Royal Mistress (67 page)

“But you did not commit that sin, Mother. You are still here and still lovely.”

“Flatterer!” Amy retorted, but she was pleased. “Something happened when Bella left us,” she went on pensively, “and for you ’twill be hard to believe. Your father began to look at me with more than mere tolerance. He changed, Jane. He softened, and for the first time in our marriage, he began to show me respect—and more than that, he has shown that he loves me.”

Jane was astonished at her mother’s honest declaration, and putting her mending down, she embraced Amy fondly. She would never now bring up those times when she had felt betrayed by Amy’s weakness. Better than anyone, she now knew that every person must walk her own path in her own way and should not be judged by others.

“If you want to make me happier, my child, I would wish for a rapprochement between you and your father.” When Jane tried to demur, Amy held up her hand. “I know well why you must despise him, but for my sake, can you not forgive him in your heart? He does love you in his own way, I promise you. It was just that you were always . . .”

“Defying him,” Jane admitted, bitterly. “He drove me from this house with his abuse and into a wretched marriage. I was so miserable. ’Twas no wonder I could not refuse the king’s advances.” She softened, remembering. “Edward loved me, you know.”

Amy’s tone was gentle. “I understand your reluctance to forgive your father, but I shall pray for it every day, nonetheless.”

That night Jane pondered her father’s changed behavior, and looking back over the fortnight she had been in Hosier Lane, she admitted he seemed a quieter, more amiable man. He had not lectured her nor gloated on her fall from grace, but Jane had taken pains to disappear as much as she could when he was at home, knowing she must be a burden on him.

Aye, she had seen what harm a dour perspective on life could
wreak on a person, thinking of King Richard, whose demeanor was that of a man old before his time; this was not the same carefree young duke who had captured Kate Haute’s heart. His hatred of his brother’s way of life had made him bitter, angry, and had hardened his heart. Was she also guilty of a hard heart when it came to her father? Was that the same heart she was offering Thomas?

“M
ay I speak with you, Father?” Jane asked quietly, turning back instead of following her mother from the hall after supper. “It will not take long.”

Amy heard the calm in Jane’s voice, and assuming she was seeking advice about the marriage contract or some other business matter, she felt it was safe to leave these two volatile people alone together. Amy was glad Jane had taken the initiative and not used her as a mediator.

“As you wish, daughter.” John watched Amy go and sat down again, folding his hands on the table in front of him. He had no idea what Jane wanted to say, but he had been pleased with her modesty and respectfulness since her return.

She smoothed the back of her new madder woolen gown as she settled on the bench and to reinforce her courage, Jane fiddled with the emerald ring Edward had given her, which was the only item left of her former jewels. “Before I go to be wed and leave this house anew, I would like us to be reconciled, Father.” John’s eyebrows shot up, but he let her finish. “I have thought hard about what I am about to say, and I pray you will consider it well.”

John leaned back in his chair and moved his hands to his lap. “Go on, Jane. I am listening.”

“I know I have not been the daughter you would have wished, and I acknowledge the many mistakes I have made in my life. If I have hurt and embarrassed you, then I am heartily sorry for it.” Her father gave an imperceptible nod of agreement, but he said nothing. “Aye, I apologize for my mistakes, but”—she took a deep
breath—“in my defense, when I was a child you showed me no particular affection and instead lavished it all upon Isabel.” She observed John’s discomfort now and so hurried on. “I missed your love, Father, and I know now that I misbehaved to get your attention. I do not believe I did it to spite you but to make you look my way and see a little girl who craved a father’s love.”

John could not help but interrupt now. “Aye,” he said, getting to his feet, “you got my attention right well enough. Is that why you abandoned your husband and became a harlot?”

Jane bit back a natural retort and instead ignored the insult. “You forced me to marry William Shore, Father, and I would have done my duty and stayed with him if he had not been incapable of a loving thought or giving me children. Have pity, Father. I saw a way out and I took it. You were not disposed to help me, were you?”

“You could have taken the veil,” John shot back. “Were you seeking my attention when you walked the streets half naked for all the world to see?”

Jane gripped her fingers in her lap, determined to win this battle, which would require staying measured. “Again, Father, I am truly sorry for your humiliation, yours and Mother’s. But a wise man once showed me how destructive hate and anger can be, and before I marry Thomas, I have promised myself I would beg for your forgiveness, just as I forgive you now your hard-heartedness to me when I was young. Can you not see? We have both hurt each other—and my mother most of all—by our feuding. Please, Father, let us put our animosity behind us and be kind to each other for the remainder of the time God has given us.” Then she went down on her knees in front of him. “I beg of you, say you forgive me, too.”

Speechless, John stared down at his daughter; he had never been spoken to thus by any of his children. He saw the contrition in Jane’s face, and, suddenly, struck by her resemblance to his wife, his heart softened. How glad he had been since Bella’s death when he had come to understand what a jewel he had married. He had
desperately tried to demonstrate his love for Amy since and compensate for the years of neglect. Had she not forgiven him? Aye, and what a pleasanter life they were leading now. Even his dealings with his customers had become more satisfying. He turned away and searched his conscience, recalling times he had rebuked Jane, slapped her, punished her—and for what? For physical gifts over which she had no control, for an inherited intelligence that had attracted him to woo Amy, and a personality that charmed where he could not. Had his behavior toward her truly led her to want to escape his authority?

He turned back. “You have spoken your piece bravely, daughter. I can see that you are changed by your experiences, and I like you better for it.” He bent and raised her up. “You do not need to kneel to me, Jane”—he smiled wryly—“I am not the king. I am your father, and I am humbled that you have shown me the way to behave. I do forgive you, aye,” he said, “but more than that, I am heartily sorry for having wronged you. I have heard of your good and generous spirit, and you should know that your mother and I are overjoyed to see you wed Master Lyneham. He is a fine man.”

“Oh, Father,” Jane cried, her tears blinked back. And for the first time in her life that she could remember, Jane went into his arms and knew a father’s fond embrace.

T
hinking it wise to inform his king of his intentions to wed Jane, Thomas did not wait long to meet with Richard, even if it meant putting his position as solicitor general in jeopardy, as had been implied in the king’s letter. He did not wish to dishonor the trust Richard had placed in him all these years.

At the frosty meeting, Richard reeled off a list of Jane’s sins, ending by reminding his solicitor, “She took her penance so lightly that she went straight to Dorset’s bed not a month later. Do you truly wish her as your wife knowing all of this?”

Thomas did not hesitate in front of his king. “I do, your grace.
And I am prepared to accept the consequences. I believe Jane has a good heart and merely needs the strong, lasting love and respect of a husband to keep her from straying. I think I understand her, and I wish to care for her.”

Richard relented then. “Very well, Thomas. I am right well pleased with your work these past difficult months and have always found you loyal. Thus I am disposed to keep you on my council.” He held up his hand to quell the thanks Thomas was attempting to express. “But I warn you, one hint of misconduct from Mistress Shore and you will be dismissed.”

“I understand fully, your grace, and I thank you.” Thomas bowed low and assured his king he would work hard to deserve the royal magnanimity.

R
ichard had been disappointed that his beloved son Edward had not been in the cavalcade from Middleham when Anne arrived in mid-December to celebrate the yuletide season at Westminster. “He had a cold that he could not shake off,” Anne told her husband. “I did not think it wise for him to travel, after the sickness he had at Pontefract in July. He has the best care in the world, Richard, and surely the bracing Yorkshire air is better for him than this damp.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “It seems to seep into my bones when I am here. I am grateful for all the fireplaces. Edward spared no expense to make Westminster comfortable, I will allow him that.”

Richard grinned. “Aye, we even have hot water in the conduit,” he said, pointing to an decorative brass tap protruding from the wall. “You can bathe at any hour, provided they have stoked the fire under the cistern.”

Again the nose-wrinkling. “ ’Tis not healthy to bathe in wintertime, my dear. My mother would never allow it.”

“Aye, so you have told me on many occasions, Anne,” Richard said patiently. He could not help but remember how Kate loved to bathe no matter the season, and he pushed out of his mind the
image of her smooth, young body immersed in the scented water just before he would join her to make love. He refocused his attention on his wife, whom he loved dearly after all these years, but who, although devoted to him, did not possess Kate’s passionate nature.

He watched now as Anne busied herself with her ladies, including his fifteen-year-old illegitimate daughter, Katherine, instructing them where to place her jewel chest, personal items, and her favorite Turkey carpet. He was glad she appeared to have put the deaths of his nephews from her mind, but he could not. He had hoped once he had given the order to execute Buckingham that the nightmare visions would disappear, but now Harry’s fleshy face joined the boys’ innocent ones to haunt and mock him. And it was a bad night when in one recurring dream Will Hastings’s bloody head rolled down a hill toward him, its expression accusatory, as if to say, “Why me? What did I ever do to you, Richard of Gloucester?”

“My lord, a groat for your thoughts.” Anne’s voice jolted him from his reverie.

“Forgive me, my dear, I was thinking about Thomas, my solicitor,” he fibbed. “Would you believe he wants to wed Jane Shore.”

“How sweet,” Anne replied, “but now I need your advice on which gown to wear for the Christmas banquet.”

“Aye, my lord father,” Katherine exclaimed, pulling him toward the collection of gowns strewn on the bed. “Which one?”

Richard allowed himself to be drawn into the decision making, and, putting his arm around his beautiful daughter, he gladly gave Anne his complete attention. Soon they chose a delicate blue and white overdress trimmed with Venetian lace, and Anne kissed him tenderly. “A man of good taste, your father,” she informed Katherine kindly. “Always wed a man of good taste.”