In Bed With A Stranger(2)

At least she had managed to give the brat an unlucky name. The clergyman  muttered a closing prayer before wrapping the infant in a towel and  handing it to her. Philipa controlled the urge to sneer as she carried  her goddaughter out of the chapel. The moment they entered the private  hallway that led to her chamber, she thrust the child at a servant,  turning her back on it. What she failed to see was the disapproving  looks her maids gave her back as they cradled and soothed one of their  own. Anne hiccupped before snuggling into the bosoms offered. The  servants cooed to her as they stroked her dark baby hair.

The senior maid cast a look down the hallway her mistress had taken and  frowned. "Some folks are mean hearted. Indeed they are! A baby is a  blessing to the whole house! Everyone knows that. The mistress will  poison herself with such meanness. It'll bring dark times to everyone  living on the land. Mark my words."

The two under maids said nothing, holding their tongues in time-honored  tradition. Speaking against the mistress of the house was grounds for  dismissal. But not a one of them would admit to hearing anything from  the housekeeper. Making an enemy of the housekeeper was bound to get a  girl assigned the worst tasks. Instead, they reached up to touch the  baby, smiling at the tiny rose lips. A healthy baby was good luck for  everyone. Life was hard. Best to set your attentions on the good things  when you could.

Warwickshire, the following spring

"Mother, come see. The swans have hatched."

Philipa smiled. Her daughter scampered down the hallway, her nurse on her heels.

"Of course mother shall come and see, my precious one."

Philipa followed her daughter toward the doorway. Looking down she  smiled at the way Mary's hair shone in the sun. She was pure blue blood.  Everything about her fine and noble.

Unlike Ivy's bastard.

Her daughter was perfection and legitimate. Joy filled her heart but it  died in a sizzle when she gazed across the yard to see Ivy. The strumpet  was big bellied once again and the gossips whispered that this time it  was a male child. "Look Mother!" Mary pointed a chubby hand toward the  swans but Philipa had lost all enjoyment of the moment. She glared at  her husband's mistress. Alice, her lady companion, spoke softly.

"You must reconsider my lady and invite your husband to your bed once more."

Philipa turned on Alice in a sweep of the finest milled wool but her  servant stood firm in the face of her displeasure. Alice had all but  raised her and the disapproval drawing Alice's features tight was hard  to face, even for a mistress of the house as she was now. Inside she was  still a little girl who had answered to Alice and taken discipline from  her hand.

"He might send you back to your father with a divorce, my lady. It's your duty. You need only give him a son."

"But what if I birth another useless daughter?" Philipa shuddered. "You  heard the midwife, Alice. My hips are too narrow. If Mary had been a  bigger babe … I might … have … "

It was too horrible to finish saying. Alice shook her head in sympathy.  "My lady, the first babe is always the hardest. Give the lord a son and  your position will be secure. Then let the Copper girl bear the rest."

Philipa's entire body shook as she pressed her thighs tightly together  beneath her skirts. Just the thought of birthing made her body run as  cold as an icy winter river. She could not do it. She wanted to live.  Not die in a pool of her own blood.

"I will not, Alice. I shall not ever bed my husband again! I swear it! Even if it means he sends me back to my father."

Philipa felt her tears easing down her cheeks as she looked back at Ivy.  Envy flowed into her heart, filling it. She welcomed it because it  drove her fear away. Hate began to grow as she embraced her temper. An  intense aversion for Ivy and her bastards and for everything they took  from her, filled her heart.

She hated them. Hated, hated … hated.         

     



 





Chapter Two


Warwick Castle, 1602

"Hurry up with you, Anne. The mistress is in a snit today."

"As if that's any change."

Joyce shot a stern look at her charge, her nose wrinkling. "Mind that  tongue, miss. She is your better, above you, placed there by God."

Anne lowered herself, while balancing a tray of morning offerings for  the lady of the house. She did need to mind her tongue. However, not for  herself. She had little care for her own comforts yet it was a poor  child that heaped burdens on her mother. Lady Philipa wouldn't punish  only her. The lady would cheerfully lay her wrath on Anne's mother as  well.

With a sigh she followed Joyce toward the west wing, hurrying so that  the tray would still be warm when the mistress was roused. Polished  silver domes covered the mistress's morning meal. Each was ornately  carved with flowers and birds, the precious metal heated over the fire  before being placed on top of each plate to retain the heat.

She, herself, had risen with the first rays of dawn in order to be  present when the lady of the house was ready to be woken. That duty had  been hers since she began her woman's flow. The first few months, her  wrists had ached from the weight of the tray with its silver, but now  she was steady as she moved. Philipa had ordered that Anne dress her  each morning to ensure that Anne slept in the maid's chamber behind the  kitchens under the eye of the housekeeper. There would be no trysts. Her  body was expected to remain virgin.

The reason was simple. Even bastard born, her blood was too blue.  Philipa might detest the very sight of her and her siblings but she was  also a keen mistress of the house. She wasted nothing, overlooked not  one single resource. Anne's blood might be useful in some marriage  negotiation. There were lesser knights who valued noble, blue blood in a  wife. It was also just as likely that Philipa would see her as a  courtesan, serving on the whims of some fat merchant. Whatever the lady  had in mind, she had yet to unveil it.

So, Anne stood silently as the bed curtains were opened and Philipa  turned her head to look at the assembled staff. Her eyes roamed each of  them, inspecting their uniformed livery from pressed cap to skirt hem.  Philipa missed nothing. Her lips never seemed to smile and her face bore  the wrinkles to prove it. A painting in the lower hall showed her in  her youth when she had been a bride, but there was little of that  sparkle left in the woman before her. Anne watched Philipa through her  eyelashes as the line of maids lowered their heads in deference.

"My feet were cold last night."

The covers were drawn back as the lady sat up. Plump pillows were moved behind her back as she adjusted her position.

"The fire was not laid correctly; the coals lost their heat."

None of the maids said a word. They lowered their heads each time  Philipa spoke as they moved in a practiced team around the chamber. The  heavy tapestry curtains were pulled aside with a care for how expensive  such fabric was. The huge fireplace was quickly cleaned of its ashes and  another fire built to warm the chamber. Anne waited until the lady  looked settled before placing the tray across her lap. She was careful  to make sure that the small brass legs of the serving tray didn't touch  either of her mistress's legs but slid smoothly onto either side to hold  the tray above Philipa's thighs.

The lady began to inspect what was hidden beneath the polished silver  domes on her morning tray. Her lips pressed into a hard line as she  dropped one dome back over whatever the cook had prepared.

"Tell the cook to present herself at noon."

Every maid tensed just the slightest amount because they had all been  the unfortunate recipients of the lady's displeasure before. The cook  would not have a pleasant day. Philipa began eating one of the offerings  while she watched the servants with a critical eye. Every one of them  had learned to move on carefully soft steps, so as to not bring notice  to themselves. All eyes were kept downcast for fear that the mistress  might single them out.

"I am ready to rise." Philipa dropped her eating wares with a clatter.  The tray was removed almost in the same instant. Another maid pulled the  covers down to the foot of the bed.         

     



 

Anne joined the maids bringing in water to begin dressing the mistress.  Depending on Philipa's mood, it might take up to two hours to dress  their mistress. The maids flowed around Philipa cleansing her feet and  hands before easing the knitted stockings up each of her legs. A fine  chemise was lowered over her head and a quilted petticoat followed. It  was a lovely garment, the harsher wool covered with expensive cotton  from India and thousands of tiny stitches worked in pleasing designs to  hold it together. Even in early spring it was needed to keep the lady  warm. Warwickshire was the last estate under English rule before the  land belonged to Scotland. The lord of the manor was constantly being  summoned to court because of his importance as a border lord.