The King's Grace (31 page)

“My finest gown!” Elizabeth commanded upon hearing the news. “Why, oh, why did she not give me notice? ’Tis most unseemly and unkind. She gives me no respect,” Elizabeth whined as Grace released the ties on her drab gray skirt and Katherine opened the wardrobe chest and lifted out the purple gown from the tailor in Southwark.

“Perhaps she has good news, your grace, and wanted to come as soon as she could to tell you,” Grace suggested hopefully. However, Bess had not
been to the abbey for two years, although her letters were frequent and affectionate enough. It seemed Henry—or his mother—had her firmly under his control, and she had dutifully provided him with a son and a daughter, both of whom were healthy.

“By the blessed Virgin, Grace,” Elizabeth exclaimed, “why do you always hear a lark when ’tis a jackdaw cawing? And hurry with my bodice—Bess will be here in a trice.”

Katherine curled her thin lips into a smug smile that only Grace could see, adding to Grace’s annoyance. A year or so ago, she would have been devastated by Elizabeth’s jibe, but now she gritted her teeth and tightened the laces of the queen dowager’s bodice into a vise, causing Elizabeth to suck in a sharp breath of pain.

“Looser!” she cried. “Do you want me expiring before my daughter gets here? I know not what has come over you, Grace. It would seem wandering far away has addled your brain or given you high-flown ideas of your own importance.”

Now Katherine was positively grinning with unabashed glee as she shook out the purple gown. “Aye, for a slip of a bastard, she does put on airs,” she said, and then shrieked in fear when Grace flung herself at her, intent on wiping the smile from her bewhiskered face. Katherine dropped the dress and grabbed Grace’s small arms, pinning them to her sides and knocking off Grace’s coif, but then she was at a loss as to how to proceed. Grace kicked her hard on the ankle and the older woman yelped in pain but held on grimly.

“Grace, stop this instant!” Elizabeth cried, aghast, going to help Katherine, her too-tight bodice impeding her movements. “How dare you behave thus? Stop, I say!” She succeeded in dragging Grace from Katherine’s grip and slapped her face soundly.

“Your grace? Mother? May I come in?” Bess’s voice penetrated the scuffle and all three women turned in horror as the queen entered the room, with the curious Prior John peering over her shoulder. “We did knock twice, but…” Seeing the state of her mother, standing in her chemise, the widow’s wimple askew and her breasts almost forced over the top of the constrictive bodice, she quickly took a step backwards and curtly dismissed the astonished abbot. Crossing himself, he fled back along the walkway to the stairs as Elizabeth, Grace and Katherine sank into deep
reverences. Grace stared at the rushes on the floor, regretting she had not cut fresh ones now that she could see them up close.

Bess reentered the room, calling back over her shoulder in amusement. “Cis, you must see this!”

Cecily walked in behind her sister and stared at her mother’s disheveled appearance, Grace’s tumbled curls and Katherine’s bleeding cheek. “Odd’s pittikins, what happened?” she asked, trying hard not to laugh. “It has all the appearance of a catfight.”

Mortified, Elizabeth got to her feet and with some dignity went to embrace Bess. “Cecily, have you forgotten all your manners?” she chided her younger daughter. “The queen must always speak first. I hope you are teaching your daughters properly.”

The Viscountess Welles, stepaunt to the king, hung her head, mumbled an apology and wandered to the window to pout.

“Mother, we do not need to stand on ceremony here,” Bess said after receiving her mother’s kiss and noting Cecily’s sulks. “I, too, should like to know what happened.” She eyed Elizabeth’s bodice. “Come, let me help you with your gown. I came at an inopportune moment and without warning, is that it?”

“Aye, Bess,” Elizabeth lied. “We were hurrying to make ready for you, ’tis all.”

A loud harrumph from Katherine told another story, but Elizabeth ignored her, calling to Cecily to stop sulking and come and greet her. Cecily did as she was told and Elizabeth tried to coax her out of her ill humor, a little chagrined that she and Cecily always ended up thus.

“My felicitations on the birth of my granddaughter, by the by. And my thanks for naming her after me.” She kissed Cecily’s stony face. “Next time you will give John a son, never fear. Remember, I had three lovely daughters before I produced a son.”

Cecily managed a smile and helped Bess dress their mother, first loosening the binding bodice laces.

“Dearest mother, you are dreadfully thin,” Bess said, concern in her voice. “Are you not well?” She turned to Katherine. “Do you not have sufficient to eat here, my lady?” she asked, and Grace almost laughed. Despite the older woman’s trim figure, she never pushed food away, and Grace had seen her finish Elizabeth’s half-eaten plateful on many occasions.

“There is plenty to eat,” Elizabeth answered testily. “God does not give me an appetite most days, ’tis all.” She shrugged and declared in her old authoritarian way, “I eat enough. Have you no word of greeting for your half sister?” She nodded at Grace, still on her knees. “Or perhaps it has been so long you have forgotten what she looks like.”

Bess ignored her mother’s insinuation as she looked in surprise at Grace. Then she put out both her hands to raise her sister and embraced her warmly. “I did not know you with your hair so long and—dare I say it—so unruly. And you as brown as a nut! I took you for an Italian, in truth. Although where Mother would have found an Italian attendant I know not!” Grace had to look up at her regal sister, and she dimpled at this last. Italian? Jew? I wonder what is next, she thought.

Bess had aged, Grace noted anxiously, and there were dark circles beneath her beautiful dark blue eyes. But her smile still lit up the room as she studied Grace’s unkempt appearance. “Has no one told you that young women of noble blood are supposed to be fashionably pale and delicate? It should have been easy for you to stay that way inside the walls of an abbey, but you have the robust constitution, face and hands of a peasant girl. If I did not know you better—or know my mother’s strict upbringing—I would think you had been working in the fields. For certain you have been outside a great deal this summer, and one can only wonder why.” Bess was nonplussed when her mother and Lady Katherine laughed aloud.

“You are right, Bess. I have been working in the fields—every day, when it does not rain. Do not look so shocked, dear sister, ’tis not a sin to toil with one’s hands. And the queen, your mother, is good enough to let me go.”

Bess was astonished, and Elizabeth cast sheep’s eyes at her. “Mea culpa, Bess. I did not have the will to deny her. Life here is dull as ditchwater and, as you have witnessed, Grace and Katherine are often at odds. ’Tis tiresome for me.”

Katherine opened her mouth to defend herself but wisely shut it again. She knew she would feel the lash of Elizabeth’s sharp tongue if she dared contradict her patron.

“So, it was a fight we interrupted,” Cecily exulted, coming out of her sulk. “What is there here to fight about?”

“Mind your own business, Cecily,” Elizabeth snapped. “Now, Bess, will
you not sit and take some wine? The quality is poor, but you are welcome to try it.” She motioned to Grace to pour them some of the abbey wine—a thin, pink liquid that smelled musty. Bess wrinkled her nose but gamely sipped some. “How is my grandson? And the babe Margaret? I wish with all my heart I could see them both,” Elizabeth grumbled. Then she grimaced. “I am filled with jealousy that their other grandmother may dandle them on her knee any hour she pleases while I languish in this place,” she said, dismissing the room with a wave.

“Mother, I pray you do not talk thus. You know I have no sway with the Lady Margaret,” Bess said sadly.

“Nor with your husband, it would seem,” Elizabeth muttered. More hopefully, she said, “I would know why you are here on such a whim, daughter.
Bien sûr
, we are delighted to see you.” She smiled. “Has the king mellowed where I am concerned? Is that what you are come to say? That I can return to court? Can you not see to what penury I am reduced? Certes, I am too old to cause trouble for Henry now.” She leaned in eagerly. “I beg of you, tell me I can return.”

Bess had to look away in a moment of guilt. She could not bring herself to admit that her mother was right: she had no sway with her husband. The two times she had attempted to bring up a reconciliation, Henry had given her one of his cold stares and a one-word answer: “Nay.” Indeed, she had come today of her own accord while Henry was away from the capital, but her mission was an awkward one and so she had begged Cecily to accompany her, saying it was high time the two of them visited their mother. Cecily had been all too glad to leave her dull husband’s side for the jaunt and had been merry company on the way. Now Bess worried a fingernail as she composed her thoughts. It was then that Grace, sitting on a stool opposite her, noticed that all Bess’s fingernails were chewed to the bone. The younger Bess had occasionally bitten the nail of her thumb in times of anxiety, but this excess told a sorry tale. For all her crown, children, palaces and wealth, Bess was an unhappy woman.

“I am here because I overheard a conversation between Henry and one of his spies a few days ago,” Bess began, lowering her voice. “There is a rumor afoot in Burgundy that Dickon—our little Dickon—is alive somewhere on the Continent and that Aunt Margaret is circulating that rumor.”

The four other people in the room, as if rehearsed, feigned surprise or shock.

“Dickon alive!” Elizabeth cried, grasping her wine goblet and swallowing a mouthful. “How is it possible, after all this time?”

Cecily and Grace exchanged glances and Grace nodded her head once in thanks for her discretion. She was impressed that the garrulous Cecily had been able to hold her tongue. Cecily, too, expressed unmitigated surprise and joy at hearing the news of Dickon, but Grace noticed that Bess was silent during the exclamations of excitement. Elizabeth shushed them all, afraid of eager ears at the door.

“Bess, dear, you do not speak. Are you not glad your brother is alive?” Then she put her hand to her mouth. “How foolish of me. Certes, you cannot be happy, for Henry’s crown may be at stake—and thus your own. Forgive me for my lack of tact—I was merely expressing a mother’s joy.”

Bess smiled wanly. “You know I rejoice to know my little brother is alive, but in truth I do not know what will become of it. Henry will watch all of us like a hawk—afraid we will be plotting behind his back. I dread his return from the progress—especially if he knows I have been here. Since those dark days of the pretender Simnel and your enforced exile from our court, I have been mortified by my lack of courage where you are concerned, dearest mother. You must know that I pray nightly for you and for the strength to win Henry over. But it seems he listens only to his mother—”

“That dried-up crone!” Elizabeth spat. “’Tis unnatural when a man cannot cut those leading strings. Your father turned to me for counsel as soon as we were wed. I would not have stood by and allowed his mother to come between us, you may be certain of that.” Bess nodded glumly.

Grace wondered if Elizabeth knew what Edward’s subjects had thought of his queen while he was their king. She had been privy to several rude remarks about the queen dowager made by the laborers at the abbey as she worked among them, and even Edgar had blurted out one day on their journey from Burgundy that he had not expected the Woodville woman to keep such pleasant company as the Lady Grace. When Grace had questioned him, he had reddened and touched his forelock. “Beg pardon, mistress. Bain’t my place to say aught about the lady, but us Londoners never took to the Grey mare. Notions above her station, is what we thought. And
she weren’t even his proper wife!” She knew she should have reprimanded the groom for his insolence, but she also knew he was an honest man and, after all, she had invited him to speak his mind. In as stern a tone as was necessary, she said, “I beg you to keep such foolish thoughts to yourself, Edgar. You are speaking of the queen’s mother.” “Aye, mistress,” he had replied, and then he’d confided, “you need have no fear, us Londoners love our own Queen Bess.”

Now Grace looked from mother to daughter with a more informed eye and saw how their contrasts outweighed their similarities. Both were beauties, but Bess radiated warmth and shone from the inside; Elizabeth was cold and calculating underneath her dazzling smile. Aye, Elizabeth had schemed and fought hard for her siblings’ and children’s best interests—and none could fault her for that—but the animosity shown her as Edward’s upstart wife had hardened her, whereas Bess’s compassion exuded from every pore; only a few, including Grace, were ever the recipient of Elizabeth’s.

“Are you telling me that you must give up the fight to release me from this place, daughter?” Elizabeth said after the conversation had subsided. She put her hands in prayer position and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “Henry cannot think I can do anything from here? I am cut off from the outside world, and no one even remembers where I am. Certes, he has left me poor enough that I cannot help support an invasion. So, ’twould be more prudent of him to have me live close by you, Bess, and thus be able to keep an eye on me,” she concluded triumphantly. “What say you?”

Always thinking, Grace marveled. I wish I had her agility of mind.

“I had not thought of that possibility,” Bess said, looking with admiration at her mother. “You mean I could counsel Henry to ‘keep our friends closer but our enemies closer still’? I believe that is the adage.”

“Aye, and Henry will be impressed with your clever thinking, my dear. Mark my words, this could be the beginning of your having more influence.” She got to her feet, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Dear Mother of God, I have not felt this good since the visit by Sir Ed—” She remembered just in time and swallowed the rest.

“Sir Edward Brampton, Mother?” Bess said, finishing the name. “Aye, we knew he was here, but not why.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened but she recovered her composure quickly enough to laugh it off. “Aye, he came to flirt with me, Bess. He always did have an eye for me back when I was queen and still beautiful. He came to cheer me, ’twas all. It made me feel like a girl again.” She bent down to her daughter and took Bess’s chin in her hands. “You would not begrudge your old mother a few compliments, now, would you?” She was at her most cajoling.