“What?” Their mother looked back and forth between her two daughters. “Of course I am alright. I barely knew the boy who was prepared to take the place of my own children. Richard will have to name one of you as his heir now.”
“One of our brothers, you mean,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes. One of your brothers,” she said in a humoring tone, as though she addressed someone lacking intelligence. She turned and left the room.
When she disappeared, Elizabeth and Cecily found themselves in each other’s arms.
“Poor boy! Gone, just like our Mary!” exclaimed Cecily.
“What will Richard and Anne do now?” Elizabeth whispered into her sister’s soft, silvery hair.
Cecily pulled back enough to look into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I truly do not know.”
Over the coming weeks, news reached Elizabeth’s ears that Richard and Anne had been devastated, not only by their son’s death but by the fact that neither of them had been with him in his final moments. She also heard the whispered judgment that Richard had been cursed when he took the place of Edward V and was now being punished with the loss of his own young Edward. Elizabeth was more determined than ever to find out the truth about her brothers, but Richard had yet to return to the city.
He and Anne held an elaborate funeral for their precious son at Middleham before they reluctantly returned to court.
September 1484
The King and Queen had reentered London without celebration, rather quietly and cloaked in black of mourning. Even those not close to her began to whisper that Anne looked unhealthy and gaunt.
Poor Anne. Poor Edward. Was it worth it, Richard? Elizabeth longed to ask him. She yearned to ask God if these tribulations were truly his judgement upon the usurper king or if it were simply fortune’s wheel turning.
Anne kept to her own rooms and was rarely seen after their arrival. Richard was visible but not approachable as he scurried from paperwork to council meetings, and from dinners with ambassadors to overseeing the creation of a new and fairer method of trial by jury. He entrenched himself in his work to distract himself from his buried son and withering wife.
One of the few times he allowed himself time to relax was when he went riding, so Elizabeth determined to approach him then. Despite her concern for him in his despair over his son, she was becoming impatient to learn the fate of her brothers.
She rose early and had her horse made ready, not caring if her ploy was obvious to the servants she was forced to include in her plan. Seeing the indiscreet glances some of them gave her as she ordered her riding clothes and saddle made ready, she knew that they had things on their mind besides a murder inquiry. Did they think her so shallow? She admitted that Richard stirred something within her heart, after all he was the king, a powerful, handsome, intelligent man. But that would not matter if she discovered that he had mistreated her brothers.
Waiting on a bench near the stables, she practiced her words in her mind for when he appeared.
“Good day to you, my lady.”
She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had not taken note of his approach.
“Your grace,” she said as she stood and immediately fell into a perfect curtsey.
“Please, rise,” he said with his hand on her elbow. “You mustn’t be so formal in private.” He smiled at her, and she had to force herself to remember her mission.
“Are you going for a ride? It is a beautiful day.” She followed his gaze up at the blue sky with only a few puffy clouds and took in a deep breath of cool, autumn scented air.
“I am. I would be honored if you would join me.” He used the hand on her elbow to guide her toward the stables.
As they entered, he addressed a groom, “Please have the lady Elizabeth’s horse made ready. She will be accompanying me this morning.”
“The lady’s horse is already waiting for her,” the groom responded with a curious look at Elizabeth who turned her face away to hide her blush.
“Indeed?” Richard would reveal no more than raised eyebrows at this news in front of spying eyes and listening ears. As if he had expected this news, he simply assisted Elizabeth onto her sleek brown courser before leaping into his own saddle.
Soon they were trotting toward the forest, leaving speculative whispers in their wake. Instead of giving them mind, Elizabeth took joy from the small creatures that scampered away from their path and birds flying from trees causing rustling of branches and some falling leaves. They were deep in the forest where the sun could not quite reach the ground through the rich green canopy when Richard turned toward her and broke the silence.
“You wished to speak to me.”
Now that her opportunity was served to her on a golden platter, Elizabeth couldn’t find her words. Suddenly unsure of herself, she wondered if he would be offended by her inquiry or if he would wonder why she hadn’t asked sooner.
“You were waiting for me, that much is clear. What is it, Bess?”
His use of her name that only family employed, loosened her tongue. She took a deep breath and forged forth. “I was hoping that you would allow me to visit my brothers.” She wanted to hang her head and hide her face as she waited for his response, but she forced herself to look him straight in the eye and examine his reaction.
He hesitated, and Elizabeth felt terror rising in her. Darkness seemed to deepen beneath the thick trees. The realization hit her that she had ridden out to the middle of the forest with the man her mother accused of killing her brothers. What if she was right?
“I am afraid it would be impossible.”
Elizabeth backed and turned her horse, preparing to flee. Though her throat constricted her voice to a whisper, she would not abandon her mission.
“And why would it be impossible, my lord?”
Richard seemed to shake himself from inner thoughts, taking in her aura of fear. His posture slackened, and just for a moment his eyes closed and lips clamped tightly shut. When he looked at her again, his face was accusing, yet somehow also sad. “I thought, of all people, that you trusted me, Bess. Yet you look as though you are afraid that I may be possessed by demons.”
She forced herself to be calm and narrowed her eyes in examining his face. Fine lines were etched there that she swore had not existed a few months ago. He seemed hurt rather than angry.
“Why would it be impossible?” she repeated.
He edged his horse closer to hers, and she controlled her urge to cringe away. She sat confidently upon the back of her favorite horse in a way that revealed her Woodville heritage. Not encouragingly approachable, but as proud as her mother, she awaited his response without shifting.
“Bess, how would I hide your progress to the north? It would be evident to all who search for the boys that you go to visit them.” He had a pained expression on his face as though he needed her, of all people, to believe him. He held a hand out toward her, pleading with her to understand.
Relief flooded through her body, and the features of her face softened, lessening her resemblance to the dowager queen. “You are hiding them.”
“Of course,” he said. “You do not believe the vile rumors?” He looked as though he wanted to pace and yanked on his confused horse’s reins instead. “I suppose you believe that I am poisoning Anne as well.” His lips formed a thin line as he clenched his jaw to keep from saying more.
“Poisoning Anne?” Elizabeth eased her horse toward him, her fear gone and sympathy replacing it.
He released his grip on the reins and took a deep breath, slowly releasing tension from his shoulders and jaw.
“That is the latest rumor to explain Anne’s failing health. In my haste to marry someone more capable of providing me with an heir, I am poisoning her.” He shook his head at the thought that he would murder the woman he had fought so hard to marry. His eyes seemed to search the woods for a solution.
“Oh, Richard. I’m so sorry.” She had not heard this rumor and realized how sheltered she was in her posit
ion as illegitimate princess. “Is Anne fairing so poorly?” She moved to close the gap between them.
He nodded. “God help her, she is. I know nothing more that can be done for her. She wastes away and coughs up blood, though she tries to hide it from me. I am no fool.”
“No. Nobody would accuse you of that. And nobody who knows you would accuse you of being a murderer either.”
She had moved close enough to lay a comforting hand on his arm. He glanced at it and seemed to make a decision not to say more. He could not bear to see the hurt and humiliation on her face if she knew that some people believed that he was poisoning Anne in order to marry her. She looked at him in utter trust and innocence that he was sure he had never possessed, even at her age.
“I am sorry that I cannot take you to your brothers. It is safer if they remain in hiding.”
“I understand. Would it be possible to write to them? It would give my mother such comfort.”
He sighed, and Elizabeth wondered if any man upon becoming king was ever pleased with the way it turned out.
“Write your letters and I will see if I can have them discreetly delivered.”
“Thank you, your grace. I will keep you and sweet Anne in my prayers.”
“God is the best help for her.”
Deciding he would find little comfort in the woods this day, he led the way out of the clearing. Richard and Elizabeth rode back to the stables in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
December 1484
Elizabeth walked toward Anne’s rooms wondering how she would find the frail queen. Since her forest ride with Richard, she had seen him only in public and had not been able to ask him further about her brothers or Anne’s health. Richard and Anne did all they could to present a normal face in court, though few were fooled. All whispered that she was dying. Those who were kind said it was of the wasting disease, others poison.
An attendant opened the door for Elizabeth, and she found Anne up and dressed, sitting with some embroidery. Elizabeth was pained by the way Anne’s dress hung limp on her thin form. Her seamstress could not take her dresses in quickly enough to keep up with the queen’s shrinking body.
Elizabeth curtseyed before her. “You wanted to see me, your grace.”
“Yes. Please sit next to me,” Anne said with a smile. Anne had once been a beauty who captured the heart of young Richard before he was even duke of Gloucester. Her beauty had been devoured by cruel illness and left her looking haggard at twenty-eight. Her once shimmering hair was now listless and dull, yet her face was still open and kind.
Sitting next to Anne, Elizabeth fidgeted with her trailing sleeves. She was not used to sitting with nothing in her hands.
“Do you see the fabric on that bench?” Anne asked as she nodded toward the other side of the room.
Elizabeth stood and crossed the floor to examine it. As befitted a queen, it was soft purple velvet that felt luxurious under Elizabeth’s fingers.
“It is beautiful. Is it for your Christmas gown?”
Anne nodded. “And yours, if it meets your approval.”
Elizabeth rubbed the fine fabric through her fingers, and imagined what it would be like for her and Anne to present themselves dressed to match, showing their love for each other. Surely that would quiet the rumors that caused the blush to rise to Elizabeth’s cheeks when she heard servants whispering of it. She returned to Anne and kneeled at her feet.
“I would be honored, your grace, but surely it is too great a privilege for me.”
Anne placed her small, white hand beneath Elizabeth’s chin to raise her eyes to meet her own. “I can think of nobody who I would rather honor. It brings me joy to see your youth and beauty at court. My own sister was taken from me. I would love to share this moment with you.”
“Of course, your grace. Thank you for thinking of me.”
When the day came to wear their matching gowns, Elizabeth wondered if it had been a mistake. Gossip mongers refused to let go of the story of Richard’s plan to replace poor Anne with her. The fact that she was his niece and he had been considering various marriage matches for her seemed to make little difference to them. Elizabeth was beautiful. Men wanted her and assumed that Richard did as well.
She walked into the great hall and her eyes roamed the room until they fell on Anne. Now she was sure it had been a mistake. Elizabeth was not vain, but she knew how she looked in her gown with her bright copper hair falling in curls with winter flowers entwined into the thick locks. Anne looked as though she had aged ten years since the public had last seen her. Her auburn hair looked dull and brown, and bones protruded anywhere her skin was exposed. In comparison, Elizabeth looked young, healthy, and – possibly most importantly of all – fertile.
If there had been any hope of Anne providing Richard with another heir, it was extinguished by her presentation at the Christmas festivities.
Elizabeth hoped that those in attendance also took note of the loving concern on Richard’s face as he looked down at his diminutive queen, and the gentle way he kept his hand on her arm or waist.
As those near began to take notice of her presence and turn with appreciative exclamations, Elizabeth determined to enjoy this evening without concern for rumors, mysteries, or the continuation of Richard’s dynasty. She held her head high and smiled, accepting the compliments of those crowding to be near her. Taking her hand or touching her arm to gain her attention, several men fought to be the one she settled her eyes and interest on. Though she danced with many of them, she was disheartened to realize that none of them particularly captivated her interest. She kept finding that her eyes were following Richard as he moved through the room. When she danced with him, she felt as if she were floating on a wispy summer cloud. She couldn’t keep herself from wishing that he would hold her more firmly, then feeling guilty when her eyes met Anne’s and the queen smiled lovingly at her.
When Elizabeth took a rare moment to herself to rest on a window seat, she discreetly watched Anne and wondered if she should approach her to show their solidarity to those in attendance. Anne was trying to be jovial, but her stooped shoulders and pale face were evidence of her weakness.
What did Anne think of the way her life had turned out? First married to Edouard, Henry VI’s son, while her sister, Isobel, had been married to George, Richard’s brother, did Anne think about her father’s skillful play at putting a daughter on either side of the civil war, one married to a Lancastrian and the other to a York prince? She seemed to be a more than dutiful wife. Was she happy with Richard? Why had she given him only one son?
Elizabeth shook her head of the pointless meanderings and stood, determined to join Anne in the face of those who assumed them to be enemies.
“Your grace,” Elizabeth said as she swept into a deep curtsey.
“Bess,” Anne said with a hand on her arm to raise her up. “I knew the purple velvet would suit you to perfection!”
“You flatter me, your grace. It is your beauty that shines this evening.”
Anne dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. “I am pleased that you escaped your suitors long enough to visit with me. Join me in that alcove.” She directed Elizabeth to a quiet spot.
As Elizabeth took the proffered seat she wondered what picture her and Anne must make to their audience. They could be considered nothing less, the partygoers who were giving them sidelong glances and more obvious stares as they whispered behind hands or drunkenly exclaimed that Richard had both his women in attendance. How did Anne tolerate it?
“Your grace, are you feeling well? Can I get you anything?” Elizabeth prepared to stand and attend to Anne’s wishes as soon as she was seated. Anne’s soft touch on her arm kept her in her seat.
“Bess, I am perfectly fine and waited on by overly eager ladies as it is. I wish only to speak with you.”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth placed her hands in her lap and forced herself to be still.
Anne smiled. “First, you can relax.” She pu
t a small hand on Elizabeth’s. “I am as aware as you are of the talk, the looks, and the rumors. I have no fear that you wish to replace me or that it is my husband’s desire.”
Elizabeth looked down at the small hand on hers. Even in this minor detail, Anne’s poor health was evinced in the protruding bones and paper thin skin compared to Elizabeth’s soft, smooth flesh. Anne moved it to direct Elizabeth’s face toward her own.
“Look at me, Bess,” she said with intensity. “I know you walk around in a cloud of doubt about your brothers, fear of rumors, and concern for your future. I can assure you on all accounts. Your brothers are kept safely in the north. I pay no heed to gossip and neither should you. As for your future,” she added this with a twinkle in her eye. “I happen to know that Richard is considering a good match for you.”
“Truly?” Elizabeth grasped Anne’s thin hand in both of her own. “I do feel that my life is so aimless, leaving me too much time for ungodly anxiety.”
“Yes, my dear Bess. I hope that he will be speaking to you soon on this matter.”
“And my brothers?”
“I know that they are safe.”
“Praise God,” Elizabeth whispered. She silently thanked God for Anne and her strength to give support to one it would be so easy for her to condemn. “Uncle Richard has certainly found a treasure in you, your grace,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
Anne patted Elizabeth’s hand and noticed more than Elizabeth guessed of the aside whispers and sidelong glances the two of them were receiving. “He will take good care of you.”
“Oh, thank you, Anne!” Elizabeth leaned over to envelope Anne in an embrace. Her joy was somewhat diminished as she felt Anne’s delicate frame, even smaller than expected under the layers of flowing, rich fabric. She was careful to remove any look of dismay from her face before pulling back. “I look forward to speaking to my uncle. Thank you, again.”
With the corners of her mouth slightly upturned, Anne watched as Elizabeth rose and left with her with her thoughts of just who would end up marrying the beautiful princess.
Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen: The Story of Elizabeth of York Page 5
