Edward - Interactive

by Mike Voyce

  Chapter 16 – Penshurst and Cambridge

  Several days passed. I didn’t give up after that day with William; instead I organised a set of tasks for Sarah. I was quite open with William, setting out what I thought E.S.R.C. and the Home Office would insist on. William couldn’t write the methodology but he could set the limits in which Sarah would have to operate. These I organised for Sarah, the only problem was I couldn’t now get hold of her.

  More days passed as my frustration grew and still nothing happened but then came Edward, in a rush.

  (Past)

  It was late afternoon when I finally came home, rushing in, shouting for Eadie, Aletia and Thomas. They weren’t there. The whole house echoed their absence.

  “They’re not here, Edward. I thought it best to send Eadie away.”

  It was Lady Margaret speaking.

  “Why?!”

  “Edward, Eadie is with child.”

  The welling jumble of my feeling left no restraint, making me almost dance on the spot.

  “Where is she? Where is she? Lady Margaret.”

  “Edward!

  Do you know what you’ve done?”

  Lady Margaret was stern, with all the power of her great determination. She, of all people, couldn’t approve of such young motherhood. She said so. Edward’s shock, turned to delight, turned again, this time to fearful questions.

  “She’s expecting a child? She really is? She’s going to have a baby?”

  “Edward, she’s barely fourteen. You’ve got her with child!”

  Edward’s back straightened with the realisation, the assumption of manhood.

  “She’s with child; my child?

  I want to see her Lady Margaret, where is she?”

  The interview became mixed up. Master William, who was also present, and Lady Margaret, would each have their say. Between them they restored order. Edward was made to feel he was being treated as very young; he did not hide his impatience.

  William and the Countess made it clear; it wasn’t a proper relationship, it was a breach of Lady Margaret’s hospitality and a breach of trust, they were too young, and most of all the great distance between Edward and Eadie’s stations in life. Edward should not love someone he could never marry.

  “But I do love her Lady Margaret and I’ll not let her go.

  It’s my child!”

  Lady Margaret rose from her chair,

  “You will do my bidding.”

  It was the voice in which Tudors pronounced death sentences, but it was doubtful it could quell Edward. Before he could speak William sent him out of the room.

  The next bits are jumbled. I followed Edward and yet reached past him to listen to Lady Margaret. I shall give you something that he never heard.

  Edward could not stop still in his excitement; he couldn’t even stay still in one room. They’d always known there’d be trouble if Lady Margaret found out. They’d expected a dreadful scene but there hadn’t been one, certainly not with Edward. He should have been there when she found out; perhaps Eadie had had to take all the anger. They hadn’t expected Eadie to be sent away. It was a great and terrible ache; they could have faced anything together. Where was Eadie!

  The proceedings in the hall were more orderly. The tone which so failed to disturb Edward frightened Master Gibbons. He spoke nervously as the Countess regained her composure.

  “Youth, Lady Margaret.

  I suppose they do love each other.”

  Lady Margaret’s anger was now hidden, as if it had never been.

  “I’m afraid they do, they’re such children.”

  “Any number of noble young men have bastards; it’s part of their growing up.”

  It was the measure of William’s discomfort to have made such an incautious remark. The reply was huffy.

  “Oh, I know the prerogative your sex thinks it has to blight a girl’s life.

  I’m afraid they do love each other. That is the problem. Much as I love Aletia, Eadie is not a fit companion for Edward. If only he were anyone but Henry’s heir!”

  For once Lady Margaret let slip the calm certainty of habit. William was careful to hide his surprise, was it really possible for Edward to ruffle the Countess?

  “Tudor safety depends on managing Stafford and I must know rebellion in this will never turn to rebellion in affairs of State.

  Do you think me fearful William?

  He is my ward and I have to see Edward into a safe marriage; it’s already contracted and paid for and the nobility expect it.

  If he would treat Eadie as his whore I should be content, but I’m afraid he won’t. I’ve already had questions on the marriage contract; Edward’s marriage must be noble, in England and away from the Crown. If Edward refuses the contract I made there will be calls for a parliament. There will be questions about his inheritance, questions not heard since his father was alive.

  I believe he would be happy with Eadie, she would jeopardise the marriage I am determined he shall have. God help me.”

  “Surely Lady Margaret...”

  The Countess’ anger was back in a flash.

  “Edward is a Plantagenet. Do you think he can be diverted by threat or fear? Could you get him to the altar now, with a bride almost as reluctant?”

  Master Gibbons was shocked and wary, this incautious outburst could well displace him, should it be remembered what he heard. He slid into the safety of duty, as a counsellor, with all the ease of accustomed habit.

  “You must discourage and make life hard, Lady Margaret, but not forbid.

  Patience and time will serve your ends. You have plenty of chances to put them apart, without seeming to. There is his education.

  You should not forbid him his child, particularly if it’s a son. Provide difficulties and distance and they will grow apart. Give him no cause to defy you and time will make a virtue of inaction.”

  “It’s a burden to me, Master Gibbons, particularly if it costs me Aletia. I’m sure it wasn’t so difficult with the king.”

  William relaxed. The risk of violence against Edward or Eadie, which could so easily have brought down a humble Law clerk, was passed.

  “How did Thomas take it?”

  “Oh! He was furious; I’ve never had so much fun, the old hypocrite.

  The memory brought one of those rare times the countess of Richmond permitted herself an unforced smile.

  So things were settled, putting Edward and Eadie on a slippery slope they would never quite see.

  Edward wasn’t able to contain himself indoors and went out into the courtyard. Here he met Jinney.

  “You looking for Eadie, Master Edward?

  I reckon you know by now what’s happened.”

  There was a pause while the servant gave Edward an appraising look. Without any elaborate words she came to the same opinion as Lady Margaret.

  “They sent her to Penshurst with Mistress Aletia. She’ll be fine Master Edward.”

  Thomas had truly been furious.

  Despite the heavy saddle bags and string of horses, he’d made all hast in answer to that summons.

  “…..There is a problem with Eadie. I need you here, come at once with the gold.

  Leave Edward, the chance to meet his future will do him good.

  Margaret R.”

  When he heard, Thomas’ face turned white with anger.

  Lady Margaret did indeed remember it.

  “Don’t look like that. Do you think I don’t know you’ve been playing the ram with Aletia all these years? Do you think I don’t know whose child Eadie is!”

  It had not stopped him, Thomas was the only living soul, besides Edward, the Countess could not overawe.

  “Aye and I know whose ward Edward is. She’s just a child, not yet out of her cradle.”

  “Nonsense, she’s older than I was when I gave birth to the King!”

  They stood face to face, if Thomas had been born with titles he’d have been the one living man who could match her.


  “Oh, you remember madam. I was with your son at Bosworth when we hacked a king and threw him, naked in the paupers’ grave, none of us quite believing what we’d done.

  The measure of the great is how they save others from misery, not the misery they cause.”

  Margaret would have patted his arm if she could. Poor, honest Thomas who could never threaten her power.

  “I know, Thomas. I know you love them both don’t you?”

  I shall send Eadie to Penshurst, it’s a small de Stafford estate, well away from things but comfortable enough. Aletia shall go with her, of course. You must decide who needs you most. They all do, I fear.”

  Edward was allowed to go to Penshurst. After William’s words it was certain he would be.

  Further time had passed, Lady Margaret spun it out as much as she could but Master Gibbons was right. If she didn’t give way, if she didn’t give him something to hope for, something for her to bargain with, Edward would rebel indeed.

  How could a fifteen-year-old be so difficult?

  It was the long vacation in the courts and Edward went with Andrew, Master Gibbons’ clerk. The two very different boys became friends in Wales and Edward was pleased to have his company; even if it was on William’s order, and that Andrew should send regular reports to London. Andrew admired Edward’s confident energy so much it was doubtful what use he’d be as a spy. Lady Margaret intended a long enough leash for Edward.

  There were only four who made the journey; Edward, Andrew and two servants. To Andrew it was luxury.

  Penshurst was a manor house, not a castle. The great hall had stood since the time of Edward III and it first came into Stafford hands in Duke Humphrey’s time. But it was Duke Henry who put the buildings in their present state, turning Penshurst Place into the sort of house appearing more and more in these days of peace. Isolated in the country, it was most like a very large farmhouse, having stone at its centre and for its chimneys but elsewhere making great use of brick. With no thought of defence there was scope for extravagant glassed lights. They made the whole house wonderfully airy. Though for Edward its brightness was mostly because it held Eadie in it.

  When Edward arrived it was with needless trepidation. Thomas was out to greet him with a hug, Aletia, hanging back slightly, enveloped him in tears and smiles. Andrew, being introduced, felt out of place in the presence of such emotion.

  Edward was soon alone with Eadie. It was in the great hall, fresh with sunlight and flowers. It had been five months since they’d seen each other and Eadie was now visibly with child. She looked lovely and well and nervous.

  Edward should have taken her in his arms straight away, but somehow he delayed. When he did embrace her, their shyness still lingered. The instant childish fun had been lost in these months. Yet, he held her tenderly and she smiled. Eadie was the most precious soul in the World, whatever happened, he would always be loyal to that love.

  Eadie doubted and feared; how could she; when her love was as true as his, not know his heart.

  Edward held her clumsily; he would not let her go till somehow all was righted. It had been so long a time and he needed the reassuring touch of her, not realising Eadie needed it too. It made her smile, and at last relax.

  As they let each other go, they almost resumed their old banter, but not quite. Now there was to be a child, they could no longer be children themselves; while Edward twice faced death and once the wrath of Thomas. Yet they didn’t quite know how to be adults, and their awkwardness showed.

  They didn’t quite know how to act in front of Thomas and Aletia. Did they but know it, this caused the greatest amusement. Didn’t Thomas and Aletia know what it was like to be in love? They were just happy to see the couple together.

  Tension eased with Thomas’ jokes, and following the sly suggestions of Aletia they go off by themselves. The only one truly out of place was Andrew and he was used to being alone. Edward was at pains to include him, as if to show the adult world he and Eadie had nothing to hide. This annoyed Eadie, who did want to hide and express her intimate love - in private.

  It was late summer. The days were not so long but still warm and lazy and time passed as in a dream. They quite often went fishing and sometimes made a catch. Edward would jam the baited rod into the river-bank and they would lie in the long grass just talking or making love or doing nothing at all.

  Andrew envied their happiness. They would sometimes take him with them on expeditions; in shared exploration of the countryside, Eadie learned more of it than she’d done in months before. It wasn’t their having each other Andrew envied. Though they did seem to have their own secret ways that made it impossible to argue with them. What he envied most was their confident and easy success. When they were together nothing seemed impossible for them. Whatever one couldn’t do the other could and each under the other’s approving eye, somehow, never failed to do their best.

  It was as if they read each other’s minds, Edward and Eadie, they were so complete together it won Andrew’s heart. If ever he loved, this was the sort of love he wanted.

  One day they went on an expedition, riding across country, right across the estate to its very edge. There was a village there, much of it de Stafford. It was a long way by road but not so far across the fields, you could almost walk it.

  Andrew took the horses to the smithy. He got on well with such tasks and such people, an attraction of opposites. He could be relied on to spend upwards of an hour with the smith.

  Eadie heard there was an old woman in the village; who made potions and cures. It was the reason for their visit. Eadie wanted something for a hound in the manor. It was old and lame and hung round the kitchen hearth for warmth and comfort. Eadie nursed it, looking after it with tit-bits of food; she gave it a new name and its own blanket.

  Edward was somehow acquired by the church warden and the verger. They huffed and puffed around him wanting him to see this and to do them that favour. It was well over an hour before he could escape protesting he, too, must see to the horses. Andrew was still there and Edward explained his escape and the need of it. They took themselves to the alehouse, Edward uneasy and restless. Andrew would rather have stayed with the smith. They noticed Eadie’s absence and neither was good company.

  After a time Edward set down his unfinished beer and set out to find her. Mother Megg’s house wasn’t hard to find. It was more than a cottage and spoke well of its tenant’s importance, standing four square in the middle of the village.

  Eadie was in the kitchen at the back of the house, sat on a low stool before Mother Megg, eyes intent. Mother Megg was lost in an old rocking chair and covered in shawls. Neither noticed when Edward came in, lost in some mystery, it was several minutes before they realised he was there.

  It was Mother Megg who greeted Edward first and when Eadie turned to him her eyes were shining, not for him but for what she heard from Mother Megg. Her excitement pleased him, as she rehearsed all the mysteries she’d learned. The old woman smiled at this young nobleman, who obviously understood not a word of her art.

  As they rode off and for long after, Eadie regaled her companions with the wonderful tales of healing she learned from the old mother. More, if possible, than she had time to hear at Mother Megg’s knee. On she went, pell-mell in her enthusiasm, on and on until Andrew and Edward teased her about being a witch. Even so the impressions of Mother Megg still filled Eadie’s mind hours later as they lay in their old place at the river bank.

  The bottles she’d been given lay in her saddlebag and as soon as the horses were stabled; off she went to treat her hound. Edward and Andrew joined her later.

  “See? It’s doing him good already, poor thing.”

  “Aye and poor thing it will be indeed,” quoth Andrew, “if ye deprive the Grim Reaper and cheat yon hunter of a rest from his labours.”

  Eadie was not to be mocked. Nose in the air she sniffed and waved Andrew away. With exaggerated despair, and hands held high, he went.

  Edward laugh
ed and bent and kissed her and they held each other.

  The last days of summer passed quickly. Andrew was due back in Master Gibbons’ chambers and Edward was due in Cambridge.

  The prospect of being sent to Buckingham College had crystallised around Master Gibbons’ advice. Some noblemen were sent to Cambridge younger than Edward, as undergraduates, and Edward would join in some of their studies, but Buckingham College was a strict monastic school, not for lay students, and it was made clear to Edward he would live within the rules of the house.

  In those days the universities of England served the Church and no scholar learned save through the Grace of God in His Church. Yet the scholars depended increasingly on noble patrons, seeking immortality through learning. The College had been called Buckingham, its Prior told Edward, in honour of his family. In their prayers the monks of Buckingham remembered the late dowager duchess Anne, Edward’s great grandmother, who founded and named the College.

  Thirty years before, the teaching monks of St. Benedict had been in need of a new home. When they moved to the north of the river, to where the present college now stands, it had been the Staffords who found them land and money and gave them protection.

  Maybe some of the fine, brick buildings round the college’s new court were paid for by Duke Henry, but the great chapel, the monks’ hostel and the land they stood on came from the dowager duchess, and her daughter-in-law, Lady Margaret Beaufort.

  Edward didn’t care for all this. Though it concerned family history and pride, his thoughts were for Eadie. Edward missed her already, at the mere thought of Cambridge. There was an autumn chill in the air, the smell of wood smoke and mists and damply brown leaves were everywhere.

  There was a timeless bustle about the College; its tenements crammed together like those of the town, straggling out between the ‘pondyards’ and the road. The pondyards still fed fish to all the learned monks of Cambridge and the road carried all the traffic from Ely and Huntingdon down to Great Bridge. There had always been bustle in Cambridge, but greater now, with its modern buildings; as other colleges came to replace the inadequate, decaying church houses, as other noble patrons followed Buckingham’s example.

  Buckingham College obeyed the Statutes of Pope Benedict XII, and lay within the rule of the great abbey of Crowland. This much Edward was truly told, and would not be allowed to forget.

  I remember my welcome by the Prior, as he had me stand before him while he warmed his backside in front of the fire.

  “I have instructions from our Abbot; he has discussed your case with the Bishop of Ely and studied the statutes of St. Benedict and this College. He has asked me to set before you the terms of your membership of our College as a lay brother.

  You are to be accorded your titles and the College will allot you servants.

  You shall have a room of your own but you shall bring no one into it without my approval unless it be you appoint a private chaplain who may hear your confession.

  You shall keep no servants of your own,

  You shall address full fellows of this College and all others, who teach you, as ‘sir’,

  You shall obey all the rules of this house as any other brother would and especially you shall obey our rules of chastity and poverty.

  Should your position require you to give any entertainment it shall be done under my licence and in my presence.

  I hope, Sir Edward, you shall join in or life of humility.”

  The University was where learning and belief met. It was there for learned monks to gain the wisdom to teach their brethren and their flocks, Buckingham College continued to pride itself on this divine purpose. Edward’s room was more than a monastic cell, but still part of a monastery. In those days the teaching staff and all the students, save Edward, were monks and religious observance was strict.

  In the university as a whole, over the passing years, more and more wealthy men came here to put their trust in knowledge and the new learning of the Renaissance. I cannot believe these students lived the austere life demanded by Buckingham College, yet still no one doubted, all truth came from the hand of God and many would have praised Lady Margaret’s piety for sending Edward to a school of such purity.

  Edward was given a servant, Peter, whose wife Trim also served the College and did his laundry. His tutor was Father Tobias, a cheerful, lively man. Older students stood in awe of his rude humour but Edward never heard him tell a lewd joke. He believed in God and work and God help those who didn’t.

  Thanks be to God for Thomas’ care and scholarship. As a member of a graduate community; in addition to his undergraduate studies of humane letters in Latin and Greek, Edward was expected to attend graduate lectures in Theology and Mathematics. By Lady Margaret’s strict order he was spared the disputations his College fellows held in Great Saint Mary’s Church, but to the Prior’s mind it was a loss, where better to school a future member of the King’s Great Council than in University debate?

  For all his hard work there were many older boys in the University who had to work harder still, and some of them left, ‘sent down’. Latin wasn’t too difficult, it was Greek, the language of the philosophers, Edward found hard. Latin was the language of the Church and of the Bible. It wasn’t till Father Tobias told him that Edward learnt the Bible had first been written in Greek. For this to be so seemed almost a heresy.

  Here there was no learning of arms or horsemanship, all week was bookish. Sundays were divided equally between church on the one hand and drinking, gaming and brawling in town on the other. These two lives only interfered with each other when some unwise student suffered injuries that couldn’t be disguised. The penalty for brawling was close confinement in lodgings at the College.

  Edward was a lonely student. Peter and Trim; good people though they were, were no substitute for Thomas and Aletia. There was no possible substitute for Eadie, nor for the friendship of Andrew; certainly there was none to be found among the serious minded fellows of Buckingham College. Edward applied himself determinedly to his studies and such escape as could be found in the Bible, but for his heart there was to be no release till term’s end at Christmas.

  Homesickness was for Eadie. There were letters, of course, as witty and clever and important as they could be made. There was pleading too, to Lady Margaret, for release from Cambridge or for the presence of Eadie and release from the rule of chastity that this would involve.

  “…I am a Christian but not a monk. Neither my rank nor my will fit me to be a priest and this pious community strives for nothing other, in me as in themselves. I beg your gracious leave to live as God and Nature willed it, if it please your Grace, away from this priestly rule and amongst my friends and loved ones…”

  It did no good.

  The wrench away from Eadie was terrible; it would have been such delight just to see her face. She wrote just once, a long letter, she said she could feel the baby move.

  There were other letters too, never has there been such an enthusiastic correspondent. There were letters to Thomas and to Aletia, and even to William. Master Gibbons had taken over Edward’s personal finances and paid the customary allowance. This correspondence was all business-like but William remembered his own time as a student, at Oxford, and Edward admired him as a man of learning.

  This was all the life of this first term at College. The beauty and excitement of Cambridge might just as well not have existed. For Edward Cambridge was hard, cold and lonely. Home was with Eadie.

  The little I know of Cambridge from my own life; the University, Library, museum, bookshops and pubs, paints a warmer picture. Many other buildings and purposes have overlaid the Cambridge I saw through Edward’s eyes, though the bustle is still there. I tried hard to reconcile Edward’s life with the Cambridge I knew.

  (Past)

  Christmas eventually came for Edward and he arrived at Penshurst laden with presents. He racked his brain for weeks before to think of tokens he could give to show his love for Eadie, Thomas and Aleti
a. Little of the substantial sums sent by Master William, in defiance of the College Rule, were spent on anything else. As Edward got back to that manor house the speed and tempo of my images, quickened. I found myself involved in Edward’s life again as I hadn’t been for all his months in Cambridge.

  It was frosty and growing dark when at last I came to the house. It was two weeks before Christmas. There was no one to greet me! No one at all but for an old woman who didn’t recognise me. She was a servant who worked on a neighbouring farm all summer and came indoors at the manor for the winter. She lit candles for me while I attended to the horses, one to ride and one for baggage. The old woman was impressed by the baggage; she’d never seen a rider carry so much. I laughed my embarrassment but really what was in my mind was concern and annoyance at the state of the household, for there was really no one here.

  Eadie returned first. It was both joy and relief to see her. She’d been at Mother Megg’s house and was flushed from riding.

  Nobody had known I was coming.

  “You should have sent word.”

  “I did, weeks ago!”

  “Oh. Edward.”

  We kissed.

  Eadie talked constantly of Mother Megg, Mother Megg this and Mother Megg that. I wanted to hear about the baby and about Eadie. I reprimanded her for riding in her condition. For, unbelievably, she had ridden. It wasn’t fair to the child, what if she had fallen? She waved me aside, she really wasn’t listening.

  In the candle-light it wasn’t possible to see expression. It wasn’t the homecoming I’d expected. Their lives had gone on without me. Where was everybody?

  Aletia and Thomas, on their separate returns, greeted me warmly. Eadie and I were in the kitchen, it was the warmest place. Aletia looked drawn and haggard and tired when she came in. The brightness she put on was for my benefit. Eadie admitted Aletia had been ill, I worried, she’d never ever been ill. Thomas, too, looked drawn and care-warn, I think for Aletia. He, too, put on a smiling face for me.

  We made a happy showing of it. I brought out the presents I’d bought for them and there were hugs all round. We talked of memories of the summer and times past. We made a good evening of it but I wondered at the lack of servants.

  I spoke to Thomas about it in the morning.

  ‘‘Master Gibbons thinks them an unnecessary expense.”

  “Does he!”

  I was horrified, amazed and angry.

  That morning I wrote my first letter of what I hoped was ducal command. I required my house to be properly kept and I regretted the insult to my name. I was so angry, at times; I had to break off from writing because my hand would shake with emotion. I wrote that not all the King and Lady Margaret’s ancestors had been born in wedlock. What if the duke of Lancaster’s Beaufort children had been treated so? Should Stafford honour any more tolerate such Godless usage?

  I assured Master Gibbons I would take all needful action to mend my guardian’s neglect and do all in my power to provide for Eadie. I called on him to make immediate provision for the future. God knows what I thought he would make of it, or Lady Margaret, when he showed it to her.

  No reply could reasonably be expected before Christmas, despite the letter, I had to make my own remedy. Fortunately there was much left of the allowance William had sent to Cambridge, to maintain my station there. It wasn’t there I wanted to maintain it! There was still smouldering anger at the poorness of my homecoming.

  Thomas was almost diffident when I broached it the same morning.

  “But this house needs servants. Aletia is tired and so are you.

  We can’t even send out for the hire of them, we’ll have to go ourselves. What shall we do?”

  He made no protest at the need for us to ride round the neighbourhood, only at the cost. I waved my pile of coins at him.

  How long did I think that would last?

  Oh, but I could do more! These were Stafford estates; I was the de Stafford heir, only kept out of them by minority. There was a rent day coming, I would receive my own rents as we had done in Wales.

  Thomas was horrified.

  I was determined.

  I was bound by my word to see Lady Margaret this Christmas; I would tell her myself what I had done, over-ruling the local stewards and giving my own receipt. I would tell her, but only after it was done.

  “Even next birthday you’ll be five years short of your majority. The rents aren’t yours, they belong to Lady Margaret.”

  True, but it was, perhaps, the realisation Thomas was growing old as much as the sense I was growing up that prompted my stubbornness.

  “I shall do this with or without your help.”

  We set out accordingly, on both errands; rent notices and hire of servants.

  Hire of servants is no straightforward business. Service mostly follows tradition and tenure. Little hire of labour in the country is just for money. It was not easy to get the servants I called for without interfering with the rule of others over my estates. Thomas would have stopped me bribing servants to break contractual oaths and I did my best to defer to him, even so, in the mood I was in, I would have ridden roughshod over every petty lord in the county. Howbeit, and thanks to Thomas’ skill, we finished up with servants enough to make some sort of household: there was a carriage and coachman for Eadie, three grooms and stable boys, a general manservant for Thomas and six others, a lady’s maid each for Aletia and Eadie, a cook and an assistant, two kitchen boys and scullions, there were indoor maids and dairy maids and others besides. I could have wished for more.

  Thomas looked tired when we got back and Eadie flew at me when I proudly told her what we’d done. I was, it seems, in love with my own importance. Maybe she was right.

  “Edward, the family’s not in residence!”

  I was shocked.

  “Yes it is. We are here, you and me, Thomas and Aletia. We are the family.”

  Aletia, who heard, smiled her thanks and relief and love. I don’t know if I was wrong but if I was that smile justified me in everything I’d done.

  Talk of family prompted thoughts of Mother; Brother Henry and my sisters, Elizabeth and Anne. It was true; I had little family other than these people here. How long was it since I’d seen any of them, or even thought of them? I felt a spasm of guilt. Particularly for the remembrance of my mother; for her soft and gentle, loving embrace when I was very small. Thoughts of them occasionally stung my eyes; yet it was quickly over-laid with a fierce will to protect the people under this roof. I had no doubt my relatives would want for nothing this Christmas.

  I felt very alone and responsible. The reason I was singled out, the only reason, was that I was the heir; though Henry would inherit enough, titles and land, in all conscience. Very well, to be Duke Henry’s heir I should be true to my blood. My mind hardened on this idea and Eadie seemed to sense it. I had her attention and all was quiet as I spoke.

  “Eadie, when I am a man my will shall be done next only to God and the King. It is time I should practice.”

  There was a look of surprise in Eadie’s eyes. Perhaps she had never seen me so determined; not angry, just sure. She looked almost scared, then the moment passed and she smiled.

  “Very well then, thy will be done.”

  It was a good Christmas. There was game in the district and farm produce without limit. The new cook was set to her kitchen right away. She was good at her work and proud and fell-to with a will. There was more than a household could eat and with a certain noble connivance and a nod and a wink she set about a festive season the whole county would remember.

  The neighbours were called upon. Consternation ran round the local gentry. It wasn’t a grand festival like those of Lady Margaret, but it was let be known Sir Edward was in residence.

  The villagers and tenants turned up in large numbers, confused about rents but pleased for our hospitality. On Thomas’ strict order the rents we took were limited to what we needed, for household expense only. For the first time in ten years a Stafford
gave his own receipt. William would be furious.

  The people of Kent marked their young lord’s presence well. This wasn’t Wales, full of resentment and suspicion, this was honest merry England. Many of the tenants had met Edward in the summer; they were pleased when he recognised them now. It was a happy time, full of admiration and pleasure.

  Somehow Thomas seemed to swell back into his former self, in his role presiding over everything. Aletia was busy, her illness forgotten. Eadie was big with child and had to limit her merriment. But any joy lost to her was made up for by Edward. These were his people and he their lord.

  Parole had been given, time and duty beckoned. After just three and a half short weeks the time came to honour the promises, the road onwards and such reckoning as there might be. Eadie was still undelivered of their child.

  ***

  Penshurst Place