Jean Plaidy (13 page)

“I know as the Queen’s sister … sister-in-law to the King … I should have had his consent. Well, I did not, Elizabeth.”

“But why … ?”

“You may well ask. For the simple reason that I feared that consent might not have been given if we asked for it.”

“Who is it?”

“Lord Wells.”

Elizabeth looked faintly relieved. “The King has a good opinion of him.”

“And should have. His family have firmly supported Lancaster for years. Elizabeth, will you please speak to the King for me? Will you plead for us? Tell him that we love each other, that no other will do for us, and that he must approve of what we have done.”

Elizabeth was uneasy. The King was not going to like this, and she was to be the one to tell him. How could Cecilia? Why did she not wait? She had always been so firm in her opinions; it had never been possible to shift her from them—for Elizabeth at least.

Elizabeth was sorry for her sister. She was fond of her family. They had been a very loving community. Deep in her heart she was worried about her mother. She fervently wished that people would live in peace with each other and not do things which were a source of irritation to others. She had to hide her anxieties about her mother … and now here was Cecilia. She did not know how the King would deal with the matter. She was afraid to anger him—although she had never seen him in anger. She remembered the violent rages of her father. They had not happened often and they were soon over, but he did have more than a touch of what was called the old Plantagenet temper. Henry had none of that. He was always calm, cold almost. She often felt that he considered carefully everything he said before he uttered it.

How he would feel about Cecilia she was not sure. She had had a notion that he was not anxious for her to marry. He had never mentioned a husband for her since their own marriage; and she had noticed that there was never any special place for Cecilia at functions.

Cecilia was now looking at her anxiously. She could see that she would have to take this matter to the King and it would be better for him to hear quietly through her than through any other source for it would not be easy to keep such a matter secret for long.

She said: “I will tell him, Cecilia.”

Cecilia had taken her hand and was looking at her earnestly.

“And you will explain that we love each other … that John wanted to ask the King but I would not have that. It was I who thought that if we were married first it would be too late to stop us.”

“I will tell him that, Cecilia. I will try to explain.”

“Thank you, sister.”

Cecilia kissed the Queen on the forehead.

She said: “It is almost as though we were little again. You and I were always good friends, Elizabeth. Do you remember … how we thought the others were such babies?” Elizabeth nodded. “And now you are Queen. It is strange but we always thought that Edward …”

Elizabeth flinched. It was foolish to bring up their young brothers at this time. Perhaps at any time. Nobody wanted to think of them now. Their disappearance must remain a mystery. To try to solve it might bring forth some evidence which certain people might find embarrassing.

Cecilia went on: “I know the King will listen to you. I am sure he must love you dearly.”

“He does,” said Elizabeth firmly. At another time Cecilia might have said that he loved the alliance they had been able to make between the two houses, but not now. This was not the time.

It seemed only in the bedchamber that the Queen could be alone with the King.

Elizabeth’s women had departed. She was in her long white nightgown, her golden hair in two long plaits giving her a childish look. Soon the King would come in and she was preparing what she would say to him.

When he came there was that somewhat forced smile on his pale face. He was always gentle and kind; it seemed to her that he was grateful for his good fortune in becoming King but was always on the alert lest someone should take the crown from him. He was fond of her. She had in certain moments of self-revelation wondered how fond, or whether his fondness was for what she stood for, not for her person.

She had asked for nothing for herself. She did not want jewels or extravagant pageants. Moreover she knew that Henry would never have given them. He had explained to her that the exchequer was in an unhealthy state. Her father had been extravagant but because of the pension he had had for some years from the King of France he had made the country prosperous. But that pension had stopped before his death. Uneasy times had followed his death; the perpetual unrest culminating in the Battle of Bosworth had impoverished the country. He was determined to crush extravagance, and she would not dream of asking for unnecessary luxuries.

But she would have liked to ask for her mother to come back to Court, though she accepted the fact that it would be impossible because her mother had really committed an act of treason.

Now there was this matter of Cecilia’s marriage.

He came to her smiling. He would lead her to the bed and they would make further attempts to get another child. It was the ritual when they were together. She believed that Henry had no greater liking for the act than she had for they were both aware of a certain relief when it was over, though it brought with it a sense of achievement which they hoped would be rewarded and a certain respite gained. Sometimes she thought of her father and all his mistresses. How different he must have been!

“Henry,” she said, “there is something I have to tell you. I hope it will not anger you.”

He was alarmed. She sensed that rather than saw it. He never showed his feelings but she was aware that she had made him uneasy.

She said quickly: “It is my sister, Cecilia. I am afraid she has acted rather foolishly.”

“How so?” he asked.

“She has married.”

He looked puzzled. But she could not tell whether he was angry or not.

She said quickly: “To Lord Wells.”

He remained silent for a few seconds. Cecilia married to Wells! He was not at all put out. He had been watchful of Cecilia. In his mind had been the thought that he might have had to put her in Elizabeth’s place. He was a man who calculated all eventualities. Life had made that necessary in the past and once a habit was formed with him, it generally continued. Moreover it was as necessary now as it had ever been. He had visualized Elizabeth’s dying in childbed as so many women did and perhaps the baby with her. Then there would have been no alternative but marriage with Elizabeth’s sister Cecilia. Cecilia was the one. The others were too young. So therefore he had kept Cecilia in the background. He had made sure that she should not be offered on the marriage market. He had looked upon her as a reserve. And now … she had married John Wells.

Wells came of a family which had always been loyal to him. He liked John Wells.

“You do not speak,” said Elizabeth, watching him fearfully.

“I am taken by surprise.”

“Of course it was very wrong of them.”

“But natural I suppose. We have been inclined to think of Cecilia as a child. She has shown us that she is not that.”

“Oh Henry … are you … ?”

He said: “What’s done is done.”

He was thinking: I am safe now. I have Arthur. As long as I have an heir who is half York and half Lancaster all is well. It is a pity Arthur is not more robust. However, it is no use thinking of Cecilia now. There is Anne … Very young as yet. But Elizabeth is still here … and strong… .

He had always kept a firm control on his emotions and that habit never failed him. Always he liked time to think, what is best for Henry Tudor? what is safe for Henry Tudor? while his quick shrewd mind worked out the answer for him. He believed that he had come as far as he had because of this.

He said now: “Why are you trembling, Elizabeth? You must not be afraid. You are not afraid of me, are you?”

She lowered her eyes. She could not tell a blatant lie.

“You must not be. You did right to tell me. I should not have liked to hear this from another source. But it is done. I trust John Wells. He has always been a good servant to us. Perhaps I shall tell him that he has been a little hasty. You may like to tell your sister that. Well, then let us wish them happiness and a fruitful marriage, eh … ?”

“You are so good,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I shall never forget that scullion boy … and now Cecilia.”

“Lord and Lady Wells would not relish being compared with Lambert Simnel, my dear. Now … let us to bed.”

The Death of
a Queen

n her nunnery at Bermondsey Elizabeth Woodville heard of her daughter Cecilia’s marriage and that the King had accepted it with a philosophical shrug of the shoulders.

This meant, Elizabeth knew, that he felt secure now Arthur was progressing well. Oh why should she be kept from her grandchild! Why should she be kept here? What an end to a career of such brilliance! But looking back there had been many times like this when she had had to remain shut away from the world as the only way to preserve her life. She was tired of it. If the Queen could persuade the King to accept Cecilia’s marriage why could she not bring her mother back to Court?

The answer was simple. The first did not affect the King one whit; the second might. Henry Tudor will always take care of Henry Tudor, thought Elizabeth bitterly.

Every day she expected to hear news of Scotland. That James would agree she had no doubt. She had at one time been reckoned to be the most beautiful woman in England and beauty such as hers did not disappear; it became a little faded—a little subdued sounded better—but she was still a very beautiful woman and with the right clothes and environment could toss aside the years as though they were tennis balls.

To Scotland! She had heard the climate was dour and the manners of the people not the most gracious in the world, but it would be better than remaining here, shut away from the Court, living in a kind of disgrace and with the knowledge that the King would always be suspicious of her if she went back to Court, and she could be sure that mother of his would never be far away.

Scotland was the best she could hope for, and why should she not make a success of her new role? She was not young, but nor was the King of Scotland. She calculated that he would be just under forty. Mature, very glad no doubt to have for his wife a beautiful woman who had been a Queen of England.

She would try to forget her family here. Elizabeth who had become the Queen; Cecilia who had married Lord Wells and now, she heard, had retired with him to the country; Anne who was just thirteen and who would soon be having a husband found for her; Catherine who was but eight years old and Bridget who was a year younger and destined for a nunnery. All girls left to her and two little boys lost forever. No, she must stop herself trying to solve that mystery. It would bring no good. All this she must forget. She must put the past behind her. She must think of the new life in Scotland.

It would be entirely new … a new world to conquer. Her spirits were lifted considerably. She felt almost as she had that day when she, the desperately impoverished widow, mother of two boys by the dead John Grey, had gone out to Whittlebury Forest and made a name for herself in history.

Now … here was another chance. Queen of Scotland. The more she thought of the past, the more she considered her prospects for the future, the more she felt that her salvation was in Scotland.