The King's Grace (22 page)

SPRING
1490

S
ir Edward Brampton seeks an audience, your grace,” the prior’s favorite, Brother Damien, purred after bowing low to Elizabeth. Like a satisfied cat, Grace thought, watching him lick his sensuous lips at this juicy piece of information and straighten back up. An Adonis, Katherine had deemed him, and she could never reconcile his looks to his chosen vocation. “’Tis no wonder the abbot desires him,” she had declared.

Grace had been shocked the first time she discovered that men of the cloth defied God’s holy law of chastity: it was common knowledge the priest who was assigned to serve communion at Delapre Abbey had sired a child, but when Grace had overheard Elizabeth tell Katherine that Father John took this handsome young monk to his bed, she was at once fascinated and repelled by the thought.

“Sir Edward Brampton?” Elizabeth repeated, surprise in her voice. “Here? To see me?”

“Aye, your grace. Shall I fetch him? He is with Father John,” Damien mewed.

Elizabeth nodded and characteristically put her hand up to her head covering to fluff out its silky folds. She had taken to wearing a widow’s barbe with a simple silver circlet anchoring it to designate her rank and hide her scrawny neck. But her hollow cheeks and rheumy eyes and the creases around her mouth gave away her age and failing health. She had lost three teeth that year, and so she rarely smiled.

“I pray you, fetch my mirror, Katherine,” she said, easing her aching body out of the chair and disturbing her lap dog. The animal found itself sliding off its mistress’s bony knees onto the wooden floor and yipped in annoyance. Lady Hastings held up the polished silver hand mirror and Elizabeth fussed with her wimple, asking for her favorite pearl and ruby brooch. “Grace, work your magic on my face, child. I would not have Sir Edward be shocked by my appearance after all this time. I believe the last time I saw him was at Richard’s court, before he ran off to Flanders to avoid Henry’s punishment.”

“Aye, he was a useful man to both your husband and his brother. A loyal servant of the house of York, for all he was a Jew,” Katherine remarked. Then, seeing Elizabeth’s look of reproof, she demurred, “a converted Christian, certes, thanks to Edward.”

“He must have made his peace with Henry, I am guessing, although visiting a traitor such as I must not endear him to my son-in-law,” Elizabeth mused. “Perhaps he is now spying for Henry. I would not put it past that adventurer.”

Grace listened absently as she smoothed white ointment on Elizabeth’s face, which, she admitted, besides being the fashion, did hide some of the lines. But she secretly thought the effect was more like a death mask, and she experienced a quiver of fear. What would become of her if Elizabeth died? She was completely dependent on her mentor and received only a few nobles a quarter out of Henry’s meager two-hundred-and-sixty-pound annuity to his mother-in-law. Elizabeth was obliged to pay the abbot for her small entourage’s board and lodging from it. The ladies’ everyday gowns were mended and patched, and only when Elizabeth received a visitor would she allow Grace and Katherine to robe her in a carefully folded gown left in the large carved wardrobe chest from her former glory days.

“I have no time to change my gown,” she said, sighing. “Sir Edward
always told me I looked most beautiful in blue. This dull gray will look dowdy, in truth.” She frowned. “I wonder why the hurried visit?”

She had no time to ponder, as men’s voices were heard upon the stairs outside and a knock came soon after.

Elizabeth checked her reflection once more, straightened the brooch and, sitting down, arranged her skirts gracefully around her. “Come!” she called, sounding calmer than she felt. Grace, Katherine and the other two attendants flanked her as Sir Edward was ushered in. Grace immediately recognized a man who had spent many years at sea. He was handsome in a swarthy way, small but sinewy, with the merriest eyes she had seen at the abbey in all the time they had been in residence. She liked him instantly.

“Your grace,” he greeted her, going down on bended knee, hat in hand, and kissing her outstretched fingers. “I see your beauty has not diminished since last I saw you.”

Grace and Katherine were so heartened at the sound of Elizabeth’s tinkling laughter that their eyes met in a mutual smile of relief. When Elizabeth laughed, it was a good day at the abbey.

“You scoundrel, Sir Edward. I see you have not lost your ability to flatter a lady. Even one as old and hagged as I!” she replied, motioning him to stand. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit? Come, sit by me, I pray you. Pull up that chair,” she said, pointing to the larger of the two remaining chairs. “You may see to what penury I am reduced, Sir Edward. My son-in-law will have me dress in rags and sit on the floor ere long. Whereas you seem to have flourished in your enforced absence from our shores.” And she laughed again.

Sir Edward smiled, but his sharp eyes had already noticed the shabbiness of her clothes, the furniture and hangings on the bed, and he was shocked. “How often do you see your daughter, the queen, madam?” He could not believe Elizabeth Woodville’s daughter would allow her mother to live thus.

“Bess has been a few times—less of late, ’tis true, but she has recently given birth and Henry keeps her close,” Elizabeth said, determined to defend her daughter, who had not set foot in the abbey for almost a year. “And I was allowed out for a meeting with the French ambassadors at Westminster last November, not long before little Margaret was born. Let me see,
that was six months ago,” she said brightly. “And I saw my grandson, who is a delightful child. I hear the new baby, too, is healthy enough.”

“Aye, she is healthy, your grace,” Sir Edward reassured her, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “And the queen is churched and back to her duties at court.”

Grace noticed a hint of an accent in Sir Edward’s speech and wondered why he did not sound as English as his name. Perhaps all Jews speak with an accent, she mused, fascinated by this man in his exquisite murrey velvet doublet, edged with vair, and a ring on every finger. He must be exceedingly rich, she decided, admiring the wide gold collar around his neck and the jeweled garter circling his thigh.

“Grace, dear, do I need to present you twice?” Elizabeth admonished her and Grace started, turning embarrassed eyes on the visitor. She saw Katherine smirking at her over Elizabeth’s head, their fleeting friendly moment forgotten. “Sir Edward, forgive my young friend; she has a vivid imagination and lives in another world sometimes. Certes, I do not blame the child, because abbey life is dull for one used to the delights of court life.” She sighed. “I present Lady Grace Plantagenet to you again, Sir Edward, and perhaps she will respond this time.”

“I crave your pardon, Sir Edward,” Grace apologized, stepping forward and curtsying. “I am honored to meet you.” And she hurriedly retreated behind Elizabeth, hoping Sir Edward’s black eyes would stop assessing her. Aye, I am a bastard, she wanted to blurt out, now pray stop staring! But he was smiling kindly enough, and she relaxed the grip on her belt.

“Lady Grace,” he murmured and then turned his attention to Elizabeth.

“I would speak with Sir Edward in private, ladies,” she said, nodding to the two nearest the door. “Katherine and Grace will stay. Although, I dare say,” she added, chuckling at Sir Edward, “that people our age have no more need of chaperones,
n’est ce pas
, my dear sir.”

When the door closed on the two servants, Elizabeth got to the meat of Brampton’s visit. “I hope we may dispense with formalities now, sir. Why are you here?” she urged. Katherine and Grace stood discreetly at the back of the room, but they could still hear every word. “Knowing your loyalty to my husband and his brother, I cannot think Henry has sent you to give me his good wishes.” She lowered her voice. “Or are you now as good a spy
for him as you were for Edward?” She held his eyes with her astonishing blue ones.

Sir Edward was on his knee in a trice, hat once again in hand. “Your grace, you cannot believe that I would betray you after all King Edward did for me. You must believe I am here with news that I thought might cheer you, ’tis all. In truth, I did not seek permission from King Henry to visit you, but it is well known at court that he does not deny you visitors. I regret I have not come sooner, but I have been…well, let us say…forced to stay abroad until this year.” He grinned and Elizabeth bade him sit again. “I thought it prudent to first present my apologies and duty to King Henry in person following my pardon. He was kind enough to find lodging for me within the palace for a week or so. But as soon as my audience was ended, I was determined to speak with you at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps I should have sent my servant to you before my visit. Certes, I had no wish to alarm you.”

“Forgive me, Sir Edward, but you cannot blame my anxiety. I was betrayed before, and look what happened to me. I needed to hear the loyalty in your voice, and indeed I am right glad to see you. I pray you, continue with your news.”

“Very well, madam. I am recently come from Guisnes…” he paused when he saw Elizabeth frown. “’Tis one of the two castles that guard Calais, your grace.”

“I know that, Sir Edward,” Elizabeth said, a more little impatiently than necessary, Grace thought. “But why should that be of interest to me?”

“’Twas a conversation I had with the governor of the castle, Sir James Tyrell,” Sir Edward replied, ignoring her tone and pleased to see the queen dowager sit up at the mention of one of King Richard’s favored councilors. “Without revealing anything that could return to haunt him, Sir James led me to believe that one of your sons is still alive.”

All three women gasped, and Sir Edward swiveled round to look at Grace and Katherine, seeming to have forgotten they were there. Katherine hurried to Elizabeth, her eyes shining, and grasped her hand. “Ah, Elizabeth, your prayers have been heard!” she cried.

Grace sank down on a stool and observed the group: Elizabeth had blanched whiter than her makeup, her eyes wild with hope, and Katherine was chafing her friend’s hand and repeating “Dear God, dear God!”
while Sir Edward stirred the rushes with his toe, waiting for the queen to speak. Can this be true? Grace’s heart pounded; one of her half brothers was found!

Elizabeth was momentarily speechless, so Sir Edward continued: “I have also had word from merchant colleagues in Bruges that your sister-in-law is putting it about that her nephew, the young duke of York, lives. Although his whereabouts seem to be a mystery,” Sir Edward told her. “When I heard the second rumor, I knew ’twas time I came to see you. I wish I had more to tell you, but I do not.”

Elizabeth still could not speak. She allowed Katherine to keep patting her hand but she stared straight ahead at the door. Finally she turned to Sir Edward and whispered: “I thank you, sir. You have brought a ray of hope so bright into this small chamber that I can barely see for its brilliance.” Then she said, and Grace strained to hear her sotto voce, “I never believed Richard could have killed his brother’s children in cold blood. About a year after their disappearance, I dreamed Ned was dead, and then Doctor Argentine said he had treated the boy for a wasting disease in the Tower. My brother, Lord Rivers, told me that at Ludlow Ned complained often of pain in his face, but with some oil of clove rubbed on his gums, it was eased. ’Twas naught but toothache, I imagined. Lately, in my heart, I knew Ned was dead. But my little Dickon…” she trailed off, too moved to say anything more.

“’Tis a miracle indeed, your grace,” Sir Edward said. “But the tale could have stern consequences should Henry learn of it. I beg of you to keep this to yourself until I can discover the truth. I am a friend at Duchess Margaret’s court, so perhaps I can glean more. And you have my word that, should you desire to send a letter to her, I can guarantee its safe and secret arrival.”

Elizabeth turned grateful eyes to him. “I have no doubt you can, Sir Edward. My husband counted on your discretion many a time. I will compose something to the duchess—she and I had a friendship many years ago—and I will send Grace with it. Shall she find you at Westminster?” Sir Edward nodded. “Good,” she went on, her voice returning to its usual calm. “Then expect her within the week. We do not want Father John or Brother Damien to suspect anything untoward took place today—I fear they spy on me for the king, and by leaving it several days, they will
not connect your visit to Grace’s brief absence. Tell her where she should find you.”

“Let us say that after three days I will wait for her every day at noon at the Sign of the Red Pale next to the abbey at Westminster. William Caxton, who owns the printing shop, is an old friend, and I have business with him.”

“Aye, I know the man. Grace will be there in three days, if all goes well. And now, dear friend, I think you must go.” She beckoned to Grace and Katherine. “Let us all pretend to make merry for a few minutes for the benefit of anyone passing or listening at the door.”

Sir Edward rose to the occasion with a few suitable anecdotes for the women, and they supposed their false laughter fooled any eavesdroppers. Then the courtier dropped another kiss on Elizabeth’s outstretched hand before leaving her presence and cantering through the abbey gatehouse into Long Lane.

Elizabeth sat staring at the closed door for several minutes before she could speak. Grace poured a cup of sweet hippocras for her and Elizabeth took the proffered cup, raising it high in celebration. Then, as Katherine’s jaw dropped, she downed the contents in one swallow, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She grinned up at Grace with the lopsided smile of someone pleasantly in her cups, rose and began to pace about the room. Grace now saw a glimpse of the woman who had delighted in playing political games during her nineteen years as Edward’s queen and in King Richard’s reign. Her eyes glittered—from more than just the wine—and her fists were clenched by her sides. When an uneven floorboard tripped her for a second and she became unbalanced, she reached out for the wall to steady herself but then turned and paced purposefully back to her chair.