Perrote’s next move was to await Lady Basset’s departure from her mother’s chamber, and to ask her to bestow a few minutes’ private talk on her old nurse. The Princess complied readily, and came into the opposite chamber where Amphillis sat sewing.
“Damoiselle Jeanne,” said Perrote, using the royal title of Lady Basset’s unmarried days; “may I pray you tell me if you have of late seen the Lord Duke your brother?”
“Ay, within a year,” said Lady Basset, listlessly.
“Would it please you to say if King Edward letteth his coming?”
“I think not so.”
“Would he come, if he were asked yet again, and knew that a few weeks—maybe days—would end his mother’s life?”
“I doubt it, Perrotine.”
“Wherefore? He can love well where he list.”
“Ay, where he list. But I misdoubt if ever he loved her—at the least, sithence she let him from wedding the Damoiselle de Ponteallen.”
“Then he loved the Damoiselle very dearly?”