Royal Mistress (23 page)

“T
he court has taken to Jane well, I believe. What do you think, Will?” Edward asked his friend two weeks later. “With Elizabeth still at Greenwich, it has been an ideal time to bring Jane out into the open.” He grinned, coyly. “I do believe I am in love with her. Imagine, at my age!”

Hastings’s hand faltered as he poured his king a cup of wine and placed it on the table next to the remains of a pheasant on a silver plate. They had dined in private in Edward’s solar, and now Jane was waiting in Edward’s bedchamber a wall thickness away. Ankarette had brushed her mistress’s hair and sprinkled her silk chemise with rosewater and was hovering nervously in a corner, listening for the king’s approach.

“Age has naught to do with love, your grace,” Will answered, with grim confidence. “Let me in my ancient wisdom assure you of that.”

Edward twirled the stem of his cup, watching the tawny contents climb the silver sides and slither back down. “Ah! Aye, my friend, I remember that delightful Mistress Rowena—I cannot recall her family name—from Leicester. I feared for your life then, for you were so smitten, it began to irk your Katherine. And, believe me, Will, you never want to irk a Neville female. My mother is proof of that.” He laughed. “So, I am not in my dotage? It is possible to fall in love with another despite being devoted to Bess?”

Will nodded and allowed Edward to believe Rowena was his example. The vision of Jane lying naked in Edward’s bed next door
tormented him. “You can fall in love many times, Ned, but ’tis only when that love is returned that it is worth cherishing.”

Edward looked at him quizzically, but as Hastings was now yawning, gathering his mantle and tugging on his boots, he decided his friend’s remark did not require further discussion.

“When will you tell your wife about Jane?” Hastings suddenly asked, straightening up and confronting Edward. “Surely you will not take Mistress Shore with you to Fotheringhay for the reinterment? I would not be your councilor if I did not caution you. Duchess Cecily for one would not countenance the presence of a mistress at the solemn ceremonies for your father and brother. You must leave her behind, Ned.”

Edward pouted. “I suppose you are right, Will. With the outbreak of the pox in the city, I had thought I would leave early and have time with Jane before everyone descends on Fotheringhay. But I will not be a disrespectful son. Nor will I risk offending God at this most sacred time. I have planned for this honorable reburial of my father and Edmund for a year now, and I would not want it said Edward Plantagenet dishonored their memory.”

Fotheringhay, set in the marshlands of Northamptonshire, had been the York family seat since Edward’s great-grandfather, Edmund of Langley, was granted the castle in the last century. It had been sixteen years since Richard of York and his son Edmund had been killed at the battle of Wakefield during the war between York and Lancaster, their heads set upon Micklegate in York. They had then been given a perfunctory burial, and, although long overdue, it was time for Edward to bring them home to rest in the family crypt at Fotheringhay church, whose extensive renovations had prevented an appropriate ceremony until now.

“You could always take Jane with you to Windsor following the ceremonies. I can arrange for some special entertainment—a joust? Players? Dancing? Cheer up, Ned, it will only be for a few weeks.” The king was usually easy to distract from the boring business of
kingship, but familial duty had deeper meaning for Edward, who refused to be roused this time.

Blinded by his own ambitions and comfortable in his position as chief councilor, Hastings was unable to grasp that while for years Edward had excelled on the field of battle and in the fighting for his crown, once peace came, the business of governing and improving trade was not enough to satisfy the restless young man’s thirst for adventure. And, loyal to a fault, Hastings had been all too happy to turn his sovereign to the more pleasurable side of life to alleviate Edward’s boredom. With so many experiences shared and with no one threatening Edward’s throne since he had been reinstated seven years earlier, neither man was able to see how far they had descended into self-serving dissipation. Together, they felt invincible. In truth, Edward and his chamberlain-confidant Hastings had brought England into a more prosperous time. However, prosperity had left Edward with little to challenge him and had done nothing positive for his reputation. Thus, with Hastings by his side, he had drifted into a life of gluttony and lechery. The only subjects who were pleased with him at this stage of his reign were the merchants and their guilds, for Edward’s negotiations abroad meant trade was booming with England’s allies in Europe.

Will downed the rest of his wine, believing the audience was at an end, when Edward abruptly changed the subject.

“Sweet Jesu, my brothers weary me. I do not look forward to explaining to George why I named Richard chief mourner in the cortège on its journey from Pontefract,” Edward said.

Will wondered if he should return to his seat, but it seemed Edward was unaware of his friend’s efforts to depart. Edward picked at the carcass on the table, brooding over the conflict he had with George of Clarence.

“That brother of mine is like a canker festering in me,” Edward groused. “George has betrayed me and failed our family so many times, and yet with a smile and a honeyed word, he can charm
the very devil from his hell-hole—including me, it would seem.”

Will chuckled and sat down. “I see we are not finished with George yet, Ned. Go on.”

Edward snorted. “Meg asked me to be kind to him. Said it was not his fault and that the man had been spoiled for his charms as a boy, and as a man he floundered, not knowing his place as a second son. She thought he was too easily flattered and thus had believed that Warwick could make him king, and she told me I should be charitable because he was weak. Pah! By God, Edmund never behaved like that when he was the second son. He was the dutiful brother to me, and”—he paused, gazing unseeing into the fire—“Christ, how I loved him.”

Will made a sympathetic sound, but not liking Edward’s maudlin mood, he grasped the king’s slumped shoulder and said: “Do not spoil your night with Jane, Ned. You can deal with George on the morrow.”

Edward patted his friend’s hand and rose a little unsteadily. “Aye, Will, you are right. Thank God for a friend like you. Another cup of wine and I would have dredged up all my resentments and slipped into a fit of ire or worse, of melancholy. Poor Jane would have had a hard time arousing me in a humor like that.” He slapped Hastings on the back and pushed him toward the door. “Good night, good Will. Until tomorrow. No matter how I love your company, you are now no match for what awaits me in my bed.”

Will bowed and descended the staircase from the royal lodgings, his steps as heavy as his heart.

“C
ome with me as far as Berkhampsted, Jane,” Edward coaxed. “My mother will have already left for Fotheringhay and we can enjoy the luxury of her apartments and walk and hunt in the park. Then I must go to the reburial.”

Jane’s fingers played with the thatch of fine hair on Edward’s chest as he lay on his back, hands cupped behind his head, his
long body in repose after a vigorous hour of lovemaking. She was turned on her side, her head nestled under his arm, breathing in the unmistakable scent of their pleasure. She still could not quite believe she was lying with the king of England and that he was asking her to ride with him to his mother’s home. And she could not believe that she had no one to answer to for her reply but herself. Although, she smiled as she was reminded, one did not truly have freedom of choice when the king commanded.

“What say you, Jane? Are you asleep?”

“I will gladly come with you, your grace, but only if you can assure me of your mother’s absence, and if you promise to take me hawking. Who else will go with us?”

Edward released his arm and pulled her close. “I agree to both conditions. As for my retinue, I shall bring friends, Jane, have no fear. Will, certes, although you may have to put up with his stiff-lipped wife. Norrys, Howard and his wife, who is already known to you, and a few others. I suppose I shall have to invite my stepson, although he has been most unpleasant of late.” His tone hardened. “Not sure what has flown up his arse, but if he does not behave, I shall send him up to Fotheringhay and Mother can deal with him. Ouch, do have a care, sweet Jane, those hairs are firmly planted in my chest, I assure you.”

Jane released her grip, and she was silent.

Edward took her silence for concern. “Is that too many people for your comfort? We cannot be alone, you must understand. And with Katherine Hastings and Elizabeth Howard assuring propriety, we can make merry together before I have to begin the sad ceremony of reburial.”

Jane bit her lip. She did not dare request that Tom be excluded. She had been so careful so far not to give Edward any indication that even as her body belonged to the king, her heart belonged to Tom. “If you are content, then I must be, too, my lord. What of your brothers? Do they not accompany you?”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “ ’Tis odd you should mention George and Richard. I was only speaking of them to Will before I came to you. Do you know what offense they cause me with their constant bickering?”

Jane nodded. “I heard my father tell of the arguments they laid before you in the matter of their wives’ inheritance. But ’twas two years ago. I am afraid I cared not who Clarence and Gloucester were at the time, but I marveled that two royal brothers needed the king to judge their case. What caused the argument, pray?” Jane asked without thinking. Surely Edward would not discuss family matters with her. She was merely curious, and her mouth had moved faster than her brain.

Edward did not appear offended by her curiosity, however. “Before I tell you the tale, you must know that George betrayed me not once but twice while I lost and won my crown again. He was flattered by our cousin, the earl of Warwick, who had turned against me, and Warwick promised George the crown for his treasonous support.” He paused while Jane digested the disturbing facts. “I forgave him, and he came back into the fold before Barnet. Will, Elizabeth, and the council wanted to charge him with treason, but he is my brother, and I could not do it.”

Jane was moved by the king’s sincerity and the depth of his love for this wayward brother. His loyalty to family was far greater than hers, she mused, thinking how willingly she had turned her back on her home, and not for the first time she wondered what Bella might say if she could see her now. She gently brought the subject back to the dispute between the younger brothers, and Edward continued.

“I have given them land and wealth enough to satisfy a dozen dukes, and yet still they argue over their Neville wives’ inheritance. You know they married Warwick’s daughters, do you not? Certes, you do. Perhaps you do not know the extent of the quarrel? Not two years later after George married Isabel Neville, Richard begged
to marry the Lady Anne. I refused at first, thinking it was not prudent for two royal brothers to marry these powerful wealthy sisters—and second cousins, no less. However, when I heard how George had tried to hide Anne away so Richard could not have her, I relented. But now I rue the day I listened to my heart and not my head.”

Jane was intrigued by the story. “George really hid her away? Where? And how did they find her?”

“That boy Richard is as determined as a dog to have a bitch in heat,” Edward declared. Jane winced; she often did not much care for Edward’s choice of words. “He went to see Anne at the Erber—the Neville—”

“. . . the Neville city residence. Aye, I know, my lord, I am a Londoner,” she interrupted.

“How could I forget,” he said, slapping her bare buttock playfully, “but do not interrupt your king again, wench, or I will have to resort to punishment. Like tying you up and . . .”

Jane promptly put her hand over his mouth. “I can imagine the rest, your grace. Now I pray you, tell me more about the mystery of Lady Anne’s whereabouts.”

Edward related how Richard of Gloucester, desperate to find his prospective bride when news of Anne’s disappearance came to light, had employed some spies to search the neighborhood near the Erber. As Clarence’s wife’s younger sister and a widow, she had been placed under his guardianship, and he had no intention of allowing his brother access to her. “One day, getting word she may have been found, Richard went himself to rescue her, and there the poor little thing was, great Warwick’s daughter, plucking chickens in the kitchen of a tavern. Can you imagine the humiliation for someone of her noble Neville blood?”

Jane privately thought that everyone ought to know how to pluck a chicken. She bit back her retort and tut-tutted sympathetically instead. She did not want to keep reminding Edward of her
common stock. She was enjoying her new life, not to mention that the more she was with Edward the fonder she became of him.

“Richard of Gloucester must love his wife very much,” she said quietly. “He went to extraordinary lengths to win her. She is a lucky woman.”