Bess went to pour more wine, this time relenting enough to bring some for Cicely as well. ‘I feel only revulsion for him.’
‘He has to come to your bed to beget another heir, that is the way of all marriages. Make him want to stay with you. Drink strong wine first, think of all the most disgustingly erotic things you can, imagine he is Richard, make love to Richard. You will enjoy Henry, I promise. Hold him, kiss him lingeringly, run your fingers through his hair, caress his body. Follow your instinct. If you wonder what it would be like to do something, then do it. Kiss and taste parts of him you are probably shocked to even think about. Yes, that part especially.’
‘Did . . . did you do that with Richard?’
Cicely met her eyes. ‘Yes.’
Bess turned away, clearly shaken. ‘Did he . . . teach you how to do it?’
‘I did not need much teaching, Bess. It was so natural to do it, to want to do it. Instinct tells you to do it, for your own gratification as well as your lover’s. Among all the kisses and caresses, the exploring and adoration, to do that is one of the most perfect acts of all. To take him between your lips . . . for those utterly intimate moments, we women have all the power. The man we love is ours, absolutely, and if he should come then . . . Oh, I do not know what else to say, except that I am almost talking myself into rushing to find Jack to get on my knees and undo his laces.’
Bess gave a little smile. ‘Well, even I can imagine doing it with Jack. I was far more tempted by him at Sheriff Hutton than I ever let him know.’
‘I am glad you did not succumb, because now I would be very jealous. He is mine, and I want him entirely to myself.’
‘He has a wife,’ Bess pointed out.
‘So has Henry. I tempt husbands from their marriage beds, remember? The Plantagenet harlot. As for Jack, he has a wife who does not want him but prefers the Bible. He has had two children, and lost them both. His wife is certainly not interested in producing another.’
Bess gazed at her. ‘Poor Jack.’
‘Bess, if you can like the thought of it with him, it means that you actually are excited by the thought of the act itself,’ Cicely pointed out.
‘Maybe, but not with Henry Tudor!’
‘Trust me, you will enjoy it. Excite him to that point, and he will do such things for you as well. You are so beautiful, Bess, and if he sees desire in your eyes, he will make love to you, not simply attend to you as a matter of unpleasant duty. Which is what you do to him. Welcome him, and you will never regret it. Gratification is not a solely male preserve, we can have it as well. If you do not do these things, he may turn to me again, or to someone else who will not care about you in the least. I care about you, I always have and I always will. I like so very much about him, you have no idea, but I love Jack. With all my being.’
Bess’s lips quivered and she drank the wine, before discarding the glass. ‘I cannot give in to my feelings as you do, Cicely.’
‘Yes, you can. You had such fantasies about Richard.’
‘But . . . I did not ever imagine actually doing them. Oh God, I think I will die of wretchedness.’ Bess hid her face in her hands.
Cicely gathered her into her arms. ‘I am so unhappy for you, Bess.’
‘Do you really, truly think I could enjoy lying with Henry?’
‘Yes, and he is worth the effort. Just remember that.’ Cicely kissed her sister’s cheek.
‘I came here to be as vile as possible to you.’
‘I know.’
‘I am sorry for throwing wine over you and hitting you.’
‘Twice as I recall.’ Cicely smiled.
Chapter Ten
It was the morning of the Feast of St Nicholas, 6 December, and Cicely was in a skiff being conveyed to Greenwich, where she had been summoned, not by Henry but by Bess. Henry continued to ignore Lady Welles, except to repeat his order that she was not, under any circumstance, to come to Greenwich. Cicely could not understand it. Henry said one thing, yet Bess apparently contradicted him? Well, Bess’s summons was very formal, under signet, signed by Bess herself, and this time Cicely felt that it must have been sent with Henry’s knowledge. After an agony of deliberation, weighing going against not going, she decided to obey her sister, but she was careful to take the letter with her. If she had to confront a furious Henry, she would at least be able to show him the reason she had come. She prayed she would not see him at all.
She had continued to see Jack, never at Pasmer’s Place but always at his newly taken residence in Gracechurch Street. And always with so much discretion that Jack teased that even he did not know when she was under his roof! The page suspected of spying for Henry had been sent away, Jack having relented from worse punishment because of the boy’s age, and now the Earl of Lincoln’s entire household could be completely trusted.
Cicely was always taken to Jack by a circuitous route, always doubling back along lanes and footpaths, going into shops and then slipping through to alleys behind. Sometimes she rode there, always cloaked and hooded, always led by another devious route that often made them seem to be going in the opposite direction from Gracechurch Street. But she always reached Jack safely, and they were able to spend loving hours together.
Now, at Greenwich in the cold light of the December morning, she alighted reluctantly at the steps. The air was crisp, the sun was shining and there had been a frost overnight. She paused, adjusting the ties of her cloak, beneath which she wore a shell-pink velvet gown with midnight-blue brocade lining and a dark blue headdress. Whatever awaited her inside, she did not want to face it. The urge to get back into the skiff was as strong as the one that had decided her two months ago outside Westminster.
She made herself think of Richard, and then drew upon something he had once said to her. ‘All you have to do is think of me, picture me, and what is not clear will become clear. You know me more than anyone else, you know how I would respond to something and what I would do as a consequence.’
Yes, she knew. He would not condemn her for anything, but would support and love her, no matter what she did, and at this moment he would expect her to show true Plantagenet pride. And so she would. A brave smile came to her lips and she caught up her skirts to mount the steps and go into the palace.
She was conducted to the queen’s apartments, where she found ladies, courtiers, luxury and music. Bess was seated with her ladies on the floor around her silver brocade skirts, but Cicely was dismayed to see how pale she was. She had been smiling with her ladies, although forcedly, until Cicely was announced, at which she frowned and dismissed everyone in order to speak to her sister alone.
She prevented Cicely from kneeling. ‘How are you?’ Her tone did not invite first names.
‘I am well, Your Grace. Thank you. I trust I find you in equal good spirits?’
‘I trust you are not too dismayed about your husband’s new mistress?’
Where was this leading? ‘I know of it, Your Grace, although not that word had also reached court.’
‘Everything reaches court. It is not pleasant to have another woman in your marriage, is it?’
Cicely began to understand. ‘No, it is not, Your Grace, but there is nothing I can do about it. Sir Jon is free to do as he pleases.’
‘And you regard yourself in the same light?’
Cicely looked her. ‘Bess? What is wrong?’
‘What is wrong is that I tried to do all the things you said, I really tried, and yes, there was some pleasure. Not that he tried very hard, he was simply marginally gentler, but then he left my bed and instructed me to . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘To summon you to my household. You are to join it in two weeks’ time, and will be included throughout the Christmas season.’
Cicely stared at her.
‘Oh, do not pretend you are unaware.’
‘But I know nothing, Bess. I have not heard from the king, except to be ordered to stay away from here. I did not understand when you summoned me. I actually hoped yo
u and the king were perhaps a little reconciled.’
‘Reconciled? I believe he found it amusing to let me struggle to please him. Why else would he insult and crush me by making me send for you?’
‘I . . . do not understand, Bess. I have stayed away from court, not sent word to the king, and I certainly do not want to hurt you.’ Cicely was upset, and angrier with Henry than she believed possible. After all the things she had said to him, and to Bess, this was how he behaved!
‘I see you are incensed, Cicely.’
‘Yes, I am, but certainly not with you.’ Cicely had to bite her lip because she suddenly felt tearful for her sister, who was being made so unhappy by Henry Tudor’s disagreeable behaviour. ‘Have—have you sought Margaret’s help? Maybe she can reason with him?’
‘I already have, but she is with her dear Henry in this.’
‘Then I do not know what I can say. I cannot even go away from London to Jon, not only because he would not have me, but because the king will not let me. I am as trapped in this as you, Bess.’
‘Oh, I know, Cissy.’ Bess drew a long breath and leaned her head back against the rich tapestry of her carved chair. ‘I am so miserably unhappy, and I feel that Henry’s loathing for me grows rather than diminishes. I hate him. I truly do. If he were to die tomorrow, I would be overjoyed. Only his death will do.’
Cicely stared at her. ‘Oh, Bess . . .’
’It is the truth,’ Bess replied quietly.
‘Reconciliation will take time,’ Cicely reminded her, for Bess herself was not innocent in this. Since meeting Henry, she had been as deliberately disagreeable as she could. It was hardly surprising that he was not going to be easy to win around, but that did not excuse his mean spite now. Or Bess’s desire for nothing less than his death.
At that moment the king’s approach was heralded. Cicely’s heart sank. She really did not want to see him. He entered almost immediately, wearing black, with Richard’s circlet around his forehead. He was clearly irritated about something, but halted the moment he saw Cicely making a deep curtsey. For a split second she knew he’d been caught completely off guard, and she could feel his annoyance, both about what had originally spurred him to come to Bess, and to once again find himself face to face with the rejected lover he had forbidden to come to court.
In a moment he was in control of himself again. ‘You were commanded not to come here, Lady Welles,’ he said coldly.
To Cicely’s relief, Bess, who had also curtseyed to him, came to her rescue. ‘I requested my sister’s presence. I believe you know why.’ No first name, not even a ‘Your Majesty’.
His wintry eyes moved to his queen and then back to Cicely, then he inclined his head. ‘Ladies.’ The word was uttered through clenched teeth. Then he left again, without saying whatever it was he had come about.
Bess rose. ‘You see how tender and loving he is?’
‘Perhaps I should leave again.’ Cicely straightened as well. What a lout Henry could be, and without trying too much. She closed her eyes for a moment, and saw him lying beside her, his hair tangled against a pillow, his lips curved in a lazily seductive smile, his eyes dark with love.
‘Cicely, it was his instruction that made me send for you. He cannot have it both ways. Although he is Henry Tudor, and probably thinks he can. But it all hurts so much more now because I abased myself by trying to seduce him into my bed. I really did try, and for a few minutes his kisses were pleasing. He caressed me as if he really meant to make love to me, not just dibble me as he usually does. But then, suddenly and for no reason that I could perceive, he changed. He took me without consideration, and then left, pausing only to order me to send for you.’
Cicely went to hug her. ‘I am so sorry,’ she said again.
‘I know. Yes, truly I do. I was upset with you when you came, but you are still a comfort to me. I think I must simply accept that Henry wants you, not me.’
‘He does not want me.’
‘For someone who knows so very much about men, you seem remarkably ignorant when it comes to Henry. Of course he wants you, I could tell in even those few moments. He will not let you simply return to Pasmer’s Place when you leave me. You may count upon it.’
‘I pray you are wrong, for I have no wish at all to be between you and him.’
‘He is between us, Cissy. Well, I have delivered His Majesty’s thoughtless command, and so I am afraid you will have to come here. But while you are here now, I must say something to you. It concerns Jack. Please urge him to abandon whatever he is dabbling in.’
‘I do not know if he dabbles in anything.’
‘Come now, Cissy, Jack cannot help himself. He is York, so of course he is. I may not have your intimate acquaintance with him, but I still know him well enough. I also know he does not like me now because of what happened at Sheriff Hutton. He is right, of course. I thought only of myself and my unrequited love for Richard. I involved you and John and so we were all captured.’ Bess paused. ‘What happened to John is therefore my fault.’
‘Yours? Why do you think that? Henry was the guilty one, Bess.’
‘I feel the guilt, Cissy. But it is in the past; what happens now is more important. Jack is bound to be deep in this Lambert Simnel foolery and if he does not desist, he will pay the price. Cicely, if you have any influence with him, you will make him see sense. Please. Jack may not like me, but I am still very fond of him, and always will be. We all knew each other as children, and he was unfailingly kind and exciting to be with. He could invent such games for us all, and he watched over us. Do you remember how he saved you that time when you fell in the pool in Sherwood? You were seven, I think.’
‘Yes, and he was fourteen, or thereabouts.’ Cicely remembered. He had ridden past as she lost her footing and fell from an overhanging branch into the deepest part of the pool. Young ladies should not have climbed trees at all! As he was quick to point out afterwards. He had dived in to save her, and had held her close afterwards because she was so shaken and frightened. Perhaps he had claimed her in more ways than one that day in the woods, because he still held her now. Closer than ever.
‘Cissy, promise you will do everything you can to keep him from this conspiracy.’
‘My promise is given, Bess.’
Later, as Cicely returned through the palace towards the river entrance, she heard scurrying footsteps behind her, and turned quickly to see a page in Henry’s colours.
The boy bowed low. ‘Lady Welles?’
‘Yes.’
‘His Majesty commands your presence, my lady. If you will follow me?’
So Bess was right, she thought, nodding resignedly.
She was not taken to Henry’s apartments, but to a room on the ground floor, at the rear of the palace, facing on to the walled garden that in summer would be filled with red and white roses. The page indicated the door, and then hurried away.
Was she to simply go in? Or wait? She had no idea, but at last raised a hand to knock. The door was opened, by Henry himself, and he almost pulled her inside and then locked the door so there was no risk of interruption. Cloves were in the air, and she was so uneasy in those seconds—because she feared his anger would lead to violence—that an almost arctic draught seemed to pass over her.
But all he did was prevent her from kneeling, help her remove her heavy cloak, and then move away, placing at least ten feet between them. He tossed her cloak aside and did not meet her eyes. ‘I trust you are well?’ he said then, as if he did not know what else to say.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ A silence fell that she had to break. ‘You—you seem well, Your Majesty. I pray you are now fully recovered from your illness?’
‘Yes.’ He rubbed his eyebrow. ‘Our last meeting was not . . . pleasing to me, my lady.’
‘I understand that, Your Majesty.’
‘Understand? Do you?’
‘I was very foolish. I thought I saw something that was not really there. Under the circumstances of that evening, it be
came a little too much for me. I can only crave your understanding . . . and hope for a little kindness.’
‘Why did you beg for Richard’s forgiveness? For the sin of gracing my bed?’
Was now the moment to use her ability to charm and influence? If she did, she knew she risked conveying feelings she did not have for him. But he deserved an answer, and so she would be honest. At least about this. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
He turned away with an angry sound. ‘So, you cease to worry about your husband and cousin?’
It was a verbal punch, and renewed her awareness of him as nothing else. She had to win him again, she had no choice. ‘Please, Your Majesty, if I may only finish?’
He signified consent, facing her again.
Now she used her charm, summoning a faint glitter of tears, imploring with those shimmering eyes, and conveying such wretchedness and regret that he would need to be granite to withstand it. ‘I—I thought I was face to face with the uncle you had conquered, the uncle whose memory I sullied because I not only lay with you, his most bitter enemy, but I found pleasure in so doing. So much pleasure.’ She paused, allowing the reiteration to dwell. ‘Of course I begged him to forgive me,’ she went on softly. ‘I thought I saw accusation and bitterness in his eyes, and I could not bear it. Not after being in the Tower, almost seeing John of Gloucester, and still going into your arms. I had even asked you to take me to your bed that night. I so wanted to be with you.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes. You cannot possibly know how I felt in those moments, nor could I reasonably expect you to. I failed you, I know that, but I did not mean to. I would never mean to do that.’
He gazed at her. ‘Can I believe you, lady?’
‘Yes. I would have told you then, had you permitted me. Truly. And if you had shown kindness, I would still have gone more than willingly with you that same night. I wanted to be with you. I wanted it very much.’
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