“But how could she have known? Henry has been in exile most of his life. He has never been heir to the crown.”
“In her mind, he always has been. She is obsessed with him.” Cecily grabbed Elizabeth’s arms and her eyes darted around almost as in fear. “Bess, be careful. It is not you she cares for but your royal blood.”
“Of course, that is why our marriage was arranged in the first place.” She was still in wonder of her sister’s wildly swinging moods and bold accusations. “But now Henry and I are growing to love one another. We have been united in the eyes of God.”
“I will tell you only because I have already spoken unwisely,” Cecily continued. “She will not allow Henry to arrange a marriage for me until you have produced an heir. I am meant to be the spare.”
Elizabeth looked into her sister’s eyes and saw sincerity within them. She looked across the room at Henry. He seemed so happy to be her husband, but he kept her sister within his reach. Her head drooped and she closed her eyes. Cecily would not lie or purposely hurt her. There may be few that she could trust completely, but Cecily was certainly one of them.
“I am very sorry that my husband has placed you in this awkward position.”
“Bess, you were so joyous a moment ago. It is quite possible that Henry does not even know of his mother’s plan. It was she who told me when I inquired about betrothal arrangements.” She grasped Elizabeth’s hands as if they were a lifeline. “Please, be happy. If you love Henry, give him a son and all will be well.”
The emotional blow had hurt, as had learning the truth about her brothers, but Elizabeth was learning that she must make the most of the information she gained. Rather than remaining a pawn on the royal chessboard, she would be a wise and empowered queen. She lifted her head and smiled at Cecily.
“You are right, Cecily. Margaret is not the queen. I am. I will give my husband a son, and I will make sure that he gives you a husband to your liking.”
The sisters shared an embrace and a look of understanding before rejoining the party, each feeling like they were a few years older and wiser.
February 11, 1486
With her eyes still closed, Elizabeth relished the feeling of the feather mattress beneath her, heavy covers above, and little Margaret snuggled close for warmth. Since Edward’s imprisonment, Margaret had clung to Elizabeth with ferocity. Elizabeth wished that Margaret’s pain could be taken away, but Henry insisted that Edward must be held despite his obvious innocence.
Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at Margaret with her russet colored hair and pale skin. While at rest she looked youthful and lovely with just the lightest sprinkling of freckles across her nose, when awake the stresses and tragedies of her life aged her beyond her fourteen years. What comfort she could provide, Elizabeth gladly and freely gave, but nothing could take away Margaret’s loneliness over her lack of immediate family.
A wave of nausea overtook Elizabeth and distracted her from her thoughts of Margaret’s situation. She sat up quickly, afraid that she would be sick. Cecily was awake and saw the look on her sister’s face. She rushed across the room with a clean chamber pot and arrived at Elizabeth’s bedside just in time.
After retching for a few minutes, Elizabeth weakly thanked her sister and climbed from the bed to avoid disturbing Margaret. Cecily sent the pot away with one of the ladies in the outer chamber so that Elizabeth would not be further sickened by the scent that was quickly filling the room. She opened a shutter and let in the frosty February air.
“Thank you, Cecily, for your quick reaction,” Elizabeth had huddled in a chair before the fire and pulled a robe tightly around herself.
Cecily closed the shutter before the room grew too chilly and crossed to her sister. She was happier staying with Elizabeth than with their mother, so she had remained in Elizabeth’s household after Christmas. Sitting down in the other chair before the fire, she looked knowingly at Elizabeth.
“You feel better now,” she stated rather than asked.
“Yes, I think I do,” Elizabeth said with some surprise. “It came and went rather quickly. I’m not even sure what brought it on.”
“You’re not?”
Seeing the skeptical look on Cecily’s face, the truth dawned on Elizabeth. “Already? Could it be?”
“It is the only time our mother ever showed any sign of illness.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she mentally counted the weeks. She and Henry had been married just over three weeks, but her last course had been about three weeks before that. She smiled triumphantly and placed a hand over her flat stomach that gave away no secrets.
“I believe you are correct, dear sister,” she said with greater calm than she felt. She wanted to jump for joy and run to tell Henry.
“You must wait until you are certain,” Cecily said as though reading Elizabeth’s thoughts.
“Of course, I must wait,” she said as she rose and went to Cecily. She took her hands and continued, “Don’t you see? All will be well. Henry and I are content together. His mother will be happy with the promise of an heir, and you will be free to marry.”
Cecily simply nodded, failing to be caught up in Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. She was not sure that any marriage Margaret Stanley may arrange for her would be worth getting excited about. However, she was glad for her sister and gathered her in a loving embrace.
“Do you know what day it is?” Cecily asked, still holding firmly the thin figure that would soon round with new life.
“Oh, Cecily, you know that I am not one for keeping the calendar.”
“Happy birthday, sister dear. You are twenty years old today.”
March 1486
Morning sickness continued to plague Elizabeth, so Margaret was included in her secret. Margaret was thrilled with the news and the fact that she was considered mature enough to be confided in. She waited on Elizabeth with increased enthusiasm and jumped up each time Elizabeth moved or muttered. Finally, Cecily had to take her aside and point out that the other ladies were certain to guess at Elizabeth’s condition if she continued her exaggerated servitude.
Feeling confident at last, Elizabeth decided to tell Henry the happy news once she could count twelve weeks since her last course. A fluttering in her stomach completely unrelated to nausea filled her as she waited for him to come to her.
“Elizabeth, you look radiant,” Henry said as he entered the room and pulled her into his arms.
“You also are looking well,” Elizabeth said when he released her. She looked up at him and had to admit that he did appear more relaxed and healthy since their marriage. A smile brightened her face at the thought that she was such a blessing to him.
“I must thank you for asking me here,” he said, and he led her to the chairs before the fire where she and Cecily had sat when she first discovered the news she was about to share with him. “Without your summons, I would have never been able to free myself from councilors and petitioners.”
“Henry, you must remember that you are the one who is king,” she said teasingly. Margaret Stanley may have always dreamed of her son wearing the crown, but she had not prepared him for the reality of doing so. “Send them from your rooms in a rage a couple of times, and they will cease their bullying.”
Henry laughed. “Oh, Elizabeth. As if you have ever sent anyone away in a rage.” He stood and moved his chair closer to hers.
Her laughter joined his. “Maybe not, but it seemed effective for my father.” She discreetly examined his features. He seemed unperturbed, but she wasn’t sure how he took mentions of her father being king.
They settled into comfortable silence for a few moments before Elizabeth could wait no longer.
“Henry, I wanted to speak with you about something very important.”
He broke his gaze from the fire to look at her. “What is it, my love?”
“Who do you plan on marrying Cecily to?” She wasn’t sure what had made her ask that at this moment. Since her wedding day, neither she nor
Cecily had mentioned the spare princess theory.
If Henry was surprised or embarrassed by the question, he hid it well. He seemed to consider the question as though he had not thought much about it.
“Do you have someone in mind?” he asked, turning the question back to her.
Now Elizabeth wished she had spoken to Cecily about this. Was there a man that Cecily would want to have suggested? She was unsure. Cecily had been happy with Ralph Scrope, but Elizabeth knew that he was not someone she should mention.
“Of course not. I simply recognize that my sister is lonely and desires a family.”
“It seems curious that you ask if you do not have someone in mind,” Henry pressed.
Elizabeth felt a flush rising in her face, so she determined to change the subject. “It is only that I am so happy in our marriage that I wish the same for my sister. She is my dearest friend, you know.”
“I will spend some time considering her situation.”
His lack of commitment to the subject discouraged Elizabeth somewhat, but she moved closer to him with resolve. “Are you pleased with me as a wife, Henry?”
He slid from his seat and kneeled in front of her. “I love you with all my heart,” he said with his eyes fixed upon hers. “Have I given you reason to doubt it?”
“Not in the least,” she insisted and pulled him up towards her. “In fact, I couldn’t be more pleased,” she said with a secretive smile on her face.
“What is this about?”
“Oh, Henry,” she sighed. “I believe that I am with child.”
Elizabeth was not sure what she had expected, but certainly it had not been for the king of England to jump up and whoop with complete lack of royal dignity. He lifted Elizabeth from her seat and spun her around the room.
“You have made me the happiest man in England!”
She laughed and wondered how she had ever doubted him.
“When? When will my son be born?”
“Or your daughter,” she said mischievously, the firelight causing her eyes to glitter.
“Do not tease,” he said, pulling her close to his chest.
“I believe we can expect him, or her, in October. It is quite possible that I actually conceived on our wedding night,” she admitted with a blush.
He kissed her ardently and buried his hands in her thick coppery hair. “Then our union is truly blessed by God.”
“I believe it is,” she agreed as she enthusiastically returned his kiss.
~~~~
As soon as Henry had been told, Elizabeth’s pregnancy became public knowledge. Her belly seemed to have been waiting for it to be acceptable to expand because her dresses felt tight the very next day. Ladies were set to altering and sewing gowns to accommodate Elizabeth’s figure as it filled out. Nobody was happier than Margaret Stanley about the news.
Elizabeth’s relationship with her mother-in-law was precarious. At times, the older woman seemed fond of Elizabeth and they shared a common love for Henry. This was also their main point of contention as Lady Margaret seemed to be jealous of her own daughter-in-law if Henry spent what she considered too much time with his wife.
She insisted upon holding the queen’s rooms of the palace rather than relinquishing them to Elizabeth. Henry justified this with the fact that he frequently discussed decisions of state with his mother late into the night. Elizabeth knew that she was seen as weak and insignificant because she did not insist on her rights, but the reward did not seem worth the fight. Lady Margaret would have been disappointed to know how frequently her son visited Elizabeth’s rooms despite the fact that they were not connected to his own.
Elizabeth’s mother was comfortably settled at Cheneygates House across the Thames from the palace. It was an ideal distance, close enough to be on hand when needed and far enough away to not be a daily burden. Elizabeth loved her mother but found herself too often on edge in her presence. They were too different in personality, with the older Elizabeth constantly in need of controlling the events and people around her, while the younger was more apt to trust in God and the people he had placed in her life.
Edward’s imprisonment was the only part of Elizabeth’s life that upset her and made her feel helpless. Whenever she attempted to bring the subject of her cousin up in conversation with Henry, he refused to discuss it. He was adamant that the boy remain in the Tower. Unlike her brothers, Edward did appear to be safe and relatively happy there. His sister, Margaret, visited him every few days and made sure that he had tutors and time in the courtyard. What future he was preparing for was anyone’s guess.
The sweating sickness had finally dissipated, though Elizabeth still mourned the loss of Emma so soon after becoming her friend. People had returned to work, and the jobs left open had been quickly filled. Individuals continued to privately mourn, but the city of London was leaving death behind and moving toward a future that looked peaceful and bright.
Elizabeth strolled in the gardens that were beginning to swell with life just as she was. Her figure may not have revealed her condition too much yet, but the way her hand stayed protectively over her navel did. This was the baby that would end all division between Lancaster and York. No more war with its meaningless death and destruction would touch England’s fields. Instead of trampled crops and rivers that ran red with blood, the people could enjoy safety and the bounty of their labors.
She reached out to touch the cherry blossoms. They were beautiful pink clouds for the few weeks that they appeared each year. Her eyes closed as her hands gently passed along the surface of the petals and she breathed deep of the fragrant air.
“Hello, darling.”
Her eyes flashed open, and she smiled up at Henry. “Have your councilors given you an intermission?”
“Being king does still have some advantages.” He wrapped his arms around her thickening waist. “For example, he has a beautiful wife.”
He kissed her lightly and they stood in companionable quiet until Elizabeth spoke. “What are they concerned about today?”
“How do you know they are concerned about something?” Was that a gleam of distrust in his eye?
She shrugged. “They are always worrying over something. I believe it is the utmost task of being a councilor.”
His curious look passed as quickly as it had appeared, and he laughed lightly again. “In both statements you are correct,” he admitted. “Men have arrived saying that Francis Lovell is gathering rebels to him.”
“Francis Lovell, Richard’s man? He is alive?”
“Apparently so, and he has not forgotten his former master but intends to continue the fight for him.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “What can he hope to accomplish?” She was dismayed that Lovell would not be content with her as York queen. Why must men always find reasons to make war? She wondered if that would change once she gave birth to a son.
“Their intent was to attack when I leave on progress next month. I can only imagine that he had hoped to place a York prince on the throne in my place.”
“But who?” Elizabeth asked without thinking. She realized her mistake when she saw the I-told-you-so look on Henry’s face. “Edward,” she said. Didn’t these men realize the effect they had on her cousin’s life when they fought in his name?
“Now you understand.”
Elizabeth sighed as she leaned into him. “I understand. I do not like it and wish it was not the case, but I understand.”
“You were young when your uncle George died, but surely you remember enough to know that all kings, even your father, have had to make decisions for the good of the country that they wish they did not have to make.”
Elizabeth remembered little of George, duke of Clarence. He was Margaret and Edward’s father, and he had been executed by her father, his brother, for treason. Would Elizabeth be able to pass such a judgment? She doubted it, and, seeing the mess it left for Margaret and Edward, Elizabeth wished her father hadn’t either.
“You know I sup
port you in your decisions, Henry.”
“Publicly, yes. Privately, I know you wish I was more merciful.”
“I wish your mother was more merciful,” she said, allowing a little anger into her voice.
“My mother?” He had the audacity to seem surprised.
Elizabeth spun away from him. “Yes, your mother. I am fully aware that it is the Lady Margaret who desires to lock up every remaining York and throw away the keys. As your foremost advisor, she carries great power.”
Henry would not be goaded into an argument. “No greater power than your own, I assure you. I keep Edward because I think it is the right thing to do, not because my mother demands it.”
Her eyes downcast, Elizabeth refused to say more on the topic and was disappointed in herself for ruining their few moments together.
He turned her toward him and put his hand on her chin and tilted it upwards. “You must concern yourself only with the health of our son,” he said, placing his other hand on her belly. “Everything else, you may trust to me.”
He placed a soft kiss on her lips and was gone before she could think of anything to say in response.
April 1486
Henry left on progress, and Elizabeth remained behind. The decision to stay in London had been a difficult one. Not only did she wish to be with her husband, but she felt certain that he would be better received in the north with her at his side. That was part of the reason that he was determined to go alone. He must establish his rule in his own right, not because a beloved York princess stood beside him. His main concern was her health and that of his unborn son. He never questioned that the baby would be a boy, but he prayed daily that he would be healthy.
Though she missed Henry, Elizabeth filled her time with sewing tiny clothes in the company of Margaret and Cecily, visiting her mother and younger sisters, and writing letters to be carried to her husband. Worry threatened to bubble up in her when she heard continued rumors of Francis Lovell drawing the discontented to him. Try as she might to focus on her growing baby and household duties, Elizabeth could not ignore the fact that those believing they were being loyal to her family may kill her husband.
Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen: The Story of Elizabeth of York Page 12
