ways.”
Cecily’s mouth dropped open at Anne’s insinuation. She wished she could talk to her sister about such matters. What does happen in bed, she started to ponder. Then she heard her father’s stentorian voice calling her from the gatehouse.
Cecily folded the letter, stuffed it into a pocket, and flew along the paths to the iron gate that led out to the park. She saw her father waving impatiently.
“What is it, Father?” she asked when she reached him. “Is something amiss?”
Then she saw that Ralph was in his traveling clothes and his horse laden with double saddlebags. George and Edward waited beside Brown Baldric to bid their father good-bye and help him onto the huge horse’s back.
“Where are you going?” Cecily asked, her blue eyes filling with tears as she noted that several of his gentlemen had already mounted. Ralph had not left Raby all summer long, and she had forgotten that as one of the regency councillors he must return to court from time to time. “Is it London this time? And why will you not take Mother and me with you?”
“Only a few hours ago, I received a summons from your Uncle Beaufort, and I must go to the council at once,” Ralph explained, pulling on a pair of tooled leather gloves. “Duke Humphrey of Gloucester has gone abroad, which means that we must convene and govern in his absence, my child. With Bedford in France as well, we councillors must try to hold the throne safe for the young king. Do not look so downhearted, Cecily. You shall go to London soon, Ipromise.” He tipped up her trembling chin and kissed her forehead. “George and Edward will take you hunting, have no fear. They have their instructions.”
“What about Dickon?” Cecily said anxiously. “Can he come with us too?”
Ralph looked sheepish. “I forgot to mention that he comes with me to London. ’Tis time he was formally presented to the council and the king. He is fourteen now and cannot while away much more of his time up here with us.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Tears for Dickon, and you are not even wed yet? ’Tis very touching, but you must become accustomed to a husband’s frequent absences, my sweet girl.”
Cecily pouted. “I shall go with him wherever he goes, you see if I don’t,” she grumbled.
“Ah, there you are, York,” Ralph called to Dickon, who was hurrying toward the stables with a servant tagging along with his saddlebags. Dickon’s elaborate chaperon fitted him better these days, Cecily noted absently, but seeing him preparing to mount, she forgot about his hat and ran to him. She grasped his hand.
“Sweet Jesu, Cis,” he said, amused. “You almost bowled me over.” He carried her hand to his cheek. “Never fear, I shall write to you, and you will promise to write to me, will you not? I shall be back before you know it, I promise. Now farewell, and God keep you.”
Miserably Cecily watched as he was helped into his saddle while his servant mounted a sturdy rouncy and settled the baggage.
Ralph gave the signal to walk off. Cecily darted past the kitchen tower and along the length of the low curtain wall to see the meinie trot down the road to Staindrop. Infuriatingly, the men failed to notice her as she frantically brandished her colored kerchief, but she dared not cry out like a peasant to attract the attention of the two men she loved most in all the world lest Joan be watching. She kept on running and waving. Then just before the party disappeared down the hill and over the stream, she tripped on a large stone in her path, and the next thing she knew she was flat on her face in the coarse grass under the wall.
“Cock’s bones!” she exclaimed, much to the amusement of a mason nearby, who was patching a hole in the Bulmer tower. Her tears now unchecked—whether because her hands were grazed or because of frustration that Dickon had not seen her—she thumped the ground with her fist. “I wish I were a boy!” she complained.
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