The Last Heiress

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The Last Heiress Page 13

by Bertrice Small

Elizabeth laughed. “Nay, but at least I won’t have to spend it gliding up and down the palace lawns being inspected by snobs and parvenus, being gossiped about and having my wealth speculated upon. I shall rid myself of the river’s stink, re-dress, and sit in Uncle’s gardens listening to the music from the palace.”

  Nancy hurried out, and Elizabeth washed first herself, and then her long blond hair, which had been soaked in the river. Climbing from the oak tub, she dried herself off with one of the towels on the warming rack by her fire, then wrapped her head in another towel. Nancy had laid out a clean chemise on the bed, and Elizabeth donned it. Then, sitting by the fire, she unwrapped her hair from the towel and began to rub it dry before the heat of the hearth.

  Returning, Nancy came to stand behind her mistress and began to brush the long hair. “ ’Tis like thistledown,” she noted. “Golden thistledown, and straight as a poker. Now Lady Philippa has all them fine curls, and Mistress Neville’s hair has a bit of a curl to it too, but not yours.” She plied the brush vigorously now as the damp hair dried, becoming thicker with each stroke of her brush.

  “It suits my nature,” Elizabeth said, “as curls suit Philippa. She is all fussy and intent on being the perfect courtier.”

  “And you are happiest being a wild child,” Nancy teased her mistress.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose I am, but I am not irresponsible, nor unmindful of my duties. And before I had to jump into the river to save myself I met two gentlemen, the king, and Mistress Boleyn, Nancy.”

  “Ohh,” Nancy said, “was the gentlemen handsome?”

  “One is related to me. His name is Rees Jones, and we share a great-grandfather. The other is a Scot. He is King James’s personal messenger, and sent to live at court so that should King Henry need to send to his nephew he has a messenger to do it. Uncle Thomas says he is a spy, though he denied it.” Elizabeth chuckled.

  “What was the king like?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “Very handsome. Quite tall, with wonderful red-gold hair and a beard. His eyes are small, but they’re quite a brilliant blue. He’s a big man too. And Mistress Boleyn is not at all beautiful, but she is so elegant, and her wit is swift. I quite liked her, but I also felt sorry for her, Nancy. She hides it well, but she is afraid. I sense it.”

  “Probably fears for her immortal soul, stealing the queen’s husband away from her,” Nancy said with a country woman’s practicality.

  “The queen’s plight is of her own making,” Elizabeth said. “The king needs a son, and she cannot give him one. There must be a new queen.”

  “But the old one ain’t dead,” Nancy said, and then she put the hairbrush aside.

  “Find me something simple to wear,” Elizabeth said, “if indeed I have something like that anymore.”

  Nancy found a long, deep-green silk skirt with a plain square-necked bodice that had long, fitted sleeves. Elizabeth donned it and, sliding a pair of house slippers on her feet, she went out into the garden. She had left her hair loose but for a green silk ribbon with a small oval crystal she wore about her forehead. In the garden the first of the early roses were coming into bloom, and the statuary, while as flamboyant as the London garden’s, was of both men and women in various poses of an erotic nature. Sitting on a bench by the water, she watched the river traffic.

  Suddenly a small punt appeared around a little bend in the river, and it was headed directly for Lord Cambridge’s quay. Looking closely, Elizabeth saw it was poled by Flynn Stewart. He waved at her and, reaching the dockage, jumped from the little boat, making it fast. He carried in his arms the skirts and petticoats she had left behind earlier, and atop the pile of silk and fine lawn were her sleeves. “Mistress.” He bowed and laid the pile on the bench next to her. Then, reaching into an interior pocket of his doublet, he drew forth her two shoes, setting them in her lap.

  “How did you find them?” she asked him, truly surprised. “And thank you, sir! My sister was most put out by my loss of the sleeves.”

  “It was my fault,” Flynn said. “In my efforts to help you from the punt I fell, and in reaching for the damned little boat set you adrift instead. And I could not rescue you because I was facedown in the riverbank. Then those bloody fools who accompany Mistress Boleyn everywhere and haven’t the sense to come in from the rain stood there gaping while you were in danger. If you hadn’t had the presence of mind to do what you did, you’d be halfway to the Wash by now. I took a barge, and we rowed after the punt. When we reached it, we took it in tow back to the palace, and then I rowed it from there.”

  “I am most grateful, sir,” Elizabeth said. “It was a kind thing to do, and I doubt anyone else would have done it.”

  “You were right earlier. Neither of us belongs here,” he said.

  “Sit down,” Elizabeth said, and he sat in the grass next to her. “Are you really nothing more than King James’s messenger?”

  He grinned engagingly at her. “Nothing more,” he said.

  “They say your father was a very loving man, and it angered his queen. I heard that she once discovered his large family living in the same palace she inhabited, and sent them elsewhere. Were you among those unfortunate children, Flynn Stewart?”

  “Nay,” he said. “I am the only one of my father’s known bastards who was never officially recognized, although my father knew I was his, and saw to my well-being, and visited with me regularly. It was because of the way in which I was conceived.” He chuckled. “Would you like to hear the tale, or would it shock you?”

  “I breed sheep,” Elizabeth said dryly, “although I suspect my older sister would swoon at such an admission from my lips. Respectable virgins are not supposed to admit to knowing such things.”

  “And are you a respectable virgin, Elizabeth Meredith?” he teased her.

  “I am a virgin, sir, but as to the other that is a matter for debate,” she answered. “Now tell me your shocking tale, and of how you were bred.”

  He grinned. He liked Elizabeth Meredith. She was exactly what you saw. Plainspoken with no foolishness about her. No. She didn’t belong at court. “It was at my mother’s wedding to Robert Gray, the laird of Athdar, who is my stepfather. Rob was a friend of the king, and he had invited him to the wedding. It was a grand affair, my mother recalls, and there was much drinking involved. The king was mourning his separation from his great love, Meg Drummond. My stepfather knew it, and sought to comfort his friend. As my mother tells it, he said, ‘Jamie, my Nara looks much like yer Meg. Would ye accept the droit du seigneur of her this night, and let her comfort ye?’ ”

  “He didn’t!” Elizabeth gasped. She knew what the droit du seigneur was. It allowed the bridegroom to offer his bride’s virtue to his overlord.

  “Ah, but my stepfather did. Both he and the king were very drunk. My mother was fair with dark hair and eyes, like Meg Drummond. She says she was just drunk enough herself to feel sorry for Jamie Stewart. She decided if it was all right with Rob then it was fine with her. So the king bedded her, and afterwards the bridegroom bedded her. Nine months later I was born. There was no doubt whose son I was, and I was named Flynn, which means ‘son of the red-haired man.’ The king was embarrassed at the manner in which I was conceived. My mother says he apologized to her half a dozen times. He insisted I bear his surname, but he would never formally recognize me because of his shame. But he visited me when he was in the area, and never forgot my natal day.

  My stepfather was a good man, and loved me every bit as much as the children he sired on my mother. But Rob Gray died at Flodden with the king. My twelve-year-old half brother, Ian, became the new laird of Athdar, and I his watchdog.

  “A year later Robert Gray’s only male relation appeared at Athdar. His name was Muir Gray, and he claimed to have survived Flodden, but been gravely wounded. He had not come sooner, he told our mother, because he had been recovering. I never believed he was at Flodden. Muir Gray was by nature a coward. But my mother welcomed him. Several months later my brother, who had alway
s been healthy and strong, began to sicken. And all the while my mother was being slowly seduced by Muir Gray. He asked her to marry him, and despite our warnings that he was not a good man, our mother wed Muir Gray. Her belly was already swelling with his spawn on their wedding day. My brother died shortly thereafter. I am certain Muir murdered him, but I could never prove it. Then my mother died, and her stillborn son with her.

  “Muir Gray was now the undisputed laird of Athdar. He barely mourned my mother before he was sending my younger half sister, Janet, into a convent, and bedding the older of my half sisters, Mary. As soon as she was with child, he married her. I protested both these acts, and was told as my mother’s bastard I could have a place in the stables, but I could no longer live in the house. When I suggested his blood relationship to my sister was close enough to forbid the bonds of marriage between them, he said he would kill me if I ever questioned the legitimacy of his children. He had offered me a home and work only at the behest of my sister. I tried to speak with Mary, but she would not listen to me. She loved him, she said. I packed my few possessions, and left Athdar that day.”

  “I am sorry that you lost your home,” Elizabeth said.

  “Athdar was never mine,” he said quietly. “Wherever I can serve my king is where my home is, Elizabeth.”

  “How did you come to serve the king?” she asked him.

  “I went to Edinburgh, and discovered that my face can open a great many doors. You see, not only did I have James IV’s red hair, I had his face as well. I wangled an introduction to the Duke of Lennox, who was the regent for the little king, and asked to enter his service. He welcomed me as a kinsman, and put me into the little king’s household. It was my duty to teach James V how to ride, and to sit by his side as his companion at all times. Actually the duke wanted my eyes and ears to prevent the mayhem that always surrounds Stewart kings. When he was gone my first loyalty went to my half brother. As he grew we had some grand adventures.” Flynn chuckled. “When he was eighteen my royal half brother seized his power from those attempting to rule for him. He sent me to England so that should his uncle, King Henry, ever need to communicate with Scotland quickly I am here for him.”

  “And to be his eyes and ears, I am quite certain,” Elizabeth teased him.

  “But you’ll not tell anyone that,” Flynn said seriously, and she was not certain whether he was teasing her back or it was the truth.

  “Nay,” she agreed. “I will not tell. ’Twill be our secret, Flynn Stewart.”

  He grinned. “I think I shall like sharing secrets with you, Elizabeth Meredith. May it be the first of many between us.”

  Elizabeth blushed, but then she giggled. “I can only imagine what my sister would think if she came upon us now. She would complain that I was not behaving like a proper lady should behave.”

  “Oh, you are a lady, Elizabeth,” he told her, “but I will agree with Lady Philippa. You are not in the least proper. But I far prefer a woman who is honest, and you are that. There is no deceit in you.”

  “I am a country woman,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “Beware the seducers,” he warned her. “They will be the most highly thought of and respectable men.”

  “Why would they bother to seduce me if they could wed me?” she asked him candidly.

  “They want your wealth, sweetheart, but not the responsibilities entailed. If they can seduce you, and brut it about, then they have you for no other will,” he explained.

  “It’s like being one of my own lambs in a pasture of wolves, wild dogs, and bears,” Elizabeth complained. “I do not see what Philippa sees in this court of hers.”

  “I will guard your back, Elizabeth,” he told her. “Stay in Mistress Boleyn’s company, and do not wander off alone with any. You should be safe.”

  “Do you like her?” she asked him.

  “Aye, I do,” he replied, knowing exactly whom she meant. “But she has dangerous relations. They will be the death of her, I fear. And the ambitious crowd about her. She can really trust none, but God’s wounds, she needs a friend!”

  “I will be her friend,” Elizabeth said, realizing as she did that she meant it.

  Chapter 6

  Flynn Stewart departed back to the palace, and, gathering up her garments, Elizabeth returned to the house to bring them to Nancy.

  “He likes you,” her tiring woman said.

  “We met only this morning,” Elizabeth responded.

  “Well, he likes what he saw then, for why else would a man go chasing after a runaway punt down the Thames to bring back your clothing?” Nancy asked in practical tones. “You’ve made a friend, mistress. ’Tis not a bad end to your first day at court. Now I’ll just take these things back upstairs and see if I can sort them out and repair any damage. Then we’ll decide what you are to wear tomorrow. Come along and take a nice nap. If Maybel is to be believed you’ll get precious little rest once you become involved in court life.” She bustled up the stairs, Elizabeth following.

  In late afternoon Lord Cambridge returned to his house, and together they sat in the hall of the Greenwich house, which also overlooked the river, having a meal together. William Smythe joined them, and Elizabeth told them of Flynn Stewart’s visit.

  “I could not imagine someone being so kind here,” she said. “Philippa will be pleased to learn I have those beautiful sleeves back. Why did she not return with you, Uncle Thomas? Is she still angry with me?”

  “She is like one possessed,” Lord Cambridge said as he helped himself to a thick slice of ham. “She is determined to find you a husband, dear girl. She is prowling the court like a veritable tigress in search of the right man. But you were astute in your observations today. There is no one here for you. However, let us enjoy the month of May, and then we will return north. I know your mother will be disappointed, but it is obvious fate has something else in store for you.” He turned to his secretary. “And you, dear boy, was your day successful?”

  “I have made an arrangement with the French merchant in London for the silk thread we want,” Will answered. “He likes doing business with us because we do not cheat him like so many others do. The thread will be sent directly to Friarsgate.”

  “How soon?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “In time for the winter weaving?”

  “Yes, mistress,” Will responded.

  “I have been thinking of a new color,” Elizabeth said.

  Lord Cambridge laughed. “Dear girl, no business at court, I pray you.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Very well, Uncle,” she said mischievously, “but what would you think of a new green?”

  “Wicked creature! It would depend on the particular shade of green,” he murmured. “Now, tell me more about this handsome royal by-blow. Do you have a weakness for Scots like your mother, dear girl?” His brown eyes twinkled at her.

  “Is he not unsuitable, Uncle?” she said seriously.

  “Aye,” Thomas Bolton said, “and yet perhaps not. He has no lands of his own, or title. Do you think he would make a good helpmeet?”

  “I think his loyalty to his king might interfere,” Elizabeth replied. “We spoke at length this afternoon, for he is indeed a pleasant conversationalist, but he owes this king his place, his honor. I do not see him as a man ready to settle down. I wonder if he will ever be, Uncle. He is that sort of a gentleman.”

  “Still, we might consider him. Perhaps he is tired of being away from home all the time,” Lord Cambridge suggested.

  “He told me that home was wherever he might serve his king,” Elizabeth noted.

  “That does not bode well,” William Smythe noted. “Perhaps, my lord, he is not the man for Mistress Elizabeth.”

  “I so dislike returning north only to admit defeat,” Lord Cambridge said.

  “Perhaps,” Will soothed, “Lady Philippa will find some suitable gentlemen. If anyone can, she is the lady for the task.”

  But Philippa was having no more success finding eligible gentlemen willing to go north for Eli
zabeth than she had been able to find one for herself those years ago. Yet she understood. King Henry’s court was the center of the universe. One came here because one wanted to be here. Not in the north of England forever. And Elizabeth was not helping herself at all. She had taken up with Anne Boleyn and her coterie of young people. Of all the people she might have involved herself at court, Elizabeth had aligned herself with the king’s whore, even knowing how much Philippa disapproved.

  But Elizabeth had taken Lord Cambridge’s advice, and decided to enjoy herself. It was not often she had or even made time for herself. While many who knew her said her burden was heavy, Elizabeth never considered it in that manner. She was the lady of Friarsgate, and she had responsibilities. Now, however, she was at court, and an entire new world had been opened up to her. She found she was actually enjoying being frivolous, if only for this month. She did not grow weary with all the excitement. It was actually quite refreshing for her.

  “You are the only lady I have found able to keep up with me,” Anne Boleyn said a week later as they sat together in the gardens of the palace. “How is it so, I wonder?”

  “I am used to hard work, unlike most of the ladies of the court,” Elizabeth said. “I do wonder, though, if you ever sleep, dear Anne.” They were now on a first-name basis.

  “Sleep is a waste of time, Bess.” Anne Boleyn had christened Elizabeth with this appellation, and Elizabeth had not forbidden it. “I have so much to do, to see, to be!”

  “You have a lifetime, Anne,” was the reply.

  “I am to be twenty-five in November,” Anne said. “That is practically old, and I am not yet a wife.” She sighed. “I might have been, you know. I was courted by Harry Percy, Northumberland’s scion, but Wolsey, damn his eyes, stopped it.”

  “Why?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

  “Because the king wanted me,” Anne said candidly. “But he has not had all he desires,” she confided. “I told him I should never be his mistress, and while the queen was in the picture I could not be his wife. I follow the example of King Edward’s wife.” She smiled grimly. “But I have had my own back on Thomas Wolsey. I said I would when he forced Harry Percy into marriage with another. And everyone laughed at me, but they are not laughing now. Wolsey has been brought down, and is gone from court.”

 

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