Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  She hurried through the palace, her eyes fixed straight ahead as if nothing untoward had happened, through the great hall and antechambers and up the staircase that led to the King’s apartments. Once there she paused a moment to catch her breath, ignoring the guards’ curious expressions as she pressed her hands to her stomach, pushing down a wave of nausea, and then knocked on the door, aware as she did so of several voices inside all falling silent at once.

  She lifted her chin, waiting a few seconds before the door opened and she found herself face to face with Henry.

  ‘Oh!’ She was so startled that she couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was like their very first meeting all over again, as if the past two and a half years had all been a dream, making her feel oddly disorientated. Not that she ought to feel surprised, she told herself. The King had always enjoyed his company and yet, at a time like this, she would have expected Henry to be with Mortimer. The fact that he wasn’t suggested a deeper friendship with Edward than she’d realised. Than he’d told her, too.

  ‘Mathilde?’ For once his guard dropped and he looked almost as surprised to see her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I...’ She had to think hard to remember. ‘The Queen sent me. She asks that the King visit her immediately. She’s very distressed.’

  ‘What is it?’ Edward himself called out from within the room.

  ‘One of the Queen’s attendants, Your Grace.’ Henry gave her a nod of encouragement before opening the door wide to reveal three other men, the King, his secretary and another familiar face, Nicholas de le Beuvriere.

  ‘Your Grace.’ She dipped into a curtsy at once, alarmed by the expression on the young King’s face. He was usually calm and contained like his mother, but at that moment he looked angrier even than Mortimer had been, his handsome face mottled with fiery red blotches.

  ‘And what does my worthy mother want with me?’

  ‘I believe that she wishes to speak with you, my lord.’

  ‘Why?’

  She flinched at his scathing tone. The question itself felt like a trick. His anger was enough to show that he’d already heard the news about his father.

  ‘I’m not certain, Your Grace.’ That was partly true, she told herself, keeping her head bent so that he couldn’t read her face. She didn’t know exactly what the Queen wanted to say.

  ‘Are you a liar like she is, then?’ She saw his feet advance towards her. ‘Would you lie to your King?’

  ‘My lord.’ Another pair of feet came between them suddenly. Henry’s. ‘She’s only the messenger.’

  Mathilde peeped upwards, afraid that the King might object to such interference, but to her relief he only nodded and then jerked his head at her.

  ‘Go, then.’ It was an ungallant gesture, completely unlike him. ‘Tell my lady mother that I will visit her shortly.’ His mouth twisted into a grim approximation of a smile. ‘Tell her that I’ll be most interested to hear her explanation.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

  She gave him one last curtsy and then fled, throwing Henry a grateful look as she went.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ‘I couldn’t ask her, not after the messenger came with news of her husband.’ Mathilde nestled on the bed against Henry, her head tucked into his shoulder while one hand rested on his chest. After the events of the past week, neither of them had wanted to make love. They’d simply lain down together, craving each other’s touch for comfort. ‘We’ll have to wait a while longer.’

  Henry swore under his breath. She was right, she could hardly have asked under the circumstances, but if only she’d tried just one day earlier, before the messenger had arrived... Now he had the disconcerting impression that the walls of the palace were closing in around them, compressing the very air. Who knew when they’d get another chance to ask?

  ‘I know.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m just glad that you managed to get away tonight.’

  ‘I couldn’t before. The Queen needed me. She hardly ate or slept for almost a week. Today’s the first day she’s faced the court again.’ Mathilde’s fingers twitched against his chest. ‘It’s the first time she’s seen Mortimer since she received the news, too.’

  ‘Has she been unwell?’ He frowned. Sitting at the high table that evening, Isabella had looked as regal and imperturbable as ever, yet harder somehow, too, like a marble statue, pale, beautiful and terrifying in her very stillness.

  ‘Not unwell exactly. Sometimes she paced up and down, sometimes she just sat and stared, but she never seemed content doing either. The physician prescribed a sleeping draught and said that her behaviour was a sign of grief.’

  ‘Or guilt.’

  He felt her stiffen and pull slightly away. ‘People say Berkeley Castle is in the middle of a swamp. The King might have fallen ill.’

  ‘If he did, then it happened very quickly.’

  ‘Fevers can.’

  ‘Poisons are even quicker.’

  ‘Stop it.’ This time she jerked away, sitting upright on the bed, her back very straight. ‘She and Mortimer were both here when it happened.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean one of them didn’t give the order.’

  ‘Or perhaps it was someone else? Someone we haven’t thought of? Someone who wanted to ingratiate themselves or claim a reward?’

  ‘How? The old King was well-guarded, especially after the last escape attempt. And even if someone did manage to get past the guards, how would they claim a reward? They could hardly come to court and simply announce what they’d done. It would be treason.’

  ‘Then maybe it was someone else who wanted revenge. He had plenty of enemies.’

  ‘That’s true.’ The idea made him feel slightly better though it still felt like clutching at straws. He didn’t want to believe Mortimer capable of such a deed, any more than she wanted to believe it of the Queen, but it was hard to see who else would have benefited.

  ‘She’s innocent.’ Mathilde’s expression was defensive. ‘I won’t believe otherwise.’

  ‘Maybe she is.’ Henry pushed a hand through his hair. ‘And maybe Mortimer is, too, but the fact that people are wondering whether they were involved is damning enough. The whole court is buzzing with gossip. If it was foul play and whoever did it thought that it would strengthen Isabella and Mortimer’s position, then they were wrong. There’s even more sympathy for the young King now. It makes me wonder what would happen if he were to demand Mortimer’s removal from court.’

  ‘But he’s a regent.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Surely the King can’t just cast him aside?’

  ‘He might be able to if he has the support of the barons.’

  ‘Then what would happen to the Queen?’

  He didn’t answer, knitting his brows instead. ‘The worry is that if we’re thinking all this, then so is Mortimer.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  He glanced at her stricken face and then sat up to wrap his arms around her. ‘You need to guard your expression.’

  ‘I’m trying. I’m better than I was.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s still obvious what you’re thinking.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That the King might be in danger?’

  A shudder ran through her. ‘Maybe you only know that because you were thinking the same thing, too?’

  He clenched his jaw though he didn’t deny it. ‘Mathilde, did you tell anyone that I was in the King’s apartments the other day?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not even Katharine?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Don’t. It could be misinterpreted.’

  ‘Why?’ She twisted her head to look up at him. ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘The King summoned me. He wanted to ask me something.’

  ‘What did—’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head fi
rmly. ‘Trust me, Mathilde, the less you know, the better.’

  ‘Urgh!’ She wrenched herself away from him, moving to the other side of the bed with an impatient sigh. ‘This is like Paris all over again. I’m not a seventeen-year-old girl any more.’

  ‘I know that, and it’s not that I don’t want to tell you...’ He considered briefly before getting up and going to crouch in front of her. ‘What would you say to the idea of not asking permission to marry and just leaving court?’

  ‘Just leaving?’ She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. ‘Together?’

  ‘Yes, although we’d have to be subtle about it. You could say that you’re needed back in Rudstone and then come with me instead.’

  ‘To your manor?’

  ‘Exactly. We could go and start a new life together.’

  ‘But what about all the things you said you wanted? What about your knighthood?’

  He made a face. ‘I’d still like them, but I’m starting to see what ambition and power can do to a man. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be a part of this court any longer either. I have a certain amount of loyalty to Mortimer, but I have to do what’s right and those two things are becoming incompatible.’

  ‘Would he let you go?’

  ‘He can’t stop me. I’m a free man. Just like you’re a free woman.’ He reached up, drawing his thumb across her cheek. ‘I could be a farmer instead of a spy. We could have sheep and chickens and grow crops, all of those things you told me about Rudstone. It won’t be the same, but we can make it into whatever we want. We can make a new home. Together. So...what do you think?’

  ‘I think...’ She hesitated, her expression torn. ‘It sounds wonderful.’

  ‘Well, then?’

  ‘But I can’t leave just yet. Not while the Queen still needs me.’

  ‘Why? To help ease her guilty conscience?’

  ‘Stop saying that! Stop implying the worst about her!’

  ‘I’m only being a realist.’

  ‘No, you’re trying to turn me against her. You’re trying to make me choose.’

  ‘Maybe I am.’ He stood up angrily. ‘Maybe I’m curious, Mathilde—which one of us would you choose, if it really came to it?’

  ‘You!’ She clenched her fists. ‘But when the time is right. You can’t ask me to abandon her just when she needs me the most.’

  ‘That’s all the time with Isabella!’ He rubbed his hands over his forehead in frustration. ‘Why are you so blind when it comes to her? You can’t honestly tell me you still trust her?’

  ‘Yes! And I’m not blind. I know she’s not perfect. I just don’t believe she’s capable of something like this!’

  ‘She’s not your mother!’

  She jerked her head back so fast that it almost bumped against the wall, her face draining of blood in a matter of seconds.

  ‘Mathilde, I’m sorry.’ He reached a hand out towards her and then lowered it again as she shrank away. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t have.’ She rolled off the bed and on to her feet. ‘I know she’s not my mother, but I still care. She’s been good to me and I need to do the right thing by her. It’s the only way I can make amends.’

  ‘What do you mean? Is this because you think you failed your real mother? Because you didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, I did!’ She swung towards him, her eyes blazing. ‘I told you that my mother drowned, but the truth is, I could have stopped it. That night she left, I saw her go. I was only half-awake, but I saw her pull back the curtain between our beds and I knew that it was her. She was always wandering around in the night, like a ghost, and my father would always go after her to bring her back. Only this time, he hadn’t woken up and I thought... I thought of getting up and following myself, but then I closed my eyes again, just for a moment, and I must have fallen back to sleep. And then in the morning when I woke and realised that she hadn’t come back... I ran outside with my father and that’s when we found her in the millpond.’ She swallowed visibly. ‘That’s why he blamed me. It was because he saw the guilt on my face. He knew what I’d done.’

  ‘Mathilde...’

  ‘Don’t tell me I was just a child and that it wasn’t my fault!’ She sounded as if she were speaking from between clenched teeth. ‘I was old enough to know that she needed help and I turned away!’

  ‘But you were a child and you weren’t to know what would happen. How could anyone have known?’

  ‘But if I do it a second time, deliberately, how could I ever live with myself? I want to be your wife, Henry, but I could never be happy if I abandoned the Queen now. I made her a promise.’

  He stiffened at the words, struck by a horrible sense of foreboding. ‘What kind of a promise?’

  ‘To stay with her until all this is over.’

  ‘This?’

  ‘I don’t know. I thought she just meant the invasion. That’s why I thought we could ask permission to marry after you came back from Scotland, but now things have changed again and...’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know what it means exactly. Until there’s peace, I suppose.’

  He dropped down on to the edge of the bed. ‘When did you promise her?’

  ‘Just before we left Paris. It was when Lady Cecily was sick and the Queen was afraid of everyone abandoning her. She asked for my promise and she seemed so alone and vulnerable that I couldn’t refuse. And she’s not what you think! I know that she’ll give us her blessing just as soon as the country is settled. Once the treaty with Scotland is signed and there’s peace and stability again.’

  Henry stared at the opposite wall. He’d known about Mathilde’s attachment to the Queen, but this was even worse. Isabella had a hold over her that he hadn’t expected, one that she couldn’t break without going against her conscience and the memory of her dead mother. She couldn’t leave yet, which meant that neither could he, because he loved her. He was in love with her. He probably had been for the past year, if he’d only allowed himself to admit it. And he couldn’t walk away from her, even if it meant torturing his own conscience.

  He exhaled heavily, wondering whether saying the words aloud would make any difference. But what if they didn’t? What if I love you wasn’t enough, not compared to her promise to the Queen? What if she turned away, just as his mother had done? He didn’t think he could bear that kind of pain again.

  ‘I know I should have told you before we were married...’ Mathilde took a tentative step towards him ‘...but I truly thought it wouldn’t be for long. I didn’t think—’

  She stopped abruptly, furrowing her brow as if she didn’t want to put whatever she was thinking into words. I didn’t think the Queen would turn out to be a tyrant, he finished silently for her.

  ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘I just want us to get out of here before it’s too late.’

  ‘But if we ask to leave now, then it could make matters worse, couldn’t it?’ She perched back beside him, her eyes appealing now. ‘It might look as if we suspected the Queen or Mortimer of being involved in the old King’s death. Either that or as though we were guilty of wrongdoing.’

  He swallowed another oath. She was right. Even asking to leave could be dangerous, especially if Mortimer and the Queen were looking for someone to blame...

  ‘All right.’ He reached for her hand. ‘We go on as before for the time being. We act and behave as if we know nothing and think nothing. I’ll wait for you, Mathilde. Only, please, I beg you, don’t make me wait too long.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  York

  —winter, early 1328

  ‘How does the weather look?’ Isabella called out as Mathilde threw back the window shutters and winced in dismay. The morning of the royal wedding was scarcely brighter than the evening that had preceded it, with slate-coloured clouds blocking any attempts at sunshine and threatening snow
to come. The King and his new Queen, Philippa of Hainault, had been married by proxy in the autumn and their union was due to be formalised in the still half-built York Minster later that day, but if the sky was any indication, they were going to need several layers of warm cloaks in order not to freeze.

  At least it was a joyous occasion for once, Mathilde thought. Perhaps now people would be able to forget the brutal events of the autumn and think more positively about the future again. Edward and his young bride were of a similar age and Philippa’s arrival had lightened the sombre atmosphere of the court considerably. Small of stature, with dark hair and twinkling brown eyes, she was blessed with an open manner, a genial nature and a ready smile. The young King already seemed to like her a great deal. As did most people, Mathilde included, although she was careful not to say so in the hearing of the Queen, who seemed determined to maintain a distance from her new daughter-in-law.

  She was glad to be back in Yorkshire, too, though it was also hard being so close to Rudstone and yet still too far away to visit, a day’s ride at least. She’d briefly considered sending a message to her father, but after almost three years with no word from home, she’d eventually decided that it would be too painful even to try.

  * * *

  Preparing the Queen for the wedding had taken several hours, but the procession that followed was magnificent, with the royal couple riding side by side through the streets of York on magnificently decorated horses, throwing coins into the crowds as they passed. Even a light snowfall couldn’t dampen the mood of celebration as hundreds of people came out to watch and cheer on streets decorated with brightly coloured hangings and banners.

  Isabella excused herself from the wedding banquet early, but for once she allowed Mathilde to stay behind, taking only a weary-looking Katharine back with her to her rooms.

  ‘Come with me.’ Henry came up beside her as soon as they’d gone.

  ‘Where to?’ Mathilde smiled eagerly. They were both dressed in blue that day, her in a peacock-coloured kirtle with matching surcoat, him in a paler tabard. It was a shade that perfectly matched his eyes, making them stand out in his sun-bronzed face like gleaming sapphires.