The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(34)
To answer the rather pointed questions in your last four letters—and that solely to keep you from coming north as you threatened—of course I write to my husband. And he writes to me. Felix is adjusting as well as can be expected, which I take it is not very well at all. I believe Julien had hoped to have the situation better in hand so that he might come north to see me. It is just as well he cannot. That is one strain too many to cope with just now.
Lucette
“There can be no question,” Elizabeth said in amusement, “that Lucette is your daughter.”
Minuette widened her eyes in that pretense of innocence Elizabeth knew so well. “Because she is clever?”
“Because she is insolent. How much of her attitude is assumed, and how much real?”
“Far too real for my liking.”
“Well, as you are always reminding me, one cannot force one’s children into a state we desire. It is not as though I enjoy Anne’s show of independence. All too easy to believe in her insults, so that at times I must remind myself of their purpose. And then I wonder—does my daughter begin to believe in her own acts? Can I trust her to do what she must when it comes to humbling her pride?”
“Because your own example of humility has been so evident over the years.”
Oh, how Elizabeth had missed this! Having a friend who knew her well enough to dare to tease…that was a gift not to be overlooked. But, being who she was, her manner of giving thanks was astringent. “Perhaps I should ask your husband his advice. Except he has never managed to humble himself in his life—not even when it was a matter of saving yours.”
Minuette eyed her narrowly but let it pass. “The point, Your Majesty, is that the North is turning out for your daughter. And the Spanish are watching every move closely. Just as they are watching you and your intentions with the Netherlands.”
“Do you think if I refrain from making a treaty with the Netherlands that Philip will abandon his desire for war? No. If I refrain from aiding the Netherlands, then they fall to Spain, and Philip will have more troops and money to commit against England. A fight on multiple fronts is to our advantage—for now. I will not be drawn so far as to leave us unable to protect ourselves.”
“And Ireland? If Dublin falls—”
“Dublin will not fall.” Elizabeth spoke sharply.
“Because you wish it? I thought I was the one who believed that whatever I wished must come true.”
“You and Will.” Elizabeth had been thinking a fair amount about her brother lately. How would he have handled the Spanish threat? The only conclusion she had come to was that William would never have been married to Spain, and thus the fight would have been less personal. But surely it would still have been a fight. Spain and much of France were committed to violence to preserve the Catholic cause. England must lead the opposition or they would all gradually be choked to death by fanatics on both sides.
She shook herself out of the useless introspection. “Will you remain with the court while Dominic commands the South?”
“I would like to go with him when feasible—but yes, I will make the court my center while I am needed.”
Impulsively, Elizabeth grasped Minuette by the hand. “You are always needed. That is your curse, my dearest friend—that so many people in so many places need you that you cannot possibly meet every need. I am grateful that this summer it is my turn to have you.”
“It is good for me to have something to do. Otherwise I would merely fret. Why did no one ever tell me that mothering adults is exponentially more difficult than mothering children?”
“Why, indeed!” Elizabeth laughed in sympathy. “We shall simply both have to trust in the children we have raised. We will go to Nonsuch and sign the treaty for aid to the Netherlands—and our children will go to the Scots border to meet Anne’s betrothed.”
“And then?”
“And then we wait for Spain’s violence to fall.”
—
After more than two months of crisscrossing northern England, Pippa left Anabel and her court at Middleham Castle to enjoy a brief respite and herself pressed on northwest to Carlisle. In ten days’ time the border town would play host to the first meeting of Her Royal Highness, Princess Anne Isabella, and His Majesty, King James VI of Scotland. Anabel had sent two of her household officials ahead to ensure the perfection of planning required for this visit.
Pippa, of course, being one. And Matthew Harrington the other.
The first day was passed in silence, save for the necessary information required when riding forty miles in a rather isolated landscape. Pippa was glad to reach the inn and shut the door on everyone. She was the only woman of the party, dressed for hard riding rather than fashion, and thus not requiring a maid. The tension had been so thick on the road that Pippa’s entire body hurt with the weight of it. She didn’t know whether to eat or sob or sleep.
In the end she did the first two and then settled down to attempt sleep last of all. Her eyes had just begun to be heavy when a firm knock sounded on her door. If she had been less strained, it would never have taken her by surprise. She had known the feel of Matthew Harrington almost before she had been old enough to recognize it. But she had worked so hard to keep him walled away—how could she deal with him when she was tired and afraid and unprepared?