take it?”
Pleasure bloomed in Alice’s face. “Oh, no, indeed not.”
Wind-gapped clouds sent a broken burst of sunlight chasing down the Thames and across the Southwark rooftops beyond, drawing Alice to look and point at a bright-painted, canopied barge nosing out from a wharf there, the oars glittering in the passing sweep of sunlight as they rose and fell together, swinging the barge’s length around to head upriver.
“That’s Winchester House,” Alice said, “and that will be his grace our Cardinal Bishop Beaufort setting out for Westminster, I’ll warrant. I wonder.” She raised a hand, one of the pages standing attendance near the stairway door came to her, and she told him in a low voice, “Go tell my lord of Suffolk that his grace the bishop of Winchester has just set out up-river.”
The boy, a fair-haired child of maybe nine, clad in the Suffolk livery, repeated what she had said with solemn eagerness, and at Alice’s nod that he had it right, bowed again, and left.
“Lord de la Warr’s heir,” Alice said, watching him go. “He’s been here nigh a year now and is completely no trouble.
Unlike Exeter’s boy,“ she added, several worlds of dislike in her tone. ”I’m well rid of that one. But mostly the greatest trouble any of them are is how fast they outgrow their livery between one season and the next and are so hard on it the while that usually most of their doublets and certainly all their hosen are unfit for handing down to anyone but the ragmen.“
“Think what you’d save having fewer pages,” Frevisse jibed.
“Impossible,” Alice answered lightly. “People ally with us because we show them favor by taking their children into our household, and later the children, grown, favor us because we raised them. And one of these days we must needs move on who our daughter goes to in our turn. My own thought is the duchess of York would suit, but Suffolk hasn’t much liking for the duke after a while they were in France together. He favors the earl of Stafford just now, but there I don’t much like his wife. She’s a Neville, you know, and carries her nose a little too high for other people’s comfort. Well, Cecily of York is a Neville, too, for that matter. Her sister actually. But Nevilles seem to come in two kinds and Cecily is one and Anne is the other. Do you know, there are days I wish I’d chosen your way to live. None of these things to worry over.”
She did not say it seriously. They both knew that nunhood was an ideal, not a reality, for her, and Frevisse said freely, “You’re best as you are.”
“I’d better be because there’s no way out at present.” Alice laughed, then looked toward the stairway door and sighed. “And presently I seem to be needed.”
A short, rounded man was poised at the head of the stairs, waiting to be noticed, rising and falling a little on the balls of his feet, not impatiently but only as if he was unable to stand still in his eagerness to be about things. “Is that…” Frevisse searched for his name. “… Master Gallard?” She had not thought of him for years. “You’ve kept him on and here?”
“He bounces, I confess, but no one except maybe the duke of Gloucester’s John Russell is better at precedence and ordering a hall. And he’s utterly devoted to us. Not even his grace Bishop Beaufort has been able to bribe him away. Although,” she added grimly, “he’s tried.”
Frevisse began to laugh.
“Laugh you may,” Alice said, laughing, too, “but he’s valuable. I’ll be as quick as may be about whatever trouble he’s brought me but you go rescue Jane from those silly women and say I said she was to tell you the rest about herself.”
Chapter 9
Having made agreement between Aneys and Millicent that the hawk they were embroidering on yet another cushion cover should be in browns rather than pink, Jane was just risen to her feet when Dame Frevisse appeared beside her. Jane had hoped she was done with Dame
Pleasure bloomed in Alice’s face. “Oh, no, indeed not.”
Wind-gapped clouds sent a broken burst of sunlight chasing down the Thames and across the Southwark rooftops beyond, drawing Alice to look and point at a bright-painted, canopied barge nosing out from a wharf there, the oars glittering in the passing sweep of sunlight as they rose and fell together, swinging the barge’s length around to head upriver.
“That’s Winchester House,” Alice said, “and that will be his grace our Cardinal Bishop Beaufort setting out for Westminster, I’ll warrant. I wonder.” She raised a hand, one of the pages standing attendance near the stairway door came to her, and she told him in a low voice, “Go tell my lord of Suffolk that his grace the bishop of Winchester has just set out up-river.”
The boy, a fair-haired child of maybe nine, clad in the Suffolk livery, repeated what she had said with solemn eagerness, and at Alice’s nod that he had it right, bowed again, and left.
“Lord de la Warr’s heir,” Alice said, watching him go. “He’s been here nigh a year now and is completely no trouble.
Unlike Exeter’s boy,“ she added, several worlds of dislike in her tone. ”I’m well rid of that one. But mostly the greatest trouble any of them are is how fast they outgrow their livery between one season and the next and are so hard on it the while that usually most of their doublets and certainly all their hosen are unfit for handing down to anyone but the ragmen.“
“Think what you’d save having fewer pages,” Frevisse jibed.
“Impossible,” Alice answered lightly. “People ally with us because we show them favor by taking their children into our household, and later the children, grown, favor us because we raised them. And one of these days we must needs move on who our daughter goes to in our turn. My own thought is the duchess of York would suit, but Suffolk hasn’t much liking for the duke after a while they were in France together. He favors the earl of Stafford just now, but there I don’t much like his wife. She’s a Neville, you know, and carries her nose a little too high for other people’s comfort. Well, Cecily of York is a Neville, too, for that matter. Her sister actually. But Nevilles seem to come in two kinds and Cecily is one and Anne is the other. Do you know, there are days I wish I’d chosen your way to live. None of these things to worry over.”
She did not say it seriously. They both knew that nunhood was an ideal, not a reality, for her, and Frevisse said freely, “You’re best as you are.”
“I’d better be because there’s no way out at present.” Alice laughed, then looked toward the stairway door and sighed. “And presently I seem to be needed.”
A short, rounded man was poised at the head of the stairs, waiting to be noticed, rising and falling a little on the balls of his feet, not impatiently but only as if he was unable to stand still in his eagerness to be about things. “Is that…” Frevisse searched for his name. “… Master Gallard?” She had not thought of him for years. “You’ve kept him on and here?”
“He bounces, I confess, but no one except maybe the duke of Gloucester’s John Russell is better at precedence and ordering a hall. And he’s utterly devoted to us. Not even his grace Bishop Beaufort has been able to bribe him away. Although,” she added grimly, “he’s tried.”
Frevisse began to laugh.
“Laugh you may,” Alice said, laughing, too, “but he’s valuable. I’ll be as quick as may be about whatever trouble he’s brought me but you go rescue Jane from those silly women and say I said she was to tell you the rest about herself.”
Chapter 9
Having made agreement between Aneys and Millicent that the hawk they were embroidering on yet another cushion cover should be in browns rather than pink, Jane was just risen to her feet when Dame Frevisse appeared beside her. Jane had hoped she was done with Dame
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