‘But not in that way, surely? He asked me if I wished to make myself a more appealing marriage proposition, but I did not. Truly!’
He stretched out for her hand and squeezed her fingers, a natural and kindly action that encouraged her.
‘Your nephew frightens me, Sir Jon.’
‘He frightens everyone. Even himself, I fancy. He is everything of which he so falsely accuses Richard. Richard could sleep at night, at ease with his conscience. My nephew cannot. Henry Tudor is not . . . quite balanced.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It is not important. I was saying that Richard could sleep, Henry finds it difficult.’
‘I think you have a good opinion of my uncle?’
‘Not as good as yours, I fancy. After all, he did have me arrested two or more years ago for plotting rebellion ‘
‘Which you had. As I recall, you attempted to abduct my brothers from the Tower. What was your purpose? To be rid of them for Henry?’
‘Good God, no! Henry was of no consequence then. This was right at the beginning, when Richard had just taken the throne that many still believed was actually his nephew’s. Your brother was considered to be King Edward V, my lady.’
‘But he was not, Sir Jon. The children of Edward IV are all illegitimate. And anyway, considering your crime, you were dealt with lightly. My uncle had you released.’
‘True, albeit without what property I had at that time.’ He smiled.
She smiled as well. ‘So you have no reason to like him particularly, any more than he had reason to like you. But even so, you do not seem overtly hostile to him.’
‘I admired him. Albeit with great reluctance.’
‘I felt no such reluctance, I can assure you. No one could think as well of him as me.’
‘Ah, but he forgot himself entirely with you. Which I can understand.’
‘We were speaking of his successor,’ she reminded him.
‘So we were. Henry will send for us both, my lady, and not together, so be aware. Be also aware that your so-called contract with Ralph Scrope may have come into his hands. And that Margaret may have told him you are with child. So, prepare yourself.’
Her heart plunged further. ‘Can anyone be prepared to face him?’
‘Probably not. Lady Cicely, I must pray Henry is convinced by his mother that I am a loyal uncle who did not give you anything to whisper to Richard. If he takes the other view, it will not go well for me.’
‘Please do not say that.’
‘You are concerned?’
She nodded. ‘Of course I am. How could I not be?’
He considered her. ‘You seem different today, my lady. Stronger, perhaps.’
‘I am. I have been foolish, Sir Jon, indulging my grief, keeping it so close that it shadowed me completely. Now I am again the Cicely Plantagenet you first saw at Sheriff Hutton.’
‘I am glad. I was sad to see you brought so very low. I understand, though, because your feelings for Richard are understandable.’
‘He was irresistible to me.’
‘And he should have known better.’
She smiled. ‘You say you understand my love, Sir Jon, but I do not think you do. Have you ever experienced something so overpoweringly beautiful and brilliant that it transcends everything? Nothing else matters, just the two of you, and the love you share?’
He pursed his lips a little ruefully. ‘No, I have not. Nothing even remotely close. Although I think I will before very much longer,’ he added, but as an aside. Then he looked at her again. ‘Did Richard know you carried his child?’
She almost submitted to her fantasy, but managed the truth. ‘No, Sir Jon, he did not. There was very little he would not have done for me, so please do not despise him in any way for the plight I am in now. If he had lived, he would have protected me, done all he could for me. Never think ill of him.’
Sir Jon smiled. ‘And you still commit the sin with every breath, do you not?’ he said softly. ‘You say his name and are in his arms again.’
She did not answer, for it was true.
‘One thing I ask of you when—if—you become my wife. I will expect your fidelity. You may defy the words of Leviticus with Richard as often and to whatever degree you wish, but do not put horns on me with a living man. I have the right to at least ask this of you.’
‘You have my word.’ But she had to cross her fingers behind her back, because if Henry Tudor did indeed desire her, he would find a way of making her do as he wished.
‘But is your word too easily given, Lady Cicely? Have you forgotten Richard’s son, with whom you lay at Sheriff Hutton; I saw you creep from his door. Now you have learned he still lives and that he, Lincoln and Warwick will soon be released to appear at court. My nephew will never permit you to be close to Richard’s son again. Besides which, I do not think that young man will appreciate the discrepancies in timing, do you? But even if he forgives you, the one way to ensure his execution is to be found with him. I trust you understand this? John of Gloucester is forbidden, and if you have affection for him, you will remember this. My lady, do not ever assuage your guilt by telling him you lay with his father. You will be doing it for yourself, without thought for him. If you wish to crush him beyond all redemption, that will be the way to do it. So spare him that. He has lost everything, although as yet he does not know how much, so the very least you can do for him is let him keep his memories and respect for Richard.’
Tears rushed to her eyes. ‘Do not say such things, please.’
‘I am sorry. I do not enjoy upsetting you.’
‘I will never tell John the truth. Never. I could not be so cruel. You have my word.’
He nodded. ‘Good. It is better by far to let him think you lay with me, that I somehow coerced you.’
‘I will not let anyone think you coerced me, sir, not even John. You do not deserve it, because you have been all that is good to me. I will always respect you for it. I know I must confess something to him, and it will be that I went willingly to you.’
He smiled again. ‘As you wish. In the meantime we must be convincing to others. That is why I took your hand yesterday. I saw my sister at that window and acted on impulse. It was an opportune moment and I became an opportunist. We must act as if we are lovers, or it will seem unlikely you surrendered to me willingly in Nottingham.’
‘Are you sure I am worth the aggravation of this marriage? I am not a mere bride, I am so many other things too. And you will be taking another man’s child as your “firstborn”.’
‘I know the problems I confront, Lady Cicely, especially the child, which I will claim as my own in a very public way.’
‘Assuming the king permits us to wed, Sir Jon, I wonder if you will always be able to look upon me with kindness? I may stand in the way of your eventual true happiness. What if you meet a lady with whom you fall in love with as I did with Richard? What then?’
‘Oh, I will weight you with stones and throw you into the River Witham. Nasty and tidal, and conveniently abutting my lands.’
She smiled. ‘You may well wish to so dispose of me.’
‘A wife who is so close to the throne must be properly cared for, my lady, and I will care for you. My word is given, and you may trust me to keep it. I have already said that I will make no demands of you. All I will ask is that in public at least, you behave as if you care for me just a little.’
‘I do care for you, sir.’
He turned her to face him properly. ‘Then I suggest you commence a demonstration right now, because some of my sister’s ladies have come into the garden. It would be timely to give them something interesting to report to her. I trust you agree?’
‘I do.’
‘Be convincing, my lady,’ he said softly.
‘You wish for that?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Very well.’ And so she kissed Richard, not Jon Welles. Oh, how she kissed him. It was so easy to do, because if she thought of Richard, sh
e could do anything. It will come so naturally to you that you will hardly know you do it . . .
Sir Jon drew back, startled. ‘Dear God above, he did teach you well!’
‘It was what you wished, sir.’
‘How very foolish of me.’ But he suddenly put his hand to her chin, not unkindly, and made her look at him. ‘I know what you just did, Cicely, and by doing it you proved to me that you can play me false, if never be false to Richard Plantagenet. I may have said, too lightly, that such pretence would be exciting to me, and to most men. It was said too carelessly, for while it did excite me, it also disturbed me. I find I am not a man to seek pleasure regardless of anything else. Please, do not ever do it to me again.’
She felt shame. ‘Sir Jon, if I ever kiss you like that again, it will be because I mean it. You have my word. You know all there is to know of me. I have not hidden anything. You want me to behave—in public—as if we are lovers. I will. If you wish me to be restrained about it, I will. If you wish me to show passion, I will. But it will be at your behest. Your behest. I will never give you cause to wonder what I do or why I do it. I will be truthful with you. Always. Please know that.’
He nodded. ‘I believe you.’
It was said so sincerely, and gently, that for a moment her new-found composure faltered. ‘Hold me, please, because I am afraid.’
There was no hesitation. He did as she asked. ‘I will keep you safe.’
‘I will try to be a good wife to you, Sir Jon. Truly I will.’
He smiled. ‘I think it time you called me Jon, do you not agree? And for me to call you Cicely? Under the circumstances, when we will be claiming an affection that is powerful enough to have led us to fall by the wayside, so to speak, then formality with names appears a little unlikely.’
She nodded, her face still pressed to him.
He held her close, imparting what comfort he could. ‘Let me do all that is needed from now on. I will try to protect you, even to the point of endeavouring to dissuade my nephew from interrogating you, but I cannot promise success. If it is possible for us to marry in time for your child to be born legitimate, I will see that we are, even if it is without royal consent. Although, of course, the child will become a lowly Welles, and not a regal Plantagenet.’ She felt his smile.
‘Not so lowly, Jon. Not so lowly.’
‘But if the false contract comes to light, and if Henry chooses to believe it, we will be between Scylla and Charybdis, Cicely, and whether I claim the child to be mine or not, he can see to it that you are disgraced.’
Chapter Eight
‘Who was it, Cissy?’ Bess stood angrily before her kneeling sister. ‘John of Gloucester?’
‘No. He does not even know I am with child. When he does, it will break his heart.’
‘So, you really expect me to believe it was Sir Jon Welles, for whom you suddenly have this amazingly carnal attachment?’
‘It is Sir Jon’s child, Bess.’
‘Conceived in Nottingham?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you, who were closest of all to Richard, conducted an abandoned affair right under his nose, with a Lancastrian lord—Henry Tudor’s uncle? No, Cissy. However, the name Scrope does occur to me.’
‘Sweet God above, no! No! I have never even kissed Ralph Scrope, let alone lain with him! I would give him poison before I would give myself!’
Bess paused, and then nodded. ‘Well, that was vehement enough to be the truth.’ Her rosy velvet skirts dragged heavily as she began to pace to and fro.
A date for her marriage had still not been announced, because Henry did not intend to allow his reign to be seen to rely upon her Yorkist importance, yet it did so rely, for it was his promise to marry her that had won him the invaluable support of defecting Yorkists. He was determined to claim the throne by right of conquest and his own tenuous Lancastrian blood. He named Richard a usurper, even dating his sovereignty to a few days before Bosworth, thus making a traitor of anyone who supported or fought for the true and anointed King of England. Henry had no scruples, no honour and no ethics. He was an oppressor already, not simply in the making, and his coronation would take place at the end of this month of October. Just before Hallowtide.
So careful was he not to allow Bess any real political importance, that he had not even confirmed his intention to marry her. But he was aware that Cicely was with child, and it did not please him at all. Margaret had not informed him, but he learned quickly enough when Jon petitioned to be allowed to marry Cicely, and was obliged to indicate the need for some urgency.
Jon told her Henry’s reaction had been one of such unutterable rage that he had hurled a candlestick across the room, damaging a costly tapestry. Henry told his bemused half-uncle there was to be no mention of such a match in public, nor any overt display of affection or attention. All dealings between Sir Jon Welles and the Lady Cicely Plantagenet were to appear strictly platonic. That had been the end of the matter, and Cicely was afraid that in spite of Jon’s efforts to protect her, Henry Tudor would do all he could to prevent her union with his half-uncle.
John of Gloucester remained in the Tower, as did Jack and the boy Earl of Warwick. If they were still to be released, Henry gave no intimation of when. It was his pleasure to leave everyone wondering and waiting. About everything.
Cicely glanced at the window. It was very cold outside, the wind whipping wavelets on the Thames. A bleak day that suited England’s bleak new king.
Bess demanded her attention. ‘You have not answered me, Cissy.’
‘Yes, I did deceive Richard. I love Sir Jon and lay willingly with him.’
‘How can you be so dishonest?’ Bess cried. ‘You had never met Sir Jon before Sheriff Hutton. So your child cannot possibly be his.’
‘You know nothing, Bess. I was not as you thought me.’ Cicely knelt there, her hands clasped, her emerald-green gown spreading around her. The full gathers at the front still hid her condition, but sometimes, when she turned, it was unmistakable.
Bess came close. ‘I cannot have ever really known you. I shared my secrets with you, but you did not share yours with me.’
‘I had no secrets to share. Until Sir Jon.’
‘Oh, you did, Cissy, you did. You lay with someone, and it was not Sir Jon Welles. You say it was not John of Gloucester, so who else was there to whom you were close enough? It was Jack, was it not?’
‘No.’
Bess straightened again. ‘Please tell me, Cissy, for the child will be my niece or nephew.’
‘Have a care, sweetheart, or you may find yourself tempted into the truth.’ Richard suddenly spoke so clearly in Cicely’s head that she gasped.
‘What is it, Cissy?’
‘I . . . I cannot kneel like this, Bess. Please let me stand.’
‘Yes, of course. Forgive my lack of thought.’ Bess extended a hand and helped her to a chair near the fire, but lack of thought it had not been.
‘Bess, I will never name anyone other than Sir Jon. He acknowledges the child and wishes to marry me. I am more than content to accept him.’
‘No, Cissy, there is someone else in this, someone you love very much indeed.’
‘I loved Richard, but that does not mean he was my lover. You of all women should know that. My name will only be connected to Sir Jon’s.’
‘For your child’s legitimacy. Not for love. And unless Henry gives his timely consent, you will not have the complete legality you seek.’
Cicely did not answer.
‘In one way I thank God for your involvement with him, whatever that involvement actually is, because it precludes you from a much loftier match.’
‘Loftier?’
‘There has to be another reason why Henry will not marry me yet.’
Cicely’s lips parted. ‘Bess, there is no reason whatsoever for you to think such a thing! I have spoken to him twice now, once at Lambeth, and again since being here. That is all. He intends to marry you.’
Bess softened j
ust a little. ‘It is hard to forgive you for excluding me from this. I may not have been all I should have been to you when Richard was alive, but I am your sister and I do care about you.’
‘And I care about you, Bess. Tell me of you now.’ There, the subject was changed.
‘Well, Henry has nothing to do with me. You still have the honour of being the sister he has spoken to the most.’
Cicely was startled. ‘But—’
‘If he leaves you wondering if you are to be married to Sir Jon, then he leaves me wondering about my situation as well.’
‘Oh Bess, I do not know what to say. I mean, I knew he was delaying, but not that he virtually shuns you.’
‘It is not virtual, but fact. Convince me I am having a very fortunate escape,’ Bess replied wryly. ‘He is hateful, Cissy, and I cannot bear the thought of him touching me. I certainly do not want him . . . inside me.’ She shuddered. ‘You even know more of that than me, Cissy.’
‘I know nothing whatsoever of having Henry Tudor inside me,’ Cissy replied rather impishly, at last beginning to warm to Bess again.
Bess smiled. ‘Well, at least I can be sure your baby is not his!’
‘You certainly can.’
‘What is it like, Cissy? Making love, I mean. Whoever you lay with, you clearly loved him. So what did you feel when you and he. . . ?’
‘There are no words to describe how beautiful it was, Bess.’
‘You are so fortunate. I do not think I will find it beautiful to have Henry’s cold paws all over me.’
‘Bess, do you recall the message I gave you from Lady Stanley?’
‘That her beloved son is not without the capacity to love? I remember something of the sort.’
‘Well, she is right. You are so lovely, and when you wish you are delightful company. You simply do not wish where he is concerned. Play up to him, smile, be warm, touch his hand, do something. Cold haughtiness simply will not do.’
‘But he is so cold to me, Cissy.’
‘Then do something about it.’
Bess gazed at her. ‘As you would?’
‘Yes. Bess, it would not be difficult to make him much more responsive.’
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