Virgin Widow

by Anne O'Brien

  Once the idea had become lodged in my mind at Warwick, it would not go away. It was impressed on me at every turn that I was being softly but thoroughly guarded. It was almost as bad as my days at Margaret’s Court, but with more subtlety. I went nowhere unless with Isabel or Clarence, or with a substantial escort of soldiers and servants from Clarence’s household. Whether it be an audience or a feast, Isabel was invariably at my shoulder. If the hedonistic pleasures of shopping enticed us, an armed guard accompanied us, far removed from the usual pair of servants to carry any cumbersome parcels. It gnawed at my carefully constructed complacency; the uncomfortable sensation of being free and an honoured guest, yet at the same time a discreetly guarded prisoner, grew stronger until it squawked loudly in my consciousness.

  The strange lethargy of my mind, tolerating all things, finally snapped into burning resentment when, having risen early one morning, I found one of Clarence’s servants stationed in the corridor outside my room. He followed me to the chapel. And then back to my room. Discreetly, I must admit, but still I felt this presence, his eyes on my every move. After weeks of slumbering, my temper rose.

  ‘I’ll not have it!’

  ‘Thought it wouldn’t last long,’ Margery observed as I drew her aside later in the day.

  ‘What wouldn’t?’ I eyed her suspiciously.

  ‘Not a thing, my lady.’ Her smile was a positive smirk. ‘But it’s about time!’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘That you showed your teeth, lady!’

  I did. In a tight snarl. ‘Put on a cloak, Margery, and come with me.’

  ‘Where are we going, lady?’

  ‘I think, if my judgement is correct, that we shall not be going anywhere!’ I would test it for myself. With only Margery in attendance, when I had made the excuse of resting in my room, I took myself, unobtrusively, to the stables where I sought out Clarence’s chief groom.

  ‘Two horses, if you please, Master Whittaker.’

  ‘Ah…’ He left off grooming Isabel’s favourite mare, and his eyes slid from me to Margery, then back. ‘Will you be going far, mistress?’

  ‘To Westminster.’

  ‘His Grace of Clarence has left no such instructions, my lady.’

  ‘His Grace of Clarence does not know. I am not answerable to his Grace of Clarence for my movements,’ I snapped with an impressive show of authority. I knew he would find it difficult to refuse me. Yet he did.

  ‘Forgive me, lady. It’s not possible. His Grace says there’s a disturbance in the City. No one must go out without an escort. I don’t have enough men to send with you. I dare not let you go.’

  ‘Not even for the Queen’s audience?’

  ‘No, my lady. I dare not.’ A weak excuse, the unease evident when the groom would not meet my eye, but I did not push it. It had proved my point.

  ‘What do you know of this, Margery?’ I asked as we retraced our steps.

  ‘Nothing, lady. Except that you are to be kept close.’ Margery sniffed with ill usage. ‘I’m not in her Grace’s confidence.’

  ‘So Isabel knows. Of course she does.’ I considered as we mounted the stairs. ‘Do they mean me harm?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lady. I don’t see that they can.’

  Neither did I. But it did nothing to dissipate my mounting suspicions.

  My docile acceptance finally came to an end on the occasion of a banquet at Westminster from which Isabel had for once cried off. The musicians had barely packed away their instruments than Clarence informed me peremptorily to make ready as he was busy, but would escort me home to Cold Harbour, Clarence’s town house. No, we could not stay longer, he had other demands on his time.

  That’s it, I decided. Enough was enough. I would not be ordered about, like some low-born retainer, at the convenience of others. As soon as I got back to Cold Harbour, I would ask my sister outright and refuse to be put off. Did they suspect me to be part of some nefarious scheme to overthrow the King? Unlikely, but whatever it was, something was amiss.

  We saddled up in the courtyard. Clarence helped me to mount, hampered as I was by the heavy skirts of Court dress. The escort—substantial as ever—fell in behind. We were moving towards the gateway when a young squire approached at a run.

  ‘Your Grace…Wait, if it please you!’

  We reined in. The lad slid to a halt, breathing heavily, removing his hat to bow. I did not know him, but he wore royal livery.

  ‘What is it?’ Clarence asked, impatient to be off.

  ‘His Majesty requests your presence, your Grace. There’s news. From Burgundy. His Majesty asks that you will stay.’

  Clarence, not entirely pleased, dismounted. With a cynical smile I watched him stripping off his gloves. He would seize any opportunity to be in Edward’s confidence. ‘Inform his Majesty I shall be with him immediately.’ Turning to the sergeant-at-arms, he made to dismiss the escort.

  ‘Do I have to stay as well?’ I asked. I did not see that I should.

  ‘It would be best.’

  ‘Surely I am well enough guarded to reach Cold Harbour without mishap!’

  ‘I think…’

  ‘I think it would be ridiculous to dismiss the whole troop when I could be home within a half-hour.’ I put temper in my voice. ‘Do I have to sit and wait for you in some antechamber? Who knows how long the King will keep you!’ I could see him weighing the sense of my suggestion. I raised my chin as if I would give him an argument. ‘I would go home. Now.’

  It swayed him. His handsome features tightened into a frown, but he obviously did not relish a lively difference of opinion in public with the escort straining to hear. Without another word to me he engaged in some rapid orders to the sergeant and then we were off.

  ‘Take care. Stop for no one!’ were Clarence’s final orders.

  It was late enough that the City was quiet apart from the clatter of our horses’ hooves in the narrow streets. We made an impressive little force. Some of the men carried torches to illuminate dark corners where thieves could lurk and I heard the metal slide of swords being loosened in scabbards. I was conscious of no real danger and rode, comfortably surrounded, lost in my plan to interrogate Isabel until a roar of laughter and coarse shouting erupted from a rabble who staggered from the open door of the Golden Lion at the far end of the street. Now they lurched along the road in our direction in the manner of the very drunk, oblivious to the body of armed men riding down on them. The sergeant shouted a warning that they ignored, intent on raucous singing. The sergeant swore. Ordered our party to draw rein. No point in riding them down. He drew his sword.

  ‘Get them out of the way,’ he ordered two of his men with a grunt. ‘Don’t kill them unless you have to.’

  ‘Out of the way, lads.’ The soldiers pushed forwards.

  Coarse laughter swelled. ‘Come’n join us, friends.’ A small barrel was held precariously aloft. ‘We’ve wine enough for all.’

  Then all changed. The drunken revellers threw off their mummery, magically transformed into a troop of disciplined well-armed men. More emerged from a dark lane to our left, these on horseback, as well as others from the rear. Light glinted along blades, drawn and ready for use. We were surrounded, outnumbered and overpowered. After a token resistance in the enclosed space, I saw my escort disarmed before my own bridle was seized and I was dragged, clumsily, helplessly, from the horse. It was all too quick for fear. A heavy cloak was bundled round me to pinion my arms and legs and silence me when I would have cried out. A deep hood was pulled smartly up over my head. Strong arms lifted me, passed me on like an ungainly package to the arms of another on the back of an animal that set off carrying both of us at a smart canter. I fought, kicking, struggling as much as I might.

  ‘Keep still. You’ll not be harmed.’

  It was a soft voice, no ruffian for sure, that hissed in my ear. My thoughts whirled as I was held tighter. Revenge? Ransom? Who would kidnap me? Only someone who had a desire to be revenged on Lancaster. But why not kil
l me on the spot? Was it robbery? If they coveted my jewels, why not simply snatch them? I struggled more.

  ‘Quiet, lady.’

  The voice again. I got the sensation that my abductor knew who I was. This was no indiscriminate felony. Well, I would not be compliant. I twisted my head and, through the folds of the hood, I bit the hand that held me close.

  The hand was snatched away on an oath. ‘Damn you! You were always a vixen.’ And there was the ghost of a laugh.

  He definitely knew me. I was grasped even more tightly as we picked up speed with the sharp strike of hooves on cobbles. Then came the sound of a challenge of guards ahead. Guards…? From the muffled echo I knew that we passed under an archway and then the horses stopped. My captor dismounted and I was hauled down from the horse’s back. No sooner had my feet touched the floor than I was swept up again. Carried inside some building and up a flight of stairs. A deep hush fell, the footfalls changed from stone to wood. Through a door that someone opened. Muttered words reached me, but I could make nothing of them through the wrappings. As the door closed behind us I was promptly dropped to my feet and released. The cloak was unwrapped and let fall around my feet. I emerged. Dishevelled, ruffled, undoubtedly afraid, but in no good temper.

  ‘By the Virgin!’ My veil had become detached. I snatched it off as I took in my surroundings. An impression of a richly panelled room hung with valuable tapestries. Lighted sconces warmed the polished wood, highlighted the rich scenes in deep reds and blues. There was a standing table, stools. A Court cupboard with silver cups and flagon. Logs hissed comfortingly in the hearth. This was not the dwelling of a poor man. Suspicions instantly crowded in. ‘Where am I? How dare you—!’

  And as I turned on my abductor, my jaw dropped.

  ‘Francis…Francis Lovell! What are you doing?’ There was his handsome smiling face and tawny hair, his eyes alight with conspiracy, just as I had last seen him on his visit to Warwick well over a year ago. I might feel a lessening of tension in my chest, but my thoughts remained in chaos.

  He grinned. Made me an elegant but mocking bow. ‘Kidnapping you, my vixen. What does it look like?’

  ‘And why would you need to do that?’

  ‘Following orders.’ He picked up the cloak and folded it over the nearest stool. He rubbed his hand. ‘You bit me!’

  ‘I’d have bitten harder if I’d known it was you. You frightened me! Whose orders?’ I frowned at him as my suspicions grew stronger. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘At Westminster.’

  ‘I only left Westminster a half-hour ago! Why kidnap me? What in God’s name am I doing here?’ The thought came to me with cold certainty. ‘It’s not your conspiracy, is it, Francis? Just who was it who told you to bring me here?’

  ‘I did.’

  In my righteous fury I had not heard anyone enter the room, my attention wholly on Francis Lovell. But I recognised the voice, would have known it anywhere. I swung round in disbelief.

  ‘You are here because I ordered it,’ the Duke of Gloucester explained in the mildest of voices.

  ‘You! You kidnapped me!’

  Richard closed the door at his back and advanced into the room, soft footed, a calculating look in his eye. I thought it might hide a circumspection, except that I did not think the Richard I was coming to know would have a need to be circumspect.

  ‘Kidnapped? Yes. I suppose I did.’

  ‘Why would it be necessary to do something so outrageous?’ Anger sparked as I recalled the fear that he had stirred up. ‘I was terrified. If you wished to speak with me, I have been here all evening. As far as I am aware, you made every effort to avoid me.’

  Richard, still dressed as was I for a Court occasion, in shimmering satin with the chain of office winking on his chest as he moved, ignored my observations on his unorthodox methods of setting up a conversation. ‘I want to speak with you now,’ he replied simply.

  ‘But do I wish to speak with you?’ I would not be pacified. ‘Am I to do your bidding when and where you choose? You waylay my escort and frighten me half to death. Not to mention using Francis here as your disreputable second. You didn’t even have the courage to abduct me yourself.’

  ‘It would have been…unwise.’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Nothing disreputable about me, lady!’ Francis laughed, obviously fascinated by the exchange. ‘I can’t say the same for his Grace of Clarence.’

  But Richard had stilled beneath my attack. I thought it might be anger that imprinted his face as he raised his hand, a quick glance of warning to Francis. ‘I am no coward, as you should know, lady. Your abduction was…let us say that it was necessary.’

  ‘It was beyond belief! I want to go home—now.’ I turned to Francis. ‘I don’t want to be here. Take me back to Cold Harbour. Since you left my escort lying in the road, you can escort me.’

  ‘Ah…’ Francis slid a glance towards his coconspirator, leaving it to Richard to answer.

  ‘No. You will remain here until I decide that you will leave.’

  A little frisson of—of what?—shivered along my skin, like the draught of cool evening air after a long hot day. Not fear. Perhaps of anticipation, a desire to measure what was in truth between us. Richard’s face was as implacable as his will. Edward might cloak his determination with charm and a winning smile. Richard did not bother. I thought I would test that will, as I was wont to do at Middleham, to see if I could break it. I put all the disdain I could into my voice.

  ‘You will simply follow his orders?’ I demanded of Francis.

  ‘By God, I will. I’ll leave you two to sort out your differences.’ And with a rueful smile, and a swift movement to press an encouraging kiss to my cheek, Francis was gone, leaving me to face Richard.

  I steeled myself to show no trace of any emotion. I was every inch the Princess. ‘Perhaps you will do me the courtesy to explain.’

  Richard waited until the door was closed at Francis’s back. ‘You want an explanation. Well, I will tell you. I want you to wed me.’

  ‘Wed you?’ It was the last thing I expected to hear.

  ‘Yes. And soon.’

  ‘That’s…that’s ridiculous…’

  ‘You don’t believe me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I cannot make it any plainer.’ There it was, the flash of temper I remembered when he was challenged. It came to me that, since becoming Constable of England, very few people dared to question the will of Richard of Gloucester. He did not take kindly to it. But in my present mood, I would defy him. It would give me the greatest of pleasure.

  I thought carefully and planned my response. ‘You are very plain,’ I admitted. ‘Perhaps I don’t question your intent—although I can hardly believe it—but I certainly question your motive. I think it has something to do with Clarence. I don’t know what lies between you and your brother, but I will not be a part of it. I didn’t understand Francis’s reference, but if my marriage is part of some scheme between you, I won’t have it.’

  ‘Ah…Francis was indiscreet. You always were quick of understanding.’

  ‘It wasn’t difficult!’

  Richard frowned at me, hardly lover-like. ‘My motives, as you put it, are of the best. My sentiments have not changed, Anne.’

  ‘Have they not?’

  ‘I remember when we parted in the chapel of Warwick Castle, telling you that you had my love for all time. Have you forgotten? The words were not spoken lightly.’ The obsidian eyes glittered with frustration, but I was not of a mind to be gentle.

  ‘I have not forgotten. I believed you. But we are no longer children, driven by childish emotions.’ It was like throwing a gauntlet at his feet and I enjoyed seeing his eyes narrow. ‘We both know—who should know better?—that personal desires and politics do not always play out well together. That love can languish under the demands of honour and duty.’ I lifted my chin, a gesture guaranteed to stoke his anger higher. ‘I remember hearing that you would wed Mary of Burgundy.’
/>   ‘A marriage that never came to fruition. But you wed Edward of Lancaster.’ The implied criticism was harsh, his eyes dark with what I might in happier times have read as jealousy. Now I thought it was fury.

  ‘I did. It was not of my choosing.’

  ‘And I suppose any feelings you had for me died a sudden death when the future crown of England hovered over your pretty brow,’ he added bitterly.

  I shook my head, horrified that he should so condemn me without a hearing. As a log fell in the hearth with a shower of sparks, I found my voice. ‘I have been at Court well nigh a month. If marriage is in your mind, why have you made no effort to engage my attention or my affections? I think I should tell you that it hurt me.’

  Richard exhaled in a sigh, but still held my accusatory gaze. ‘I know. I knew that it must. I’m guilty as charged, without excuse. But if you think it was easy for me to see you hurt…’ His words faltered. ‘Before we get into that…Since you still doubt me, let me prove the honesty of my actions. Come with me.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Don’t argue. I see you still argue about everything. Did you argue with the Prince?’

  I flushed. I would not tell him that often it had been too dangerous to argue with the Prince.

  ‘I see that you did.’ Richard opened the door and with a flourish waved me through before him. When I still hesitated he waited. His eyes caught mine, held them with their dark fire, daring me to refuse. If I did, I thought he might just grab my wrist and drag me with him. So, with head high, I walked through.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I tried again.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  I gave up, knowing it was all I was going to get. It was proving to be an evening of surprises.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I WALKED with him along corridors and through reception rooms that I knew well, and then into those I did not. Quiet rooms, softly lit, with none of the usual bustle of courtiers and squires or self-important clerks with their documents and matters of business. Family rooms. We did not speak. Then Richard touched my arm by a closed door where he gave a light tap, opened it on the invitation from within and motioned for me to enter before him. I walked in, not knowing what to expect. If he thought he could persuade me by some subtle seduction in his own chambers, he was far from the truth of it…Startled, I halted, made a rapid curtsy. I had not expected to be shown into the private chamber of the King.