There had been hundreds of applications for the designated places in the new queen’s household. More were disappointed than pleased by the king’s appointments. Nyssa Wyndham, arriving at Hampton Court on the fifteenth of November, could scarcely contain her excitement. It fortunately overwhelmed her nervousness, which had grown with each passing mile that took her from RiversEdge. She watched her aunt Bliss carefully, aping her every move; and refused to be disconcerted by her young male relations, who found her new behavior hilarious, to say the least.
Knowing that there would not be room for them at the palace, Owen FitzHugh had rented a small house in the village of Richmond. Decent lodgings were at a premium. He had had to outbid several others to obtain it. When he and Bliss had been younger and very much involved with the court, it had been different. There had always been a place for them. It had been years, however, since they had been a part of all of this. He grimaced. Court was too damned expensive these days, it seemed to him. Not only had he had to rent lodgings for them here in Richmond where Hampton Court Palace was located, but he had had to rent a house near Greenwich as well. At least his two brothers-in-law had contributed generously to the expenses he would incur with all of this. After all, he would not have come had it not been for Nyssa and the lads.
“Will we live here while the court is here?” Nyssa asked her uncle as they arrived in Richmond-on-Thames.
“You will live at court,” Bliss answered before Owen even had the chance to think. “Philip and Giles will live there as well, but our young Owen and Edmund Kingsley will live here with us.”
“ ’Twill not be easy,” the Earl of Marwood told his niece. “You’ll be lucky to have a bed, and will probably share one with another girl. You’ll have little space for your possessions, and will have to leave most of them here with us. You’ll be on call to the queen ’round the clock, and have little time to claim for your own. You’ll eat and sleep on the run. Your brothers too. ’Tis not easy to be in the royal service.”
Nyssa paled slightly, her look plainly asking why no one had told her all this before. Being a maid of honor suddenly sounded awful! She wished now that she had stayed at home.
Bliss, divining her thoughts, said, “ ’Tis hard, I’ll not deny, my child, but ohh, the advantages to being here at court! Everything happens at court. ’Tis where the power and the excitement lie, Nyssa. And the gentlemen.” Bliss drew her hood up, and taking the hand proferred by the footman, stepped from their carriage. She looked hard at the residence her husband had rented for them. “Surely this cannot be right, Owen. It is practically a cottage, my lord. Are you certain this is the house that you obtained for us?” Nyssa had alighted from the vehicle, and took her aunt’s hand in hers. Bliss gave her a quick smile.
“We are fortunate to have any lodgings at all,” the Earl of Marwood replied testily. “Coming to court under normal circumstances is not easy. Coming to court when the king is about to remarry is impossible, madame! I know several who fought over accommodations in barns. Perhaps you would prefer to share your quarters with the cows?”
Nyssa giggled. Uncle Owen could be so forceful when he chose to be. Usually he pretended to allow Aunt Bliss her way in all things, not fully realizing that Bliss had wrapped him about her little finger years ago. The young girl strove to ease the situation. “I think the house sweet. I have never lived in town.”
Bliss, finally realizing the situation, said, “I am certain that you have done your best, Owen, but why are we standing in the street? Let us go and see exactly what it is we do have.”
Inside, Bliss found the house not quite as bad as she had anticipated, but certainly not as good as she had hoped for. They stepped into a narrow hall to ascend equally narrow stairs up a flight to the first floor of the house.
“The library is in the front, a family hall in the rear,” the earl said quietly. “On the lower floor there is a kitchen, although most of our meals will come from the public cook house nearby. On the next floor up are three bedchambers, and the top floor will house the servants. A garden and a stable come with the house as well. ’Twas the best I could do under the circumstances.”
Bliss nodded. “We’ll be going to Greenwich shortly,” she told them hopefully. “It isn’t as if we had to live here forever.”
“The house in Greenwich is larger,” the earl said with a smile. “Someone had already rented it, but there was a near-death in the family, so of course they could not come to court. I arrived at just the right time to snap it up. I rented it through April. Even if we have to go up to London, the Greenwich house will be convenient for us. It sits in its own little park, my dear. Did I tell you that?”
“No, you did not, my lord,” Bliss answered him slowly. “Your description, however, will make our time here in Richmond easier.”
They had moved into the small family hall as they talked. A cheerful fire was burning in the paneled room, lit by the house’s caretaker, who had been expecting them. The furnishings were plain, but everything seemed clean, which was a relief to Bliss.
“When are we to report to court, Aunt?” Nyssa asked nervously.
“Not until tomorrow,” her aunt reassured her. “Sir Anthony Browne’s wife will be supervising the maids of honor, I am told. She is very strict, but fair, I have heard. The pages too will be in her charge, I believe.” She fixed her Wyndham nephews with a stern look. “You two will have to behave,” she warned them. “You, in particular, Philip. As your father’s heir, you must not disgrace the Langford earldom. The king has done your mother a great favor in placing you in Queen Anne’s household.”
“I have certainly been taught the social graces, Aunt,” Philip Wyndham said loftily. “I know well what is expected of me. I would hardly disgrace myself, or my family’s name.”
“And you shall make us all proud,” Owen FitzHugh said heartily, clapping his nephew on the back and avoiding his wife’s outraged look.
Bliss, however, was not to be thwarted. “You must be more careful, Philip, and think before you speak,” she chided him.
A wink from his uncle encouraged young Lord Wyndham to hold his tongue. “Yes, madame,” was all he replied.
It was now late in the day. Bliss ordered a simple meal served, that her brood might retire early. “Even though the Princess of Cleves has not yet arrived,” she warned them, “this will likely be the last full night of sleep you have for some time.”
The four male cousins were to share one of the bedchambers. Nyssa would have a small room barely large enough to contain a bed and her baggage. The little serving maid who had come with her from RiversEdge was to sleep on the bed’s trundle.
“It ain’t much, Mistress Nyssa,” the girl, who was called Tillie, said plainly. “Me dad’s dogs have more room in their kennel.” Tillie’s father was the head gamekeeper at RiversEdge. She was an outspoken girl, small of stature, with a pleasant but plain countenance. Her flaxen hair was neatly plaited into a single braid that hung down her back, and her brown eyes were sharp with a look of intelligence.
“We won’t be here for very long, Tillie,” Nyssa promised.
“The countess’s woman says you will be going to court first thing in the morning to pay your respects to the king and meet the mistress of the maids. We’d best decide what you’re to wear now. There will be precious little time come morning, I’ll warrant.”
Nyssa nodded. Tillie was a sensible and practical girl. She had been in Nyssa’s service for ten months now, having been chosen by her mother’s own beloved tiring woman, Heartha, who had personally trained the girl in her duties. Tillie was Heartha’s niece, and had been raised at RiversEdge. She was the same age as her mistress.
“Now we’ll want to make a good first impression,” Tillie said thoughtfully, “but we don’t want to look bold, do we?” She shook her head, answering her own question. “The burgundy? Nay. The apple-green? ’Tis not quite right, I’m thinking.”
“What about that lovely violet-blue that matches my eye
s?” Nyssa asked her maid. “ ’Tis very flattering, Tillie.”
“Aye, but you’ll attract too much attention in it, being a newcomer, I’m thinking. ’Tis not the kind of impression you’ll want to be making, mistress.” She furrowed her brow in concentration, and then suddenly it cleared. “The peach velvet!” she said. “ ’Tis just the thing! You’ll wear it with that wonderful cream and gold damask underskirt, Mistress Nyssa. I’ll unpack them right away and get the wrinkles out. You’ll look as you should, a beautiful, well-to-do young lady. You get into bed and go to sleep. We have an early start before us. You’ll have to bathe in the morning, and I must do your hair. Here, let me help you to undress, and then I’ll be about my business preparing your gowns and petticoats for the morrow.”
Nyssa didn’t think she could sleep. She was far too excited, yet the moment her head touched the pillow, she was off. When Tillie awoke her in the morning, it was yet dark, and the room, without a fireplace, was freezing. She snuggled beneath her coverlets, protesting as Tillie fussed at her to get up.
“I’ve got a tub ready and waiting for you, Mistress Nyssa,” Tillie said. “The water will not stay hot in this place for long. You had best hurry, or ’twill be as icy as the room itself.”
“I don’t care,” Nyssa muttered defiantly, and burrowed deeper beneath the down. It was so cozy in her bed. She shrieked as Tillie yanked the covers from her. “No!” She struggled to grab them back.
“Into the tub with you,” Tillie said firmly. “You’ll not be disgracing the Wyndhams of Langford by coming before the king and his grand court with the stink and stain of the road upon you, mistress! Why if my aunt Heartha learned of it—and believe me, that gossiping Maybelle who serves Lady Bliss would be quick to tell her—Aunty would tan the hide right off of me. You wouldn’t want that to happen, Mistress Nyssa, would you?” she wheedled. “Lord knows I try to do my best by you.”
Nyssa laughed. “And you do, Tillie,” she assured the servant. Climbing from her bed, she pulled off her nightgown to get into the small, round, oaken tub. She sat down in the warm water, shivering slightly. Sometimes Tillie sounded like Heartha, and far older than her years, but at other times she was such fun.
“I’ve got to do your hair,” Tillie warned her apologetically. “ ’Tis filled with dust from the road.” Before Nyssa could answer, Tillie poured a small bucket of warm water over her mistress’s head. “You do the rest, and we’ll be done the faster,” she said.
“Hurry!” Nyssa said through chattering teeth. The room was terribly cold, and with wet shoulders, she felt it all the more. Taking up the small cake of hard-milled soap, she quickly washed herself, gasping as Tillie poured another bucket over her head to rinse the first washing away.
Tillie scrubbed her lady’s head a second time, rinsed it vigorously with her bucket, then finally ordered, “Quick, get out, mistress!” She wrapped a large towel about Nyssa and began to vigorously dry her hair with a second towel.
Nyssa rubbed herself with the rough fabric until her skin began to glow. Then at Tillie’s suggestion she climbed back into bed to get warm once again.
Tillie handed her the smaller towel. “Keep getting that water from your hair, mistress,” she said. “I’ll go downstairs and see if I can find you something to eat before we must dress.”
Nyssa pulled the coverlets as high up as she could, trying to ward off the chill of the room. She rubbed her long dark hair until at last most of the bathwater was gone and her hair was merely damp. Across the small room her bodice, gown, and petticoats were spread neatly over a chair. There wasn’t a wrinkle in them. Tillie must have been up half the night, Nyssa thought guiltily, pressing them out so that her mistress would make a good first impression at court. What a treasure the maidservant was. Her mother had always said a good tiring woman was invaluable, but Nyssa hadn’t given it much thought until now.
Tillie bustled back into the room with a tray. “Well, I didn’t have much hope when I went downstairs,” she said matter-of-factly, “but lord bless me if there wasn’t a one-eyed old woman in the kitchen who said she was the cook for this place. She gave me a nice bowl of oat porridge, some bread fresh from her oven, butter, honey, and mulled, watered wine for you, mistress.” Tillie placed the tray on Nyssa’s lap. “Now you eat it all up. From what Maybelle tells me, you’ll be lucky to get fed the rest of the day. They don’t eat much at court, she says.”
“What about you?” Nyssa asked her servant. “Did you get something for yourself to eat, Tillie?” She spooned porridge into her mouth.
“I’ll eat when you’ve gone, mistress,” Tillie told her. “Maybelle says you’ll probably be back here for the next few nights since the new queen ain’t arrived yet. The maids with family nearby will usually come home to rest. Once the queen has come, though, ’twill be a different thing, Maybelle says.”
“I’m glad Maybelle is such a font of information,” Nyssa said, her eyes twinkling with humor.
“Pea-green with jealousy, she is.” Tillie giggled. “Oh, her mistress is a countess, but at court countesses are a ha’penny a pound. Lady Bliss ain’t never served a queen, but my mistress will be serving a queen. Poor old Maybelle is torn between envy and her natural inclination to tell me what to do because I’m just a girl like yourself, mistress.”
“Glean what knowledge and gossip you can from her, and any others you may become friends with,” Nyssa instructed her serving maid. “I’m not very wise in the ways of the world, Tillie, as you well know. I think I will have to become so to survive at the court. Mama has said this is such a wonderful opportunity for me. I cannot disappoint her.”
Tillie nodded her head sagely. “Don’t you worry, Mistress Nyssa. We’re going to do just fine here at court. Now, finish up your breakfast before your aunt is in here scolding us both for being late.”
Nyssa swallowed the last of her bread and wine then climbed from her bed. The room was still cold, but she felt better now that she was clean and fed. Tillie helped her into a soft linen chemise with a standing collar edged in lace. Then she slipped a pair of delicately knitted stockings on her mistress’s legs, gartered with silk rosebuds. Next came a satin corset and several petticoats over which was set a shakefold, a delicate wire frame with stiffened pads. Her cream satin underskirt, which was embroidered with gold thread dragonflies and daisies, fell over the little hoop, spreading itself out smoothly. Next came the peach velvet divided overskirt, which displayed the underskirt to its best advantage. Finally Tillie fitted a peach velvet bodice embroidered with gold thread, pearls, and tiny, glittering topaz over her mistress’s corset. The bodice had a low neckline and wide bell-like sleeves turned back at the lower edge.
It was the fashion for young girls to wear their hair parted in the middle and loose. For neatness’ sake, not to mention elegance, Tillie fitted Nyssa’s long hair into a pretty gold caul. Then the maidservant bent to fit narrow, round-toed shoes of cream-colored kid upon the girl’s feet.
Tillie stood up to survey her handiwork, and nodded, pleased. “I’ll just get yer jewelry casket, mistress. ’Tis all that’s needed now to supply the finishing touch to your garb.”
When Tillie returned with the jewel case, Nyssa chose two beautiful strands of pearls of a creamy hue. One was longer than the other, and they hung below the neckline of her gown. She slipped two rings, one a pearl, the other a topaz, on the fingers of her right hand, and then closed the box. “Put it away, Tillie,” she said. “I have what I need for today. It is not too much, is it?”
Tillie tucked the box back into her mistress’s trunk, saying as she did so, “Nay, Mistress Nyssa. ’Tis just right.”
There was a knock upon the bedchamber door, and Maybelle stuck her head in. Her eyes widened at the sight of Nyssa. “Ohh, and don’t you look pretty, little mistress,” she said admiringly. “Yer aunt is awaiting you downstairs. They’re ready to go.”
Tillie picked up a light brown velvet cloak lined in rabbit’s fur for her mistress, and handed N
yssa her gloves. “Come along, my lady,” she said briskly, moving so swiftly that Maybelle was forced to give way at the door. Tillie winked at Nyssa as Maybelle, swept aside, sputtered irritably, running behind them to catch up.
They moved quickly but carefully down the staircase. Nyssa took in every elegant bit of her aunt’s attire. Bliss was, at thirty-three, still an outrageously beautiful woman. Her deep blue velvet gown, embroidered with gold and silver threads as well as pearls, matched her sapphire-blue eyes. In defiance of fashion, Bliss wore her daffodil-blond hair in a chignon, held by gold pins at the nape of her neck.
“I see no reason to hide my beautiful hair beneath those ugly headdresses,” she often said. Then she would turn and smile at her doting husband. “Owen would not like it,” she would finish, as if his opinion in the matter were really of great import to her.
This morning she carefully scrutinized her niece with critical eyes. Finally she smiled approvingly. Both Tillie and Nyssa let out a collective breath.
“Very nice, my child. You look absolutely pure perfection. Elegant, but not gaudy. A young woman of means and good family; not some opportunistic little wench come husband-hunting to court, eager to attract the attention of some foolish gallant.”
Nyssa’s eyes twinkled. “I thought I had been sent to court to find a husband,” she teased her aunt, and her uncle Owen guffawed.
“You have come to court to serve the queen,” Bliss said in smooth tones. “Now, if you should just happen to find a gentleman who takes your fancy, steals your heart, and pleads for your hand in marriage, and if he is suitable, that is an altogether different matter, child.”
Nyssa laughed. “Is that how you caught Uncle Owen’s fancy, at court?”
“I met your uncle in your father’s house,” Bliss replied primly.
“It was your mother’s sixteenth birthday,” the Earl of Marwood said, taking up the story. “Bliss and Blythe and your aunt Delight came to RiversEdge to celebrate the occasion. One look at your aunt, and I was lost to her, just as Nick Kingsley was as taken with Blythe.”
Love, Remember Me Page 4