Royal Mistress (12 page)

Will laughed. “Why, Mistress Shore, I do believe you are flirting with me.” He was delighted. The meeting was going far better than he could have dreamed, and he was charmed by her saucy
innuendo. Voices in the back staircase made him seize the moment, and taking her hand he pressed it to his lips. “Indeed, you are correct. This
is
what I am interested in,” he assured her before swinging around to greet the panting William, who was somewhat obscured by the bolts of cloth he carried; he was followed closely by his apprentice, Wat, and the page. “Master Shore, we greet you well. Your wife was admiring my unicorn tapestry,” he remarked with bland smoothness. “It seems she enjoys the chase; I shall have to take her hunting one of these days.”

William’s astonishment made him let go of the cloth, his mouth agape, and then he remembered to bow. “M-my lord, you d-do us a great honor, does he not, Jane?”

Jane nodded an assent as she bent down to help neaten the bolts and cover her red face.

“Nonsense, sir, it will be my pleasure to—” Hastings began.

“Ah, husband, there you are,” a woman’s sharp voice intruded, cutting him off, and Jane could not help noticing the guilty look that crossed the chamberlain’s face as Katherine, Lady Hastings, approached them. She was the sister of Warwick, sometimes called a maker of kings, and thus cousin to King Edward, and she had her brother’s haughty bearing despite her lack of inches. Her Neville blue eyes darted from Jane to William and back to Jane before resting with suspicion on her husband’s face. How long before he takes this wench to his bed, she was thinking, while dutifully acknowledging the reverences of the mercer and his wife, whom Will had hastily introduced. Despite her three dozen years, she was still a striking woman, especially when she smiled, although Jane thought the pale eyes mirrored a less attractive character underneath, and she shivered suddenly, as though a shadow had fallen over the proceedings.

“My lady, I am glad you are come, albeit you have spoiled my surprise,” Will bluffed. He made convincing sheep’s eyes at Katherine and explained: “I asked Mercer Shore to attend me to
procure a length of this satin as a gift for your birthday. As soon as I saw it, I was determined to have it. I am particularly grateful to Master Shore for allowing me to see it fully made into a gown. Are you not as delighted by it as I am?”

William, eager to have the nobleman’s business, pushed Jane forward for inspection. “Turn around, wife, and let her ladyship see the damasking properly.”

As Jane did as she was told, Katherine sniffed. “And what makes you think I would want the same gown as a merchant’s wife, my lord,” she demanded of Hastings. “And may I add that I have never favored green, and yellow is, as we all know, the color of treachery.” She looked Jane up and down and purred: “Be that as it may, the gown does, however, become you, mistress.” Before Hastings could open his mouth to reproach her for her rudeness, Katherine turned to the mercer and gave him a beatific smile. “But, Master Shore, if you have other silk you could show me. I can hardly disappoint my lord husband in his gift, can I?”

While Will and Jane stood by in silence, Lady Hastings spent a goodly time pawing bolt after bolt of William’s merchandise, relishing her husband’s prolonged discomfort. She finally settled on a sumptuous blue velvet, and relieved, Will sent for his steward to make the arrangements. Without more ado, Will escorted Katherine from the room.

“God’s truth, Will, have you not the manners to keep your harlots out of our house?” she expostulated as she dropped his arm and glided away, her attendant scurrying behind her.

Will scowled and returned to the Shores, who had already measured the desired length of the chosen velvet and were gathering up the rest of the cloth. “I am happy to have satisfied Lady Hastings, and rest assured once the gown is made and seen at court, your establishment will surely benefit, Master Shore.”

William bowed low, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. Jane was afraid he would try and kiss Hastings’s hand and so urged him
to pick up the bolts and not waste any more of the baron’s time.

“My promise will not be forgotten, mistress,” Hastings assured her, watching William and his apprentice struggle to the stairs with their load. “I will invite you to the hunt very soon, if that be your wish. You do ride, I suppose?”

“And well for a lady, my lord,” Jane remarked. “My father did not fail my sister and me in our education, but my husband has no time for books or hunting. My father took me on a chase once, and I should like to go again.” She was astonished by her forwardness already and did not dare spend any more time in conversation with him but hurried to the staircase and was gone without a backward look.

I have no doubt you would, but I wonder how much you will enjoy being caught, Jane Shore, Will asked himself, his loins responding to his imagination of the scene.

R
ichard, duke of Gloucester, stepped out of a shop along goldsmiths’ row in the Chepe, where he had commissioned a new collar for himself fashioned with the king’s favorite
souvent me souvient
ornamentation. Recognizing the White Boar badge of his two retainers, several citizens stopped to stare at the king’s youngest brother and marvel how unlike they were to look at.

“Spittin’ image of ’is father,” one man reminded another as they moved on. “Remember York? He wasn’t tall neither. And both with dark ’air and that worried look. ’Tis uncanny.”

Richard lifted his hand in salute to the bows he received and shared a quick laugh with his companion, Robert Percy. They had no sooner called for their mounts to be brought forward when a small cart piled high with bolts of cloth and pulled by two strapping youths turned the corner of Bread Street, followed by a merchant—a member of the guild of mercers, judging from the color of his gown—and a diminutive, veiled woman by his side.

Momentarily distracted, Richard and his friends failed to see
the group of unkempt thugs who ran across the street to swoop upon the cart. Jane saw them coming and screamed to Richard’s group, “Behind you, sirs!” before she ducked into the shop doorway that the duke had recently exited. Alerted, Richard and Robert whipped out their daggers, and Gloucester’s escort, believing it was their lords who were the target, pushed the two noblemen back against the shop walls and protected them with crossed halberds.

But the robbers were more interested in the bulging purse that was giving William Shore’s waistline an unnatural shape. Hastings had paid him the full value of the cloth despite William’s halfhearted refusals, and William had prayed he and his merchandise would make the short trip back to Coleman Street unmolested. He had been right about a disgruntled army after the French expedition, and London was rife with crime. Unemployed and starving soldiers loitered in alleys and on street corners, looking for a carelessly or even carefully secured purse, or a piece of jewelry sparkling on a cloak or a bonnet that was easy picking for a desperate man with a knife or a club.

Too late, William attempted to bury the purse among the silks and satins, and instead shouted “Stop, thief!” miserably into thin air as the three robbers made off with the prize, hared down Bread Street, and disappeared into an alley.

“My money!” he wailed, shaking his fist at his bemused apprentices. “Why did you not stop them, you good-for-nothing wastrels? I have a good mind to deduct your wages.”

The two young men were picking themselves up from the dirt and looked at their master in dismay. Richard and Robert hurried over to help pick up the scattered cloth and Jane ran to William’s side.

“Do not berate the lads thus, husband,” she cried, standing on tiptoe to add height to the weight of her words. “They were as helpless as the rest of us—nay, they were more helpless in that they were yoked to the cart. Never fear, Jack and Wat, I shall not
allow my husband to take one groat off your wages. Now tell them yourself, William!”

Rob Percy nudged Richard and grinned. “I would not want to be that woman’s husband, would you, Dickon?”

Richard shook his head and eyed the husband and wife with amusement. He had noted the elegant gown and the way it draped on the woman’s slender form, and he at once knew how to make amends for the mercer’s loss. He knew full well it was Edward’s fault that loyal English soldiers were forced into a life of crime to feed their families. He had been proud that he had been the only one of the king’s entourage to have refused King Louis’s pension; he had wanted to fight the French, not sign some treaty that was no more than a bribe. He did not often disagree with his oldest brother, but in this—and in the lascivious manner in which Edward chose to live—he was adamantly opposed.

“Richard of Gloucester at your service, mercer,” he said in his serious way. “I am sorry for your loss, and I regret we were unable to stop the thieves. However, I am curious if you have more of your wife’s satin to offer me. It would please my lady, the duchess, of that I am certain.”

Richard was rewarded by openmouthed disbelief from William. The duke sensed he was also being avised by the eyes behind the veil. Jane curtseyed low when William remained mute.

“I am afraid my husband must still be in shock, your grace, or he would have thanked you profusely. I will do so in his stead, and if you would be so kind as to send your messenger to William Shore’s shop on Coleman Street, I will personally see to it that you receive a length of silk to your liking.”

Richard was impressed. “Am I addressing Mistress Shore?”

Jane’s merry green eyes were just visible through the filmy fabric, and Richard could tell she was smiling.

“Aye, my lord duke. I am honored to meet you,” she replied, “although, I wish it had been in less harrowing circumstances.”

Was the woman being forward with him? he wondered. Nay, he must have been mistaken, although just to be certain, he chose to answer her in a more reserved tone; he should end the conversation and be on his way, he decided. He inclined his head enough to be polite and said simply, “God give you a better day, mistress.” He turned to William, who had recovered his composure and was bowing low, and told him, “I can assure you that I shall send my squire to fetch the cloth in a day or so, Master Shore. I am a man of my word.”

“Coleman Street, your grace,” William called after the retreating duke. “William Shore of Coleman Street.”

Richard gave a curt nod. “I heard it the first time, mercer. I am not one to forget anything I need to remember,” he remarked. “What an oddly matched couple,” he confided to Rob Percy as they swung up into the saddle and trotted off.

Jane looked after them, nonplussed. What had she said that had so obviously offended the duke? Ah well, she thought, as I shall probably never speak to him again, I shall not worry about it.

O
n the second day of November, as Elizabeth waited at the window, the rat-tat of rain beat on the leaded glass panes, blurring the dozens of boats, shouts, barges, and ferries that plied the gray Thames below her. Not that on this particular day she could care: she was too preoccupied with the all-consuming, painful toil of labor and birthing. When Anne arrived, quickly and without fuss, four hours later, the queen looked at her fifth daughter and marveled again how each child could look so different born from the same parents. Elizabeth, Mary, and Cecily were fair-haired; poor little Margaret, may she rest in peace, was so bald it had been impossible to tell if she would have been fair like her mother, red-gold like her father, or dark like her grandfather York. But there was no mistaking these chestnut glints in the wispy tresses: they reminded Elizabeth of her brother, Anthony Rivers.

Expecting the customary visit from her husband, and only partly aware of the women who had attended her moving quietly about the chamber, she drifted into the pleasant state between waking and sleeping.

Would Edward be disappointed she had given him yet another girl to marry off with a dowry? With two sons showing signs of being healthy and strong, she hoped the king would not blame her for not tripling the York succession. She smiled whenever she thought of little Ned and his towheaded two-year-old brother, Richard. She was imagining Ned’s pout when he learned he had another sister and on his own birthday, too. He had so begged his mother to come out of her chamber with another boy.