Authors: Bertrice Small
T
heir life settled into a comfortable pattern that revolved about Stanton and its needs. The winter was a quiet time for the estate. Christ’s Mass came, followed by Twelfth Night. The snows had finally made travel impossible, which also meant that borderers on both sides of the border ceased their raiding. The cattle grew fat in their barns as the granaries slowly emptied, until the time came for them to go back out into their pastures with the return of spring.
Andrew was amazed by Adair’s abilities to manage Stanton. But to his surprise she was more than willing to share her responsibilities, and taught him all she knew.
He realized that she trusted him implicitly, and that she did pleased him. When he mentioned it to her, Adair had demurred and told him that the estate was a man’s domain. The house, the servants, and the children were her province.
“I have done what I have done because I had to,” she said. “I am happy to pass these obligations on to you, my lord. It is obvious to me that you have come to love Stanton, and will care for it.”
They heard nothing from the king. He had sent his daughter no gift to commemorate her marriage. Part of Adair was angered by his dismissal. Another part was
relieved. The duke had sent to inquire after them before the snows. He had sent them a footed silver-and-gilt salt dish for their high board. And he had sent Adair a delicate gold chain from which hung a small ruby heart. To Adair he had written,
My dear child, your uncle is so
very pleased with you. May Jesu and his blessed Mother
Mary keep you safe always. Uncle Dickon.
Adair wept when she read the small parchment missive.
“He has always been so caring.” She sniffled against Andrew’s shoulder.
“He is the most honorable man I have ever known,”
Andrew said.
And as the winter slowly passed, the intimacy they shared began to grow deeper. Andrew was a gentle and considerate lover to his young wife. Adair became bolder in her lovemaking. The servants noticed that they sought their bed early each evening. They would nod and smile at each other, and Elsbeth predicted an heir to Stanton before many months had passed. Yet Adair showed no signs of conceiving, and it disturbed her, for she felt her chief duty as the lady of Stanton was to produce the next earl. And she believed it was her fault.
She did not love her husband. She liked him. And she respected him. And after that first difficult night, she had learned to enjoy the lustful moments that they shared. Enjoy? Nay. She relished the moments she lay in his arms. She adored feeling him deep within her, knowing that her body made him weak with his need. But she felt no deep desire for him, as Anne Neville felt for her duke. You could see it when they were together. The air fairly crackled with the passion those two felt for each other. Adair sighed. Admittedly such love between a husband and wife was a rare thing. She wondered if he loved her. He had not said it, but she longed to know if he did.
They had been united in marriage for several reasons, but none of them had to do with love. Adair supposed
she was fortunate in that she liked her husband, and enjoyed his hunger for her body, and could reciprocate that lust. At least he was not the pimpled FitzTudor.
Even now, especially now that she understood the close-ness of intimacy, she shuddered with the thought that he might have possessed her body. She doubted he would have treated her virginity with the care that Andrew had.
“You are restless tonight,” he said, breaking her train of thought. They lay abed.
“It is the wild wind screeching about the chimneys, and the rain beating so insistently against the shutters.
Spring is coming,” Adair answered him.
“It must be,” he agreed. “I feel my lust rising like the sap in a tree.”
She giggled. “You want to fuck,” she said.
“Aye, I want to fuck,” he admitted. His hand slipped beneath her nightgown and moved slowly up her legs.
When they parted for him, his fingers stroked the softness of her inner thigh before moving to her mons.
“Your touch is always so gentle,” she told him.
“I want to be tender with you, Adair,” he said.
“Why?” she demanded to know.
“Because I care for you,” he answered. His hands moved from her lower extremities up her torso.
“Wait,” she said, and, sitting up, she pulled her nightgown off. Then, taking his face between her hands, she drew him to her breasts. “Isn’t this what you want?” she asked him low.
“Among other things, lovey,” he told her, licking a nipple and laying her back down. “I want everything you have to give me, Adair. All of you!”
“Why?” she persisted.
“I think I may be coming to love you,” he answered her. “Would such a thing be displeasing to you, Adair?”
He looked down into her face.
She felt her cheeks grow warm with his surprising admission. “Nay,” she said. “It would not displease me, An
drew,” she whispered. “I would like it if I had your heart.”
“Do I have yours?” he wanted to know.
“Aye, you do,” she replied, and realized as she said it that it was true. In a quiet way she had finally come to love him, if loving meant being happy and content in his arms, for she had been from the first night. What more was there to love? She had been a little fool, Adair thought, and then his lips met hers in a sweet kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth, and she echoed his words back to him even as he pushed himself into her body.
“Oh Andrew!” She sighed. She loved the feel of his hard length filling her.
“Oh, lovey,” he groaned into her hair.
They loved each other! Surely a child would come of it. But none did. Still, he did not berate her for it. And then in the spring a messenger arrived from the court with a letter for Adair from her half sister, Elizabeth.
The king had caught a chill and died suddenly on the ninth day of April. Her half brother, Edward, would be the new king, and the Duke of Gloucester was named his protector at the king’s deathbed, much to the fury of the queen. The priests had heard it, and declared it so.
Mama is furious,
Elizabeth wrote.
You know how she and Uncle Dickon have always rubbed each other. She is rallying the
Woodvilles as well as the rest of her supporters, and
they have sent for our brother, who has been in the
care of my uncle, Earl Rivers, and they have secured the treasury as well. I do not know how this
will all end, but Mama is preparing to take our
younger brother, Dickie, my sisters, and me into
sanctuary at Westminster. Pray for us. The negotiations for my betrothal to the dauphin have ceased.
Mama and Lady Margaret return to the possibility
of a marriage between me and her son, Henry of
Lancaster. I think I should rather have an English
husband, Adair, and remain in England. I will, of
course, marry where I am told to marry. Uncle
Dickon came in early December to see Papa. He
told us that he made a good match for you, and that
you are content. I am glad for it. Write me when
you can, dear one. I remain your most devoted and
loving sister, Bess.
Adair showed the letter to Andrew. “We must send to Middleham to see if we can be of any help to Uncle Dickon,” she said. “How typical of the queen to want her own way. She and her odious family would rule through my little brother.”
“I’ll go to Middleham myself,” Andrew said. “But the duke will already know that his brother is dead, and will have already ridden south to protect his interests, as well as those of the young king.”
“Follow him,” Adair said. “He will need all his good captains. I can manage here at Stanton.” Her lovely face was anxious. “The queen would cause a civil war if it meant getting her own way in this matter.”
The Earl of Stanton nodded to his wife. “Aye, you’re correct. I’ll go because I know you can keep Stanton safe in my absence, lovey, but I will miss you.”
Andrew Radcliffe departed his home the following morning. He rode with but six retainers at his side.
Reaching Middleham, he learned the duke had indeed gone south with all possible haste when he had learned of his brother’s unexpected death. The earl rode after him, as his wife had requested. Catching up with the Duke of Gloucester, he was welcomed. The news was not good.
The duke had received word from the late king’s lord chamberlain of what the queen had managed to do so far. Prince Edward had been proclaimed King Edward V but two days after his father’s passing. Preparations were already in progress for the boy’s coronation, which
was now scheduled for May. The queen had sent to her brother, Lord Rivers, to bring young Edward to her with all haste.
“Aye, the young princess wrote the same thing to Adair,” Andrew told the duke.
Richard of Gloucester smiled. “Bess is a wise child.
She understands the danger her mother puts England in, and would do her part in an attempt to thwart the bitch. My niece knows her duty, and will always do it.
Do you not find it interesting that in this time of crisis a messenger was sent with obvious great haste to Stanton? Forgive me, Andrew, but neither you nor Adair is truly important in the scheme of things.”
The Earl of Stanton laughed. “Nay, my lord, we are not. And I believe I speak for my wife as well when I tell you that we are quite happy not to be important. But my loyalty is with you in this matter, and Adair agrees that with your other friends I should be by your side until the matter is settled.”
“Friends,” the duke mused. “If truth be known, Andrew, I have few men like you whom I can count upon as friends. I have not my brother’s way with the people; nor would I now seek to be like him. And you know that I did not approve of his licentious behavior, but I did love him. He knew it, else he would not have made me protector of his heir. And our first task will be to secure young Edward before his mother can cause any more harm with her machinations. We must ride hard to reach Lord Rivers before he reaches the queen.”
There had been other news in Lord Hastings’s missive. Not only had the treasury been secured, but so had the Tower of London. The city had been prepared for possible assault, and the queen’s brother, Sir Edward Woodville, had gone to sea with a fleet to protect the coastline from any possible attack. There was no doubt that the queen was making a grab for power, and attempting to exclude her brother-in-law from her plans.
The duke wisely swore a public oath of fealty to his
nephew in the presence of half a dozen priests and his troop of three hundred men. He sent a messenger with a letter to the queen reassuring her that all would be well. Then, joined by his ally, the Duke of Buckingham, they intercepted Lord Rivers and his party as they rode toward London. The earl was arrested and his men disbanded. The queen’s plot had been foiled, and the resistance crumbled. Sir Edward Woodville sailed into exile, and his brother, Anthony, Lord Rivers, was imprisoned.
The duke’s party arrived in London the first week in May. The royal council, the Parliament, and the people of London acknowledged and confirmed his place as protector of the young king. The queen remained in sanctuary with her other children, not yet ready to give up. A month later a conspiracy was uncovered that sought to replace the Duke of Gloucester as his nephew’s guardian. Additional troops had arrived from York at Richard’s request to help him secure the situation. The queen’s coconspirators were arrested, among them, to Richard’s sorrow, Lord Hastings, who had first come to his aid. He, Lord Rivers, and several others were, of necessity—and as a warning—put to death.
Young Edward had begged his mother to send his brother to him, and she was forced to comply. Both boys were lodged in the royal apartments in the Tower.
Richard had them secretly removed and sent to Middleham to be with their cousin. The powerful were now realizing the dangers of a child king with an ambitious mother. They sought for a way to put young Edward aside, and they easily found it with the aid of the church.
The late king, it appeared, had signed a marriage contract with Lady Eleanor Butler. The contract had not been rendered void, and the lady was still alive when Edward IV had eloped and married Elizabeth
Woodville. Therefore the king’s marriage had not been a true or legal one under canon law. His children were
deemed illegitimate. His sons were therefore not eligible to inherit.
At the end of June Parliament met and petitioned the Duke of Gloucester to take the throne. From her sanctuary Elizabeth Woodville screeched with outrage, but she had lost her grab for power. At Baynard’s Castle, where he was housed, the duke accepted the petition brought to him. He considered it carefully, for he knew that if he accepted Parliament’s request to rule, many slanders would be spoken of him. But who else was there? The heir to Lancaster? Never! On July 6 the duke was crowned Richard III at a ceremony attended by virtually all the peerage, including Lady Margaret Beaufort.
Andrew had watched the royal procession standing to one side in the front of the church. He wanted to be able to tell Adair everything. The new king had graciously dismissed him from his service once again. When Richard had been declared England’s legitimate ruler, the Earl of Stanton took horse and rode north for his home. Arriving, he found his fields green and thriving.
His cattle were fat, and the haying was already in progress. The warm greeting he received from his wife convinced him that he had been missed. They kissed each other heartily before the eyes of their delighted servants.
The earl’s horse was taken off to the stables, and Adair led her husband into the hall, giving orders as she came for food and wine to be brought for him. He sat at the high board and devoured a trencher of rabbit stew, fresh bread, and a goblet of ale while she waited patiently for his news. When he had finally finished Andrew sat back and sighed with pleasure.