Cicely's King Richard (Cicely Plantagenet Trilogy) (13 page)

Anne watched her face. ‘You think less of me now, do you not?’

‘It would be naïve to say I do, because I have never been in such a position as you, and cannot begin to know how it feels. But I do not think love can be apportioned.’

Anne smiled. ‘If it could, everything I am would be Richard’s. I
do
love him, you see, I just cannot leave the past where it belongs. Fate is not dealing him a kind hand, but soon I will be gone and he will be persuaded to take another wife. I pray she gives him more than I have ever done. Cicely, no matter what you now think of me, I seek your promise that you will always be there for Richard. Your youth is no barrier, for it is your heart, mind and strength that can sustain him. He is closer to you than anyone, I know that, and you have earned that honour. My guilty heart will be eased if I know you will be there to support him when he most needs it.’

‘I will always be there for him, Your Grace. Always.’

‘That is what I hoped you would say.’ Anne’s face became a little wry. ‘It is to be thanked that you do not feel as your sister does, for to be sure
you
could have had his heart and body long since.’

Cicely’s cheeks flamed. ‘Please do not say that! He is my uncle.’

‘You and he have something, call it understanding, that is very out of the ordinary. Fate has made you his niece, but you would have been a far better wife for him than me. You would have warmed his bed. I was only ever warm with my first husband, and it has caused me pain ever since.’ Anne gazed at her. ‘But Richard is your uncle, and you only see him as such.’

‘Of course!’ Cicely was shocked.

Anne smiled. ‘Of course,’ she murmured, but then changed the subject. ‘Please help me up for I must go to the bed.’

Cicely struggled to take in all the queen had said, but managed to attend her with the care and consideration she had always shown. ‘Do . . . do you wish me to stay, Your Grace?’ she asked when Anne was lying on the huge bed.

‘No, you may go. But Cicely . . . ?’

‘Your Grace?’

‘Please try to understand me. I have never told anyone what I have told you today.’

‘Nothing of this will ever pass my lips, Your Grace, and I do not think any the worse of you. It is not my place to judge something of which I know nothing.’
But I now feel even more for Richard, if that be humanly possible.

Bess was nowhere to be found. Cicely searched the castle without success, and eventually found her quite by accident, standing on a chair to look out of the narrow aperture window of a small room that overlooked the castle bailey. She turned, and stepped guiltily down from the chair. ‘You have found my secret place then? I come here often.’

Cicely stood on the chair, and saw the view below, where Richard, John and some gentlemen were viewing a pair of new horses. One of them was her cousin Jack, who had arrived from the north that very day.

Bess was defensive. ‘I do no harm by coming here, and offend no one. Surely you do not pick fault with this as well?’

Cicely watched as Richard mounted one of the horses, a mettlesome chestnut that did not take kindly to its burden, monarch or not. Richard was not unseated, and seemed well able to control it. He gave no sign of his pain, and was as fit and accomplished a rider as any straight-backed man, probably fitter than most. Then she looked at John, and her eyes softened with love.
My own John.

‘I cannot undo my love,’ Bess said quietly behind her. ‘Could you undo yours?’

‘John is free to be
mine, Bess, but Richard belongs to Anne.’

Bess was silent for a while, and then looked at her again. ‘Do you think you will marry John?’

‘I pray so, but it might be that now that the little prince has gone, the king has a grander match in mind for his only son.’

‘You
are a grand match, Cissy. It would be a very popular marriage in the land.’

Cicely smiled. ‘Shall I shock you, Bess? If I cannot marry John of Gloucester, I will lie with him anyway. I will be his lover, and will remain so for as long as he wants me.’

Bess gave a sad smile. ‘What is so shocking about
that
?
Cissy, I have been in that fleshly prison for what seems like an eternity.’

Cicely looked down into the courtyard again, at her cousin Jack in particular. He was handsome and roguish, with wild dark curls to his shoulders, brown flashing eyes, and a seductive smile—and charm that gained him access to numerous ladies’ beds. Or so Cicely had been told. Looking at him, she could believe it.

The party mounted and prepared to ride out from the castle, Jack on a splendid white horse, called Héraut, that was the envy of most. It was probably more suited to the king himself than the nephew expected to be his heir. As the little party of horsemen moved slowly towards the gateway, in the shadows of the old walls, Richard and John were indistinguishable one from the other.

Chapter Fifteen

It was just
before Christmas and Cicely stood in her room as close as possible to the fire. Biddy fussed around, arranging the folds of the gown that had been made up from the blush-rose satin, and which would be worn during the seasonal celebrations. At last the old nurse was satisfied and stood back to look at her charge. ‘Lady Cicely, I declare you look lovely. Your father would indeed have been proud. There will be few to rival you.’

Eyes shining with anticipation, Cicely turned to look at her reflection and was well pleased with what she saw. The gown was all she could have wished, the soft cloth falling elegantly from a high waistline, the trimming of gold striking just the right note of contrast. Around her waist she wore a belt of mother-of-pearl from which hung a long golden chain, and at the end was an enamelled pendant of brilliant colours. Around her throat were twisted many strands of pearls, some hanging low past her waist and some tightly twisted against her skin. There too was John’s ring, although still tucked out of sight. Her dark hair was brushed until it shone and on her head nestled a small cap hung with drop pearls.

She smiled at Biddy. ‘What a fuss just to see if I will look well for the festivities. We could have employed our time to better use, I think.’

‘Ah, but it was worth it just to see you. The king’s son will be taken with you all over again.’

‘Indeed he will,’ Elizabeth’s imperious voice declared from behind them. She stood there, for the first time at Richard’s court wearing a gown of some other colour than black. She had not gone north with the court during the summer, but had remained in the south, near the riverside palace of Sheen, upstream of London, claiming piety and a need to retreat for a while. She was elegant in dark blue figured velvet, her hair tucked into a sky-blue headdress from which sprang a wired veil. She was an echo of the beautiful widow for whom Edward IV had formed such an intense infatuation. She dismissed Biddy, who had always been a little afraid of her, and then sat down to survey her daughter.

‘Yes, indeed, Cicely, you look well. Is it all for John of Gloucester?’ She smiled as Cicely’s chin took on a stubborn set. ‘I am not criticizing, far from it. In fact I will go so far as to tell you that when the time comes you will have my full consent to marriage with him. I will put no obstacle in your way.’

Cicely looked suspiciously at her mother and once again Elizabeth smiled.

‘Jesu, girl, do not regard everything I say with such doubt. I may not have been with you when the court was at Nottingham but my eyes do not deceive me and I see how things have progressed between you. If you do not believe my intentions are good, then look at it this way. Richard Plantagenet dotes on his bastard son, and if John expresses a strong enough wish to marry you then I do not think Richard will deny him. Neither will he allow his son to live as a pauper. John is bound to be rich and influential. Ah, I see you begin to smile; you would rather believe in my mercenary instincts. I cannot blame you for that — I have not been a fond mother — but that is my nature. I cannot easily show affection.’

Cicely, trying to disrobe without help, found it impossible to reach the fastenings at the back of her bodice. Her mother went to assist. ‘If only Bess’s affairs were as simple and straightforward as yours. It is mostly on her account that I am here. She gives little sign of her feelings at the moment, although I heard rumours from Nottingham that she was making a pretty time of it drooping over him. Tell me, is she over him now? It is not merely an idle question, for I have good cause to ask.’

‘I . . .’ Cicely could not bring herself to answer.

‘I will take that as confirmation that she is not over him. The Lord God only knows why.’

‘You do know why, Mother.’ Cicely looked at her.

Elizabeth paused, and then sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose I do. Damn him for his appeal. Anyway, I ask because he has spoken to me concerning her possible marriage. And he is
not
proposing himself, I hasten to point out.’

Cicely stared. ‘To whom?’

‘The Irish Earl of Desmond.’

‘The king wishes to send her into virtual exile?’ Cicely’s mind raced. Had Richard finally realized the truth?

‘Hardly exile. Ireland is a stronghold of Yorkist sympathies, and it may be that in Richard’s eyes the marriage has immense political importance in the securing of those sympathies.’

‘Will you tell her?’ Cicely wondered what on earth Bess’s reaction would be.

Thoughtful, Dame Grey helped Cicely into a fresh peach velvet gown. ‘Hmm, I do not think so. After all, Richard may still change his mind. He made no definite offer to me, he simply informed me he was considering it. Besides, if she thinks she is to marry and leave England she may reveal more than would be seemly. It is a possibility I wish to avoid at all costs. So, it is best left as it stands. If you breathe a word to her, you shall rue it!’ With this echo of her old self, Elizabeth went to the window, clearing a patch of misting from the glass to look out. ‘It snows again. I declare this is the coldest winter I have known, or perhaps it is merely that I feel the cold a little more than when I was younger. This last year has aged me, I fear. I once thought I would be glorious forever, but look at me now.’

The words made Cicely study her mother, for it was hard to think of her as getting old, but a closer glance revealed how much she had faded since the death of Edward IV.

Elizabeth turned her head. ‘I have a message. The king commands you to go to him. Just hold your tongue about Bess.’

As Cicely reached the royal apartments, she found a familiar and beloved figure standing near a window. Well, two beloved figures, for one was John, the other Jack of Lincoln, who looked striking in kingfisher blue. John turned at the sound of her footsteps and he came to sweep her into his arms and plant a huge kiss upon her lips. ‘It must be all of two hours since last I saw you, and it feels like a lifetime.’

‘You flatter me, sir.’

‘Never.’

She turned to smile at Jack. ‘How good it is to see you again, cousin,
and
that wondrous amethyst ring I desire so much.’

He returned the smile and embraced her. ‘It is good to see you too, sweetheart, but the ring remains mine, no matter how sweetly you flutter your pretty eyes at me.’

She hugged him tightly, for she really did like him. They had known each other from childhood and he had once saved her from drowning. His company was
always
welcome.

John reclaimed her. ‘The lady is mine, Jack. Do not forget it.’

Jack spread his hands, and the light slanted through the coveted amethyst. ‘I will be kind to you, John, and not steal her, which I am sure I could if I tried.’ He winked at her.

John gave him a look. ‘And how is your wife, sir?’

‘I have no idea.’ Jack grinned.

John cupped Cicely’s face in his hands. ‘We do not have long, for my father awaits you.’

‘Why? What does he want?’

‘You will soon know.’ He kissed her again. ‘I will wait out here.’

Puzzled, she went to the king’s door, which the page opened before her.

Richard was standing in front of a freshly stoked fire, a sheaf of papers in his hand and many more lying on the floor around his feet. He was frowning at the topmost communication, stroking his chin thoughtfully, but he smiled as she approached. ‘Be seated if you please, my lady, and my attention will be all yours presently.’

He was not alone, for Francis Lovell and Robert Percy were with him, as well as the king’s elderly secretary, all helping with the volume of work that required his personal attention.

She sat down on a nearby chair, and watched her uncle as he dealt with the never-ending flow of documents requiring his attention. His grey eyes flicked quickly over the words, and he pushed his long hair back as it fell forward.

‘Robert, I tell you we must be finished with this impudent Tudor before this next summer is out, for I cannot tolerate his presence in Brittany, causing unrest in England with his plotting. Or the French for
their
plotting.’

‘By your leave, Your Grace, you should have beheaded his Medusa mother when you had the chance.’

‘True.’ Richard looked at Cicely.

Francis was seated at a desk by the window, working upon another sheaf of papers, a quill poised in readiness. He smiled at Cicely, and gave her one of his huge winks.

Richard still spoke of Henry Tudor. ‘The wretch still declares his intention to marry my eldest niece, if you please! Well, he shall not have Cicely, and Bess will be married forthwith to Desmond and despatched across the Irish Sea.’

Cicely inhaled with swift dismay, and he heard. ‘What is it, Cicely? Is there some reason why Bess should not be married?’

She swallowed nervously, searching frantically for an answer to his question. ‘I fear Bess’s heart may be given already.’ Well, it was not untrue.

He continued to look at her, as if trying to divine her innermost thoughts. ‘Already given? To whom?’

She was aware of his two friends exchanging glances. Even the secretary reacted.

Richard was puzzled. ‘I have not seen her dallying with anyone at court. If you will tell me his name I will endeavour to please her. If he is available then she shall have him.’

‘I . . . do not even know who he is, Uncle.’

He studied her. ‘Hidden pages, Cicely?’

She lowered her eyes.

For a long moment he continued to look at her, and then cleared his throat. ‘The fellow is married, I take it?’

‘Yes.’

He drew a long breath. ‘There is nothing I can do about
that
, unless he can by some miracle be
un
married. I have no appetite for annulments, they always smack of lies.’ He handed his pile of documents to Robert. ‘Well, Cicely, I shall have to know the situation soon, for I will have her beyond the Tudor’s clammy clutches. She is the firstborn and should be married first.’ He waved the others away. ‘I wish to speak to the Lady Cicely alone.’

Francis bowed low to Richard and then to Cicely, gathered up the papers and went to the door. Robert Percy and the secretary followed on his heels, and she heard them greet John and Jack outside before the door closed behind them.

Silence fell upon the room and Cicely thought the crackling of the fire seemed to fill the air. Richard looked at her. ‘Cicely, do you wish to marry my son?’

Her eyes widened. ‘I . . . Yes.’

‘Well, I knew as much already, but it is necessary to ask you formally. I made a great error in the case of Ralph Scrope.’

‘This is formal?’ She glanced at all the other papers and documents still scattered everywhere.

He smiled and spread his hands. ‘For its sins, but I am not always at ease amidst grandeur.’ Then he shifted a little. ‘Are you quite sure? Beyond all doubt? Because you both matter to me.’

She looked at him. ‘I love him, Uncle.’

‘Well, he has requested my permission for you to be wed. I gave my consent, of course, but the match is fraught with the usual awkwardness of consanguinity. The Pope will grant dispensation, but it will take time. These things always do.’ He came closer and touched his palm to her cheek. ‘There is also the delicate matter of any children born of such a marriage, and their closeness to the throne. They will be the grandchildren of two kings. Do you see? You and John are illegitimate, but there will be a possible path open to your children. I have to consider it.’

‘I do not think John and I would wish such a weight upon our children’s shoulders. Whom we may never have, anyway,’ she added.

‘True, but somehow you both seem in rude enough health to provide me with an army of grandchildren.’

‘I cannot imagine you as a grandfather.’

Again his smile. ‘Now then, as I said, dispensation will take some time, and apart from that, I wish to have Henry Tudor over and done with before your marriage. I would have my realm at peace for such an occasion. I would also see Bess married first. Your sister Ann I wish to make handfast to Thomas Howard, grandson of my dear friend the Duke of Norfolk. She is eight or nine, and he is eleven, which is suitable enough, as such things go. This betrothal will also be kept in abeyance until Bess’s future is decided. I have not been tardy in seeing to the husbands of my nieces, that you must admit! You will be thankful to know that I have yet to turn my industrious mind to your two youngest sisters.’

‘How have you found time for all this?’ She found she was looking at his lips. They were so sculpted yet quick, so ready to smile and . . . And what? What else was in her mind as she looked?

‘Have I food between my teeth?’ he enquired on a teasing note.

She flushed. ‘No. No, of course not. Forgive me, I did not mean to . . .’ She left unsaid what she had not meant.

‘That is a relief. Cicely, I am glad about you and John. It warms my heart.’

He kissed her cheek and indicated that he had finished by drawing her to her feet. She smiled at him and went to the door, but he halted her. ‘Cicely, are you sure you do not know the identity of the man Bess loves?’

She met his gaze squarely. ‘Quite sure.’

‘And here I was, convinced
you
would never fib to me,’ he said dryly. ‘Just tell me it is not one of my enemies.’

She returned, ‘If it were, I would tell you. Bess may love unwisely, but there is no treachery in it. I swear.’ But she knew he
should
be told. It mattered to his good name, and yet she could not betray her sister to him.

‘I believe you, Cicely. Rightly or wrongly, I will always believe you.’

Guilt kept her where she was, and he came to her.

‘What is it? Tell me.’

‘I cannot tell you. You least of all. Please do not ask me.’

‘Me least of all?’ He searched her eyes, and she saw the beginning of enlightenment. ‘Cicely?’

She put a shaking finger briefly to his lips. ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not ask me to betray her even more than I already have. What I suspect is in your mind now is the truth.’

He closed his eyes. ‘Jesu.’

‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.