Philippa Read Online Free PDF Page B

all. He and Millicent deserve each other. I expect they shall be extremely unhappy together.”
    “Have you no pity then?” Cecily asked.
    Philippa shook her head. “None. If a man cannot be honorable, then what is there? My father, they say, was an honorable and gentil knight. So is my relation, Lord Cambridge, and my stepfather, Logan Hepburn. I would certainly not settle for anything less in a man.”
    “You have become hard,” Cecily responded.
    Philippa shook her head. “Nay, I have always been exactly what I am.”

Chapter 2
    “ C ome, my girls,” called the assistant mistress of the maids, Lady Brentwood. “The picnic is beginning. The queen has said you may wander at will this afternoon as long as two or three of you remain by her side. You will take turns, of course, to be fair.”
    The queen’s maids of honor hurried from the Maidens’ Chamber chattering and laughing. A picnic by the river was a wonderful treat, and the formality of the court was always dispensed with on such an occasion. The day was a beautiful one. The skies were blue, and there was just the tiniest of breezes ruffling the flowers in the gardens. It was much too early to execute her plan, and so Philippa volunteered to remain by the queen for a time. She did not see Sir Walter yet, and she would want him to be just slightly drunk.
    “How pretty you look, my child,” the queen told Philippa. “I am quite reminded of your mother when we were girls.” She held her squirming daughter in her lap, for the little princess had been brought forth from her nursery to join the festivities. “Mary, sit still, poppet. Papa will not be pleased.”
    “Would you like me to take her for a walk, your highness?” Philippa inquired politely. “And I can play with her for a short time. I always helped mama look after my sisters and little brothers.”
    The queen looked relieved. “Oh, Philippa, would you? The French ambassador is coming this afternoon to see her that he may write his master, King Francois, of Mary’s progress. Now that she is betrothed to the Dauphin the French watch her. I should prefer she be wed to my nephew, Charles. Yes, take her away, and try and keep her clean.”
    Philippa curtseyed. “I will do my best, madame.” Then she held out her hand to the little princess. “Come, your highness. We shall walk about and admire all the lovely costumes that people are wearing today.”
    Mary Tudor, thirty-nine months of age, slipped from her mother’s lap, and dutifully took Philippa Meredith’s outstretched hand. She was a pretty child with auburn hair much like Philippa’s, and serious eyes. She was dressed in a miniature gown that matched her mother’s royal garb. “Your gown is pretty,” she told Philippa. She was extremely intelligent, and despite her youth she could now carry on simple conversations in both English and Latin.
    “Thank you, your highness,” Philippa said.
    They walked down by the river, and the little girl pointed to the punts. “Go!” she told Philippa. “I want to go in the boat.”
    Philippa shook her head. “Can you swim, your highness?”
    “No,” little Mary responded.
    “Then you cannot go into the punt. You must be able to swim if you go in the punts,” Philippa explained.
    “Can you swim?” The oddly adult eyes looked at her.
    “Yes,” Philippa replied with a smile, “I can.”
    “Who taught you?” the princess demanded to know.
    “A man named Patrick Leslie, who is earl of Glenkirk,” Philippa answered.
    “Where?” the child questioned.
    “In a lake on my mother’s lands,” Philippa said. “He taught my sisters Banon and Bessie too. We thought our lake cold, but he said the lochs of Scotland were far more chill. I went to Scotland once, but I never swam in a loch.”
    “My auntie Meg is the queen of Scotland,” little Mary said.
    “Not any longer,” Philippa corrected the princess. “As a widow who has remarried she is now known as the king’s mother. But I