Cicely's Lord Lincoln

by Sandra Heath Wilson

  He sighed resignedly. ‘She is not at Pasmer’s Place, which is all that need concern you. I have come here because, believe it or not, I have your best interest at heart. I had thought of it already, but have now had a visit from Jack. Such a visit. We almost came to blows, but he made it clear that unless I sent Judith well away, she is likely to meet a bloody end in the dark. He reminded me that his skill with a dagger is almost second to none.’

  ‘Jack said that?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He loves you a great deal. Enough to kill for you. But then, I have done that as well, have I not? I saw in person to the extinction of Lucy Talby and Ralph Scrope. Jack also reminded me that you and I must speak of Leo.’ Jon smiled thinly. ‘The Earl of Lincoln shines when he speaks of you, sweetheart, so he clearly knows you in the biblical sense.’

  ‘I admit it. So I am a doubly adulterous wife to you. Do you find fault? How many Talby sisters are there, Jon? Is the next one coming up to a suitable age to be fucked by the Constable of Rockingham, Bolingbroke, and wherever else?’

  ‘I would have to commence upon their cousins, the eldest of whom is nine, and no, I do not consider that to be a suitable age.’

  ‘So, you will have to make Judith last a while yet.’

  ‘I fear so. I will be sure not to wear her out. Which I cannot do if she has been despatched back to Wyberton. Which she already has been.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly.’

  ‘And you have warned Tom Kymbe of her?’

  ‘I have done everything I should and can.’

  She smiled. ‘She should count herself fortunate, because if you were fit and well, you would make a limp rag of her.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But as you now are, sir, you will not survive long enough to wear her out. She will have killed you off long before that happens. I wonder you have the strength to get it up at all.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said again.

  She studied him, her glance lingering on his long, well-shaped legs and the height of his thigh boots. ‘Thin and grey you may be at the moment, Jon, but you still cut a fine figure.’

  ‘Another warm compliment? I grow suspicious.’ He held her gaze. ‘Cicely, you and Jack must be very careful indeed, because Henry will be barbarous if he learns.’

  ‘I know. He does not like it that he agreed with my request that he called you back to London.’

  ‘You asked him to summon me? Why?’ He was clearly surprised.

  ‘Because you are my husband, and because in spite of everything I still want to be with you.’

  ‘Even though I am sullied goods?’

  ‘I asked before I knew about your hag.’

  ‘Ah. Of course. Well, I am astonished Henry granted your request. It cannot have escaped your notice that he is hardly a well-balanced man.’ Jon leaned back against the table, arms folded. ‘Tell me why in the name of God you went to him in the first place.’

  ‘It does not matter why.’

  ‘It does to me, because I foolishly believed our marriage was happy.’

  Tears filled her eyes. ‘Please do not ask me, Jon, because I have a very good reason for my silence.’

  He gazed thoughtfully at her. ‘Does he threaten you?’

  ‘Me? No.’ She did not lie, for the threat was to him and Jack.

  ‘Well, you are tangled with him now, sweetheart, and I cannot see how you will ever untangle yourself. He has been in love before, but certainly not to this degree.’

  ‘I know, and it is something he wishes to forget.’

  Jon remained silent.

  She watched him. ‘You know about it, I can tell. Who was she?’

  ‘I do not know anything.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘It was someone in Brittany, and it was over long before he came to England to confront Richard. He was only about seventeen, eighteen maybe. It was a boyish matter, and if you think he loved her as he loves you, you are in error. You are everything to him, Cicely.’

  ‘You were with him in Brittany; you must know more than you have just said.’

  He spread his hands. ‘Would I lie to you? I am the personification of sincerity.’

  ‘Discretion, more like. Henry has a secret.’

  ‘Oh, Henry has many secrets, sweetheart, but this is one you will not hear from my lips. Take my urgent advice, forget all about it. I mean this warning, Cicely. Do not probe or try to question him. Believe me, it is not something he will ever divulge, nor will he risk anyone else discovering. And that will include you. So leave it well alone. Well alone.’

  ‘It is that important?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sweetheart. Look at me. Leave—it—alone.’

  He was in deadly earnest, and she stared at him.

  He changed the subject. ’Now, we were speaking of Leo. I do not wish to stand by and see you deprived of your son, so I suggest we make an outward appearance of being husband and wife again. We have pretended before. I married you to protect your good name and attempt to ensure your child’s legitimacy. We pretended a great deal in public. To me the situation now is the same. We can pretend to be together again, and I will be able—Henry being persuaded—to take you with me when I attend to my duties and my lands. I am prepared to find any reason to visit Friskney. My squabble with Jack over that watermill will suffice, whether he is still here or has gone over the wall. Oh, do not put on such an air of innocence, sweetheart. He is going to make an escape soon.’

  ‘He does not confide in me.’

  ‘Yes, he does. He is in love with you! And he trusts you, which he can, because one thing you will always do is support York.’

  ‘It can never be otherwise.’

  ‘So, if Henry can be persuaded, do you agree to my offer? I will not expect a husband’s rights, which will reassure Henry.’

  ‘Perhaps I want a wife’s rights, Jon.’

  ‘You wish to juggle three lovers? Do not embroil me in your capers between the sheets. I would not share you with Richard’s memory, and I certainly will not share you with Henry and Jack de la Pole, who are very much alive and capable. So no, there will not be a cosy marriage bed. Now, do you accept?’

  ‘There is just one thing. I spent long weeks alone at Wyberton at the hands of Lucy Talby. If I go to Lincolnshire again with you, or to be with you, I will not countenance the same with her sister.’

  ‘I will see to it that when you are on my lands, you will not see Judith. She will not be with me or near me. You will not be humiliated, insulted, distressed or hurt in any way. I will keep you close and not leave you behind. I cannot say more, Cicely, and under the circumstances I consider my offer to be more than fair.’

  ‘It is an offer I accept. I do still feel love for you, Jon, no matter what you think.’

  ‘Not enough to keep you only unto me.’

  ‘Nor have you kept yourself only unto me,’ she pointed out.

  ‘If we are to pluck nits, Cicely, I think you broke the vow first.’

  There was a tap at the door. This time it was Henry’s page.

  Jon swept a gracious arm. ‘Do not let me detain you, Lady Welles.’

  Cicely lay in bed with Henry, They were naked, curled close, he behind her, his face in her hair, his arms around her. The unremarkable room was at the end of an outer wing of Greenwich Palace, and the door was locked upon their privacy. The bed curtains were drawn, and a little firelight glimmered through a crack between them.

  He had made such exquisite love to her that she was still warm from it. Warm from him. It had been beautiful, more beautiful than anything they had shared before, and she knew why. He believed her lie, and to salve the pangs of regret that beset her now, she had shared his kisses with all the fervour of which she was capable. If he had still feared her insincerity, he could not possibly fear it now, and the way he held her as he slept was proof of it. He was completely relaxed, as if cares had been lifted from him, and it was because he was convinced she loved him. She wishe
d she did, for it was so very good to please him. He was a joy when his senses were liberated, and now, in his sleep, he seemed happy for the first time.

  His hands were clasped around her waist, and he stirred as she wrapped her fingers around them. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ he murmured, still not entirely awake.

  There would probably never be a better moment than this to ask him if she could return to Jon. ‘Henry, you know Jon came to see me earlier?’

  ‘Mm?’ He moved his face against her hair.

  ‘Jon came to see me tonight, not long before I came here to you.’

  He awakened a little more as he began to understand. ‘My uncle?’

  ‘My husband. Yes.’

  He sat up and leaned back against the carved headboard, his eyes alert, his pleasant languor banished. His pale auburn hair was tangled about his shoulders, and he pushed it back with both hands. ‘It would appear I am not as well informed as I thought. You have my attention. Did you request him to come?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why did he come?’

  ‘He seeks a reconciliation.’ She moved around on the bed to rest her head on the soft mound of his loins.

  He played with her hair. ‘I sense I am not going to appreciate where this is leading.’

  ‘I also wish for a reconciliation, Henry.’

  His hand paused. ‘What has brought this about?’

  ‘His desire to restore my reputation . . . and yours. He has reconsidered Winchester, and wishes to please his sister, your lady mother, by taking me back. He feels that as the king’s sister-in-law and aunt-by-marriage, I should appear above reproach. As should the king.’

  ‘I see.’ He drew a long, thoughtful breath. ‘And you really do wish to proceed?’

  ‘Yes. He is content that I should continue to come to you, and he will seek his pleasures elsewhere. It will be a marriage in name only.’

  ‘And you expect me to give it my blessing?’

  She smiled up at him, the beam of firelight shining in her eyes. ‘Blessing? Hardly, but I do hope for your consent, no matter how grudging.’

  ‘Plague take it, Cicely, your marriage has always been a blight upon me.’

  She caught his hand tightly and pressed it to her lips. ‘I do not wish to court notoriety openly, Henry. I hate it so. By being together as we were in the great hall this evening, we kept Winchester alive. You know it too. But if I am with my husband again, appearing happy to be so, the sting will soon go. Jon wishes to fully restore my respectability, and I am grateful to him.’

  ‘So, my uncle restores the respectability that I have stolen?’

  She reached up to touch his face. ‘Yes, if that is the way you wish to express it. We were caught, Henry. Our guilt could not be mistaken. But remember, Jon is your half-blood uncle. You need his loyalty as much as you need the Duke of Bedford’s.’

  ‘So, I need the two Js, Jasper and Jon?’

  ‘Three. Jolly Jasper and Jon.’

  He smiled. ‘Have it your way.’

  ‘You know I am right about Jon. Close family is not something you possess in abundance. And you will still have me, so honour Jon. Please. I know you would protect me properly if you could, but it can only be as your mistress, and I really will not do that.’

  ‘That point has been effectively drummed home,’ he murmured in his old dry tone.

  She gazed up at him. ‘I love to make love with you.’ If ever there was an unwelcome truth, it was this one, but he knew her ‘treacherous little muscles’.

  ‘So you do, as you have just proved from every angle known to this human’s carcass. I know you speak good sense about my uncle, sweetheart. Very well, what else can I say? I do not want you to return to him, but I know it must be allowed. To make a fuss will be to turn a light shower into a cataclysm.’

  ‘I am sure you will always find a reason to order Jon back here again if you wish.’

  ‘And reasons to keep him here in London.’

  ‘Would you do that to him?’

  He met her eyes, but then shook his head. ‘No.’

  When she thought of how icily controlled and frightening he had been the first day she met him, it was difficult to believe how very different the real man was. Henry Tudor had no inner peace, and had to face all the things he himself had imposed upon Richard. All of them, as well as whatever dark secrets of his own he had to hide from the world. But tonight, because he was sure of her love, he was contented.

  He watched her face. ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Of how you have to confront so much.’

  ‘Well, I made myself a king, and so have to fucking well get on with it. Is that not so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And to console myself through the misery of winter, I will not let you leave London with your husband until the spring.’ His tone was almost challenging, and yet not quite.

  ‘The spring will do, Henry, and even when I do go, I will only be a few days away.’ Always she had to reassure him. Always. She moved a little on his lap, and pushed her face into his loins, which did not remain soft and sleepy for long.

  He closed his eyes as her lips played with him. ‘Tonight should go on and on, sweetheart, for I do not look forward to tomorrow,’ he murmured.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ She slid her tongue and lips over him, capturing, playing . . .

  His breath caught. ‘I must receive a tiresome legation, and deal with so many documents and legal points that my head aches to think of it.’

  ‘Do you need to do it all in person? You have secretaries and advisers.’

  ‘No, I must attend to it. I must be sure of everything. Once it is in my head, I will not forget.’ He looked down at her. ‘I check all accounts as well, every last farthing, but I do not imagine that will surprise you.’

  ‘No. Those moths wax fat, I imagine.’

  ‘Every one a behemoth.’ He smiled, and sank his fingers into her hair. ‘Love me forever, sweetheart, but never hate me. I can bear anyone else’s hatred, but yours would surely kill me.’

  She stroked and kissed his erection, breathing the scent of him and stealing such wicked pleasures from the familiarity. Her lips idled lovingly along his shaft, and then her tongue flicked over his gleaming tip as she drew it into her mouth. How she enjoyed it. How she enjoyed it.

  He closed his eyes. ‘Oh, sweetheart, you take me to heaven.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two months passed, and it was on a cold evening of freezing fog in late February, 1487, that Cicely was to lie with Jack for the last time before he fled the country.

  The court was now at Sheen, upstream of Westminster, and the threat of invasion had fast reached an almost feverish pitch. Henry had summoned his Great Council—of which Jack was a member—to discuss the situation, and the sense of alarm and danger suffused everything. There would eventually be a battle, at which Henry Tudor would have to defend his crown, as he had once forced Richard to do. Cicely knew how aware Henry would be of following the same path; perhaps the same destiny.

  Falsehood followed fabrication, hearsay upon hoax. There were stories that the Earl of Warwick had escaped from the Tower, that a great fleet was assembling off the coast of Holland for a planned invasion of East Anglia, and that a huge ransom had been offered for anyone who could kill Henry. A general pardon was issued, to persuade the disaffected not to join any planned invasion and rebellion, but still the unrest increased. Beacons were ordered to be made ready along the east coast, for it was there the danger was anticipated.

  Henry found it hard to counter the resultant uncertainty and confusion. But he always managed to appear controlled and confident, except when alone with Cicely, at which times she was aware of how much the stress really affected him. She knew how very much harder he would have found it had he not felt so certain of her love. He had always been formidably resolved to hold his crown and his realm against all challengers, but at the same time his inner struggle continued. The strain was written in his eyes e
ven when he was with her, as it had been in Richard’s eyes at Nottingham in the fatal summer of 1485.

  She could still hear Richard’s voice. ‘What shall I do, Cicely?’ Raw isolation had been in his grey eyes.

  She had been so moved that she could only whisper, ‘Do? You have to be king. There is nothing else.’

  ‘And when everything I touch turns to dust?’

  She had not hesitated to embrace him and rest her cheek to his. ‘You touch me, but I have not turned to dust.’

  That had been before they became lovers, before she understood what her feelings for him really were. And now Henry believed he would soon face his own Bosworth Field, where he would be cut down by Richard’s ghost in the form of Jack de la Pole. And this before Jack had done anything to indicate his intentions; indeed, he still appeared all that was loyal. Cicely knew that Henry’s sleepless nights, tossing and turning, fending off bad dreams, pacing endlessly to and fro, were because he dared not sleep: it would mean confronting more demons.

  In spite of it all, Henry still allowed her to be Jon’s wife again, although she did not know when it would be possible for her to see Leo. Only if Jon was sent to his duties, and only then if Henry actually permitted her to leave London. However, in the meantime she was sometimes at Pasmer’s Place, where she and Jon did not share a bed but were amicable. He continued to see Judith, and nothing Cicely said would prevent him. His health did not improve, nor, she supposed, did it worsen, but she was still very anxious for him.

  During one of her very brief sojourns at Pasmer’s Place, she received a message from Jack. She was alone because Jon’s weekly duties at the Tower would keep him away until the following day. He had hardly left when Mary brought her a newly delivered note. It bore a seal she did not recognize, but the writer identified himself:

  My lady, your cousin begs that you come to him. All is well. Come secretly. I await you in the lane. Destroy this.

  T.

  It was Tal. She threw the letter on to the fire, made certain it burned to a cinder, and then told only Mary what she intended to do. The maid protested, and begged to accompany her, but Cicely was determined to be as secret as the message requested. Wrapping herself in her cloak and hood, she went out into clammy fog that was laden with trapped coal smoke.