Destiny Lies Waiting

by Diana Rubino

  We're both clever and crafty and even if we had half the brains of Elizabeth Woodville, we'd be smarter than she!

  As the chapel emptied out after Mass, Richard tugged on Denys' sleeve and motioned for her to follow him to the front.

  Then suddenly he made an abrupt twirl about and strode back down the aisle.

  "No. Let's sit in the back instead." He added, muttering, "The farther from the altar the better."

  Denys gathered her skirts and obediently sat in the last pew.

  Richard was pacing back and forth so rapidly, he almost walked in circles.

  At length she could bear it no more and said, "Richard, please sit down. You're making me dizzy."

  "I cannot sit down. I can only think on moving feet, not sitting pat."

  "What bothers you? The ringing of wedding bells?"

  "Nay, my wedding bells have been de-clappered! The blasted Queen is up to her usual tricks. And this one might even work. Oh, I'd like to de-clapper her!"

  "What has she done now?" Her voice rose with alarm. "I thought Uncle Ned gave you permission to wed Anne today."

  "He did. So, after securing permission and engaging the services of a priest, all in the space of an hour, I went to fetch my bride, but her sheep-biting father had already sequestered her away."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "Oh, it wasn't entirely his doing. He had help." He emphasized the last word with a jerk of his head.

  Denys groaned. "Oh, no."

  "Oh, yes. Queen Elizabitch is at it again." He threw his hands up. "I've been trying to find Anne. I've sent out a search party, but they've done sod all. I feel like I'm chasing my tail all over England." He pounded his fist on the edge of the pew. "Oh, we should have eloped!"

  A heavy pall descended upon her spirit. "Even Uncle Ned said you should have secured your bride in place first."

  "Well, isn't it like me to overlook the obvious? Now hell knows where she is and we're back to square one."

  She sat up straight and held out a hand to stay his pacing and reassure him. "No, not yet. All's not lost. I've come up with some solutions. I can depart the court disguised as a maid and take up residence in the north, near Castle Howard. I'm familiar with those parts, I know trustworthy folk in the district, and can pursue my quest for my family from there."

  He was shaking his head already. "It's too dangerous. I can't have you sneaking away from court, wearing disguises, wandering Britain dressed like a bloody fishwife—"

  "Very well, then, ponder my next idea. It hit me like a flash of light in the night."

  "Carry on."

  "You can marry someone else."

  "Who—me? Pray why me?" He leaned forward and his hand went to his hip. "You're the one your aunt wants to marry off. I'm just the hare who got caught in the hound's ugly jaws."

  She restrained a smile at the apt if unflattering metaphor. "Well, I shan't marry someone of the Queen's choosing. I have no intention of marrying anyone right now. I want to find my true parentage first. But when I do marry, it will be to a man of my own choosing who's courtly, handsome, and virile. Not that you're not all those things, Richard!" she added hastily.

  He nodded, egging her on. "Carry on. Let's see you wriggle your arse out of this one." His grin spread, yet it was wryly aslant. He liked making people squirm.

  "Oh, you know what I mean! I want someone like the knight who came prancing up to me after the Battle of Barnet."

  "What knight?"

  "We didn't exchange but a hello—and a rose. The crowd swept us apart. He was come and gone in a twinkling. But oh, he made me feel so special, so wanted, so—womanly. No man ever looked at me like that before. The courtyard was filled with divers maidens, yet he chose me. And do you know what he said when he handed me the rose?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know. Uh— 'Ouch, I just pricked me self'?"

  "Nay, smart arse. He said, 'How lovely you are,' so softly, almost like a sigh. But had he whispered it in my ear, I couldn't have heard it more clearly. Oh, he could have stepped out of a King Arthur tale!"

  Richard laughed. "May it have been Edward in disguise? That sounds like one of his ribald propositions. 'Ah, fair maiden, come to my apartments and pay homage to your great king and his royal staff!'" Sotto voce, he mimicked the earthy King Edward, whose amorous liaisons were legendary.

  "Of course it wasn't Uncle Ned, and 'twas nothing ribald about it! He was sincere."

  He clapped his hands. "Wakey, wakey, Dove."

  "Well, I've always dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding—to someone just like him!" She lowered her eyes and sighed, realizing he was right even as she tried to defend herself. She was dreaming again—out loud this time. "What I can't figure out is what good could it do you—or anyone else—to marry the Queen's orphaned illegitimate niece anyway? I don't even have a dowry."

  "Oh, you do now. The old witch covered her corybungo, as usual."

  Denys' eyes widened. "She's furnished a dowry? Of what?"

  "In noticeably larger lettering than the rest of the message, and underscored no less, she tried to prey on my sense of greed by using Foxley Manor for bait."

  "Foxley Manor? What is Foxley Manor?"

  "Some property in the country she claims is quite substantial. As if a poxy manor house can compare to what Anne brings to the table. With all due respect, Dove—Anne's dowry is vast, and she also stands to inherit half her mother's estates."

  Denys worried her lower lip between her even white teeth. "But I know of no Foxley Manor. I never had any form of dowry. How can I, being an orphaned bastard, as she has claimed?"

  Richard shook his head. "I thought it might have been part of Elizabeth's own dowry, but her dower lands were in Northamptonshire, where Edward first fell under her spell. Her family home in Grafton Regis became Edward's after their wedding in the chapel there. But I don't know where she came up with this Foxley Manor. Nor do I care. It sounds like an old cow shed to me. Utterly useless."

  "Well, I care," Denys said pettishly. "Did she say where this place is?"

  "Somewhere in Wiltshire—oh, what was the name of the town? It sounded like a kind of wine—oh, yes. Malmesbury."

  Denys' breathing halted. She clasped her Book of Hours, its spine digging into her palms. "Malmesbury! God's truth!"

  "So you've heard of it then?" Richard stood still.

  "Divers times!" She couldn't seem to catch her breath.

  His brows knit and he finally stopped his pacing. "In what respect?"

  "Richard—" Her heart was pounding. "Divers times before she sent me to live at Castle Howard, I heard her popping round the court speaking of Malmesbury, followed by my name, in a sneaky and muffled voice. But I was never able to make out the words through the palace walls, with servers clattering about. Thinking there must be some connection, I wrote it in my journal immediately after hearing it so there would be no mistake. I even found it on the map—"

  "Mayhap that's where your father hails from."

  "Well, I never believed I was her sister's child. I don't even look like a Woodville, and by the grace of God, I possess nary a characteristic in common with any of them."

  "So there may be a connection with your family to this Foxley Manor." Richard drummed his fingers on the pew. "Hmm."

  "Richard, I must depart for Malmesbury to find Foxley Manor. God willing I'll find what I'm looking for. Whilst I'm journeying, you carry on your search for Anne."

  She tried to keep her breathing even, tried to stay calm as she rose from the pew, when all she really wanted to storm into her aunt's chambers and shake her.

  Her companion's next words halted her in her tracks. Richard tapped his fingers again his fine chin and said, "Well, whether you find what you seek at Foxley Manor, we just might find a way to make your other fairy tale fancy come true."

  Denys gazed up into the vaulted recesses of the chapel ceiling and conjured up the image of that knight so deeply etched into her memory.

  If Richard could fin
d someone remotely resembling him . . .

  "I call it a fairy tale because that's all it is, Richard."

  "Perhaps not. The realm has its fair sprinkling of courtly—" He waved his hand. "—whatever you said. There are divers more where he came from. Trust me to help procure you one. Then get Edward's permission to wed, and be done with it. The Grey Mare need not know a thing, and we are all safe and able to do as we like."

  "I may consider your plan if you can actually dip into that fair sprinkling and retrieve a gem—but he's got to fit the description of what I want." Then she shook her head. "Still, it sounds too fanciful to me. Let us concentrate on the realistic. You go find Anne, and I shall go to Malmesbury to seek my family. At least one of us should find what we're looking for."

  "Pray God it be so soon."

  "Now I'm going to have a word with my aunt—and there's naught less courtly than she!"

  He shook his head. "Not outside the privies, anyway."

  "Oh, how I wish I could sprout wings and fly to Malmesbury!" she fancied out loud. "Another link in the mystery and it's right within reach—finally. I shall go there and God willing that's where my true beginnings lie."

  Please let it be the place I've wondered about all my life through all those nights in the cold drafty chamber as a child, every time Elizabeth shooed me away, she begged God above.

  It made her more determined to defeat the Queen at her own cruel game. Now she had a purpose—somewhere to go—the first step in the journey that would lead her to her history.

  And if Richard found her the knight of her fancy, then her life would be complete.

  Was that too much to ask? Finding family and true love at last?

  She took a deep steadying breath as she began to head for the door of the chapel. "But it all sounds so fanciful, Richard—so let's keep that in the mists of my dream world, whilst I go on the quest that will make me truly whole."

  "You already are whole, Dove—you are you, and don't let anyone, especially her, ever undermine that. Who your family was or is, can never be as important as who you've become. Don't let her change you," he said softly.

  "I'm not doing this to defy her, Richard. I need to know who I am and where I belong. Then I can have some meaning to my life. I'm not royal, you know I'm not. I don't belong here, nor do I deserve all these royal trappings.

  "Nor do I!"

  "You are much more of the blood than I could ever be. And I don't care. Even if they're peasant crofters working the soil, they're still my family.

  "Oh, how I long to find them! Then I'd be worthy of a knight's love."

  He followed her toward the door, insisting, "You're worthy now, wrong side of the blanket or not."

  She paused, musing, one hand on the great oak portal. "I have to feel it though, don't you see? And mayhap that's why that knight singled me out. Perhaps he sensed my loss and displacement and was so kind. Or perhaps that is what made him go away. He saw the sadness and anguish in my eyes. Who wants to share such misery?"

  Richard shook his head, smiling kindly. "But something brought him to you in the first place. The crowd separated you. You did not drive him away. I know how those courtyard victory celebrations are. Confusion and pandemonium prevail—especially once the wine starts flowing. People get pushed apart—and I daresay even more often, they get pushed together. Many a maiden gets shoved into the arms of an eager knight, who takes every opportunity to celebrate with her—in more ways than one—into the wee hours before finding out her name."

  "Oh, and how do you know this? Experience?" She smiled because she knew it wasn't.

  "Nay, I couldn't trick a maiden even if I wanted to. Everyone knows my distinctive countenance." He licked a forefinger and ran it over his brow.

  "But it's happened to mates of mine. Sometimes I think they're out there fighting in anticipation of the victory celebrations, rather than the survival of the kingdom."

  Denys smiled wryly. "We all have to live for something, Richard."

  "Aye, that we do. Me to find my bride, you to find your family. So be off with you then, lass, and good hunting."

  "Aye, you, too."

  Their missions planned, they parted and she removed to her chambers in a much calmer frame of mind to rehearse her dialogue with the Queen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Denys promptly entered Queen Elizabeth's audience chamber as the church bells clanged thrice. A lady-in-waiting curtseyed out to summon Her Highness.

  Denys knew her aunt would make her grand entrance when she was good and ready, so steeled herself to try to be patient.

  As she waited, too restless to sit, she watched the serving women scrubbing the floors with red, raw hands. Other servers were beating tapestries, polishing furniture. A maid wobbled atop a rickety ladder, straining to fan cobwebs from a cornice.

  Elizabeth entered sooner than she expected, swept past Denys without acknowledging her presence, and headed straight for the maid polishing her writing table.

  Denys had seen that poor wench on many a dark morning scrubbing the floor, pushing a candle along to light her way.

  Elizabeth flattened her palm on the table.

  "This is not warm. You haven't been rubbing hard enough! And it is streaked!" she bellowed.

  The girl cringed in fright.

  "You call that a cleaning job, you useless waif! You rub that until it's warm, or you shall hit your pallet every night for a week sans supper!"

  Finally she looked at Denys, and the smile she forced did not touch her eyes, enhancing its falseness. "Do sit, Dove, they just aired out the receiving chamber."

  The Queen snapped her fingers twice and the servers dutifully vanished.

  She then settled her swollen figure into the oversized chair across from her, a bit too far away for normal conversation, but distance seemed to boost the Queen's sense of superiority.

  Her pointed head-dress cast an ominous shadow over the painting of London behind her, enshrouding it in darkness like that before a storm.

  Denys sat across from Elizabeth in one of her velvet chairs and toyed with its braided trim.

  "Now what is it that you would tell me, dear?" The endearment tagged at the end was like an afterthought. "I meet with the kitchen staff shortly to discuss the evening meal. Prawns, oh, how I crave prawns! So have your say quickly."

  Denys settled into the chair and cleared her throat for the carefully rehearsed words. "Aunt Bess, you know I like to distribute alms to the poor children. Since I've been back in London, I've observed the wretched conditions of our poor here, and would arrange progresses through the city, as well as some other surrounding shires. I would do this on a regular basis, mayhap thrice a year."

  Her brows knit. "So you're asking for a royal stipend?"

  "Well, that and a royal escort, and perhaps a fit mount to carry me on my travels as well."

  "The royal treasure is rather strained, financing these incessant battles against the Lancastrians, Dove. 'Twould be a great burden at this time," she said coolly.

  "I could cut back on some of my own expenses. For instance, I needn't be waited on by the bevy of maids I've got here. I could easily dismiss four of them."

  Elizabeth looked at Denys with a mixture of begrudging and awe. "To live with fewer than six maids?"

  "I only need but one. My heavens, at Castle Howard, I had a lady-in-waiting and a chambermaid, and that was more than enough for my needs. I'd much rather give the money to poor orphans."

  "Well, you've got a big heart." She said it as if it weren't quite such a good thing. It was—unWoodvillelike.

  "So, as I was asking, Aunt Bess, you're a well-travelled woman. Having been on progress with the King, through the midlands to the far reaches of the Scottish border—I've never had a goodwill trip quite like that, being so isolated up there at Castle Howard. I would arrange for a travelling party to go on short seasonal progresses, to distribute alms to the poor, and read to the children. I hoped you would tell me some of your favorite places
, where the local folk would like to see a Woodville family member."

  Elizabeth, admiring her fingernails, finally looked up, but didn't meet Denys' eyes. She never looked anyone straight in the eye, Denys noted.

  "Well, I do like the New Forest area, and the coasts of Devon and Cornwall have their own rugged beauty. There may be some poor wretches there, I know not. The folk there do so admire the Woodvilles.

  "Then, of course, there is East Anglia. I always did enjoy Colchester, although the castle is rather primitive, not quite to my liking."

  "I was wondering what Wiltshire was like."