Daughter of York (22 page)

“Then change it, Ned,” Margaret retorted as she went into his arms and received two smacking kisses on her cheeks. “’Tis glad I am to see you, too. And in such good spirits.”

“Well met,” he said again.

“And I you, your grace,” Margaret said, smiling at his unusual excitement. “I thought you had forgotten me in my backwater. Dickon and I were plotting some mischief to relieve our boredom when your letter came. ’Twas perfect timing.”

Edward gave a shout of exuberant laughter. Margaret was not sure how to react. ’Twas not that amusing, she thought. She was spared the effort when Edward’s eye fell on Fortunata, still prostrate on the floor next to Jane.

“Ah, this must be the unfortunate Fortunata,” he said, chuckling at his own wit. “Some saint must have been looking after you, mistress, when you were rescued by Jack Howard. Jack!” he bellowed to the group of gentlemen gathered below his throne. Jack turned warily at the king’s raised voice. “I commend your charity in charging Margaret with such an unusual gift.” He pointed to the dwarf. “You shall be rewarded in Heaven, I have no doubt!”

Jack Howard laughed, relieved, and bowed his thanks. “If I ever get there, my liege!” he exclaimed. The company laughed heartily, and Will Hastings thumped him on the back.

Fortunata had not dared look at the king when he graciously offered his hand to raise her from her knees. Towering above her, he made her feel even smaller than she was, and she stared at the ground, quaking in her shoes. She dared herself to look at his feet and almost uttered an amazed
madre mia!
Why, she could have sailed all the way home to Italy in one of his long, pointed shoes. This amusing fancy made her less afraid, and she gradually lifted her head as he chatted to Margaret and found her eyes only came on a level with—
madre mia!
she thought again—his rather substantial codpiece. Despite her olive complexion, her face reddened.

“Aye, this is Fortunata, and later she will give your Jehan some competition.
Pochina,
show the king how you can tumble,” Margaret said, rolling her arms to illustrate. The dwarf ran a few steps and then executed a dazzling assortment of leaps, somersaults and cartwheels, landing deftly in Jack Howard’s arms. The company applauded. Edward cheered the loudest of all. Margaret glanced at him, again puzzled.

“Ned, what ails you?” she whispered over the din.

“
Patience, ma petite!
” He grinned sheepishly at her. “Attend me later privately. But now come and sit. Tell me about Dickon.”

Margaret sat on a cushioned stool next to him on the dais and sent Jane to see to her wardrobe. She motioned to Fortunata to sit on the floor next to her, and the dwarf settled herself out of sight of the company, hidden by Margaret’s sumptuous gown. She had learned to be invisible in the physicians’ consulting chambers at the university, and she was quickly forgotten by those who came to talk to her mistress. Out of sight, out of mind, her doctor mentor had told her. “You can learn much,
piccolina
Fortunata.” She observed the other members of Edward’s retinue, noting the hearty laugh and long, drooping mustache of her savior, Jack Howard; the handsome but aging features of Richard Woodville, Lord Rivers; and the large nose and wandering eye of Edward’s chamberlain, Will Hastings. She guessed Will was at least ten years his master’s senior, but it was clear the man was devoted to Edward and—judging from the winks Edward shared with Will—was also held in the highest regard by the king.

“Is Anthony here?” Margaret finally had the courage to ask softly after answering Edward’s many questions. She watched as he nervously pulled on and off an enormous ring she had not seen before. She thought he wasn’t paying attention, so she tried again. “Lord Scales, Ned? Is he here?”

“Aye, Meg, I heard you the first time,” he answered. “He is here. You will see him anon, have no fear. But I will warn you, little sister, so is his wife. In fact, it seems his whole family is here.”

“To go with you to Reading, Ned? My lords Scales and Rivers must needs be at the council, I see that. Who else? Anthony has many brothers and sisters.”

Edward jammed the ring back on his finger and stood suddenly. “You will see. Now I must talk with Hastings and Howard. Your pardon, Meg.” And he almost fell down the steps to the floor in his hurry to leave her. “Come to me at supper. I will have Jack accompany you.”

Margaret stared after him as he strode down the length of the presence chamber, gathering his councilors in a colorful procession behind him. He had been so distracted, she had not dared ask him the most important question: Whom was she to marry?

J
ACK
H
OWARD WAS
admitted to Margaret’s apartments a few hours later and bowed over her hand, his mustache tickling her fingers. He stood up
and again found himself eye to eye with the princess, something he found reassuring. Certainly her intelligence would serve England well when Edward came to find a bridegroom for her, but her height and bearing added a confidence that would be an asset at any foreign prince’s court. His frank expression must have told Margaret that she had chosen her wardrobe well, for she smiled and said, “Thank you, Sir John.”

His black eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Forgive me, my lady, I was unaware I had spoken. Certes, scarlet is dear to my heart as it is one of the Howard colors! May I say you wear it well.”

“Sir John, if you flatter me any more I shall outgrow this monstrous confection,” she said with a laugh, pointing up to her butterfly hennin, its starched gauze protruding a foot from her head. Her fingers glittered with rings of every precious stone as she turned and swept the mink-trimmed train of her gown behind her and out of her path. Fortunata kept her distance as the small group wended its way through several antechambers until they reached the king’s private rooms. An usher sprang to open the heavy wooden door and announced them in ringing tones.

Edward was conferring with Will Hastings. A number of scrolls were scattered over the table and a tawny greyhound was lying beneath it. The dog eased itself off the floor and tentatively wagged its tail as Jack went forward to bow to the king.

“Ambergris!” squeaked Margaret when she saw the hound, and upon hearing its name, the dog loped over to her, sat down and offered a long, elegant paw.

“See, he remembers!” Margaret exclaimed. “I taught him that, Ned, when we were all at Baynard’s. What a sweet dog!” She put her arms about its neck and Ambergris licked her nose.

Behind her, Fortunata drew in her breath. “Holy Mother, you are sure to die,
madonna!
” she whispered, fear in her voice.

“Nay, Fortunata, there is naught poisonous about a dog’s wet kiss,” Edward said, going to greet Margaret and hearing the dwarf’s frightened exclamation. “No more than our own, in truth.” Fortunata was already on the floor in an obeisance but allowed herself to look up at Edward this time. “Come, child, let me show you not to be afraid.”

Margaret was impressed by Edward’s kindness. She watched with delight as he led Ambergris to Fortunata, made the dog lie down and
gently placed Fortunata’s hand on the dog’s soft head. The tail batted the floor happily, and Edward nodded. “Certes, he likes you.”

The dog’s nonchalance calmed Fortunata, and she smiled as she lightly stroked its head. But then it decided to lick her hand, and she squeaked and backed away again. Everyone laughed, and Ambergris wagged his tail harder. He rose and went to get some more petting from his new friend, and as Fortunata was now backed up against the arras on the wall, she raised her hand in fear. To her amazement, instead of eating her alive, the dog sat down and offered her his paw again.

“That is the signal,
pochina
! See, he obeys you. He is now your friend,” Margaret exclaimed. She turned back to talk to Edward as Fortunata cautiously put out her hand to touch the dog.

“God’s greeting to you, Will,” she said, smiling at Hastings, who bowed over her outstretched hand. “I trust you are taking care of my brother when I am not there to keep him in hand.”

Will laughed. “Aye, my lady, we go on well enough without you.”

“But now, good sirs, I would spend time alone with my sister. I bid you both a pleasant evening,” Edward said and acknowledged their bows as the two men left the room. “Is it safe to talk in front of Fortunata?” he murmured as he led Margaret to a chair. “What I am about to tell you must not leave this room.”

Margaret stiffened, her expression full of concern. “Fortunata is my faithful servant, Ned. She knows all my secrets, and I would trust her with my life.” She began to doubt the mystery had anything to do with a bridegroom for her.

“Very well. I think I am going to shock you when I tell you the news. But I think it will be more shocking to my councilors, especially my lord of Warwick.”

Margaret frowned. “Shocked, Ned? What can be so shocking that you cannot even share it with Will?” And then she knew. “Oh, no!” she cried involuntarily.

Edward was already speaking. “I am married, Meggie. I married Dame Elizabeth Grey—Woodville that was—and I have told no one.”

“Oh, no!” she cried again. “Anthony was right! He thought you were contemplating this. How could you, Ned? How could you marry a nobody?”

Edward reacted angrily. He rose, kicked over a stool and slammed his hand on the table, sending scrolls all over the floor. Ambergris retreated hurriedly under the table, taking Fortunata with him.

“How dare you question your king, Lady Margaret?” he barked. “’Tis not your place, in truth!” He began to pace, controlling his anger and lowering his voice, knowing full well there were curious ears pressed to the door. “You do not know my lady! She is good and kind and … I … love her,” he finished quietly, now looking shamefaced. “Meggie, I am telling you because I thought you would understand. You are like me, I know. And besides”—he sulked, staring out of the window into the darkening sky—“she is not a nobody. Her mother used to be the duchess of Bedford.”

Margaret took a deep breath and went to him, gently taking his arm. She turned him to her and looked up into his eyes. “Forgive me, Ned, I should not have spoken thus. ’Tis such a shock, in truth. We—nay, all England—had hopes of a great alliance for you. You will dash many people’s hopes and perhaps even make some new enemies. And”—she paused, her eyes widening—“I dread to think how Mother will take this.” She finished on a chuckle, which made Edward laugh, too, albeit nervously.

Margaret settled him back in his chair and poured them both some wine. She noticed Fortunata under the table, her arms around the dog, and touched Edward’s leg with her shoe, silently pointing to the scene. Edward relaxed and nodded, quaffing his drink in a single swallow.

“Now, tell me how this came about, Ned. I promise I will not chide you further, at least not this evening.”

“You are a born diplomat, Meg. I know I can count on you to be silent until the time comes to reveal all, which surely must be soon.”

“Aye, how long have you been”—she swallowed hard—“married?”

“Since May Day,” Edward said, grinning shamefacedly. “Elizabeth and I married at dawn on May Day at Rivers’ home in Grafton Regis, with only her mother and two ladies as witness. Oh, and a whey-faced lad who sang for the priest. Poor Bess, she has not seen much of me since then, I must confess. That is why she is here now.”

“Who else knows, Ned? And why not Will? He is your best friend and councilor. Ah,” she thought out loud. “Perhaps he would have stopped you. Is that it?”

“Only the elder Woodvilles and Anthony know. I could not tell Will, Meg, because there is bad blood between him and Anthony. I have to confess I am pleased with Scales. He has kept his peace honorably,” Edward said.

“Anthony told me—sweet Jesu, now I realize he told me the day after your wedding day—that you might do this, but I thought he had lost his wits.” She caught herself. “Oh, sorry, Ned, I said I would not comment again. There are so many questions, the first of which is how will you face our cousin of Warwick? He has been negotiating for an alliance with Bona of Savoy, has he not? Certes, this could ruin your relationship with Louis.”

“You know too much, little sister. Aye, Warwick will be angered, but he thinks he can use me like a cat’s paw.” He frowned. “Edward do this, Edward do that—God’s bones, but I am sick of his high-handed way with me! I care not what he thinks. I am the king, and he is not.”

“Have a care, Ned. He is a powerful man. You do not want him as your enemy. In truth, this will challenge his reputation in France, and he will not take this news quietly.” She sighed and shook her head. Seeing him despondent, she changed the subject. “But what of Elizabeth? Shall I like her as well as I like her brother? And her family, I hear it is large.”

“You will love Bess as soon as you see her, and, aye, Rivers and Jacquetta have enjoyed each other enough to have fifteen children, although two died as babes. In truth, they are more like lovers than husband and wife. Like mother, like daughter, I say! Bess and I—” He broke off, his hooded eyes unable to hide his desire, and a small secret smile played around his mouth. “But I talk too much. Pour me some more wine, Meg,” he said, holding out his cup. Before Margaret had time to gather her skirts, Fortunata had filled his goblet. “God’s nails, the woman must have read my mind,” he said, inclining his head in thanks. She bowed and disappeared behind Margaret’s chair.

“When will you reveal this information, Ned? In truth, you are compromising Elizabeth, are you not?”

Edward sighed and sipped his wine. “I know, I know, as she reminds me each time I see her. When I get her with child, I must own up, I suppose. But can you keep my secret, Meg?”

“You know I can, Edward. But I will extract a promise as reward. You will not leave me to languish in Greenwich until my dotage, and you will
please find me a good English husband! I am getting old, brother, and I dearly want children.” She leaned back disconsolately. “And to think I thought your cryptic letter meant you had found
me
a mate, not you!”

“Pshaw! Old? You are but eighteen. I’m sorry I have disappointed you, Meg, and you have my word I will find a husband for you before the year is over. But I doubt he will be English, my dear.”