The King's Mistress (43 page)

God watched over me as well. As Edward’s gouty discomfort lessened, he welcomed me back into his heart and bed with all the warmth that had been lacking during that dark autumn and winter.
Deo gratias
.

A
YEAR WENT
by most peacefully but for an unwelcome change in Edward’s attitude toward my financial independence. Suddenly he sought to control my business activities in subtle ways. One evening during one of my sojourns at Eltham he sent for me after I had retired for the night. I found him pacing in agitation—hardly in an amorous mood.

“I understand that Richard Lyons continues his interest in your
business,” he began, holding up his hand to forestall my response. “His role as executor of your late husband’s estate has surely long been resolved.”

“Yes, but I have retained him as my adviser. I do not understand why you have taken an interest in this, my love. And why address it now? Did Richard offend you today?” He had been among the guests at dinner.

“I take an interest in all that concerns you. I know he also tried to interfere when John Mereworth enfeoffed his manor of West Peckham to you and Dom Hanneye. He forgets his place.”

It had been an honor I had insisted on accepting, the trust of the knight. Mereworth was an honorable man and had offered a substantial fee essentially for little more than my signature and that of Dom Hanneye. I had been flattered by his choosing me.

“Richard dislikes Sir John, but I prevailed, my love.” Richard did occasionally overstep his bounds, often in a well-meaning but mistaken effort to protect me. But I held my ground when I knew I was right. This all seemed a trivial concern, but the time of night suggested that Edward did not consider it such, and that worried me.

“Lyons has petitioned the Pope to annul his marriage. A dishonorable act. I do not like you associating with him.”

I was taken aback. This was news to me. But it hardly seemed worthy of the king’s notice. Indeed, I wondered how Edward justified judging Richard when he was unfaithful to his own marriage contract. “He has been a good friend and I rely on his advice. We might not always agree, but I learn from our arguments.”

Edward remained adamant. I said no more, hoping that it would be forgotten.

A few days later, having returned to London, I was mortified to learn from Grandfather that Edward had issued an order that Richard Lyons should keep the peace with me, and not interfere with my going where I wished on the king’s business and on my own. An official order, announced quite publicly and entered into the records, carrying the weight of law. Despite my sincere efforts to impress on Edward what a friend I considered Richard, I felt responsible for this very public embarrassment. I resented Edward’s interference in the small part of my life over which I felt I had some control.

I expected to be shunned by all of London for the incident, which would surely inhibit my ability to trade. But I’d underestimated the
cachet of my position as the king’s mistress and business partner. The guildsmen, merchants, and lesser knights came courting me in even greater numbers. The only one avoiding me was Richard.

As time passed and I did not cross paths with him, I attended Mass in his parish, wishing to make peace. I approached him after the service. He was alone. His expression was guarded, of course.

I simply said, “Richard, I did not know that His Grace meant to issue that proclamation. I knew that he wished me to be free to act on my own account, but I did not know what he had in mind regarding you. I have always spoken of you to him as a trusted friend.”

To my relief Richard’s expression warmed as I spoke. He reached out, took my hands, and squeezed them. “I am glad to hear that. I could not think how I had offended you and why you had not come to me to discuss it.”

I noticed many glancing our way, the wealthier merchants and their spouses, obviously expecting fireworks. They were disappointed.

“I would have come to you had I anticipated the king’s action. You have been a good friend to me and my family over the years, Richard.”

“I admit that at first I was outraged. It was no small thing to have King Edward attack my honor. But when my temper cooled I realized that I
had
overstepped my position on a few occasions. Thank you for coming to me, Alice. Let us begin anew as friends.”

He invited me to attend a dinner for some visiting merchants in a few days, and I happily accepted.

I enjoyed being in London after my sister’s marriage. Thomas welcomed me into their home, and I rejoiced to watch her blossom in her love of her husband and stepchildren, and to witness the excitement with which they all anticipated her first lying in. On a rare sunny morning in January she was delivered of a daughter, fair of face and of the gentlest disposition.

Only after Mary’s churching did I permit myself to look inward at a fact I’d avoided. In truth, as I’d taken Joan’s physick most faithfully, I’d clung to the reassurance that it had never failed her. But my courses had not come in two months and my nipples were suddenly so tender that I gently distracted Edward when he would suck on them to arouse me. Though I had refused to think about it while Mary needed me, I had been haunted by memories of feeling thus about Janyn’s attentions when I’d carried Bella. I was not ill in the mornings, but was quite certain I was with child. The king’s child.

I was terrified, and in my terror hesitated to tell Edward. I did not know how he might take the news. I feared that he might send me away. At court the accepted practice was to arrange for a hasty marriage for an unmarried woman of good family suddenly with child by a noble, so that their bastards could plausibly be considered legitimate—by all but the new husbands, who would have been financially encouraged to ease the conscience of the true father. I feared that Edward would so dispose of me.

Joan had warned me not to conceive, and I had done my best to prevent it. But my best had not been enough.

Gwen’s tender ministrations suggested she knew my condition and was only awaiting my confidence to express her concern. Realizing that I was intensifying my fear by keeping it to myself, I wrote to Edward requesting a meeting. That same evening I told Dame Agnes and Gwen and watched fear bloom in their expressions. Grandmother held her neck, as if imagining a hanging. Gwen gave a little cry and clenched her hands tight until her knuckle bones were visible through the taut skin. Though she had seemed to suspect my condition, to have it confirmed was clearly a shock.

“But the physicks,” she whispered. “They protected the princess. I prepared them just as I was taught.”

I reached over to press Gwen’s hand, reassuring her. “You are not at fault. They protected me for a long while. God must have a purpose in suddenly rendering them ineffective.” I fought to retain my composure though inwardly I was as frightened as she.

Grandmother asked, “What will you do?”

“I have sent a message to His Grace requesting a meeting.”
And I am praying, praying
.

“He won’t come here?” Gwen exclaimed, glancing around as if seeing a hovel.

“I doubt that he would, Gwen, but if he should, I would be proud to welcome him into my fine home.”

I spent the next few days endlessly pacing and praying.

Then Richard Stury appeared at my door like a harbinger of doom, glowering in his dark robes. Edward summoned me to Eltham. Stury would escort me. We would depart the following day. And then Stury was gone again, striding through the drifting snow. I was grateful to have so much to do to prepare for my departure that I could not waste time on further worry. Bella must be bundled up and delivered to her
grandparents’ house, my steward Robert Broun must be told of any business I had not had time to complete, Gwen must pack for us, the servants must be informed. I must go to Mary at her home and find an opportunity when her children were distracted to tell her my news, and that I would be away. I must rest a little.

But it was difficult to rest after my conversation with Mary.

“How will you explain a brother or sister to Bella?” she asked.

I did not know. That was another worry I was glad to have little time to fret about. But Mary pressed me to devise an explanation then and there.

“I cannot think of that now, Mary. I have all that I can possibly cope with preparing to tell His Grace. And Her Grace. What I might say to Bella I shall decide anon.” Bella might have more than a puzzling sibling to cope with if things did not go well with Edward and Philippa.

I would surely be banned from the queen’s household. How could I not? And then what would become of Bella and me?

“You are wealthy, Alice,” Mary reminded me with a little laugh.

“But I am a woman alone.”

She hugged me. “Forgive me. I see that you are frightened. I pray the king is worthy of your love and loyalty.”

T
HOUGH I
dressed warmly for the journey in a squirrel-lined cloak, I thought I would freeze to death on the barge. Gwen covered me with a fur mantle and still I shivered. It was not merely the weather, of course. It was fear that chilled me to the bone. Edward and I had never discussed the possibility of a child. I did not know how much men knew about preventing conception, but thought they must be blissfully, willfully naïve else they would take more responsibility in sowing their seed. I had wept the previous night, remembering how different it had been when I knew that I was carrying Bella. Janyn’s joy had buoyed me through all the long days when I ached and sickened. It had been a gladsome time, and after her birth I had yearned for another child. Now I dreaded what I might be commanded to do.

Snow softened the woodland and parks around Eltham. It was a beautiful palace, and I had experienced much joy there. But now I approached it as a place of judgment, the place in which I would learn my punishment. Richard Stury had not helped with his stern silence. As if he knew. But, of course, he could not.

Gwen and I were escorted to my usual chamber, already made comfortable with a glowing brazier, heavy tapestries to block out drafts, heated stones ready to wrap and place beneath our feet as we sat to drink hot spiced wine, eat fresh bread still warm from the oven and a stew that was fragrant and hot. It was a moment in which I gave thanks for being the mistress of a king. I took care over the amount of wine I consumed, needing my wits about me when summoned to Edward.

The summons came just as I was casting longing looks at the bed piled high with blankets and fur-lined counterpanes, yearning for a midafternoon nap, a few moments of unconsciousness. I was grateful my escort was a page, not Stury. A moment of grace. I had chosen one of Edward’s favorite gowns, red brocade over an azure blue silk undergown, and the braids of hair wound over my ears were held in place by a gold netting thick with seed pearls. I wore a pearl ring and earrings, and the largest of the pearls he had given me hung from a gold chain around my neck.

Edward had been out riding. His face was red from the cold and his eyes shining and clear. I could smell the fresh air on him as he crossed the room to me and lifted me up by the waist.

“My beloved Alice. Each time I see you, I think you more beautiful than you were before. How is this possible?” He kissed me and set me back on my feet. “I have ached for you for days. Tonight you shall stay with me.”

He was my beloved, my dearest Edward, and he loved me. How could I doubt that he would want our child? That he would cherish our child? But he was king, and I was not his queen. Our child would be a bastard.

I forced gaiety. “And you look hale and hardy, my lord. You’ve been riding in the snow. I can smell the fresh, crisp air on your hair and your clothes.” I lifted one of his hands and sniffed. “And your skin.” I kissed his palm.

He brought the palm to my cheek, caressing it, and then lifted me, enfolding me in his embrace, warming me with a passionate kiss. He set me down with a laugh.

“You see my hunger! Come, let us catch our breath.”

I felt hope kindled in my loins, cradling our child.

We settled by the fire. A servant poured wine, then withdrew. Edward’s long white hair glowed brightly in the lamplight and firelight, but now his eyes were cautious.

“So, my beloved, what is so urgent you must see me betimes?”

I took a deep breath. I had decided to speak plainly, quickly, not create additional suspense.

“Edward, I am with child.”

He made an odd sound, a little groan or sigh, so soft and fleeting that I was not even certain I’d heard it.

“How long?”

“A few months.”

A long pause while he stared at the fire. I had to remind myself to breathe.

“Mine?”

The question startled me. “There is no doubt, Edward. My body belongs to you alone.”

He reached out and took my hand for a moment, squeezing it, studying my face. His expression was one of sad affection. My heart raced.

“Who knows?”

“My maid, my sister, my grandmother.”

He nodded. “I must think, Alice. I will send for you.”

All warmth left me. I rose and withdrew from his chamber, amazed that my legs supported me. Gwen took one look at me and then undressed me and tucked me into bed with heated stones. I did not protest. I permitted myself a large cup of spiced wine and, against all hope, fell into a deep sleep.

“Dame Alice, you are dreaming.” Gwen leaned over me. She held one of my hands to her heart. “Quickly, you must rise and dress. You are summoned.”

“Is it morning?”

“Just after vespers. You have slept only a little while.”

When I was shown into the room, Edward stood, hands on hips, legs spread wide, looking out of a casement window. A kingly stance.

“Your Grace,” I said, kneeling to him.

He turned round. “‘Your Grace’? You are carrying my child, wonder of wonders, and you call me ‘Your Grace’?” He crouched down to me, not an easy movement for him, and took my hands. “Rise, my beauty. I have a gift for you.”

He presented me with a ruby brooch and ring, large stones resembling hearts surrounded with pearls, set in delicately filigreed silver leaves trailing tendrils. Ruby hearts caught in woodbine.