Daughter of York (12 page)

“I thank you, Master Harper. I had need of some fresh air, but now I am feeling better, I would ask you to escort me back to the hall.” She hoped she sounded as regal as her mother.

She lifted the train of her dress and draped it gracefully over her arm, revealing a white satin underdress embroidered with marguerites, her own special flower. She had put out her hand for him to help her descend the winding steps when her foot slipped. In a second, she was in his arms, feeling the strength in his shoulders as he stopped her from falling. Again the rosewater, and again her pulse raced. He had her captive, and she found she could not pull away. The urge to be kissed was too great. She closed her eyes and their lips met. Her fingers caressed his curls as she pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered how she knew to do this, but the thought was lost in the wonderful sensation she was experiencing all through her body. Then, without warning, Cecily’s face intruded on her brain, and shame suffused her. One of John’s hands was fondling her breast and the other held her buttocks firmly against him. She could feel something hard through the layers of clothing pressing against her thigh, and his desire was mounting as surely as her panic. Then Edward’s familiar, lazy voice pierced the moment.

“Why, Margaret, ’tis early in the evening for such sport. Our lady mother inquires after you. I do believe ’tis time to return to our guests.”

John released his hold instantly and tried to bow awkwardly on the narrow circular stairs. On the landing below, Edward laughed. “’Tis John Harper, is it not?” John nodded, speechless. “You fought beside me at Towton and St. Albans, and I would not deny you a prize. But I fear my sister may be too high a one! Kiss her if you must, but I forbid anything further.”

John gasped, and Margaret sank down on the step, her hand flying to her head to right her steepled hennin as she stammered, “’Twas my fault, Edward. Pray do not be angry with Master Harper.” Margaret knew in her heart that she had encouraged the young man, and she did not want to add another sin to the list she must confess on the morrow by pretending she had not.

“Nay, Lady Margaret, the fault lies with me,” John protested. “I confess I could not help myself. If I have offended you or your grace, I am heartily sorry. My loyalty to your house is unswerving, I swear. Punish me as you will, my lord.” John had descended the few steps to the landing and was now kneeling before Edward, his hand on his heart.

“Punish you? Punish you for what, pray? Don’t be such an addle-pate, sir. You have not offended me, and as I did not hear her screaming for help, my sister is quite obviously not offended either. I am correct, Margaret?” He saw her look of acquiescence and continued, “Who am I to gainsay young love? Come, Meg, we shall be missed. Good evening, Master Harper.”

He offered his arm to Margaret, who carefully climbed down the last two steps to join him. They walked silently back to the great hall, leaving a mortified John Harper in their wake. As Edward held the arras aside for his sister, he turned, and John could have sworn his sovereign winked at him.

W
HEN THE ROYAL
entourage traveled back to London two days later, Margaret and her ladies were alone in the chariot. The time at Fotheringhay had convinced Cecily that it was where she belonged, and she had received permission from Edward to make it her principal residence. She happily settled in among the towering moated ramparts and fortified baileys, which made Fotheringhay one of the strongest castles in the Midlands of England. It was also one of the must luxurious. Cecily was overjoyed when Edward promised to send the rest of her wardrobe and household to her as soon as he returned to London. He loved his mother, but her disapproval of his lifestyle was a burr under his saddle. The farther away she was, the better, he thought.

Margaret had cried when she kissed Cecily good-bye on the steps of the inner bailey. Even though they had lived apart now for two years, Margaret at Greenwich and Cecily at Baynard’s, and Margaret had been in control of her own little household, it was only an hour or two by boat between them, and her mother’s proximity had been a comfort.

“I shall be in London from time to time, Margaret, never fear. And you will write to me, will you not? I will miss you, too, my child, but you are a woman now, and I have taught you well. ’Twill not be so bad. But you must see to it that George and Richard conduct themselves properly, my dear,” Cecily advised her, and Margaret nodded dutifully.

George was to remain at Greenwich, but it had been decided during private conversations with Cecily’s nephew, the earl of Warwick, that when Richard turned fourteen, he would be placed in the earl’s care and undertake his knightly training at Warwick’s castle of Middleham. But for now, the three siblings would spend much of their time in one another’s company, with Edward keeping an eye on their activities and household expenditures.

If the truth be told, Margaret was none too happy with the arrangement. A fight was always simmering beneath the surface when the two brothers were together. George sensed Edward’s partiality for Richard, and his jealousy was increasing. Despite being warned by Edward to remain calm, Richard would not take George’s jabs and taunts lying down. He would bunch his hands into fists and threaten to take on the bigger George in a fight. George would laugh unkindly, which would inflame Richard’s anger further until Edward or Cecily stepped in to take charge. Not long after such an incident, however, the two might be seen arm in arm wandering down to the butts to try their luck with a bow and arrow, fast friends again. Their behavior was perplexing to Cecily and simply annoying to Margaret.

During the journey back to Greenwich, however, Margaret was far too absorbed in herself to worry about her brothers. Time after exhilarating time, she had gone over the moments of her embrace with John Harper, trying to remember each exquisite sensation and making it last in her mind twice as long as it had. She had seen John once more after the incident, and they had but a brief exchange.

“I must thank you, my lady, for excusing me to his grace, the king. Certes, I was so surprised and overcome by his presence that I lost my tongue. Forgive me.”

Seeing him so contrite, Margaret tried to make amends. “Nay, Master Harper. There is naught to forgive. I should not have put you in such a position. But,” she said with a twinkle, trying to make light of the event, “I hope you enjoyed our moment together as much as I did.”

The sensual smile that suffused his face told her that he had.

“’Tis enough then, sir, and so,” she found herself saying, “until the next time.”

His astonishment was extremely satisfying, she remembered, as she lay wrapped in furs and daydreaming on the cushions of the chariot.

•   •   •

M
ARGARET LISTENED IN
on a conversation between Sir John Howard and Will Hastings one evening after supper in the queen’s watching chamber. She was presiding over the entertainment that night, and Edward had graciously accepted her invitation to visit his sister at Greenwich. He had arrived with some of his closest advisers in the royal barge from Westminster earlier in the day and spent some time with George and Richard before attending Margaret’s entertainment. Edward’s two councilors had begun their talk mundanely enough, commenting on the music as the dancers in front of them stepped to a stately
pavane
. Margaret liked Jack Howard for his forthrightness. His loyalty to the house of York was unquestioned, and Edward held his councilor in high esteem. Margaret appeared intent on the dancing, and they forgot about her as their talk became more political.

“The last few months have made for some strange bedfellows for his grace and Warwick, Jack,” Will said, referring to the weeks of uncertainty for Edward along the Scottish border.

“Aye, my lord of Warwick is none too happy he has to consider Ralph Percy one of us now,” Jack said, twirling his long black mustache. Margaret knew Warwick’s Neville family, with royal connections through its Beaufort roots, had a running feud over lands with the other powerful lords of the north, the Percies. “In truth, I was suspicious when they told me he had sworn allegiance to Edward, when all these years he has worn Lancaster’s colors. But he seems to be holding Dunstanburgh strong for the king after it fell into our hands, Will.”

“Percy? Certes, that is strange, but stranger still is Somerset’s obedience to his grace,” Will replied. The young and handsome duke of Somerset, rumored to be Queen Margaret’s lover and possibly the father of her son Edouard, had astounded all of Edward’s councilors when he, too, swore allegiance to Edward following the siege of Alnwick Castle in December. With all the bothersome northern castles now in Yorkist hands, easygoing Edward had forgiven both these lords, and indeed Henry of Somerset was now among Edward’s inner circle. “You should see the scowl on Warwick’s face,” Will said, chuckling. “’Twould send even the Devil scurrying back into Hell! The earl mislikes his protégé’s pardonings, I warrant. But he wisely curbs his tongue for now.”

“Perhaps his grace likes to keep his enemies where he can see them,” Jack Howard remarked. “’Tis certain my lord Rivers and his son, Scales, have proven loyal.”

At the mention of Anthony, Margaret startled the two men by remarking, “My lord Scales proved a worthy fighter in the north, Sir William, so my brother tells me. I wonder when we shall see him again at court.”

“Forgive our indiscretion, my lady,” Will apologized, recovering. “We were unaware you were within earshot. I hope we said nothing untoward. You must know our loyalties lie with your brother.”

“Have no fear, Sir William, you have not disgraced yourself.” Margaret smiled. “I was enjoying eavesdropping. I do not have enough news here at Greenwich, in truth. I feel as though I were in some backwater with only two squabbling brothers for entertainment. Lord Scales and I are acquainted, and I find his company pleasant. I would have news of him.”

Jack laughed. “Anthony Woodville was heard to rue Warwick’s decision not to attack Alnwick, Lady Margaret. A valiant soldier with no one to fight is a sad sight indeed!”

The conversation was halted abruptly as loud laughter erupted from one end of the hall. The three watched as Edward’s jester, Jehan Le Sage, turned another cartwheel, lightly plucked a bonnet from an unsuspecting guest’s head and leapt easily up onto a table, brandishing the cap on the end of his bell stick. Edward applauded loudly and threw Jehan a coin. He called to his sister: “Margaret, let us have dancing, I pray you. Jehan looks weary.” Margaret nodded and the musicians tuned their instruments.

“I hope one day to have someone like Jehan to keep me company,” Margaret said to Will and Jack. “He seems to know Edward’s every humor and can adapt himself to any occasion. I warrant he is closer to my brother than any of you, sirs!” She laughed when she saw the consternation on their faces. “Fear not, I know your loyalty, too. ’Tis simply a different kind.”

Jack’s eyes twinkled as he went back to stroking his mustache and looked admiringly at her. He hoped Edward would find the lady a good match. She would make England proud.

Just then, John Harper stepped up to Margaret, extended his leg and bowed gracefully over it. “Lady Margaret, may I have the pleasure?” he asked, offering her his arm. “I pray you excuse us, sirs.”

Margaret inclined her head and took John’s arm, smiling an apology to the two councilors. Jack kissed her hand and moved away with Will to talk to Robert Stillington, the bishop of Bath and Wells and another of the king’s councilors. They moved aside to allow the couple to join the other dancers in a slow
basse danse.
Margaret was in a dusky blue gown, the V-necked bodice turned back to show the creamy satin lining. The hemline was trimmed with ermine. She deftly gathered the train over her free arm and allowed John to lead her in the stately dance. She noticed his hand trembled slightly in hers, and she smiled to herself. The memory of their kiss at Fotheringhay came back in all its sensuousness, and she glanced over at him and wondered if he could feel her pulse beating. He caught her eye, and his expression told her he could. Immediately, a flush of scarlet flooded her cheeks and she turned her head away.

They processed down the room, their steps in perfect time to the beat of the tambourine, the recorders, gemshorns and viols. Turning inward and coming together face to face in the movement of the dance, their hands whispering together, John murmured, “Is this perhaps the next time, my lady?”

Margaret knew he was referring to her last and somewhat bold remark on the tower stairs. They moved away from each other again, and she was spared having to answer. How many times had she dreamed of that kiss? And how many times had she dreamed of repeating it she was ashamed she could not tell. A simple kiss, she thought, and Edward seems to expect it of me. Perhaps, later …

“I shall take a turn around the garden by the river after my brother has retired, Master Harper,” she was brave enough to tell him the next time they were close enough for conversation. “Certes, I shall be accompanied by my ladies, but I would not find your company unwelcome should you happen upon us.”

Now she saw him flush, and when he returned her to her seat, he kissed her fingers with as much meaning as he could without drawing attention. “I thank you, Lady Margaret,” he said, “for the dance.”

He walked away. Margaret watched his long, lazy stride, admiring the shapely thighs and calves encased in green and yellow chequered hose. Aye, she thought, perhaps ’tis the time.

She looked around for Edward and saw him in a window embrasure
with Eleanor Butler. She briefly wondered how Eleanor happened to be at her entertainment, but then she knew that Edward had orchestrated it, and shrugged. The word was that Eleanor was proving a difficult conquest for her lusty brother, and she watched the two play the seduction game from her vantage point across the room. Eleanor was indeed a beauty, with translucent skin, a fine nose and dark sapphire eyes. A wisp of auburn hair had escaped from under her hennin, and Edward was playing with it and touching her neck delicately. Giving him license for a minute or two, Eleanor then firmly removed his hand and said something that made Edward laugh. Margaret saw her stifle a yawn, curtsey prettily and move towards the door. At that moment, Jack Howard claimed his attention, and Edward was unable to follow his heart’s desire. Poor Edward, Margaret thought, I hear the lady is unwilling to be bedded.