“Giles has been well cared for. Educated in the same manner as children from the highest families in England, he will be accepted as a peer, albeit with my approval, and his fortunes advance at my pleasure.” Her lips curved into an odd smile. “I proposed his hasty marriage to you, a York heiress. It served me twice. Henry benefits if you are tied to a Lancaster man and Giles enjoys two titles. His sons will inherit Somerset and Langley. I pray you deliver many healthy boys for him.” She indicated the wine and I poured a glass for both the king’s mother and myself.
Henry the seventh’s mother is my mother-in-law, I marveled.
“You have not answered my questions.”
My baby stirred. “Questions?” Stunned by her revelation I could not recall them.
“Do you have a good marriage? Do you love him?” My heart soared at the mention of Giles and our marriage.
“Yes, he’s everything I ever want. I believe he is pleased with me.” She nodded sagely but her fingers tapped the chair.
“He insists you are trustworthy, loyal and faithful. If he is proven wrong I can do nothing further. I will not try. You understand there is no place for traitors among the Beaufort family.” She sipped the wine.
Giles saved not only his king but also his wife. The Tudors would have me executed without thought, after my child arrived. Margaret Beaufort worked for her sons, not herself, and Henry, the only known and legitimate son, must be placed far above lesser mortals.
“I will give neither you nor the king any cause for concern. Family comes first, milady.”
She stood up. “Live by that motto, Blanche Langley. Family comes first. You will be free of the tower tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I almost fainted.
She called out to the guard and the door opened. Giles stood in the doorway with a grin on his face and swept a courtly bow to his mother. She extended her hand and he knelt before her accepting her gracious attention.
“This must go no further, Lord and Lady Somerset,” she commanded, “I demand complete discretion.”
“You have it, madam.” Giles kissed the ring on her royal finger and she held his hand for a moment. A look passed between them. If I hadn’t known him to be her son a pang of jealousy may have shot through me but my heart glowed for him and his connection to his mother.
As Margaret Beaufort made her exit, my hand curved around my belly and Giles gathered me into his arms.
“I have been mad with worry over you,” Giles whispered into my hair, his hands sliding to my enlarged waist. “You look beautiful, as always.”
“My lord, I’ve missed you and prayed for you everyday since you left.”
“I am grateful, but no danger threatened me.”
“You saved the king.”
“I saved you, that’s all I care about.”
“But Henry, he’s your...”
“Yes, but you’re my wife.”
His hands pressed over my roundness and the baby moved. Giles smiled in delight. “This is the happiest moment.”
We embraced tenderly, then eagerly with great care we undressed and slid into bed.
Giles held me all night, my last night in the tower of London. We talked and kissed, and drank wine until the black sky brightened with a large moon. Hidden by the covers, I found a way to relieve his pressing need and after he stroked and petted me until I shuddered in his arms we drifted into a wonderful sleep.
We lay together in the quiet stillness before the dawn, holding hands, our foreheads touching. “I thought I had lost you, Giles. When you left so quickly after the discovery of Pole’s plan, I imagined you considered me a faithless wife or an enemy. I prayed for your safety and nothing else.”
His lips pressed mine.
“Is your true father…?”
“Yes, but we cannot discuss it, ever.”
I nodded. “You are the York man I’ve waited for all my life and yet you came disguised as a Lancaster.” I settled into his arms, sinking deep into the warmth he offered.
“My rose,” he whispered, “my most perfect rose.
****
Henry and Elizabeth had a son and heir but needed more offspring to secure the throne. I worried over the child in my womb. If this were a boy it secured my position, but a girl may spell disaster. The Tudors wanted male heirs to build the family lineage. With Giles so closely connected to the throne I knew they waited to hear the happy news of a Beaufort boy to serve the crown in the future.
Giles stayed with me until the time for the birth neared. I offered to sleep in a different bed but he refused to allow me out his sight. I proved cumbersome in the final days and barely left my chambers, choosing to doze for most of the day. The amusement in my husband’s eyes irritated me but I said nothing, preferring to ignore it.
“You are beautiful,” he chuckled in my ear one morning.
“Beautifully fat,” I grumbled.
“’Tis natural and lovely.” He curved his hand around my tender breast.
“Help me up, please. I will sit by the window today and sew more of the baby’s layette.”
Tomorrow I must begin confinement in earnest until the babe arrived. Only women may be allowed in my presence, but Giles insisted he must see me daily until the birth.
“I must go to an outlying town this morning and deal with the local officials. The king has asked me to report to him.”
“You mean the king’s mother wants a report.”
“Yes, she demands to know the mood of the town.”
He kissed me slowly, savoring the moment alone, eyeing me with desire.
“I’m sorry, Giles, we can’t…”
“As long as we are together I can wait.”
I cupped his cheek with my hand, never more in love with him than that moment.
Dark clouds roiled across the early morning sky. I gave up sewing in the poor light and fretted over what to do. A pain shot across my middle as I stood up, and I called out in fright. Gerda dropped her needlework, rushed to my side and a servant woman hurried into the room. The pain subsided but a deeper ache gripped my belly and squeezed the breath from my body.
“What is happening? Gerda…” I gasped, unprepared.
“The baby comes, my lady. Quick,” she snapped to the woman, “fetch the midwyfe.”
The pain brought me to my knees. “Gerda, I can hardly take a breath, it hurts so much.”
Why had no woman told me of the hellish pains of labor? I leaned against the chair and caught my breath as the next sweep of pain swept over me. I heard an anguished scream and wondered why a poor soul called out only to realize it came from me. My mouth opened again and a wail burst forth as my body ripped asunder and a warm gush flowed around my legs.
“My baby,” I cried. “Help my baby.”
The illusion of an easy birth lay cracked and shattered around me. The pain intensified and I hoped and prayed to see the man who had done this to me, so that I may give him a taste of my suffering. Please God, let my baby live and let this agony be fruitful.
By dinnertime I lay in bed, completely exhausted, soaked in sweat and blood. The midwyfe, the physician and the priest conferred outside my door.
I managed a half-yell. “Gerda, come here at once.”
“Miladay, the baby lives. A little weak but it will thrive, they say.”
“A boy or a girl?” I must know.
Gerda’s face told me before she uttered the words. “A girl, milady.”
I sighed and surrendered to the washcloth and the maid’s gentle hands. After refreshing the bedclothes they brought a little bundle and I took one look and fell in love as a tiny rosebud mouth sought my breast and sucked with vigor. I sank into a deep sleep and woke in the night to hear whispers. Giles had not appeared in my time of despairing need and I envisioned him disappointed. My sobs woke the baby and holding her close to my heart I swore never to love anyone who did not love her with the same deep devotion alive within me from the moment I laid eyes on her.
Three days pas
sed while I discovered the wonderment of motherhood. No news reached my chambers and Gerda claimed to know nothing. I fumed. I hated Giles for abandoning our daughter and me. If I had given him a precious Beaufort boy for the court to groom as one of its own he would come quickly enough.
I sang to my baby, my poor little girl, whose father did not wish to look at her. Without a wet nurse I took care of her needs and I reveled in the task as I stroked her little fingers and downy head. I ate, slept and slowly found my feet again.
Gerda took the baby to the nursery for a time to encourage me to rest. I sipped wine and waited for a meal to come to my room. “Your husband has returned,” the maid informed me.
“I will not see him.”
“He has not asked for you, milady.”
I froze. “Where is he?”
“In the nursery.”
I threw on a robe and ran to the baby’s chamber, my heart pounding. I reached the door, prepared to commit murder if necessary. Giles stood with the baby in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth, with a crutch under his arm and a livid slash running down the side of his face.
“My God! What happened to you?”
“Trouble in the town.” He shrugged as though it were merely a scrape. His gaze held mine. “I wasn’t here for you and the baby. Murdo brought the household news of my injury but they were afraid to burden you.”
“It’s a girl.” I anticipated his disappointment.
He nodded, studying her with serious consideration. I waited. “What name have you given her?”
“I hadn’t thought of a name. Perhaps, Margaret.” His mother may not appreciate a girl but may soften if the child bore her name.
Giles hummed a tune and our baby’s eyes opened and looked into his face for the first time.
“You know me, my little rose,” he whispered. “I wish to name you Blanche, after your mother.” He grinned.
“Little rose,” I echoed his endearment. My mood lifted.
Giles stared back at her in fascination. “Blanche Rose,” he announced.
“Will the king and his mother approve?”
“We shall call the next one after a Tudor or a Beaufort.”
I lifted my Rose out of his arms. “I’ve sworn never to have another child. This little flower gave me more trouble than you can ever imagine.”
“You managed admirably, Blanche, but I agree.”
“You agree?” Giles Beaufort surprised me often but this reply shocked me.
Hobbling alongside me on his crutch we reached our chamber to find the delicious aroma of warm bread, cheese and fresh ale waiting for us.
“I heard of your labors and the midwyfe’s worries. She recommends rest and recovery for you both. I’m to stay away from your bed,” he shrugged, “but that’s a small price for a healthy wife and child.”
I bristled. No woman would order my husband out of my bed. “How dare she suggest such a thing? I have a word or two to say about her notions of recovery.”
I caught the twinkle in Giles’ eyes. I paused. “You are testing me.”
“I give you a choice.”
“Oh, Giles. I’ve been so angry with you. I thought… I imagined…”
“That I didn’t want you because you birthed a girl?”
“Yes,” I whispered. My heart broke for him, knowing my doubt must hurt.
“I hope we have a garden full of roses. They needn’t join useless wars or leave home when the next pretender turns up.” He fingered the wound on his cheek. “I’ve no taste for fighting but I do it because I must.”
“The townspeople are not happy with the king?”
“No. There will be more disruptions for Henry before long. I’ve done my duty for now and sent him a report.”
“Giles, forgive me for not trusting that you’d care for Rose.”
He took our sleeping daughter out of my arms and laid her in the crib by our bed.
“Blanche, the first time we met at Langley I knew you were the woman I wanted to wed. If you don’t want me in your bed I’ll understand, but you’ll have no other.”
“Giles, how can you think such a thing?”
“You’re more beautiful than you can possibly know. Any man would fall over himself to have you. It’s a miracle you lasted until your twenty-fifth year.”
“But you married me for my lands and titles on the proviso of having sons. You’re not disappointed?”
He pulled me close. “Only that I missed our sweet Rose’s birth.” His lips landed softly on my cheek. I ached for his affections.
He waited for me to make my choice, needing a wife to give him children and share his joys and sorrows, and I wanted to be that wife. My hands slid across his shoulders, I leaned forward pressing firmly over his lips. For a moment he did not respond but after I teased his mouth open his strong hands slid around my back.
“I love you, Blanche, and our newborn rose.”
“That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said. I love you, Giles Beaufort. Lancaster or York—it matters not who we are as long as we live in peace.”
Epilogue (Four years later)
~ July 1491 ~
“Blanche, I will knock the door down if you do not let me in.”
I recalled my vow to remain celibate with a wry smile. Any woman stupid enough to believe it possible while married to Giles Beaufort fooled herself. My husband had matured into a handsome, generous man who loved our children with a devotion that rivaled my own. His ready grin, happy nature and strong build made him irresistible, sending me into confinement for the third time in our marriage.
“You are not supposed to see me. The baby is coming fast, it won’t be long.” I gasped for breath. Giles had sent a midwyfe from the village, one with a good reputation to replace the last one who moved away with a new husband. He stood on the other side of the door fretting over my progress.
“Let him in,” I panted, resigned to Giles and his ways
He took my hand, brushed back my sticky hair and gently soothed my fears as the midwyfe kept about her business. At the great age of twenty-nine I risked my life to bear a child. Every woman knew the danger but we must do what nature intended, and by God this child hurried into the world, eager for life.
“Rose and Meg…”
“The girls are well and eagerly wait for the baby. They send you their love and prayers.”
My little daughters, at four and three years old, were the light of our lives. Giles adored them and we prayed they would not lose their mother this day.
“You must go, Giles.”
“If you wish.” He held me as the pain gripped my belly and the urge to push overwhelmed my senses. The babe came easily this time and I smiled at my husband in victory as the child slid into the arms of the midwyfe. She wrapped a sheet around the baby and brought it to us. I held the tiny bundle as it squawked indignantly.
We folded back the sheet to seek the answer to our question.
“A boy,” Giles murmured.
I gloried in the moment as I savored a taste of what queen Elizabeth enjoyed a month ago as she delivered England’s second heir to the throne—Prince Harry.
“He’s a big one,” the midwyfe remarked, glancing at my husband who wore a smile that threatened to last for months.
John Edmund Beaufort had arrived at last. “Has my Lady the King’s Mother approved the name?” Margaret Beaufort communicated regularly.
“She has given her blessing. Prince Arthur will receive him at court one day.”
“Mayhap he will make a fine friend for baby Harry. They are the same age.”
“Prince Harry is destined for the church and the life of a scholar. I doubt they will ever cross paths. It is Arthur, Prince of Wales, who will rule England one day.”
“The astrologer said these past few months are a lucky time for children born into the kingdom. A golden king will rule for many years and bring great changes to England.”
Giles squeezed my arm as I rocked our baby. “Then we’
d best keep my mother’s ear and good favor.”
“I don’t envy the queen. She must breed more children for Henry.”
“Speaking of that, dear wife, I believe you uttered an oath along with a desire to hurt my person.”
I shook with laughter so much that baby John opened his eyes briefly. “That is true.”
“And now?”
“I have a beautiful babe in my arms and my inclination to harm you has vanished.”
My husband’s eyes grew solemn. “I don’t want to lose you, Blanche.”
“You will not lose me. I am strong and happy, and my babies need me.”
“I need you, now and always.”
Two weeks later a package arrived at the castle. Giles handed it to me and waited, curious over the contents. Without thought I tore open the wrapping and discovered five tiny white nightshirts, each with the Beaufort crest skillfully stitched into the fabric. The girls came running at the sound their father’s laughter, admired the baby clothes but soon returned to the nursery. A note fluttered to the floor and I stooped to pick it up.
By my own hand,
M.B.
I gave it to Giles. “Is this a message?”
“A cause for celebration. A personal gift speaks to her satisfaction.”
I considered the meaning. “The king is safe and so are we. I am beyond the age of desirability.”
Giles groaned. He itched to bed me but must wait until the midwyfe permitted marital relations to renew.
“I’m of no use to a hopeful pretender. Henry Tudor is relieved.”
“Are you disappointed that some fellow languishing on the continent cannot storm England to sweep you off your feet.”
“Giles Beaufort!” I lowered my voice. “You are the only man who makes me happy, and a Lancaster at that.”
A Rose for Lancaster (The Tudor Rose Novella series) Page 7
