The Sun in Splendour (The Plantagenets Book 6)

by Juliet Dymoke

  The Sun in Splendour

  JULIET DYMOKE

  THREE CASTLES MEDIA

  First published in Great Britain in 1980 by Nel Books

  This edition published in 2016 by Three Castles Media Ltd.

  Three Castles Media Ltd

  Copyright © 2016 Juliet Dymoke

  The moral right of Juliet Dymoke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The main character in this book is a work of fiction and the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Other names, characters, businesses, organizations and places are based on actual historical events. In such cases, every effort has been made to make such information as accurate as possible.

  Three Castles Media Ltd hereby exclude all liability to the extent permitted by law for any errors or omissions in this book and for any loss, damage or expense (whether direct or indirect) suffered by a third party relying on any information contained in this book.

  Jacket design by Fourteen Twenty 3

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Peggy and Leslie Howard

  CHAPTER ONE

  The moment Bess entered the room she knew that something had happened or was about to happen. There was a split second, a moment suspended, before the two women greeted her, when she knew that she had come at a wrong moment, that though unexpected visitors were always welcome at Grafton, on this particular day she was not.

  She hesitated awkwardly. The whole manor seemed so quiet today. There had only been one groom in the courtyard, two elderly women in the hall, and usually the place was teeming with children and servants. Even up here in the solar there were no ladies in attendance on Elizabeth and her mother.

  Then both seemed to recover themselves and Lady Grey put her embroidery aside and came hurrying to embrace the girl who stood so hesitantly by the door. ‘Bess! My dear, we did not look to see you. I thought you at Ashwellthorpe. Has your father come to join the King?’

  ‘Yes, and Uncle Hugh also.’ Bess allowed herself to be drawn into the room. ‘We are staying at Castlethorpe last night and I could not let the chance pass to see you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Elizabeth agreed warmly. ‘But surely you did not come alone? Is your father below?’

  There was a curious note almost of alarm in her voice, which seemed odd to Bess, for her father was an old friend of the Woodville family.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘He is so much occupied with our men who caught up with us last night, that I slipped away. Wat Sable is with me.’

  Elizabeth's mother looked surprised. ‘That was not very wise, my dear, considering the countryside is teeming with soldiers on their way to join the King.’

  A little shyly Bess said, ‘It is May Day, madame, and we saw only young folk on their way to the woods to make garlands.’ She came forward and gave a deep curtsey to the small dark woman who sat calmly in her chair, though her fingers were restless on its arms. Bess was much in awe of the lively and intelligent Frenchwoman who, as the widow of John, Duke of Bedford, had married Richard Woodville, then no more than a mere squire. The old scandal of this secret love match had never quite died. To Bess it was something romantic from the distant past and no one ever addressed Richard Woodville's wife, for all he was Lord Rivers now, as anything but her grace the Duchess. She had borne no children to Bedford but had presented her second husband with a bevy of thirteen.

  The Duchess smiled down at her. ‘Dear child, we are delighted to see you, but I cannot think Sir Frederick will be too pleased when he discovers you have run off.'

  Bess smiled a little. ‘He will not mind; he trusts Wat to care for me.’

  ‘A groom? Not much protection, I would have thought. Nor do I understand why you are here at all. Surely he does not bring you a-warring with him?’ The Duchess indicated a stool and Bess sat down. Being an only child and an heiress it seemed entirely natural to her to be made much of and she was perfectly well aware that when she returned she had only to smile and coax her father a little to dispel any annoyance he might have felt. And it was May Day. Despite the King's call to war there was a spirit of holiday in the air, and the groups of young people she had passed had all been in good humour, and one youth even waved and called out to her to join them. Wat Sable began to send him about his business, but she told Wat to be quiet and merely refused in the same light manner, her own spirits bubbling. Was she not soon to have her own private day of joy? And she had come expecting to be able to chatter of her plans to Lady Elizabeth and her sisters. Instead there was this quiet house, and the strange atmosphere of restraint.

  Awkwardly she explained ‘You see, we had already set out for Groby before we heard of the King's summons. Did you not know we were coming? I made sure Lady Ferrers would have bidden you –’

  ‘She did,’ the Duchess exclaimed, ‘but we made sure that would have been postponed under the circumstances. The men will surely have their minds on other things than such an occasion as a bedding, even if there were time.’

  ‘I did not want to turn back,’ Bess said.

  Elizabeth was smiling. ‘I can imagine that you did not, and Sir Humphrey has waited long for his bride. You have been old enough these two years.’

  ‘I know, but my father put off the day,’ Bess explained. ‘No doubt Sir Humphrey and I will be much at court, and I shall be missed at home.’

  ‘That is the way of things,’ the Duchess said rather severely. ‘Well, child, we shall attend your bedding, if it is possible. Are you happy, Bess?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Bess accepted a goblet of wine from the small table. ‘I've seen little of Sir Humphrey but everyone speaks well of him. When we were wed and I a mere child I remember how he kissed and promised me joy.’

  ‘They all promise that.’ Elizabeth gave an odd laugh, and glanced at her mother. ‘I pray you will have it.’

  ‘Oh!’ Bess caught her hand. ‘I am so sorry that you should be alone with no husband, especially on such a May Day. Perhaps some time –’ and then she broke off in confusion, aware that she should not have spoken so personally to one who was a widow and at least nine years older than herself. To cover her embarrassment she asked hastily, ‘Where are your sons? And your sisters? Have they gone a-maying? And Edward and John? It seems so quiet here today.’

  Again there was that quick exchange of glances and then Elizabeth Grey answered quietly that her boys were in the garden. ‘And my sisters are indeed gone out with John, but Anthony is with the King and Edward has gone to sea for the first time. He is sailing north under Sir John Howard's command and I hope not seasick. Lionel of course is at Oxford but even if he were here I'm sure he's grown too sober and priestly to smile on our pagan festivities. In any case tomorrow will see a return to graver matters.’

  Bess's excited anticipation was subsiding. ‘How soon will the King march? I had thought to have my bedding first.’

  ‘So eager?’ Elizabeth asked archly, thus deepening Bess's colour, but the Duchess answered her question.

  ‘How should we know? The muster is ordered at Leicester in two days' time, but as for the rest of it, we know nothing.’

  ‘I thought – I know the King comes here to hunt when he is at Fotheringay, and I thought you might have heard more –’

  Once again she sa
w Elizabeth glance at the Duchess, and she broke off, even more puzzled, but Elizabeth answered smoothly, ‘Of course when King Edward is free to please himself he comes to see us. When my father was in the service of the late Duke of York all of us children played together, and the King's mother still writes to my mother of court news. But we've heard no more than that old King Henry, though he no longer wears the crown, is causing disturbance from behind the walls of Bamburgh Castle, and the Duke of Somerset has raised an army for him.’

  ‘But the Queen is fled to France with their son, is she not?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Jaquetta agreed tartly, ‘though Margaret of Anjou is no longer Queen. She was always a sly-faced bitch and I'll lay any wager that the boy they call Prince of Wales was spawned by Somerset's father that was slain at St. Albans.'

  ‘Oh!’ Bess gasped. ‘Can that really be true? Master Paston who lives near us often brings news from London, but I thought that whisper must be mere gossip.’

  The Duchess gave a short laugh. ‘I believe it. When Henry recovered his wits, poor mad fool, after the child was born he said he was sure the Holy Ghost must have fathered it for he had not. I know that from one who was there. Margaret was always being private with Somerset, and I never did trust the Beauforts, any of them. Well, please God, England will soon have a new Queen.’

  Bess's eyes widened. ‘Is the King to wed, then? I had not heard that, though I did hear my father say he hoped my lord of Warwick would not urge a French match, for the people would not like it.’

  Then she remembered the Duchess's origins and added hastily, ‘Your pardon, your grace, I should not have –’

  ‘I am become very English,’ the Duchess said with surprising amiability, ‘and my lord of Warwick may find he cannot have all things his own way.’

  Elizabeth had risen, for a bell was chiming the hour. ‘Mother, it is ten of the clock.’

  Bess rose too. ‘Have you an engagement? I am sorry, I will take my leave at once.’

  ‘Yes, an engagement,’ Elizabeth said. A quick frown drew the Duchess's dark brows together, but her daughter went on. ‘Suppose they should meet on the road? No, it is better if Bess stays here, and in our confidence.’

  ‘Very well,’ the Duchess answered but without looking at their visitor. ‘Take the child to your chamber. It is time to prepare.’

  Bewildered, Bess followed the Lady Elizabeth up another stair to a room facing out to the rear of the house where there was a small herb garden.

  ‘There are the boys.’ Elizabeth glanced out. ‘I sent them out to play.’ She leaned from the open casement and called, ‘Thomas! Thomas, I say! Do not push your brother like that. He forgets he is bigger than Richard,’ she added to Bess and turned back into the room, and now Bess could see how her blue eyes sparkled.

  Lady Elizabeth Grey was not in the least like her mother but favoured her father. She had silvery blonde hair revealed as she removed the elaborate cone-shaped hennin she had been wearing, a perfect milk-and-rose complexion and a nose that was small and well shaped above a mobile full-lipped mouth. Her beauty, to Bess, was breath-taking and seemed especially so today. Bess herself, who was small and dark and hated her own rather sallow skin, was envious of so excellent a figure, so much charm, and she wondered if she could ever achieve a similar poise. The mirror opposite showed her only claim to beauty, eyes that were large and oddly copper-coloured under straight dark brows. Would Humphrey love her, she wondered, or would he be disappointed that she had grown up to so little beauty?

  And then she became aware of a tension in her friend, of fingers that could scarcely tie the ribbons of a blue velvet cloak.

  ‘What is it?’ Bess asked. ‘What is it that you can trust me with? You have some great secret, I know it. And why are you dressing to go out?’

  Lady Grey turned and held out both hands, grasping the girl's arms. ‘Child – cousin – England is to have new Queen. I am to wed King Edward this very morning!’

  Bess let out a great gasp and stood rigid. ‘To – to wed the King? Today? But how is it possible?’

  Suddenly Elizabeth was laughing, a tremulousness about the sound that betrayed not so much an attack of nerves as happiness combined with a fear that something might yet go wrong. ‘It is possible, I promise you. He has been hot for me these many months past.’

  ‘But – but people say he's a great man at loving.’ Bess was aware she was floundering but went on, ‘that he's had many mistresses and . . .’

  ‘Aye, I know. Dame Eleanor Butler, Dame Elizabeth Lucy.’

  ‘Only he must wed a princess, to make a great alliance, at least that is what my father says. You must be teasing me. Perhaps you are to be a May Queen?’

  Elizabeth glanced in the polished mirror and drew the hood over her head. ‘I am not teasing, my innocent. And I am to be Queen for more than a day. Nor is there a ‘must’ for Edward in his choice of a bride. He goes his own way. I'll not say he would not have made me his mistress, if he could, but I have a will too. Even when half in jest he threatened to force me I told him I would die virtuous rather than live with him without his ring upon my finger. I even drew my little knife – it was very dramatic, worthy of the Christmas mummers!’

  Bess sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed.

  ‘I can't credit it. And today! But where? Is it to be a court wedding? No, that can't be or you'd not be here. And what will the Earl of Warwick say? Elizabeth, for pity's sake tell me.’

  ‘I have no time now. You will learn all later. Suffice it to answer only two of your questions. It is to be a secret marriage at the chapel near here called the Hermitage, and I cannot tell you what Warwick will say because he does not know.’ Bess was staring at her. ‘Then how can you – oh, cousin, you are laying up great trouble, surely? Everyone says that it is the Earl who governs all things.’

  A faint smile curved Elizabeth's lips. ‘He will soon learn he cannot govern the King. Warwick can't forget he is descended from John of Lancaster though Edward is of the senior line. But a deed once done cannot be undone and Edward weds me today because he loves me and will have me before all the world. Warwick must take that news for his supper and not choke on it. Bess!’ Lady Grey came to her and caught her hand. ‘You understand that until the King informs the Council it must be kept absolutely secret? That is why my mother sent my brothers and sisters away, and all but the most trustworthy of the servants. I want no questions asked until Edward makes our marriage known. So I will ride out with my mother and one of her ladies, as we often do – we must have witnesses – and we shall not be gone above an hour. Afterwards,’ Elizabeth drew a deep breath, ‘afterwards the King will ride in, again as he often does, and finding us from home will inform the servants he will await our return. Then we shall drink a secret toast together.’

  ‘And will he stay?’ Bess found herself blushing. ‘I mean –’

  Elizabeth laughed outright and touched her cheek. ‘I know what you mean. He will have little time, the message he sent said he must press on to Northampton later today to rejoin his lords who are riding there. Yet –’ there was a little pause and she added, ‘I do not think he will leave until I am truly his wife, beyond mere words said over us. Words can be annulled.’

  ‘Oh,’ Bess's colour deepened. ‘I do wish you joy, but indeed I fear for you.’

  ‘Fear? My dear, the King is a great man and will be greater yet, you will see. A new sun is shining at last over England and I shall be at his side. I and mine will rise with him, and you, little cousin, may perhaps become one of my ladies. How will you like that?’

  ‘Very well,’ Bess exclaimed, ‘but I can't grasp it yet. What happiness for all of you, for your mother, for your brother Sir Anthony.’

  ‘Anthony is already the King's friend.’ Elizabeth had her head tilted at a proud angle that Bess was to come to know well. ‘And you can begin to serve me at once. I see those boys of mine are growing naughty in the garden. I don't wish them to see me ride out, so will you go down and p
lay at ball or skittles with them until I return?’

  ‘Of course,’ Bess agreed and suddenly overcome by shyness, by the realisation that Elizabeth, whom she had known for so long, was about to become Queen of England, she turned and ran away down the stair.

  In the small square garden protected by a red brick wall she set up the skittles and started the boys playing. Thomas was sulky at first, demanding to know where his mother was as he wished to go out into the woods with his new goshawk. ‘You can't say me nay,’ he said rudely, ‘ 'tis naught to do with you, lady.’

  ‘Your mother bade me occupy you here while she is busy, so it is her command not mine,’ Bess retorted. She thought him a tiresome boy with manners that did not match his angelic good looks, and preferred the plainer Richard who stood quietly shame-faced, not liking his brother's impertinence. Bess induced them to play at last, well aware that Thomas agreed mainly for the pleasure of trying to beat her, and her mind was so on the momentous news conveyed in Lady Grey's bedroom that she could not concentrate on the game, sending her balls wide of the dumpy wooden skittles.

  She did not remember Elizabeth's first wedding for she had been a small child at the time, but after Sir John Grey's death at the fight at St. Albans Elizabeth had come to stay with relatives in Norfolk and had visited the Tilneys at Ashwellthorpe. Sir John had fought for Queen Margaret which vaguely surprised Bess whose family had always been staunchly Yorkist, but one never knew which side people were going to take in the quarrels between Lancaster and York. Bess had never seen Queen Margaret but she had heard enough to fear that fierce and beautiful lady and was glad Margaret was gone away to France. Once in London she had seen King Henry ride through the streets and could hardly credit that the saintly­looking man in the plain brown gown and round­toed shoes could be King of England. But the Earl of Warwick had changed all that, taking the crown from Henry's head and setting it on Edward's, and surely, even in refuge at Bamburgh Castle, Henry would be an easy conquest for the young King who had superseded him. And when Edward returned, triumphant, she could not even begin to imagine what would happen, but breath-taking it would surely be and the new Queen would not forget her old friends.