‘How is Henry?’
‘Recovering, although, of course, I am not supposed to know he was ill in the first place. But I have my ways of finding out. Poison, I gather, as well as his usual affliction of the lungs.’ Bess smiled. ‘I suppose I should not be surprised he did not detect anything wrong with his wine, for he cannot smell or taste almonds.’
‘So I now understand.’ Cicely tried not to see any implication in the remark.
‘He told me some months ago, when I offered him some particularly good marzipan. As you can imagine, I have taken great delight in offering marzipan again since then.’
‘Oh, Bess.’
‘Anyway, at the moment he is being disagreeable again, so he must be getting better. More is the pity. I had a fancy to wear mourning for him.’
‘Do not say that.’
Bess rested her hands across her round belly in a rather odd way, as if something was wrong.
Cicely noticed. ‘How are you, Bess? Is everything all right?’
‘I … think so.’
‘You have doubts?’ Cicely sat forward in concern.
‘I just feel different.’ Bess smiled. ‘Perhaps I am carrying a girl this time, which will not please Henry.’
‘I am sure Henry will be pleased whichever it is, boy or girl.’
‘Speaking of boys, what of your Leo? I know he is in London. Does he flourish?’
‘Oh, yes. He is beautiful.’
‘Which means he takes after his father, not his mother,’ Bess said mischievously.
Cicely smiled. ‘He has been coming here to see me, but I do not want to arouse too much interest, so I intend to go to him on his birthday. St Valentine’s Day. Anonymously, of course.’
‘May I come too?’
Cicely was a little startled. ‘Why, yes, of course, but not if you display more of today’s royal pomp.’
‘Oh, I can be discreet when I need to be,’ Bess said softly. ‘In fact, I can be really devious. Henry would be surprised if he knew. More than merely surprised,’ she added with a low laugh that made Cicely want to shiver.
Bess stayed for a while, and left again well before the February afternoon light faded, but several hours later, when it was fully dark, Cicely received the sad news that when Bess alighted from her litter at Westminster, the horses had shifted suddenly and she had been knocked over. She lost her baby. A boy.
Cicely went to her immediately with Tom, Mary and the guards Jon provided for her.
Once at the palace, Mary was sent to prepare the small apartment that Cicely always used, because—Henry’s orders or not—she intended to stay for as long as she was needed. Tom provided sturdy assistance for the walk through the candlelit passages to the queen’s apartments.
But she could not go inside because Henry, seemingly well again, was visiting his wife. Many of his gentlemen waited outside, and Cicely’s arrival on the arm of a man who was clearly a commoner made them talk quietly among themselves. Then the doors opened without warning, and Henry emerged. He wore pine green, and fingered the coiled silver dragon suspended from his collar. His face was grey, there was a firm set to his mouth, and sadness shone in his eyes as he pushed his way through his confused entourage, until coming face to face with Cicely.
He halted abruptly, clearly taken unawares, both by her presence and by the severity of the bruise on her forehead. ‘Lady Welles?’
She dropped into a respectful but painful curtsey, from which he raised her, but his quick attention moved to Tom. ‘Kymbe, is it not?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ Tom executed a deep, more than competent bow.
‘Why are you not with my uncle?’
‘He has given me leave of absence, Your Majesty.’
‘Why? What brings you here from Lincolnshire?’ The suspicious edge was there. As always.
‘I have brought my aunt and my son to London to see my sister, Lady Welles’s maid.’
‘Ah, yes. Now I recall. I trust your son is in rude health?’
‘Indeed so, Your Majesty. I thank you for your kindness.’
Henry waved him away, as well as the guards and his gentlemen, and when they were at a safe distance, he spoke to Cicely. ‘I have only just been informed of your encounter with danger, my lady. Why did you not see fit to send word to me?’
‘I did not think Your Majesty would wish to be concerned with so minor a matter,’ she answered respectfully, because formality was clearly his wish. Of necessity in front of others? Perhaps, although she was not quite sure. There was something in his glance. A great regret? Yes, and it could only be the loss of the baby. She wanted to touch him, to show her sympathy, but everything prevented it.
‘I am always concerned about the well-being of my sister-in-law,’ he responded at last, his tone oddly level. He was not at ease. His one eye wandered a little, and he smoothed his eyebrow in an attempt to conceal it. Control it, perhaps. ‘You … visit the queen?’ he asked then.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ She felt very awkward. Was he angry that she had come here without his permission? ‘Your Majesty, if I have offended you, I—’
‘I am not offended, my lady. Why would you think that?’
She gazed at him. Because not even with a glance had he shown any fondness.
‘The queen will be glad to see you, I am sure,’ he said then. ‘I trust you can comfort her.’
‘I … am so very sorry for what has happened today.’ She was aware of the continuing unkind interest of his gentlemen, watching from further along the passage, and she felt as if her face, already enough of a sight, was now on fire.
‘Today? Yes. Quite so.’ The tear-brightness was in his eyes again, and she knew he was distressed. But had he let Bess know? Or had he concealed it? This was a time to share emotion with his queen, not crush it as he so often did. As both of them did.
He was a little distracted. ‘Be what solace you can to her. If you wish to stay, do so, for however many days you choose, but there is another matter I must discuss with you. Privately. If you would be so good as to attend upon me one hour from now? Without a stray Lincolnshire mongrel sniffing at your heels,’ he added pointedly, glancing in Tom’s direction.
Cicely blushed and inclined her head as respectfully as she could, given the discomfort in her neck. There was something different about him, and it made her anxious. ‘Is something wrong? Please tell me,’ she begged quietly, so that only he could possibly hear. ‘You have fully recovered from your … ailment?’
‘There was no indisposition,’ he said coldly, and then walked on, his gentlemen congregating hastily behind him.
The guards resumed their places, flanking the doors, and she struggled to regain her composure, managing to smile at Tom. ‘Thank you for escorting me, but I think you should return to wherever you would be were it not for me. I have Mary here, and my guards.’
‘Send for me if I am needed, my lady. I will come with all haste.’
‘I know. Thank you, Tom.’
Bess was very upset about the loss of another baby. And because it was for the same reason as the first, a fall. She was glad of Cicely, who sat on the bed to hug her tightly. The sisters clung together.
‘Oh, Cissy, I knew something was wrong. I felt so strange, as if someone was at my shoulder all the time, wishing me ill. And I did not really mean what I said about deliberately losing my babies, truly I did not!’ More tears flowed.
‘I know, sweetheart. I know.’ Cicely, stroked the long red-gold hair.
‘Two babies, and this one the boy Henry so needs. What if I cannot have another? Everything will rest upon Arthur.’
‘You must not think that way, Bess. You are strong and healthy, and you will recover. What did Henry say to you?’ Please let him have been kind.
‘He was gentle,’ Bess conceded unwillingly, for she was loath to say anything good of him.
‘You see? He is not as base as you think.’
‘Do not defend him. Not today,’ Bess whispered, lying back. �
�You will stay here for a day or so?’
‘Yes, of course. For as long as you need me. Mary is already preparing my old rooms. And the king has desired me to stay as well, to attend you, not for any other reason. I saw him a moment ago, as he was leaving you.’ She felt she had to add this, for fear Bess might think she had been alone with Henry.
Bess was remorseful. ‘Oh, Cissy, it is selfish to call you when you are unwell.’
‘Nonsense. I am your sister and you need me. You are worse now than me.’
‘Is Jon to return?’
‘No, nor do I wish him to.’
Bess was dismayed. ‘You are really so divided?’
‘It would appear so.’
Bess squeezed her hand. ‘I am sure all will be well again soon.’
‘There can be no hope if he does not even return to London. I miss him, Bess, but—’
‘But?’
‘Oh, nothing. I have upset him greatly, and now … well, he has upset me in return. We need to be together if we are to mend matters.’
‘He will return, sweetheart, I know he will.’
‘Which will please Annie, I suppose,’ Cicely replied, thinking of Roland.
‘Oh, she has been busy flirting with Thomas Howard and Cousin Edmund.’
Cicely shuddered. ‘I imagine the former’s embrace would be clumsy, and the latter’s clammy.’
‘Indeed.’ Bess managed a giggle. It made her feel better to exchange such silliness with her sister. ‘But, I suppose Jon will bring Roland de Vile-Vole back into the fold.’
Someone coughed discreetly behind them, a pretty little cough. Annie, as fresh as a daffodil in yellow. She appeared to have just entered, but might have been there a little longer, Cicely thought, becoming deeply suspicious on receiving an unexpectedly warm smile.
Bess beckoned. ‘Come, Annie.’
Cicely rose and moved aside as Annie ran to embrace the queen. ‘Oh, Bess —Your Grace—Your Majesty—I am so upset for you and the dear king!’
Dear king? Cicely’s thoughts returned to sanctuary at Westminster Abbey in 1483, when Bess had spoken of her ‘dear Richard’. That was the first time she, Cicely, had begun to realize that Bess felt much more for Richard than she should have. Two years later, Cicely herself had experienced that same intense, incestuous love. But … might Annie regard Henry in such a light?
Perhaps this was the time to remind her about Margaret. ‘Annie, Lady Margaret has warned you about being for-ward where His Majesty is concerned. You must not call him your “dear king”, but confine yourself to correct conduct.’
Bess nodded as well. ‘Indeed so, Annie. It is not wise to refer to him in such a familiar way.’
‘But I do not mean anything wrong.’
Bess was stern. ‘Maybe not, but that is no excuse. You are still a child, and must behave like one.’
Annie’s face was aflame—as much with anger as mortification. Clearly she regarded herself as a woman already. But she murmured politely and dropped into a deep, very respectful, regretful curtsey. Cicely could almost hear her thoughts. There, my repentance is shown, and that is the end of it, now I will continue to do as I wish ….
Bess managed a smile that was intended to be reassuring. ‘Thank you for your kindness in coming here, Annie.’
Her moment of disgrace over, Annie blinked and summoned a convincing wobble to her lips. ‘Your poor little baby,’ she snuffled, searching in her purse for a kerchief. Then, after blowing her nose very prettily, she suddenly flung herself on her knees before Cicely and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh, Cissy! I did so want to be an aunt again!’
The tears seemed genuine, and the girl’s whole body shook as she gave in to tears. It was as if she needed to sob away more than just this immediate sorrow. Her fingernails dug through Cicely’s gown. ‘I am sorry, Cissy, I am so sorry for being such a … a bitch!’
Bess was shocked. ‘Annie!’
‘Forgive me, please, but I do so want to be as close to Cissy as I was when I was little.’ The girl was imploring. ‘Please, Cissy, let me come to stay with you for a while.’
Ah, the grief and repentance was feigned, Cicely thought, the little cat had heard them speak of Roland coming to Pasmer’s Place! Cicely did not know what to fix upon with this particular sister, save she was not to be trusted.
But Bess was taken in. ‘Oh, Annie, how sweet a thing you are. Of course you can stay with Cissy. Is that not so?’
The last was said to Cicely, who could do little more than smile and consent. ‘Although I do not know when I will return,’ she said lamely, and did not need to see Annie’s smug smile.
Bess was suddenly weary. Conversation had drained her, and her loss began to overwhelm her again. ‘Please, Annie, I mean you no unkindness, but I would like to be alone with Cissy. She knows what it is to … to lose a baby.’
Annie was all understanding. ‘Yes, of course. Cissy, you will not forget to take me to Pasmer’s Place with you?’
‘Of course not.’ Cicely forced a smile. She did not want Annie and Roland de Vielleville under the Welles roof. It could only lead to trouble.
She remained with Bess after Annie had gone, and they talked of this and that—mostly silly memories—until Bess felt able to sleep. ‘Please come back to me in the morning, Cissy.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Bess closed her eyes. ‘Everything I do turns to dust,’ she whispered. ‘Everything fails, no matter how I try. I only want to be happy again.’
Cicely went openly to Henry’s apartments, because his summons had been issued in front of his gentlemen.
Candles shimmered, and flames leapt in the fireplace as Henry paced slowly, while dictating a letter to one of his secretaries. He acknowledged her without particular attention, indicated she should be seated, and then continued dictating.
The letter was not important, but he attended to it assiduously. As he did everything. His black velvet hat lay on the table, its brooch shining in the candlelight that shivered in the draught when he sat to read the letter, using the new spectacles he hated so much. The deep shadow beneath his jaw towards his ear was sharply defined, and his hair did not gleam as it should. But then, how could it when he had been both ill and subjected to poisoning? It was a miracle he had recovered as much as he had.
She continued to watch him. Sometimes it was almost impossible not to. His elegant, long-fingered hands rested together by the fingertips as he read, and his head was at a slight angle. He was … spellbinding, she supposed, as he signed the letter, sanded it and applied his signet to the small pool of wax prepared by the secretary.
He was no battle leader, she thought, but a clerk of the highest order, efficient, seldom misled and always achieving the perfect balance. He was no less a king for it, but Richard had attended to all these things and was an experienced soldier as well.
As the secretary hurried away, closing the door behind him, Henry removed his spectacles. ‘You disapprove of my thoroughness?’
‘No, but I see what it does to your eyes.’
‘The machinations of the French strain me far more. They want me to support them when they endeavour to annex Brittany. I am in debt to both sides, as you know. The situation is thorny.’ He met her eyes, with the strange unhappiness of earlier. ‘I loathe war.’
‘Which will always worry at your heels, and you will always have pretenders to confront.’
‘How kind of you to remind me. Your tongue clearly did not suffer when you were attacked.’
‘You look so very pale,’ she observed.
‘Poisoning is apt to have that effect. Fortunately, my habit is often to sip only a little of a cup of wine, and then leave it.’ His fingers rapped on the table, and he stood. ‘I understand I have you to thank for the poison’s discovery.’
‘I merely queried the apparent presence of almonds.’
‘It was enough. Thank you. Truly. You may have saved my life.’
‘You seem surprised. Did you imagine I would
say nothing?’
‘After what happened between us, I would have expected it.’
‘No, you would not, Henry Tudor. We may have quarrelled very badly, but I still would not let you die. Am I to think you would let me die?’
‘You know the answer to that, cariad.’
‘I am your cariad again?’
He gazed at her, something hovering on his lips, but then he spoke of the poison again. ‘I have set my spies to trace the origin of the poison, of course, and the whole sequence of events between the wine arriving at Three Cranes and reaching my cup will be thoroughly examined. I will have everyone involved questioned.’
‘Questioned?’
He met her eyes. ‘Do you think I should be lenient with those suspected of trying to kill me?’
‘You are not known for lenience.’
He did not respond, which somehow made her words sound spiteful. She had to say something. ‘Have … have you any idea who might have done it?’
He shook his head. ‘Some Yorkist, no doubt,’ he said wryly.
‘Or just someone who does not like you.’
‘The likes of which number in thousands upon thousands?’
Was that the familiar edge in his voice? ‘Please, Henry, do not start upon me again.’
‘I am calm enough. Did you take Richard and Lincoln as your lovers?’ he asked, then picked up the little golden figurine of St Armel, weighed it in his palm for a moment, before putting it back.
‘None of it was true. I deliberately said those things to hurt you.’
He rubbed his eyebrow, and went to look from the window towards the lights on the Thames. ‘You succeeded beyond your wildest hopes. I want to believe your denials about Richard, Cicely, for I cannot endure the thought of you lying with him, but I know you did. I would rather believe it was only Lincoln.’
‘It was neither of them. I am sorry I said it. So sorry.’ And she was, because she ought to have been cleverer. Instead, she had lost her temper as much as he had. Now he was almost too calm.
‘Why did you not tell me what had happened to you?’ he asked suddenly.
‘How could I? I thought I had been dismissed forever. You ordered me away when I so wanted to help you. You seemed to hate me.’
Cicely's Sovereign Secret Page 21
