The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(106)
5. Responsibility and honor are reigning principles in the Courtenay household. How do the Courtenay children embody these principles? Discuss the sacrifices each member of the family makes to uphold their sense of honor. Does each define honor in the same way? Do any of them fall short of their high moral standards?
6. The political and the personal are intimately entangled for Elizabeth, Philip, Mary, and Anabel. How—if at all—do these characters separate themselves from the offices they hold? Is there room for a monarch to have a personal life outside of the throne?
7. Discuss Stephen’s experiences in Ireland. What surprised you the most? In what ways is he similar to his father? In what ways is he different? If you read The Boleyn King trilogy, do you see any parallels between Stephen’s experiences and those of his father?
8. Discuss the importance of military training and experience for young men during this time period.
9. How do the events of this novel compare to the actual historical record? Did anything strike you as particularly plausible or implausible?
10. Do you have any predictions for the next novel in the series?
Fifteen-year-old Pippa Courtenay woke to the blazing sun of a late July day with a smile on her face and practically floated out of bed—then promptly fell earthbound under the onslaught of humid heat. She would have to choose her clothing with care today if she didn’t want to melt before noon.
After the briefest hesitation, she threw caution to the wind and decided to forgo a petticoat entirely. No one would know she wasn’t wearing one beneath her striped blue silk kirtle. Over that she laced her lightest gown of white voile, thickly embroidered with jewel-toned flowers and vines so lifelike they appeared to twine around her as she walked.
Then she tripped downstairs to Wynfield Mote’s hall, humming as she went. And when she entered, he was waiting for her as promised: Matthew Harrington.
Eighteen, tall, broad, brown-haired and brown-eyed, Matthew gave her one of his rare smiles. “Shall we?” he asked.
Considering the unusual heat of this summer, they had decided on a breakfast picnic while the air was still breathable rather than openly liquid. For the same reason, they had decided to walk rather than punish horses with a ride. Their route was instinctive—eastward to the old church.
Pippa talked at an unusually rapid pace even for her. The words spilled out in a rush and burble of delight, dancing from topic to topic. It was such a pleasure to have Matthew home. For the last year he had been deep in his studies at Balliol College, Oxford, but returned two days ago to visit his mother.
Pippa loved her siblings, but her sister Lucie had been moody and difficult for the last few years and had taken to spending a great deal of time in London—ostensibly studying with Dr. Dee but more practically avoiding their parents. Both Stephen and Kit were training seriously with their father as well as riding back and forth with him this summer to Tiverton Castle, leaving even Pippa’s twin with but little energy to spend time with her. But Matthew could always be counted on.
She didn’t set out to make the day momentous. She rarely set out to do anything—if Lucie acted from principle, Pippa relied on instinct. Though most people found Matthew uncommunicative, with her he talked freely. In and around and over her shifting topics, he told her wry stories about his college and tutors and fellow students, making her laugh in a manner no one else did. Not even Kit.
After the slow ramble, they reached the copse of beeches that looked down a low hill onto the stone walls and spire of the old Norman church. She flung herself into the meadow grass at the trees’ edge and leaned back on her elbows, staring up at the sky. Matthew lowered himself more cautiously to sit beside her, and deftly handled the domestic details of laying out breakfast: ripe strawberries, early apples, fresh bread and soft cheese. They took their time eating, letting their stories slowly wind down into companionable silence.
Eyes closed, Pippa lay down in the sweet-smelling, sun-warmed grass.
“Princess Anne is coming to Wynfield soon?” Matthew asked.
“Next week.”
“And what trouble are the two of you planning to launch this time?” He corrected himself. “The three of you, I mean. Kit is the worst.”
“Anabel’s the worst,” Pippa said drowsily. “Because she isn’t afraid of my mother. You’ll be here, won’t you?”
“I’ve been invited to Theobalds for a month, to work with Lord Burghley’s household. I can hardly say no to England’s Lord High Treasurer.”
Pippa’s eyes flew open, the first shadow of the day crossing her sunny mood. “But I want you here!”
“What a pity I cannot learn the intricacies of English government from a fifteen-year-old girl.”
He was deliberately baiting her, and she let herself rise to it. “Anabel is a fifteen-year-old girl,” she pointed out. “And before too long she will be in a position to compose her own household and council. Shouldn’t you be trying to please her?”
“The princess is far too practical to want advisors with no experience. Why do you think Lord Burghley is taking an interest in me? Because he thinks it likely Princess Anne will draw me into her circle. He intends me to be fit for that position.”
She delivered a practiced pout, a little hard while lying flat on her back. And only halfheartedly, because it never worked on Matthew. Really, the only person it ever worked on was her father. When he simply continued to look steadily at her, Pippa huffed a gusty sigh and gave it up.