WHEN THE ROYAL entourage traveled back to London two days later, Margaret and her ladies were alone in the chariot. The time at Fotheringhay had convinced Cecily that it was where she belonged, and she had received permission from Edward to make it her principal residence. She happily settled in among the towering moated ramparts and fortified baileys, which made Fotheringhay one of the strongest castles in the Midlands of England. It was also one of the must luxurious. Cecily was overjoyed when Edward promised to send the rest of her wardrobe and household to her as soon as he returned to London. He loved his mother, but her disapproval of his lifestyle was a burr under his saddle. The farther away she was, the better, he thought.
Margaret had cried when she kissed Cecily good-bye on the steps of the inner bailey. Even though they had lived apart now for two years, Margaret at Greenwich and Cecily at Baynard’s, and Margaret had been in control of her own little household, it was only an hour or two by boat between them, and her mother’s proximity had been a comfort.
“I shall be in London from time to time, Margaret, never fear. And you will write to me, will you not? I will miss you, too, my child, but you are a woman now, and I have taught you well. ’Twill not be so bad. But you must see to it that George and Richard conduct themselves properly, my dear,” Cecily advised her, and Margaret nodded dutifully.
George was to remain at Greenwich, but it had been decided during private conversations with Cecily’s nephew, the earl of Warwick, that when Richard turned fourteen, he would be placed in the earl’s care and undertake his knightly training at Warwick’s castle of Middleham. But for now, the three siblings would spend much of their time in one another’s company, with Edward keeping an eye on their activities and household expenditures.
If the truth be told, Margaret was none too happy with the arrangement. A fight was always simmering beneath the surface when the two brothers were together. George sensed Edward’s partiality for Richard, and his jealousy was increasing. Despite being warned by Edward to remain calm, Richard would not take George’s jabs and taunts lying down. He would bunch his hands into fists and threaten to take on the bigger George in a fight. George would laugh unkindly, which would inflame Richard’s anger further until Edward or Cecily stepped in to take charge. Not long after such an incident, however, the two might be seen arm in arm wandering down to the butts to try their luck with a bow and arrow, fast friends again. Their behavior was perplexing to Cecily and simply annoying to Margaret.
During the journey back to Greenwich, however, Margaret was far too absorbed in herself to worry about her brothers. Time after exhilarating time, she had gone over the moments of her embrace with John Harper, trying to remember each exquisite sensation and making it last in her mind twice as long as it had. She had seen John once more after the incident, and they had but a brief exchange.
“I must thank you, my lady, for excusing me to his grace, the king. Certes, I was so surprised and overcome by his presence that I lost my tongue. Forgive me.”
Seeing him so contrite, Margaret tried to make amends. “Nay, Master Harper. There is naught to forgive. I should not have put you in such a position. But,” she said with a twinkle, trying to make light of the event, “I hope you enjoyed our moment together as much as I did.”
The sensual smile that suffused his face told her that he had.
“’Tis enough then, sir, and so,” she found herself saying, “until the next time.”
His astonishment was extremely satisfying, she remembered, as she lay wrapped in furs and daydreaming on the cushions of the chariot.
• • •
MARGARET LISTENED IN on a conversation between Sir John Howard and Will Hastings one evening after supper in the queen’s watching chamber. She was presiding over the entertainment that night, and Edward had graciously accepted her invitation to visit his sister at Greenwich. He had arrived with some of his closest advisers in the royal barge from Westminster earlier in the day and spent some time with George and Richard before attending Margaret’s entertainment. Edward’s two councilors had begun their talk mundanely enough, commenting on the music as the dancers in front of them stepped to a stately pavane. Margaret liked Jack Howard for his forthrightness. His loyalty to the house of York was unquestioned, and Edward held his councilor in high esteem. Margaret appeared intent on the dancing, and they forgot about her as their talk became more political.
“The last few months have made for some strange bedfellows for his grace and Warwick, Jack,” Will said, referring to the weeks of uncertainty for Edward along the Scottish border.
“Aye, my lord of Warwick is none too happy he has to consider Ralph Percy one of us now,” Jack said, twirling his long black mustache. Margaret knew Warwick’s Neville family, with royal connections through its Beaufort roots, had a running feud over lands with the other powerful lords of the north, the Percies. “In truth, I was suspicious when they told me he had sworn allegiance to Edward, when all these years he has worn Lancaster’s colors. But he seems to be holding Dunstanburgh strong for the king after it fell into our hands, Will.”
“Percy? Certes, that is strange, but stranger still is Somerset’s obedience to his grace,” Will replied. The young and handsome duke of Somerset, rumored to be Queen Margaret’s lover and possibly the father of her son Edouard, had astounded all of Edward’s councilors when he, too, swore allegiance to Edward following the siege of Alnwick Castle in December. With all the bothersome northern castles now in Yorkist hands, easygoing Edward had forgiven both these lords, and indeed Henry of Somerset was now among Edward’s inner circle. “You should see the scowl on Warwick’s face,” Will said, chuckling. “’Twould send even the Devil scurrying back into Hell! The earl mislikes his protégé’s pardonings, I warrant. But he wisely curbs his tongue for now.”
“Perhaps his grace likes to keep his enemies where he can see them,” Jack Howard remarked. “’Tis certain my lord Rivers and his son, Scales, have proven loyal.”
At the mention of Anthony, Margaret startled the two men by remarking, “My lord Scales proved a worthy fighter in the north, Sir William, so my brother tells me. I wonder when we shall see him again at court.”
“Forgive our indiscretion, my lady,” Will apologized, recovering. “We were unaware you were within earshot. I hope we said nothing untoward. You must know our loyalties lie with your brother.”
“Have no fear, Sir William, you have not disgraced yourself.” Margaret smiled. “I was enjoying eavesdropping. I do not have enough news here at Greenwich, in truth. I feel as though I were in some backwater with only two squabbling brothers for entertainment. Lord Scales and I are acquainted, and I find his company pleasant. I would have news of him.”
Jack laughed. “Anthony Woodville was heard to rue Warwick’s decision not to attack Alnwick, Lady Margaret. A valiant soldier with no one to fight is a sad sight indeed!”
The conversation was halted abruptly as loud laughter erupted from one end of the hall. The three watched as Edward’s jester, Jehan Le Sage, turned another cartwheel, lightly plucked a bonnet from an unsuspecting guest’s head and leapt easily up onto a table, brandishing the cap on the end of his bell stick. Edward applauded loudly and threw Jehan a coin. He called to his sister: “Margaret, let us have dancing, I pray you. Jehan looks weary.” Margaret nodded and the musicians tuned their instruments.
“I hope one day to have someone like Jehan to keep me company,” Margaret said to Will and Jack. “He seems to know Edward’s every humor and can adapt himself to any occasion. I warrant he is closer to my brother than any of you, sirs!” She laughed when she saw the consternation on their faces. “Fear not, I know your loyalty, too. ’Tis simply a different kind.”
Jack’s eyes twinkled as he went back to stroking his mustache and looked admiringly at her. He hoped Edward would find the lady a good match. She would make England proud.
Just then, John Harper stepped up to Margaret, extended his leg and bowed gracefully over it. “Lady Margare
t, may I have the pleasure?” he asked, offering her his arm. “I pray you excuse us, sirs.”
Margaret inclined her head and took John’s arm, smiling an apology to the two councilors. Jack kissed her hand and moved away with Will to talk to Robert Stillington, the bishop of Bath and Wells and another of the king’s councilors. They moved aside to allow the couple to join the other dancers in a slow basse danse. Margaret was in a dusky blue gown, the V-necked bodice turned back to show the creamy satin lining. The hemline was trimmed with ermine. She deftly gathered the train over her free arm and allowed John to lead her in the stately dance. She noticed his hand trembled slightly in hers, and she smiled to herself. The memory of their kiss at Fotheringhay came back in all its sensuousness, and she glanced over at him and wondered if he could feel her pulse beating. He caught her eye, and his expression told her he could. Immediately, a flush of scarlet flooded her cheeks and she turned her head away.
They processed down the room, their steps in perfect time to the beat of the tambourine, the recorders, gemshorns and viols. Turning inward and coming together face to face in the movement of the dance, their hands whispering together, John murmured, “Is this perhaps the next time, my lady?”
Margaret knew he was referring to her last and somewhat bold remark on the tower stairs. They moved away from each other again, and she was spared having to answer. How many times had she dreamed of that kiss? And how many times had she dreamed of repeating it she was ashamed she could not tell. A simple kiss, she thought, and Edward seems to expect it of me. Perhaps, later …
“I shall take a turn around the garden by the river after my brother has retired, Master Harper,” she was brave enough to tell him the next time they were close enough for conversation. “Certes, I shall be accompanied by my ladies, but I would not find your company unwelcome should you happen upon us.”
Now she saw him flush, and when he returned her to her seat, he kissed her fingers with as much meaning as he could without drawing attention. “I thank you, Lady Margaret,” he said, “for the dance.”
He walked away. Margaret watched his long, lazy stride, admiring the shapely thighs and calves encased in green and yellow chequered hose. Aye, she thought, perhaps ’tis the time.
She looked around for Edward and saw him in a window embrasure with Eleanor Butler. She briefly wondered how Eleanor happened to be at her entertainment, but then she knew that Edward had orchestrated it, and shrugged. The word was that Eleanor was proving a difficult conquest for her lusty brother, and she watched the two play the seduction game from her vantage point across the room. Eleanor was indeed a beauty, with translucent skin, a fine nose and dark sapphire eyes. A wisp of auburn hair had escaped from under her hennin, and Edward was playing with it and touching her neck delicately. Giving him license for a minute or two, Eleanor then firmly removed his hand and said something that made Edward laugh. Margaret saw her stifle a yawn, curtsey prettily and move towards the door. At that moment, Jack Howard claimed his attention, and Edward was unable to follow his heart’s desire. Poor Edward, Margaret thought, I hear the lady is unwilling to be bedded.
An hour later, after bidding the last of her guests a good night, Margaret told Jane to fetch their cloaks for a short stroll in the night air. Jane hurried from the hall and pulled Ann with her. “Our mistress wants to walk in the garden,” she said, making a face. “’Tis freezing out there. What can she be thinking?”
Ann groaned. She had made some headway with a young squire in Edward’s retinue and was hoping for some stolen kisses before she had to ready Margaret for bed. “We had better put on our pattens, too,” she sighed, looking down at the long green points of her fashionable crakows peeping out from beneath her hem, “or these will be ruined. Do hurry, Jane. You are slower than a snail, I swear.”
“But I long for my bed,” the indolent young woman complained, but followed Ann out of the room.
Many of Edward’s younger retainers were already curled up in their cloaks near the still roaring fire as Margaret’s servants lowered the huge chandelier to extinguish the dozens of candles. Margaret left the hall on her steward’s arm, and he escorted her back to her chambers. They wished each other good night, and the man bowed and left. As soon as the door closed, Margaret called to Jane, who hurried in with her mistress’s cloak and pattens. Ann followed close behind. Without a word, Margaret crossed to descend the central stairway that led to the inner courtyard, and with the two bemused young women in her wake, glided under the archway in the west wing of the palace into the garden beyond. Less formal than the inner court’s manicured lawn and low border hedges, it was a pleasant place with large trees, bushes and shrubs. In the summer it was a riot of colorful flowering plants, but now the leafless trees were ghostly in the March moonlight and made eerie shadows on the icy ground. Ann and Jane shivered, partly from cold and partly from fear.
“Do be sensible, ladies. There are guards at every entrance to the palace. Who do you think will attack us, pray?” Margaret teased them, picking her way carefully on the slippery path. “I know you think I have lost my mind, but I know what I am doing. I must ask you to be discreet and not divulge anything you may see. Do you understand?”
The women nodded, openmouthed. What was their mistress doing—except walking out in the middle of a cold night—that would be of any interest to anyone? And then they saw him, a man who stepped out of the shadow of a large yew bush and called, “Lady Margaret,” in a hoarse whisper. The two ladies-in-waiting strained to see who could possibly be expecting their mistress, but he kept in the shadows. Margaret told them to stay where they were and keep up a quiet conversation. She walked the few dozen yards to where John Harper waited. He whisked her out of sight of the women, and his lips were on hers, his tongue filling her mouth so that she could not breathe.
“Master Harper, I pray you, give me air,” she said, pulling away and laughing. “’Tis unchivalrous of you not to begin with some sweet words of love. Or to give me the respect due my rank!”
“Madam, you are cruel,” John said, taking her hand and covering it with kisses. “If I declare my love for you, you know it must be unrequited, certes, because of your rank, and so what is the point? I have longed for you since our last meeting and did not dare to hope you would grant me such an interview. I might write poems about your eyes, your lips, your grace and your kindness, madam, but I am no poet, I am ashamed to say.”
Again Anthony’s face was conjured up, but she quickly banished it from her mind. This young man was here and now, and she enjoyed his kisses. He was part of Edward’s household and as such was aware that his very fate was in her hands. He would not dare to tread where she did not wish to go. And what was the harm in a few kisses? But she was new to lovemaking and had no idea how urgent a man’s desire became once aroused. She did not know she was toying with him, being naive in the ways of seduction.
“I do not need poems, John. I need you to speak to me of your passion. Your few words were a good start. Now tell me more about my eyes.” She was coy, and John knew it. But he was in love, and if that was what she wanted, he would not deny her.
“Your eyes remind me of the light that comes between sundown and night. Dusky gray I would call them, and of such luster I cannot describe. I can only imagine your hair—’tis always hidden by those monstrous hennins—but in my dreams I feel it in my fingers, thick and soft like the finest silk cloth.”
She pushed the voluminous hood of her cloak back from her headdress, lifted off the brocade pillbox hennin, unpinned the braid underneath and let her honey-colored hair tumble over her shoulders to her waist. It was too much for John. He took handfuls of the tresses and pressed them to his lips and then pulled her to him, their faces inches apart. He could just make out the smile that curved her mouth in the moonglow before he kissed her again, slowly. She could feel his hardness against her, and she was sorely pressed not to reach down and touch it. He seemed to be moving against her in a most erotic fashion, all the while k
issing her more deeply. Suddenly he moaned in her mouth, and she remembered the scene in the bridge room at Baynard’s. Now she understood! ’Twas pleasure, not pain, she had heard. She was puzzled that she did not feel moved to moan until she felt him lift her skirt and put his fingers where even she had never dared explore. An explosion rocked her and she gasped and groaned at the same time. Her eyes flew wide as the exquisite sensation lingered for several seconds, and she saw John watching and smiling triumphantly. He dropped her skirt and kissed her gently this time, holding her wilted body close.
“Now I believe we are both pleasured, my lady. I trust we have not frightened your ladies.”
Margaret sprang away, her hand over her mouth. “Sweet Virgin! Ann and Jane! What must they be thinking? Do you think they heard?” She was so childlike in her confusion that he could not forbear taking her in his arms one last time, kissing away her embarrassment. “Nay, lady, you were very discreet, I can assure you! But now I must go before my master notices my absence.”
“Aye, and I must away as well.” Margaret tucked all her hair under her hood and hid her hennin under her cloak. “God speed, Master Harper. And … um …” She was at a loss whether to thank him or wish him good night as though they had merely danced again.
He spared her the decision. “Nay, thank you, my lady. In my dreams I could not be as content as I am at this moment.”
And he was gone, leaving her to gather her wits and allow him enough time to disappear inside the palace. Then she strained to see Ann and Jane, who had their backs to her and were stamping their feet to keep warm and chattering much too fast. They turned at her approach and pretended not to notice her disheveled appearance. But Jane bent down surreptitiously and retrieved the trailing veil that had come away from the hennin and had dropped behind Margaret as she walked back to their lodgings.
Margaret glanced up at the king’s private apartment and saw two figures facing each other illuminated by a single candle in a window. Edward was holding Eleanor’s hand. Margaret thought she saw a third figure, hovering in the background, make the sign of the cross. It looked like Bishop Stillington.
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