Piqued at his refusal over Ashwellthorpe, she said, ‘I will see if the girl is suitable,’ and was even more annoyed when Humphrey laughed at her and pinched her cheek.
Master Arthur Hay brought his daughter to London himself. He was a very tall man with stooping shoulders and large grey eyes that looked melancholy until a smile lifted the downward contours of his face. Bess thought at once that if she had not known he was a wine merchant she would have guessed him to be a knight or at least a country gentleman. He thanked her for receiving his daughter and encouraged the girl to come forward. She was small with chestnut hair and she had the same arresting eyes though she lowered them to curtsey to her new mistress. ‘I have taught her what I can,’ her father said in his somewhat reserved manner. ‘You will find her willing and able to write a good hand and add up, but ignorant of women's accomplishments, Lady Bourchier.’
‘I will teach her,’ Bess said, her annoyance forgotten. ‘We shall do very well together, I am sure. What is your name, child?’
‘Elysia, madame. I will do my best for you.’ But when the time came to say farewell to her father the girl wept and Bess felt an instant sympathy for her.
Within a week or two a friendship had become established between them though Elysia never forgot her place in the house. Finding London more exciting than she had dreamed possible, Bess took Elysia with her when she visited Cheapside to buy silver for the table, napery and linen. Humphrey was unstinting when it came to clothes for her attendance at court and she spent many pleasant hours with her new companion turning over silks and velvets and sarsanet on the stalls. She was waiting for a summons, a word of the promise Elizabeth had made her, but for a while none came though the new Queen smiled graciously when she chanced to look in Bess's direction.
She began to be at ease even in the presence of such men as the Earl of Warwick and Humphrey's uncle, the stately Earl of Essex. She liked Warwick's younger daughter, the Lady Anne, and often talked to the child. Once, encountering Bess about to mount her mare in the courtyard at Westminster the great Warwick put Sable aside and lifted her into the saddle himself.
‘Dame Bourchier,’ he said, ‘I wish to thank you for your kindness to my little Anne.’
‘She is very shy,’ Bess said, ‘as I was myself when I came to court.’
‘All of six months ago,’ he answered smiling. No wonder, Bess thought, that people cheered him when his standard of the Bear and Ragged Staff was carried before him through the streets, for when he chose he could be pleasant indeed, all severity gone from that square clean-shaven face. Yet Humphrey said there were people who distrusted him, who feared he would never forgive Edward for deceiving him.
‘The Queen is haughty with him,’ Bess said regretfully to her husband, ‘and though he is polite, his voice is always cold when he speaks to her.’
‘Well, time will heal that breach no doubt,’ Humphrey answered lazily. ‘Even Warwick must admit his nephew adds stature to the crown as each day passes.’
In December Humphrey took her for a short visit to his uncle's house at Stanstead in Essex and the Earl made her welcome, his lady asking in the next breath whether she was yet pregnant.
A little pink in the cheeks, Bess said she thought not and the Countess laughed and tapped Humphrey's hand and told him not to be slack.
He kissed his aunt soundly and promised her a great-nephew or niece as soon as nature co-operated with him. The Countess had long stood as a mother to him, and Bess enjoyed the time spent in the large house, where the Earl showed himself surprisingly indulgent to the grandchildren who filled the place.
They also visited Lord Berners at his home in Kent where the atmosphere was far quieter, her father-in-law living there in solitary and silent state when not in London. Finally Humphrey told her they had done their duty and might return to their own home and she was glad. She was beginning to learn more about the man she had married. She discovered he was immensely well-liked, that he enjoyed entertaining his friends often in their main room; scarcely large enough to be called a hall. They would stay talking and drinking long after she had retired and she could hear the echo of their voices, sometimes raised in song, as she lay in bed waiting for him to come to her. Always he was an eager lover, but as they settled into their new life he left her very much to the company of other ladies by day. Now and again they gave a supper party for their shared friends and Lord and Lady Hastings were often of the number, for Bess found Catherine Hastings a friend very much to her liking.
Sometimes Humphrey invited Sir John Paston, and he brought her news of folk who seemed now to live in a different world. ‘I too am seeking to rise in the world,’ he said in what she considered an overweening way, ‘and the Duke of Norfolk promises me his favour. I flatter myself also that I may win the hand of the Lady Anne Haute, the Queen's cousin, you know.’
‘I do indeed know,’ Bess said tartly, ‘for she is often at court.’
Bess had always preferred Sir John's younger brother, another John, and was sorry it was not he who was trying to make his way in London. Yet when Sir John talked of Ashwellthorpe and the doings in the county she was almost ashamed to find how little she was missing her previous life. It seemed so dull in comparison with the present.
Both Humphrey and his father were summoned to Westminster and given posts in the new Queen's household and one morning not long after their return from Kent a young man wearing the Queen's livery came at last to bid the Lady Bourchier attend the Queen that afternoon.
Bess was conducted to an apartment overlooking the river and there found Elizabeth sitting at a table littered with rings and brooches, embroidered gloves and scarves. Her sister-in-law Lady Scales was with her and two serving women. She was in an undress robe and her gilt hair was hanging freely down her back, enhancing her beauty still further. She smiled and held out her hand and Bess knelt to kiss it.
‘Well,’ Elizabeth said, ‘I promised you a place about myself, did I not? Now you shall have it. You shall join my ladies of the bedchamber.’
‘You are very kind, your grace,’ Bess answered formally and then added in a rush, ‘and I am so glad. I feared you had forgotten. When may I begin?’
‘Lady Scrope will inform you of your duties. You will find her in the next room preparing my gown. That is all for now.’
Bewildered, Bess rose and then impulsively took Elizabeth's hand once more in her own.
‘My dear,’ the Queen said, ‘you do not do that unless I proffer it. We are not at Grafton now.’
She accompanied the words with a gracious smile but as Bess curtseyed and withdrew she remembered that one particular morning at Grafton and was aware that much was indeed changed.
Lady Scrope was a Yorkshire woman and the Queen's closest friend, a plain woman but vigorous and efficient. ‘Lady Bourchier,’ she greeted Bess with a brief nod, ‘you will soon learn all that is needed. For two weeks out of four you will reside at court unless otherwise ordered – I believe rooms are made ready for you and Sir Humphrey – and you will make yourself available at any time to attend her grace. I understand you have long been acquainted with the Queen but you should not take advantage of the fact.’ She saw Bess's expression and added, ‘It is not so alarming and I speak mainly of state occasions. But just remember that she is no longer Lady Grey but Queen of England.’
She proceeded to show Bess where the Queen's gowns were kept, the boxes where her jewels were locked away and the keys placed in the charge of the lady on duty. Bess listened, torn between sharp disappointment – she had expected a warm embrace, a shared joy in the secret that had lifted Elizabeth to so high a place – and pleasure at the honour bestowed on her.
As the days passed the splendour of Edward's court increased under Elizabeth's extravagant hand. There were hunting parties, masques and mummers' plays, and always dancing at which Bess knew she excelled. She was often in the company of the King's family and there was the bittersweet delight of his constant presence. Edward, who was on
good terms with the London merchants, sometimes rode past the Bourchiers' house on his way to the city.
‘He's a head for making money,’ Humphrey said. ‘My uncle tells me old Henry had emptied or allowed others to empty the royal coffers but our wily lord will soon see them filled again.’
Once Edward dismounted and came in. Throwing his reins to Wat he said, ‘Sable, aren't you? That's a fine mare your lady rode yesterday; where did you get her?’
‘Norwich horse fair, sire,’ Wat answered, unperturbed by the fact that the King paused to talk with him and even remembered his name, but Bess, hurrying down in a flurry at this unexpected call, thought how typical it was of Edward. She had been in her still-room and wished she was wearing other than a workaday gown.
Smiling down at her he said, ‘It is so cold a day I thought you might warm your King's bones with a cup of wine.’
She called for a mug of malmsey to be hastily mulled and he stayed for half an hour talking with her. It seemed as if with him it was the reverse of how it had been with Elizabeth, that because of the secret shared he had a special affection for her.
‘I am glad you are so much with the Queen,’ he said. ‘You have proved you can hold your tongue which is more than many of the ladies at court can do.’
‘There is nothing I would not do for her grace – nor for you, sire.’
He laughed. ‘Be careful, cousin, or I may take you up on that promise one day.’
She blushed and stored the words and the look in her mind. They meant nothing, and yet was she mad to hope they might one day do so?
‘The Guild of Goldsmiths entertains me to dinner today. I'm not above a little trading myself, you know, and some of our city merchants are very good company,’ he went on. ‘Sir John Howard is to join me. He has ships for my use and a head on his shoulders.’
‘So my father has always said.’
Sir John had often been a visitor to Ashwellthorpe, but Bess had been a little afraid of him, for he seemed somewhat overwhelming to a shy girl. She was glad he had not accompanied Edward and saw with regret that the King was rising to go.
‘It has been pleasant talking with you,’ he said, ‘and you have made this house a friendly place. Humphrey is fortunate.’
As he spoke, in such a warm tone, the love which she had tried so hard to bury urged up again, and when he left, kissing her hand and then her mouth as custom allowed, she ran up to her solar where the window overlooked the street, watching him until he was out of sight.
Elysia, coming in a moment or two later, said, ‘Madame, you look flushed. I hope you are not feverish.’
‘Of course not,’ Bess answered. If she had a fever, she thought, it was not of the sort to be caught in London's infectious streets.
In the following May the Queen was crowned and a week or two beforehand she sent for Bess. ‘I wish you to be one of the ladies to carry my train,’ she said, ‘with Anthony's wife Lady Scales, Lady Scrope and of course Catherine Hastings.’ She kept Bess kneeling a great length of time as she spoke of her gown and her jewels and the care that must be taken that everything was in the right place at the right time. ‘I know that there has been some spiteful talk about me, about my family,’ she added, ‘but all London will see that a Woodville can grace the throne of England.’
‘Indeed,’ Bess agreed but she added, ‘Your grace, if I might sit – I am with child and I fear I might faint if I kneel any longer.’
A shadow crossed Elizabeth's face. ‘Then sit, my dear, here on this stool at my feet.’
Bess accepted thankfully, the wave of nausea subsiding a little, but when the Queen said, ‘I hope you will not be overcome at the ceremony. Perhaps you had better not –’ she so far forgot herself as to interrupt. ‘Your grace, I beg you to let me attend you. I promise you I will not fail you. And I will pray that you too may soon –’ she added impulsively and then stopped.
One fair slender eyebrow was raised. ‘Dear Bess, always blundering into words best left unsaid. Well, as the King told his mother, he has fathered several bastards and I have sons so what is there to prevent us making a child together? The Duchess Cicely does not like me, you know.’
‘Does not like you? How could she not?’
‘Easily, if you think on it. I was a widow with two boys and several years older than Edward, the most eligible bachelor in all Europe. How should she approve? She wanted more for her son. So did the high-born ladies who seemed to wed their own daughters to the King.’
‘But you won him,’ Bess said warmly. It seemed as if for the moment the old intimacy was back.
‘Yes, I won him,’ the Queen agreed. ‘And will keep him.’ She was twisting a great ruby ring on her finger. ‘My lord of Warwick is another who does not like it. He is so correct towards me but his importance has been pricked like a pig's bladder. It is amusing, is it not?’
‘Yes, your grace,’ Bess said, but she did not think it so, and later repeated the Queen's words to Humphrey.
‘The Earl of Warwick thought he could rule Edward and found he could not,’ Humphrey said. ‘Nor does he find Elizabeth Woodville a woman to bend to his will, but he and Edward won't quarrel.’
‘I hope you are right,’ Bess answered but she felt an unaccountable chill creep over her. She added, ‘I am glad my lord of Warwick is away on the King's affairs in Calais and won't be in the Abbey on Sunday. He has a way of looking at the Queen that makes me fear.’
Humphrey kissed her lightly. ‘You are with child, my love, and I believe at such times a woman has many fancies. Do not be seeing trouble where there is none.’
CHAPTER THREE
On the day following the coronation, Whit Monday, a great joust was held to celebrate the occasion and Bess had a place in the stand specially built for the ladies of the court. She had managed to endure the long ceremonial yesterday though she felt sick for much of the time. Despite her anxiety she had not disgraced herself, only a few tears of emotion running down her cheeks as she saw the golden crown set on Elizabeth's head.
Even in a court of such luxury Bess had never seen anything as opulent as last night's feast though she had barely savoured the rich dishes nor the excellent wines. The King's young brother George of Clarence appreciated it all a great deal, drank too much of Malmsey wine, got quite out of hand and had to be packed off to bed. Several lords disappeared for a while and returned to attack the great dishes with renewed vigour and Bess was glad that, though once her husband fell off his seat slightly drunk and laughing at one of the jester's jokes, he did not have to be carried to bed. She herself preferred today's entertainment out in the fresh air.
Slowly the stand began to fill up. The King's sisters came with their mother, the Duchess Cicely, and the Countess of Warwick brought her two daughters. Isabel was the prettier and soon chattering away to Bess, but shy, quiet Anne slid into a seat next to the equally quiet youngest brother of the King, Richard Duke of Gloucester. Richard, only thirteen and too young to fight, was a serious boy small for his age and with dark grey eyes that looked thoughtfully out on the scene. Bess much preferred him to the swaggering handsome Clarence who was so conceited. Occasionally he pointed out some entertainment to the girl at his side, such as the monkey performing tricks among the crowd gathered about the fences.
At either end of the lists all the noble lords and knights who were to take part were arming themselves, squires and grooms hurrying about with their masters’ helms and lances, and Bess watched it all, enthralled. She had seen a tournament before but not like this.
All the Bourchiers were there and the Staffords; Lord Hastings as Chamberlain had much to do with the organization of the comforts for the ladies while the Duke of Norfolk who was too unwell to appear had deputed his cousin Sir John Howard to act as Earl Marshal, presiding over the joust itself.
The Queen's brothers were to ride and all her sisters crowded into the stand, laughing and chattering, their sister's new glory gone somewhat to their heads.
‘I can see
your brother will have all his ingenuity taxed to keep that brood satisfied,’ the Duchess Cicely said in a tart voice to her eldest daughter.
‘I am sure you are right, madame,’ Anne of Exeter agreed. ‘And if the Queen should prove as fertile as her mother, God help Edward. I am glad I have only one daughter to settle in life.’
‘The less said about your situation the better, my poor child,’ her mother remarked. ‘And Edward needs heirs of his own blood.’
Bess wished she had not heard the low-voiced conversation. She was very much in awe of the imperious Duchess, who even in middle age retained the beauty that had brought her the name of the Rose of Raby, from the castle where she had lived in her youth. Never for one moment did Cicely forget she was the daughter of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland, and John of Gaunt's granddaughter.
Bess saw the King now, riding to where a tent flew the royal standard, and a moment later the Queen entered the pavilion. They all knelt on the hard boards and it was not until she herself sat down that she waved to the other ladies to rise from their knees. The Duchess Jaquetta sat beside her and the King's mother on her other side.
The herald's trumpet blew and Clarence came up to the stand to ask a favour from his sister Margaret. She leaned forward to twist a piece of silk about his lance. She was three years his senior and he was her favourite brother, though Bess could not understand why this should be when there was Edward to love. ‘See you do well, dearest George,’ Margaret said warmly. ‘You have not fought in public before and it matters how you conduct yourself.’
The Sun in Splendour (The Plantagenets Book 6) Page 4
