estate is not a large one, and Philippa says her sister lives like a farmer’s wife. I wonder what you feel about this.’
Blanche said: ‘I should like to see this Catherine Swynford. She may well be just the one I need. Moreover I should like to do something for the Chaucers.’
‘I thought you might,’ said the Queen. ‘I will tell Philippa to send her to you.’
A few moments later Philippa herself entered with a posset for the Queen.
Blanche wondered whether she had been listening to the conversation and had timed her entry that there might be no delay in sending for her sister. There was that about Philippa Chaucer which suggested a resourcefulness and a determination to arrange the fortunes of her family.
‘Ah, Philippa,’ said the Queen, ‘we have been speaking of you, the Duchess and I.’
‘The Queen has told me of your sister,’ said Blanche. ‘You may tell her to come and see me.’
Philippa flushed with pleasure as she made a deep curtsey and murmured her gratitude.
The Queen took the posset and when Philippa had gone she said, ‘They bring me these things. I drink them to please them. But there is no remedy for what ails me, Blanche.’
Blanche took the Queen’s hands and kissed them in a rush of affection. ‘You must not lose hope, dear lady. So many of us need you.’
When she had first seen Catherine Swynford, Blanche had been startled by her appearance. Catherine was a strikingly attractive woman and far younger than Blanche had imagined her. She had been thinking of another Philippa – rather square, sturdy, not unattractive in a fresh and countrylike way, a homely woman, motherly, perhaps a little forceful like her sister, the sort who would know how to gain immediate obedience from the children.
Instead of that here was Catherine. Tall, slender, about eighteen years of age – abundant hair with more than a hint of red in it, long greenish eyes fringed with lashes the blackness of which contrasted arrestingly with her white skin. The short nose was provocative and the full lips suggested a certain sensuality. Quite a disturbing young woman.
Blanche hesitated. She felt a little bewildered simply because the girl was so different from what she had been imagining her to be.
Catherine told her in a charming cultured voice that she had spent some six years in the convent at Sheppey.
‘The Queen arranged for me to go there,’ she said. ‘She has been very good to my family.’ Blanche bowed her head in acknowledgement of the Queen’s goodness.
‘My mother was French and my sister and I lived with her in Picardy while my father was at the wars. My father was herald to King Edward and knighted by him for bravery on the field.’
‘The Queen has told me something of this. He died, did he not?’
‘He was killed on the battlefield … fighting for King Edward.’
The girl lifted her head high. She was one who would not wish for charity. Doubtless she thought any service the Queen had given her and her sister had been earned with their father’s life.
‘The plague struck our household,’ went on Catherine, ‘and only my sister and I survived. We were brought to England and taken to the Queen. I was very ill and none thought I should survive so I was sent to the convent to be nursed by the nuns and my sister Philippa was found a place in the Queen’s household.’
‘And when you left the convent?’
‘I came to see my sister and Sir Hugh Swynford was at Court. He saw me … and very soon we were married.’
‘So you made a good match, Lady Swynford.’
‘It was called so, my lady.’
‘And you want to leave your country home and come to Court?’
‘My husband is in France serving the King. Our estate is very small and we have few retainers. Yes, my lady, I do wish to leave the country and come to Court.’
‘Very well,’ said Blanche. ‘I will send for the children and you shall see how you like them … and they like you.’
She sat still, with great
Blanche said: ‘I should like to see this Catherine Swynford. She may well be just the one I need. Moreover I should like to do something for the Chaucers.’
‘I thought you might,’ said the Queen. ‘I will tell Philippa to send her to you.’
A few moments later Philippa herself entered with a posset for the Queen.
Blanche wondered whether she had been listening to the conversation and had timed her entry that there might be no delay in sending for her sister. There was that about Philippa Chaucer which suggested a resourcefulness and a determination to arrange the fortunes of her family.
‘Ah, Philippa,’ said the Queen, ‘we have been speaking of you, the Duchess and I.’
‘The Queen has told me of your sister,’ said Blanche. ‘You may tell her to come and see me.’
Philippa flushed with pleasure as she made a deep curtsey and murmured her gratitude.
The Queen took the posset and when Philippa had gone she said, ‘They bring me these things. I drink them to please them. But there is no remedy for what ails me, Blanche.’
Blanche took the Queen’s hands and kissed them in a rush of affection. ‘You must not lose hope, dear lady. So many of us need you.’
When she had first seen Catherine Swynford, Blanche had been startled by her appearance. Catherine was a strikingly attractive woman and far younger than Blanche had imagined her. She had been thinking of another Philippa – rather square, sturdy, not unattractive in a fresh and countrylike way, a homely woman, motherly, perhaps a little forceful like her sister, the sort who would know how to gain immediate obedience from the children.
Instead of that here was Catherine. Tall, slender, about eighteen years of age – abundant hair with more than a hint of red in it, long greenish eyes fringed with lashes the blackness of which contrasted arrestingly with her white skin. The short nose was provocative and the full lips suggested a certain sensuality. Quite a disturbing young woman.
Blanche hesitated. She felt a little bewildered simply because the girl was so different from what she had been imagining her to be.
Catherine told her in a charming cultured voice that she had spent some six years in the convent at Sheppey.
‘The Queen arranged for me to go there,’ she said. ‘She has been very good to my family.’ Blanche bowed her head in acknowledgement of the Queen’s goodness.
‘My mother was French and my sister and I lived with her in Picardy while my father was at the wars. My father was herald to King Edward and knighted by him for bravery on the field.’
‘The Queen has told me something of this. He died, did he not?’
‘He was killed on the battlefield … fighting for King Edward.’
The girl lifted her head high. She was one who would not wish for charity. Doubtless she thought any service the Queen had given her and her sister had been earned with their father’s life.
‘The plague struck our household,’ went on Catherine, ‘and only my sister and I survived. We were brought to England and taken to the Queen. I was very ill and none thought I should survive so I was sent to the convent to be nursed by the nuns and my sister Philippa was found a place in the Queen’s household.’
‘And when you left the convent?’
‘I came to see my sister and Sir Hugh Swynford was at Court. He saw me … and very soon we were married.’
‘So you made a good match, Lady Swynford.’
‘It was called so, my lady.’
‘And you want to leave your country home and come to Court?’
‘My husband is in France serving the King. Our estate is very small and we have few retainers. Yes, my lady, I do wish to leave the country and come to Court.’
‘Very well,’ said Blanche. ‘I will send for the children and you shall see how you like them … and they like you.’
She sat still, with great
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