perfect suggestion. I shall go and have my man prepare it now.” Blowing a kiss at her with his fingers, he left her to complete her ablutions.
When she finished bathing Rosamund dried herself, for Lucy was busy helping Philippa. Then she managed to don her own undergarments, but Lucy was necessary for getting into her gown, a beautiful creation of violet silk brocade with a silver-embroidered and quilted underskirt of a lilac-colored velvet. The low square neckline of the dress was also embroidered in silver thread. False undersleeves with slashings and frilled linen cuffs showed from beneath her wide violet brocade cuffs. Rosamund wore a violet silk French hood edged in pearls with a pale lilac-colored silk veil flowing behind, allowing the fine color of her hair to show. Her square-toed shoes were covered in purple silk.
Little Philippa was now brought forth in her lavender silk gown with its plain quilted underskirt of satin. The long, tight sleeves of the gown had small cuffs embroidered with tiny pearls. The square neckline of her bodice was also embroidered in pearls. About her waist was a twisted gold rope with a long tassel, and her shoes matched her gown. Her hair was left long, bound only by a lavender ribbon.
Rosamund put a rope of pearls over her daughter’s head, letting it fall on the girl’s flat bodice, where she pinned the emerald and pearl broach in the center. “There,” she said. “You are quite elegant, my child.” Then she reached into her jewelry box and drew out the gold chain with its gold-and-pearl crucifix and a second rope of pearls and put them on. On her fingers she affixed several rings. Satisfied they were both ready, she said, “Lucy, put on a clean cap. Today you will come to court with us.”
The young tiring woman’s mouth fell open in surprise. “I must change my gown,” she gasped. “Is there time?”
Rosamund nodded, and Lucy ran off. “A lady should generally travel with her maidservant,” she explained to her daughter. “I have left Lucy behind these last few days to watch over you, as we have traveled simply from Friarsgate, without a large retinue. Today, however, she comes with us.”
Lucy quickly returned wearing a gown Rosamund had not known her servant possessed. “Annie gave it to me, my lady. She thought I might need something better than my everyday.” The dress was a silk one Rosamund had given Annie once. It was dark blue with a plain bodice and single skirt. The neckline was square, as was the fashion. It was edged in pleated linen. Lucy also wore a lace-edged lawn apron and a matching cap. She looked every inch an upper servant.