She smiled at Biddy. ‘What a fuss just to see if I will look well for the festivities. We could have employed our time to better use, I think.’
‘Ah, but it was worth it just to see you. The king’s son will be taken with you all over again.’
‘Indeed he will,’ Elizabeth’s imperious voice declared from behind them. She stood there, for the first time at Richard’s court wearing a gown of some other colour than black. She had not gone north with the court during the summer, but had remained in the south, near the riverside palace of Sheen, upstream of London, claiming piety and a need to retreat for a while. She was elegant in dark blue figured velvet, her hair tucked into a sky-blue headdress from which sprang a wired veil. She was an echo of the beautiful widow for whom Edward IV had formed such an intense infatuation. She dismissed Biddy, who had always been a little afraid of her, and then sat down to survey her daughter.
‘Yes, indeed, Cicely, you look well. Is it all for John of Gloucester?’ She smiled as Cicely’s chin took on a stubborn set. ‘I am not criticizing, far from it. In fact I will go so far as to tell you that when the time comes you will have my full consent to marriage with him. I will put no obstacle in your way.’
Cicely looked suspiciously at her mother and once again Elizabeth smiled.
‘Jesu, girl, do not regard everything I say with such doubt. I may not have been with you when the court was at Nottingham but my eyes do not deceive me and I see how things have progressed between you. If you do not believe my intentions are good, then look at it this way. Richard Plantagenet dotes on his bastard son, and if John expresses a strong enough wish to marry you then I do not think Richard will deny him. Neither will he allow his son to live as a pauper. John is bound to be rich and influential. Ah, I see you begin to smile; you would rather believe in my mercenary instincts. I cannot blame you for that — I have not been a fond mother — but that is my nature. I cannot easily show affection.’
Cicely, trying to disrobe without help, found it impossible to reach the fastenings at the back of her bodice. Her mother went to assist. ‘If only Bess’s affairs were as simple and straightforward as yours. It is mostly on her account that I am here. She gives little sign of her feelings at the moment, although I heard rumours from Nottingham that she was making a pretty time of it drooping over him. Tell me, is she over him now? It is not merely an idle question, for I have good cause to ask.’
‘I . . .’ Cicely could not bring herself to answer.
‘I will take that as confirmation that she is not over him. The Lord God only knows why.’
‘You do know why, Mother.’ Cicely looked at her.
Elizabeth paused, and then sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose I do. Damn him for his appeal. Anyway, I ask because he has spoken to me concerning her possible marriage. And he is not proposing himself, I hasten to point out.’
Cicely stared. ‘To whom?’
‘The Irish Earl of Desmond.’
‘The king wishes to send her into virtual exile?’ Cicely’s mind raced. Had Richard finally realized the truth?
‘Hardly exile. Ireland is a stronghold of Yorkist sympathies, and it may be that in Richard’s eyes the marriage has immense political importance in the securing of those sympathies.’
‘Will you tell her?’ Cicely wondered what on earth Bess’s reaction would be.
Thoughtful, Dame Grey helped Cicely into a fresh peach velvet gown. ‘Hmm, I do not think so. After all, Richard may still change his mind. He made no definite offer to me, he simply informed me he was considering it. Besides, if she thinks she is to marry and leave England she may reveal more than would be seemly. It is a possibility I wish to avoid at all costs. So, it is best left as it stands. If you breathe a word to her, you shall rue it!’ With this echo of her old self, Elizabeth went to the window, clearing a patch of misting from the glass to look out. ‘It snows again. I declare this is the coldest winter I have known, or perhaps it is merely that I feel the cold a little more than when I was younger. This last year has aged me, I fear. I once thought I would be glorious forever, but look at me now.’
The words made Cicely study her mother, for it was hard to think of her as getting old, but a closer glance revealed how much she had faded since the death of Edward IV.
Elizabeth turned her head. ‘I have a message. The king commands you to go to him. Just hold your tongue about Bess.’
As Cicely reached the royal apartments, she found a familiar and beloved figure standing near a window. Well, two beloved figures, for one was John, the other Jack of Lincoln, who looked striking in kingfisher blue. John turned at the sound of her footsteps and he came to sweep her into his arms and plant a huge kiss upon her lips. ‘It must be all of two hours since last I saw you, and it feels like a lifetime.’
‘You flatter me, sir.’
‘Never.’
She turned to smile at Jack. ‘How good it is to see you again, cousin, and that wondrous amethyst ring I desire so much.’
He returned the smile and embraced her. ‘It is good to see you too, sweetheart, but the ring remains mine, no matter how sweetly you flutter your pretty eyes at me.’
She hugged him tightly, for she really did like him. They had known each other from childhood and he had once saved her from drowning. His company was always welcome.
John reclaimed her. ‘The lady is mine, Jack. Do not forget it.’
Jack spread his hands, and the light slanted through the coveted amethyst. ‘I will be kind to you, John, and not steal her, which I am sure I could if I tried.’ He winked at her.
John gave him a look. ‘And how is your wife, sir?’
‘I have no idea.’ Jack grinned.
John cupped Cicely’s face in his hands. ‘We do not have long, for my father awaits you.’
‘Why? What does he want?’
‘You will soon know.’ He kissed her again. ‘I will wait out here.’
Puzzled, she went to the king’s door, which the page opened before her.
Richard was standing in front of a freshly stoked fire, a sheaf of papers in his hand and many more lying on the floor around his feet. He was frowning at the topmost communication, stroking his chin thoughtfully, but he smiled as she approached. ‘Be seated if you please, my lady, and my attention will be all yours presently.’
He was not alone, for Francis Lovell and Robert Percy were with him, as well as the king’s elderly secretary, all helping with the volume of work that required his personal attention.
She sat down on a nearby chair, and watched her uncle as he dealt with the never-ending flow of documents requiring his attention. His grey eyes flicked quickly over the words, and he pushed his long hair back as it fell forward.
‘Robert, I tell you we must be finished with this impudent Tudor before this next summer is out, for I cannot tolerate his presence in Brittany, causing unrest in England with his plotting. Or the French for their plotting.’
‘By your leave, Your Grace, you should have beheaded his Medusa mother when you had the chance.’
‘True.’ Richard looked at Cicely.
Francis was seated at a desk by the window, working upon another sheaf of papers, a quill poised in readiness. He smiled at Cicely, and gave her one of his huge winks.
Richard still spoke of Henry Tudor. ‘The wretch still declares his intention to marry my eldest niece, if you please! Well, he shall not have Cicely, and Bess will be married forthwith to Desmond and despatched across the Irish Sea.’
Cicely inhaled with swift dismay, and he heard. ‘What is it, Cicely? Is there some reason why Bess should not be married?’
She swallowed nervously, searching frantically for an answer to his question. ‘I fear Bess’s heart may be given already.’ Well, it was not untrue.
He continued to look at her, as if trying to divine her innermost thoughts. ‘Already given? To whom?’
She was aware of his two friends exchanging glances. Even the secretary reacted.
Richard was puzzled.
‘I have not seen her dallying with anyone at court. If you will tell me his name I will endeavour to please her. If he is available then she shall have him.’
‘I . . . do not even know who he is, Uncle.’
He studied her. ‘Hidden pages, Cicely?’
She lowered her eyes.
For a long moment he continued to look at her, and then cleared his throat. ‘The fellow is married, I take it?’
‘Yes.’
He drew a long breath. ‘There is nothing I can do about that, unless he can by some miracle be unmarried. I have no appetite for annulments, they always smack of lies.’ He handed his pile of documents to Robert. ‘Well, Cicely, I shall have to know the situation soon, for I will have her beyond the Tudor’s clammy clutches. She is the firstborn and should be married first.’ He waved the others away. ‘I wish to speak to the Lady Cicely alone.’
Francis bowed low to Richard and then to Cicely, gathered up the papers and went to the door. Robert Percy and the secretary followed on his heels, and she heard them greet John and Jack outside before the door closed behind them.
Silence fell upon the room and Cicely thought the crackling of the fire seemed to fill the air. Richard looked at her. ‘Cicely, do you wish to marry my son?’
Her eyes widened. ‘I . . . Yes.’
‘Well, I knew as much already, but it is necessary to ask you formally. I made a great error in the case of Ralph Scrope.’
‘This is formal?’ She glanced at all the other papers and documents still scattered everywhere.
He smiled and spread his hands. ‘For its sins, but I am not always at ease amidst grandeur.’ Then he shifted a little. ‘Are you quite sure? Beyond all doubt? Because you both matter to me.’
She looked at him. ‘I love him, Uncle.’
‘Well, he has requested my permission for you to be wed. I gave my consent, of course, but the match is fraught with the usual awkwardness of consanguinity. The Pope will grant dispensation, but it will take time. These things always do.’ He came closer and touched his palm to her cheek. ‘There is also the delicate matter of any children born of such a marriage, and their closeness to the throne. They will be the grandchildren of two kings. Do you see? You and John are illegitimate, but there will be a possible path open to your children. I have to consider it.’
‘I do not think John and I would wish such a weight upon our children’s shoulders. Whom we may never have, anyway,’ she added.
‘True, but somehow you both seem in rude enough health to provide me with an army of grandchildren.’
‘I cannot imagine you as a grandfather.’
Again his smile. ‘Now then, as I said, dispensation will take some time, and apart from that, I wish to have Henry Tudor over and done with before your marriage. I would have my realm at peace for such an occasion. I would also see Bess married first. Your sister Ann I wish to make handfast to Thomas Howard, grandson of my dear friend the Duke of Norfolk. She is eight or nine, and he is eleven, which is suitable enough, as such things go. This betrothal will also be kept in abeyance until Bess’s future is decided. I have not been tardy in seeing to the husbands of my nieces, that you must admit! You will be thankful to know that I have yet to turn my industrious mind to your two youngest sisters.’
‘How have you found time for all this?’ She found she was looking at his lips. They were so sculpted yet quick, so ready to smile and . . . And what? What else was in her mind as she looked?
‘Have I food between my teeth?’ he enquired on a teasing note.
She flushed. ‘No. No, of course not. Forgive me, I did not mean to . . .’ She left unsaid what she had not meant.
‘That is a relief. Cicely, I am glad about you and John. It warms my heart.’
He kissed her cheek and indicated that he had finished by drawing her to her feet. She smiled at him and went to the door, but he halted her. ‘Cicely, are you sure you do not know the identity of the man Bess loves?’
She met his gaze squarely. ‘Quite sure.’
‘And here I was, convinced you would never fib to me,’ he said dryly. ‘Just tell me it is not one of my enemies.’
She returned, ‘If it were, I would tell you. Bess may love unwisely, but there is no treachery in it. I swear.’ But she knew he should be told. It mattered to his good name, and yet she could not betray her sister to him.
‘I believe you, Cicely. Rightly or wrongly, I will always believe you.’
Guilt kept her where she was, and he came to her.
‘What is it? Tell me.’
‘I cannot tell you. You least of all. Please do not ask me.’
‘Me least of all?’ He searched her eyes, and she saw the beginning of enlightenment. ‘Cicely?’
She put a shaking finger briefly to his lips. ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not ask me to betray her even more than I already have. What I suspect is in your mind now is the truth.’
He closed his eyes. ‘Jesu.’
‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Sweet God above, what a fool I have been. I should have known! Things become clear suddenly.’
‘You should not be faced with such a thing.’
‘You think me too fragile?’ He smiled.
‘It is just another thing to be a weight upon you.’
‘And your silence has been because you think of me?’
‘I will always think of you.’
He drew a long breath. ‘Cicely, I will have to take steps to—’
‘Do not punish her,’ she said quickly. ‘She cannot help her feelings, and if you turn your back . . .’
‘I have to do something, Cicely. I can hardly continue to behave like the only idiot in the village. That is certainly how I must have appeared until now, I think.’
‘It is talk. No more.’
‘But not talk I would wish to continue. You do see that?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I know. Oh, I feel so guilty. I have broken her confidence, and now it is on your shoulders too. I am so sorry.’
‘I should have had my wits about me, but it simply did not occur to me that . . .’
‘A niece could desire her uncle?’
‘Something of the sort.’
He was the King of England, but had an allure that breached boundaries. There was no side to him, nothing that could ever lead to mistrust. He eclipsed everyone around him. Had any other king ever been as natural and gracious? She did not know how long she had gazed at him, until he teased her again.
‘Does my appearance meet with your approval, my lady?’
She coloured again. ‘Yes.’
‘And yours with mine.’
‘About Bess . . .’
‘I will not hurt her, Cicely, save by not being able to return her affection. I cannot view her in that light. She must understand that.’
‘She does, but it is not always possible to fall out of love.’
His grey eyes were almost luminous. ‘Oh, that is something I know only too well. Go now, because I think John is waiting.’
Cicely withdrew, feeling all that was disloyal to her sister, but it was done now and could not be undone. Then she saw John, and all else went from her mind as she ran to him. Jack had gone.
When Cicely next saw Bess, it was to learn that Richard had already sent for her.
‘Cissy, I managed to turn the situation to my own advantage, but it cannot last too long, I fear. I admitted I was in love with someone already married, and said I accepted that the man in question would always be beyond my reach. I then asked Richard if he would stay his decision until I was over the heartbreak.’ Bess blinked back tears. ‘He said he would speak to me again when the New Year was well on its way. Jesu, if only he knew that it was he whom I longed for, he whom I loved so!’
Cicely could not meet her eyes, for he did know. ‘He is our uncle,’ she said.
‘And do I not realize it. He was a little . . . changed, I thought. As if he did not feel entirely at ease with me. Do you thin
k someone has told him, Cissy?’
‘I . . . cannot say. Possibly.’ Cicely felt dreadful.
‘I do pray not.’
‘Did he ask you the identity of your mysterious love?’
‘No. Strangely. He simply said that when I was ready, he would proceed with the Desmond match.’ Bess drew a long breath. ‘I was so tempted to tell him the truth.’
‘Maybe the earl will be to your liking, Bess.’
‘No one can be to my liking. Only Richard.’
Chapter Sixteen
It was Christmas and the tables in the dining hall groaned beneath their great load of festive delicacies. The banquet was lavish, the food sumptuous and the company brilliant as Richard’s court celebrated the season. The spangled gathering made merry to the full. Everyone was there, except Bess. So many minstrels, jugglers, tumblers and fools performed that it was difficult to know which to watch or listen to first. The great hall rang with merriment, the noise was deafening and the spiced smell of the dishes still lay heavily upon the warm air. To Cicely, now so happy with John, the atmosphere was as sweet as nectar.
Richard had remained true to his decision on returning to London after his son’s death. There had been no mourning, only a celebration of his lost child’s life. He was bright, brilliant even, and gave no sign at all of what was in his mind. To many, especially Cicely, it was as touching as if he had enveloped himself in swathes of unrelieved black. Others saw it as callous disregard for the dead, especially those like Lady Stanley, who was always ready to defame him.
Cicely sat immediately below the royal dais, with her mother on one side and Robert Percy on the other. John stood behind his father and the queen. Cicely was wearing the blush gown, and it felt good. She was also wearing John’s ring, no longer around her neck, but on her right hand—not her left—for all to see. Word had spread of Richard having agreed to her marriage to John, but somehow it was not yet out about Bess’s proposed contract with the Earl of Desmond. This resulted, as always, in renewed whispers about why Bess had not yet been matched. Even the third of Edward IV’s daughters had been found a future husband, but not Bess, the first. And now she was absent from the celebrations. Richard was subjected to continual glances. If he had looked towards the top of the steps, everyone would have believed he anticipated his eldest niece. But he did not look.
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