The Last Heiress (12 page)

“Do you think so?” Lord Cambridge sounded genuinely surprised.

“I do, my lord, and we both know the key to a perfect appearance is a well-tailored and well-fitting garment,” Master Althorp replied. “If you will allow my helper to assist your lordship in disrobing we will have a fitting. These minor adjustments should not take long, and I am assuming you are leaving London with the court on the thirtieth.”

“Indeed we are,” Thomas Bolton said. Then, “Will, see that young Nancy has her mistress’s gowns out and displayed so Master Althorp may see them when we are finished. Put everything in the dayroom. I believe my dear Elizabeth is already asleep.”

“Yes, my lord,” William Smythe said, and hurried out.

“So, Althorp,” Lord Cambridge said, “I understand his majesty would rid himself of an old queen to take a young one. Tell me all, and spare nothing of the most intimate details, for I know you know them all.” He stood quietly as the young tailor’s assistant helped him from his outer garments and into his new ones.

“Well, my lord,” Master Althorp said as he began to note the adjustments he must make, “it is all true, and while the cardinal wanted a French princess for the king, I can tell you that the king would have none of it. His heart is set on Mistress Boleyn. And now that the cardinal is disgraced and dying, I have heard, none can keep the king in 
check, and the Howards are an ambitious family, though you did not hear me say it.”

“And what is she like? Mistress Anne?” Lord Cambridge wanted to know. “As round, soft, and fair as was her sister, Mary?”

“Nay, my lord. She is nothing like Mistress Mary at all. She is tall, slender, and very elegant in a most French way. I have never seen a more fashionable woman at the court. All the young girls are copying her manner of dress. She has the most beautiful long and thick dark hair. Her eyes are almond shaped, and dark too. Her skin is perhaps a bit sallow for certain colors like apple green and saffron, which have been popular. She favors bright, clear colors that flatter her best. I would not call her beautiful, but rather intriguing and exotic. And the king is besotted by her, there is no doubt. It is said she will not go to his bed, for she will not be compared with her sister, who whored for little advantage to herself or her family. Her Howard relations expect more of Mistress Anne, and they may well get it. It is said the old duke himself directs her behavior.”

“Interesting,” Thomas Bolton noted. He looked at the sleeves on the doublet he was now wearing. “My dear Althorp, so many slashings?” He turned to look questioningly at Will Smythe who had just hurried back into the room.

“ ’Tis fashion, my lord,” the tailor replied.

“It seems a bit excessive even for me,” Lord Cambridge noted, “but I do like the silk beneath the velvet. And the bright blue with the black is pure genius!”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“What do they say of Mistress Boleyn?” Lord Cambridge inquired casually. “Is she charming, or quiet like the more recent mistress I heard of in my northern eyrie? What was her name now? Something quite outrageous, as I recall.”

“ ’Twas the Countess of Langford, Blaze Wyndham,” the tailor answered. “A lovely woman. Not only discreet, although everyone knew the king was swiving her, but very deferential and polite to the queen.

She never used her position for personal gain, I am told. Quite unusual in a royal mistress. Nay, Mistress Boleyn is nothing like Blaze Wyndham. She is very lively, and clever, and has a quick tongue. She has at
tracted quite an amusing coterie of young courtiers to her side. It is said of her that she is quite high-strung, my lord, and has a bad temper; but there are always those ready to speak badly of any, especially women like Mistress Boleyn. She makes enemies as easily as she makes friends. The cardinal never approved of her. ’Tis said she vowed to overcome Wolsey and have her revenge on him for taking Northumberland’s heir away from her. They had planned to marry, but the king wanted her, and Wolsey was ever his loyal servant. He got the duke to claim his son was precontracted to another girl, and saw them married so the king might be free to pursue Mistress Boleyn. Disgrace was how the cardinal’s loyal service was rewarded, and Mistress Boleyn has indeed had her revenge upon him.”

“She sounds like a most complex young woman,” Lord Cambridge noted.

“Indeed, my lord, a fair assessment,” the tailor said. “We are finished now. If you will approve the garments I shall return them to my shop and have the alterations done. We will bring them back to you in two days, which is in time for your valet to see to the packing, my lord. I trust that will be satisfactory.”

“Most, Althorp. Now if you will go with Will and view my dear Elizabeth’s garments to be certain they are every bit as fashionable as they should be, I would appreciate it. If she is sleeping, as I suspect, you will not see her. The colors have been chosen to flatter her, for she is blond and fair.”

“Of course, my lord,” the tailor said. Then he followed William Smythe from the chamber and down the hallway.

When Will returned he told Lord Cambridge that Elizabeth’s gowns passed the tailor’s muster, but for some minor alterations that could be easily managed without removing any of the garments.

“Standing collars are the fashion for the ladies, my lord. Master Althorp will have several made to match the gowns, along with the re-batos necessary to hold them up. Other than that everything is in order, thanks to Lady Philippa. Her fashion sense was, as always, perfect.”

“Excellent!” Lord Cambridge said, and then, “If you will look in your room, dear boy, you will find several new suits that Althorp has 
made for you. You need no alterations, as you never change. And you will find a new gold chain I will expect you to wear, as well as a pearl-drop earring that is particularly fine. I cannot treat myself, dear Will, without treating you. I do not know what I would do without you.

Now go and tell Garr that I am ready to be dressed for the evening.”

“Thank you, my lord! At once!” William Smythe said.

Thomas Bolton smiled and, reaching out, patted his secretary’s hand. “Dear Will,” was all he said, and then he waved him off. He was already looking forward to joining the court. Perhaps tomorrow he would venture to Richmond, where he knew the king was now in residence, and announce his arrival. He would not remain long, and one of his old suits would do for that brief visit. But he did not intend introducing his lovely charge until they were at Greenwich. Let the king’s appetite be whetted to meet Mistress Meredith, the last of Rosamund’s daughters. He would be quite surprised, for of the three sisters it was said that Elizabeth was the most like her father, with her fair hair and hazel-green eyes. She was quite different from her auburn-haired mother and sisters.

But in the matter of the queen Lord Cambridge was not quite certain how to proceed. He could not ignore Katherine, but neither did he consider it wise to involve Elizabeth with her under the circumstances. He would have to introduce Elizabeth to her, for Rosamund, not realizing the scope of the breach between Henry and Katherine, would be distressed if he did not. And whatever the difficulties between the royal couple, Katherine was still England’s queen. But he would attempt to see that there was no other contact between the out-of-favor queen and his charge. He needed the right husband for Elizabeth, and to accomplish that impossible task he needed the king’s favor. Yes, he thought to himself. It would be a difficult balancing act, given Rosamund’s long association with the queen, but he knew his cousin would understand his reasoning when he wrote her, which he intended doing this very night.

Their journey had been a pleasant one, but for the April rains that had begun three days after they had departed Friarsgate. Still, they had ridden hard those first three days, and it had allowed them to reach London in plenty of time for their business here. He was surprised that 
Elizabeth had become so tired when they arrived, for she was an active young woman. But perhaps the excitement of it all had overcome her.

He ate with Philippa that evening, having sent a tray up to Elizabeth’s chambers. She sent back her thanks with young Nancy.

In late morning the following day Lord Cambridge, clad in a suit of Tudor green, a flat cap decorated with ostrich tips on his head, a jeweled codpiece and matching pouch hanging from his girdle, departed Bolton House in the smaller of his two barges for Richmond Palace, where he knew the king would be in residence these few days before he left for Greenwich. Giving his name as he stepped from his little transport, he was surprised to find young Henry St. Clair waiting for him.

“Greetings, my lord,” the royal page said. “The king expected you might come today, as my mother told him of your arrival. I was sent to wait for you and escort you to him when you came.” He bowed neatly.

“How old are you, young St. Clair?” Lord Cambridge asked.

“I shall be nine on the first of May, my lord,” was the reply.

“Astounding! How long have you been in the king’s service?”

Thomas Bolton followed along with the boy.

“Like my maternal grandfather, my lord, I have served the Tudors since I was six,” was the proud answer. “It is an honor to continue in my family’s tradition. I hope someday to have a son who will follow in our footsteps.”

“God’s nightshirt!” Thomas Bolton murmured. “You are a serious lad, I see.”

“I am fortunate to have obtained such an honored position in my sovereign’s household, my lord,” came the reply.

“Which your dear mother has undoubtedly told you over and over again, I am quite certain,” Lord Cambridge said.

“Yes, my lord,” the boy answered, and there was a humorous lilt to his voice.

“Thank God you have some of your father about you, lad! I feared you were all your mother,” the older man told Henry Thomas St.
Clair, and the boy flashed him a grin.

The king was in his privy chamber, to Lord Cambridge’s delight. He recognized several of his majesty’s more constant companions, Charles Brandon among them.

“My lord.” Thomas Bolton bowed low.

“Thomas! It is good to see you once again. What brings you to court?”

“Did not the Countess of Witton tell your majesty? I have brought her youngest sister to meet you. We plan to join the May revels, my liege. Elizabeth Meredith has never been out of the north. She has scarce been off her estates,” Lord Cambridge explained to the king. “I have the tedious task of seeking a husband for her.”

“How old is she?” the king demanded to know.

“She is facing her twenty-second birthday, my liege,” Lord Cambridge replied.

“And not wed yet?” The king was surprised. “Rosamund’s two older daughters have long been wed. What is the matter with this one?”

“Nothing, my lord, except her passion is for Friarsgate, even more so than was her mother’s. I believe she would die a maid before allowing it to fall into the wrong hands,” Thomas Bolton explained. “There is no one in the north who suits her, or who would be suitable. So at Rosamund’s behest I have brought Elizabeth Meredith south to join the court and see if there is a young man who would suit her.”

“We will think on it,” the king said. “Where is the girl now?”

“Recovering from our long journey, my liege. I thought not to bring her to court until we reached Greenwich,” Lord Cambridge said.

The king nodded. “She will be welcome, and I shall look forward to meeting her. Is she like her sisters and her mother, Thomas?”

“Nay, my lord. She is like her father, Owein Meredith, God assoil his good soul,” said Lord Cambridge as he crossed himself. “She is fair and blond.”

“I have a taste for dark hair these days, Thomas,” the king remarked.

“So I have heard it said, my lord,” was the reply.

The king burst out laughing. “You have been talking to Althorp, I have not a doubt. If he were not the best tailor in England I should have lopped his head off long ago, but no one can fashion a doublet like he can, eh, Thomas?” And King Henry VIII laughed harder. “Perhaps I should cut his tongue out, for he needs it not to sew, but then I should not learn half the things I learn of those who people my court.

He is valuable to me in many ways, I must admit.”

“He speaks kindly of you, my liege,” Lord Cambridge assured the king.

“He dare not speak otherwise”—the king chuckled—“eh, Will Somers?” He looked to his fool, who sat by his knee.

“I shall have to consult with Margot,” the king’s fool said, looking at the small monkey on his shoulder. “She knows far more than I do, Hal.” The king’s favorite fool, Somers had certain privileges that others close to the king did not.

“Does she still bite?” Lord Cambridge inquired of the fool.

“Indeed, my lord, she does, but she is most particular of the fingers she nips.” The fool chuckled, and he tickled the little monkey beneath her chin as it chattered its approval, and then nestled closer to Will Somers’s neck.

The interview was over, and Lord Cambridge bowed to the king, saying, “I shall look forward to seeing your majesty again at Greenwich.” He backed from the privy chamber as the king waved an acknowledgment of his departure. It had gone well, Thomas Bolton thought. It was almost as if the years between his last visit and this one did not exist. But they did. And much had changed at court with Wolsey gone. He debated whether he should pay his respects to the queen, and decided against it. He needed to know the lay of the land better. He could not involve himself or Elizabeth in the politics of whatever was happening between the king and the queen, and Mistress Anne Boleyn.

But he decided to remain at Richmond for a few hours. He greeted old friends, listened to gossip, and just before he left he finally saw the lady at the center of the scandal. She was a tall, slender girl with sharp features, but she was indeed, as all the talk he had heard that day, the most elegant creature he had ever seen. Beautiful as Elizabeth was? Nay.

Anne Boleyn could not be called beautiful, but there was an aura about her that was absolutely mesmerizing. Unable to help himself, he stared.