Royal Mistress

by Anne Easter Smith

  “A good point, Lord Hastings,” Richard agreed and promptly appointed a committee to assure Elizabeth and her children of their safety if they left sanctuary. Richard continued, “Let me assure you, my lords, I have not nor will I ever threaten women, and so what does the queen have to fear from me? From us? Do we all not want to see her son crowned, keep the kingdom safe for him?” Richard was pleased to see the lords agreeing with him. “After all, I did not ask for this role. I am here to honor my brother’s command.” It was as well to remind them, Richard thought, wishing himself back in the Yorkshire dales.

  “With regard to the actions of Sir Edward Woodville, I would have him and his fleet captured. He is a danger to the peaceful transition of the government, not to mention his absconding with some of the treasury.” There had been some inkling of possible threats from France, but nothing had been reported as yet, Richard knew. Nay, Sir Edward’s movements again spoke of a Woodville plot to take control.

  Will was impressed that Richard wasted no time, and he began to enjoy himself. Even Edward had not conducted council meetings so handily. He looked about him at the familiar faces of the late Edward’s faithful councilors—Rotherham, Stanley, Howard, FitzAlan of Arundel, John Morton, bishop of Ely, and Thomas Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury. However there were new faces that the protector had brought with him like Francis, Lord Lovell; John, earl of Lincoln; Thomas Langton; Richard Ratcliffe; Sir James Tyrell; and Sir Robert Brackenbury, all gathered to Buckingham’s side of the chamber, Will noticed. Was there any significance to this separation, he wondered? And then he dismissed the thought, as the next item up for discussion merited his complete attention.

  “My lords, I would request your agreement that the charge of treason be placed upon those who would have taken possession of the king and endangered my life at Stony Stratford. I speak of the queen’s brother, Lord Rivers; her son Sir Richard Grey; Sir Thomas Vaughan, the Prince of Wales’s chamberlain; and Sir Richard Haute, the boy’s comptroller.”

  Murmurs of opposition to this request outnumbered those “ayes” that came from Buckingham’s group.

  Thomas Rotherham, archbishop of York, raised his voice. “May I respectfully point out, my lord duke, that although we appreciated your swift action to avoid a possible coup by Queen Elizabeth, her son Dorset, and Earl Rivers, you had not yet been officially named protector by the council, ergo the crime the gentlemen in question had committed was not yet treasonable.”

  “Pah!” Buckingham spat. “You were naive in your dealings with the queen. You foolishly gave her the Great Seal, and now you refuse my lord of Gloucester when he so obviously saved the king and foiled a plot against his own life. He deserves the council’s support in this matter, lest a dangerous precedent be set about disobeying kings with impunity. From the moment King Edward’s decree was made, my lord of Gloucester became protector. Are you quibbling over dates?”

  While Will was grateful for the posturing duke’s support, he cringed at Buckingham’s disregard of council protocol by speaking out of turn.

  A glimmer of a smile crossed Richard’s face at his cousin’s overexuberance, but he waited quietly for the archbishop’s response.

  “I would also respectfully suggest you stand down on this question, my lord duke, as you were of course involved in the arrest, and are perhaps too close to be impartial,” Rotherham countered, standing his ground and sending Buckingham back to his spot next to Lovell. Will caught Lord Stanley’s eye, and a surreptitious wink passed between them. One point to Rotherham, it said. Buckingham deserved the archbishop’s diplomatic reprimand, Will thought.

  “I thank you for your caution, your grace,” Richard said, getting up from his seat and approaching the councilors’ benches. He turned a full circle, assessing every member’s willingness to support him or not. “Is this the way you all feel? Should we take a vote?”

  Several men, including Will, nodded, and the closed votes were cast and counted in Rotherham’s favor. It was the first time that day that Richard of Gloucester did not get his way. The prisoners would remain in captivity pending further discussion of their fate.

  “Treason or no. Which way did you vote, my lord?” Richard asked of Will as the Star Chamber emptied of councilors and he, Hastings, and Buckingham were left to discuss the day’s work.

  Will was taken aback. A vote of that importance was secret to protect each councilor from possible recrimination. If the vote were for treason, then the traitors’ lives would be at stake. It was the one point in the long day’s business on which Will had not agreed with Richard. Was Richard testing him? Surely not, but he was wary all the same.

  “My dear Gloucester,” Will said as amiably as he could. “You know I cannot disclose my vote. Would you ask the same of my lord Buckingham here? I think not.”

  Richard inclined his head and smiled. “I do not have to ask him, Will. I know how he voted.” He suddenly put his hand on Will’s shoulder, surprising the chamberlain, who had been used to Edward’s gestures of familiarity but did not expect the same from reserved Richard. “And I hope I know that you support me, too.”

  Will bowed. “Certes, I do, my lord duke, but I hope that permits me to disagree with you on occasion.”

  “I welcome discussion, my lord,” Richard said smoothly, after a pause. “However, there is a personal matter that greatly concerns me,”

  Will bristled, glancing at Buckingham then back at Richard, expecting Buckingham to leave.

  “I have no secrets from Harry,” Richard said as Buckingham grinned down at his shorter cousin. “He has proved my most loyal friend, and my friends shall be rewarded.” Richard’s smile faded and he paced away from Will before announcing, “ ’Tis a moral matter, about that woman Shore, who I am told still resides in the house Edward provided for her, living off a royal pension. I happen to know you are familiar with her and thus I would ask that you remove the harlot and confiscate her belongings. They belong to the Crown.”

  Will paled. He was caught in a trap, and Richard knew it. Richard admired the chamberlain who had been his brother’s right-hand man, but he deplored the private life they both had shared. And Jane Shore was central to that life. He had made up his mind to clean up Edward’s dissipated court and needed assurance that Hastings was willing to live by Richard’s moral code.

  This would be the real test of his character, Will knew in an instant. He knew, despite the protector’s friendly overtures, that he was under Richard’s rigid scrutiny. Ironically, Edward had lost his verve for whoring awhile ago. Jane had apparently curbed those appetites, and through her, Will, too, had come to see of late the value of a good, constant woman.

  Will looked Richard in the eye, determined not to give either the protector or Buckingham the satisfaction of seeing him ill at ease. “I have to say that you are mistaken in her character, my lord, but I do not expect to convince you,” he said evenly, although inside he was seething. “I will do what is right by Mistress Shore, my lord. Good night.” He bowed and withdrew before he could no longer contain his fury.

  An astute observer of character, Richard had not been fooled by Hastings’s equanimity and wondered the degree to which the chamberlain was himself now involved with Jane Shore.

  “What do you think Hastings meant by what is right for Mistress Shore?” he mused. “ ’Twas ambiguous.”

  “Ambiguous?” the oblivious Buckingham repeated. “I saw nothing but willingness to do your bidding, cousin.”

  A shadow passed over Richard’s face. Damnation, he thought, even more convinced now that Harry was not too bright. Ah, well, at least he was dependable. A pity Hastings seemed to have all the brains.

  Other business on the council kept Will from Jane for another week, until he arrived on her doorstep unable to contain his ire. He almost knocked Ankarette off her feet as she was sprinkling water over the freshly replaced aromatic rushes and herbs on the floor to keep them in place.

  “Leave us,” Jane advised her servant, who glar
ed at Will as she left with her watering pot. “My dear lord, calm yourself, I pray you. You appear as angry as a disturbed nest of wasps. Should I, too, beware your sting?”

  Another time Will would have laughed, but this time he ignored the barb. “Not you, Jane, but someone should, and that someone is Henry Stafford, the puffed-up, prating duke of Buckingham who has a bean for a brain. Have you wine, mistress? I need a drink.”

  Jane was still in her bedrobe, her breakfast half eaten, but she gentled the big man onto the settle and went to pour wine. “I thought you were pleased Richard of Gloucester had taken the reins with Buckingham, Will. Why the change of heart?”

  “Duke Richard has the right to govern, Buckingham does not. And yet he has ingratiated himself with his cousin like a lapdog, and it pains me to see how such an addle-pate has blinded Richard.” As Jane handed him the goblet, Will noticed for the first time that she was not fully dressed. He slid his free hand inside the opening in her robe and caressed her soft skin through the flimsy lawn chemise. “By God but you are beautiful, Jane,” he told her, but Jane gracefully slipped from his grasp and regained her seat opposite him.

  They had still not consummated the new arrangement because of Will’s pressing duties at Westminster, but she was far too curious now to lead him on to bed. Later, she knew, purposely procrastinating, she would have to give in.

  “What has Buckingham done to upset you?”

  Will cradled his wine and stared at his reflection in its velvety red depths. How could he explain that it was not exactly what Buckingham had done but what Richard had done for Buckingham that had given vent not only to his anger but also to fear.

  “He has usurped your place next to the Crown, has he not?” Jane said simply. “He is where you should be, is that it, Will?”

  Will looked up sharply at her. How could such a delicate, lovely woman who spent most of her day shut up in her luxurious house have found exactly the right words to explain his resentment? He nodded, ashamed he was so transparent. “Am I wrong to feel slighted?” he asked, rather like a boy asking his mother.

  “You are not wrong to be jealous, Will, but it demeans you to feel anger. You have the wisdom to rise above anger. There will come a time when Richard will recognize your value, I have no doubt. Did he not recently return the office of master of the mint to you? He is merely leaning on the first person who came to his aid—Buckingham. Perhaps Richard prefers a sycophant to a wise councilor by his side. But you will be the one to advise him in the end.” She picked up her psaltery and began to play softly.

  Will took a deep breath. Jane would not understand how very heavily Richard was depending on his numbskull cousin, to the tune of some of the greatest grants of authority in the kingdom, including chief justice and chamberlain of all of Wales, which would make him governor of those people, as well as constable, steward, and receiver of all the castles and lordships in that country to include being keeper of the royal forests. As if that were not reward enough, Richard had accorded the duke governorship of the people of Hereford, Shropshire, Wiltshire, Somerset, and Dorset and receivership of all the castles there. In other words, Hastings fumed, Buckingham was now virtually viceroy of one of the most important regions in the country. Just listing them made Will’s head spin. Nothing the late king had given his faithful chamberlain and councilor over twenty years could come close to the power and wealth Buckingham had received in a matter of three weeks.

  Jane’s plaintive music placated Will, and watching her he wondered if he should tell her of Richard’s demand. Nay, why frighten the lady, he decided. He was annoyed with himself for not telling Richard to go to hell and that, as Jane was now his mistress, he would assume her living expenses. The time had come to make that so.

  “Come here, sweetheart.” Will’s voice brought Jane back to the present, and she found him gazing at her with such desire, she could not refuse his invitation. Arousing herself with thoughts of Tom, she used her lustful yearning to respond to Will without inhibition. She slipped her bedrobe to the floor before kneeling before him and caressing his inner thighs as he untied her chemise and lifted it from her. Jane unpinned her braid, and a cascade of gold veiled her skillful removal of his hose and codpiece.

  “Ah, Jane,” Will groaned as she hoisted herself onto his lap, and after eight years of waiting, he felt what it was like to finally lose himself inside this most alluring of women. “Go slowly, I beg of you. I want to remember every second of this.”

  Jane did as he asked, and she was surprised to achieve as satisfying a climax as ever she had had with Edward. As she felt Will’s need begin to mount, she turned his face up to hers and kissed him with an ardor that came from the very place in her heart where Will had wished to be held.

  “I have asked a friend to help me find a safe place to stay nearby when I escape these cheerless, drab accommodations,” Tom told his mother, the queen.

  “Who is this friend that you can trust with such a mission? No one is above using such information against us, if it would advance him.”

  “ ’Tis not anyone who has influence, Mother. I asked Mistress Shore.”

  Elizabeth stared at him in horror. “Jane Shore? Why did you seek out that harlot? I thought never to hear her name again. ’Twas she and Hastings killed poor Edward.”

  Tom turned away so his mother would not see the weary look on his face. Not that conversation again, he thought. He should have just ignored Elizabeth’s supplication to return. He could have rewarded the guard handsomely for not raising the alarm if he had chosen liberty. Aye, he should have stayed away and stowed aboard a vessel headed for the Low Countries.

  Mustering more patience, he said, “I have my reasons for trusting Jane, and do not forget she is well connected in the city, Mother. She will know where I can hide to work on our plans and meet in secret with our followers. Everyone who comes here is bound to be reported back to Gloucester. We decided this was the best idea, and I will implement it my way, if you please.”

  “If I were not so tired and melancholy, I would smack your impudent face,” Elizabeth retorted. “I have heard the wagtail is now in my lord Hastings’s bed. Has she no shame? What am I saying? A whore knowing shame is unlikely.” But she was in no mood to argue. She was weary of being in such cramped quarters with the girls squabbling and Dickon getting on everyone’s nerves, and although she hid it well, she was afraid of Richard of Gloucester after he had imprisoned her other son and her brother. She could do nothing while in the abbey, and so she gave in to her handsome, devoted son. “Very well, but let us hope Mistress Shore likes you enough not to betray you, Thomas.”

  His back to Elizabeth, Tom grinned at the madonna on the wall and thought, if only Mother knew, feeling Jane’s hands in his hair as she had writhed in pleasure at his touch. “She likes me well enough, in truth,” he countered. “And I persuaded her that our desire to see Ned crowned as soon as possible and our suspicions of Gloucester’s intentions give us good cause to work toward fair treatment for Ned.” He mentally crossed himself for his lie. “Now where is that other young brother of mine? I promised him a game of hide-and-seek.”

  “He is with the girls,” Elizabeth said, nodding toward the smaller of the two chambers she and her seven children shared at the abbey. Tom shared a grim monk’s cell with another man not far away. As a childish shriek shattered their peace, Elizabeth groaned. “Dear God, but I hope we can all leave soon or I shall lose my sanity.”

  “Has Rotherham been to see you?” Tom asked suddenly. “Is he still faithful to us? I wish we could have held on to the Great Seal, but he saw the error he had made in bringing it to you too soon, and I can just imagine how humiliated he was when Richard removed the chancellorship and gave it to Russell.”

  Elizabeth nodded. The seal might have made a good bartering tool, she thought, and maybe they would not still be holed up, if Rotherham had not snatched it back without warning. No doubt he was groveling to Richard now. She was glad the archbishop was paying fo
r his false step; he always did think he was the Lord’s anointed.

  Tom bowed and was about to leave when Elizabeth stopped him with a parting word. “Promise me you will not consort with that Shore woman once you are free, my son. She took away my husband’s love, and I could not bear to lose yours to her, too,” she grumbled.

  Tom wrapped his arms around her, noting how thin she had become. “Never fear, Mother, you have always been first in my heart,” he told her, cleverly avoiding the promise. “Always first.”

  Until now, he mused, imagining Jane’s soft body in his arms instead. Until now.

  Tom’s daydreaming abruptly came to a halt when he saw the two prelates coming toward him in the cloister and recognized the new chancellor, John Russell, bishop of Lincoln, and the hairy old bishop of Bath and Wells, Robert Stillington. They all bowed solemnly, and Tom asked casually if they were at the abbey on church or state business.

  “We come on behalf of the protector, my lord,” Russell said, his pleasant baritone echoing among the old stone arches. “We are here to see her grace, the queen.”

  “Not again,” Tom muttered to himself, but he smiled politely and let them pass. He was certain Richard had sent yet another mission to persuade Elizabeth to leave sanctuary. He loitered near his mother’s chambers, and when he heard her lamentations he knew he was right.

  “I do not believe that Richard of Gloucester will see me safely out of sanctuary,” Elizabeth cried at the long-suffering priests. “If he wants me, he can come and get me. And no, I shall never let my younger son out of my sight, coronation or no coronation. The so-called protector has taken Edward’s and my oldest boy, but he shall not have Dickon. Go back and tell him so, my lord bishops. If we need to, my children and I shall spend the rest of our lives in sanctuary.”