Free Philippa by Bertrice Small

assure your majesty that I never will again.”
    “I should hope not, Philippa Meredith,” the queen said softly. “Your mama will be most upset to learn of this breach of good manners on your part.”
    “I am so ashamed, your highness,” Philippa told the queen. “I remember little. Bessie Blount told me what happened when I awakened this morning. I have never done anything like that before. You know that to be so.”
    “You were drunk,” the king said quietly.
    “Yes, your majesty,” Philippa admitted, hanging her aching head.
    “And most disorderly as well,” he continued.
    “Yes, your majesty.” She felt the tears beginning to run down her face.
    “You sang bawdy songs. A song I was surprised to find you knew,” the king said.
    “I heard it in the stables,” Philippa told him.
    “You gambled with your clothing, and had I not come upon you when I did who knows what else might have happened,” the king scolded her. “Why would a girl of such a good family endanger her reputation so? I knew your father, Philippa Meredith. He was a most honorable fellow. And your mother has always been a good subject as well, despite her marriage to a Scot. Her own service and kindness to this house ensured you a position with our queen. Would you throw away this chance given you?”
    Now Philippa began to sob noisily. “Oh, no, your majesty! I am so proud that I serve my queen. I always want to serve her. I am so sorry! You must forgive me, your majesty. I cannot bear it that I have disappointed you so!” And she wept, her small hands covering her face.
    The king looked uncomfortable. He did not like crying females. Getting up, he came from behind the oak table and put an arm about Philippa. He took out his own silk pocket square, wiping her eyes and face. “Do not wail, lass. It is not the end of the world,” he assured her. Then leaving the pocket square with her he retreated behind the table once again.
    Philippa struggled to pull herself together. This was terrible. One did not howl like a baby in front of the monarch. But her head was aching so terribly, and her belly was roiling horrifically. “I ... I am so afraid you are going to send me away,” she finally managed to say. She wiped her wet face, and straightened her carriage.
    “We are,” the king said, and he held up his hand to still further defense of herself. “But you will be allowed back, Philippa Meredith, when your family believes you are ready to come. The queen and I think you need to return to your family for a time. You have not been home in several years. We can see that your disappointment in Giles FitzHugh has unnerved you badly. And then to be forbidden your best friend’s wedding was a cruel disappointment as well. Your mother will need to see and speak with you about a possible new match, for you must certainly be married within the year, my child. And when your heart is at peace again, Philippa Meredith, and your mother is content to let you return to court we will welcome you gladly. We have arranged for you and your servant to begin your journey tomorrow. You will go with the queen’s party as far as Woodstock, and then continue on under our protection.”
    I cannot argue, Philippa thought silently to herself. One does not argue with the king. And they have said I may come back. She curtseyed. “Thank you, your majesty.”
    “Be thankful few remain here at Richmond, Philippa Meredith,” the king said, “that few know of your indiscretion. It will be forgotten by the time you return, I am certain.” He held out his hand to her, and Philippa took it, and kissed the king’s ring.
    “Thank you, your majesty. Your highness. Please accept my apologies for my unthinkable behavior of last evening. It will not happen again.” She curtseyed.
    “You will carry a letter to your mother,” the king said, and then with a wave of his hand he dismissed her.
    With an almost audible sigh of relief Philippa backed from the little privy