Three weeks later.
From the window of her study at Leigh Abbey, Susanna stared out at the fields. Summer was upon them. Crops flourished, as did the cow Jennet had purchased so many months ago.
Two letters lay open on her writing table.
The first was from Walter, sent from the Low Countries. Immediately following their marriage, he and Eleanor had embarked from Gravesend on the first leg of a journey that would take them to the court of the king of Poland, where Walter was to take up his new duties as England"s amba.s.sador.
The second missive had come from Catherine. She was back in Scotland, although Susanna did not believe she would long remain there. If Catherine had her way, she and Gilbert would soon return. There were, after all, many good reasons why a representative of Scotland might live year-round in England.
Susanna put both letters into a casket for safekeeping. She had just returned it to its proper place atop her work table when she heard the door open.
"Mama?" a small voice inquired. The little person it belonged to peeped around the jamb.
"Come in, Rosamond."
Susanna had tried to teach the girl to distinguish between mama and stepmama but Rosamond, ever since she"d first heard Susanna refer to herself as her stepmama, persisted in shortening the word.
References to papa had for a time created similar confusion. The child listened to and understood more than any of the adults in her life had imagined. It appeared she"d started to call Walter papa long before Eleanor accepted his proposal of marriage, not because Eleanor had suggested the idea to her but because Rosamond had overheard the speculations of Eleanor"s maidservants.
"Would you like to keep me company today?" It was, Susanna decided, time she gave thought to Rosamond"s education. "We might look at plants, and I will tell you their names. Or I could show you how to form letters."
Rosamond stared up at her with Robert"s eyes.
She was perhaps too young yet for reading or writing. Susanna knew she had much to learn about children. Still, the little girl was clever and those who had experience with two-year-olds seemed to feel she was pa.s.sing well spoken for her age.
Perhaps," she mused, "I will teach you how to add."
She picked up an inkpot, a sheet of paper, and a quill.
"This is one," she said, putting the inkpot back on her writing table. "This is two." She placed the quill beside it. "And if you add this . . ." she handed Rosamond the paper ". . . that will make three."
The little girl poked at the inkpot with one chubby finger. "One," she said. "Two." She touched the quill, then put the paper on top of it. "Three."
"An excellent beginning, Rosamond."
Susanna smiled at the child in pride that mingled with relief. She felt certain now that she had made the right decision when she had convinced Eleanor and Walter to leave Rosamond with her.
"Add more?" Rosamond asked.
"Yes," Susanna agreed. "Add more. I have always found the ability to add things up correctly a most useful skill."
Two Historical Notes.
In August, 1565, the Lady Mary Grey eloped with Thomas Keyes. He was 6"6" tall, a widower with several children. At court he was a gentleman porter who served as keeper of the queen"s water gate. The queen found out about the marriage almost immediately and ordered Keyes imprisoned in the Fleet. The Lady Mary was sent away from London. She was kept close in a series of large country houses until some two years after Keyes died in 1571. Although she was still heiress presumptive, the Lady Mary was afterward allowed to do as she pleased. She bought a house in Aldersgate Street, London, and lived there with Keyes"s children until her death on April 20, 1578.
Susanna"s bill for court costs totalled twenty-seven shillings. She paid with two gold sovereigns, worth twenty shillings each. In terms of modern values, the bill amounted to about $540 in legal fees. Susanna"s euphoric state ("giddy with relief that her long ordeal was finally over") had her leaving a very generous tip-she gave the clerk approximately $800. The clerk would have had no qualms about accepting it. Bribes were an accepted way of doing business in the middle of the sixteenth century.
Copyright 2000 by Kathy Lynn Emerson.
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