The King's Mistress (4 page)

“If you so wish it, I should be honored to be Master Janyn’s wife, Father,” I said.

I felt everyone at the table take a deep breath and the tension recede.

“God has blessed me this day,” said Janyn in a voice taut with emotion.

“Dame Tommasa will be so happy,” said Master Martin. “May God grant the two of you a blessed and fruitful life together.”

“I pray that I please you in all ways,” I murmured.

Father smiled. I noticed a slight tremor in his hands as he raised his cup to toast the betrothal.

I was to be Alice
Perrers
, beloved of the beautiful man who sat across from me;
Dame
Alice, mistress of his household.

“Might I kiss my betrothed?” Janyn asked.

Oh sweet heaven, I was suddenly overwhelmed by shyness and prayed Father would deny him.

Master Martin clapped his hands together. “But of course you may, eh, my friend?” He winked at Father.

I clutched Father’s hand. He patted mine.

“A most appropriate seal,” he said.

Janyn was rising, his lithe body moving away from his side of the table. He held out a hand to me. A large, elegant hand. I rose, stumbling a little, and he gently held me steady as we moved toward each other. He was tall, so tall. I stood on tiptoe; he bowed his head and gathered me to him, lifting me off my feet. His lips—wine and figs, I tasted. Oh dear God what sin was in that kiss. I rested my hands on his shoulders, savoring the sensations. When he set me gently on the floor again I thought I would faint. I could not imagine ever moving of my own volition again. But I steadied myself and stood, and hand in hand we faced our fathers. Looking at mine, I had a moment of misgiving. He looked lost, frightened. Meeting my gaze, he quickly forced a smile. But I had seen, I had seen.

“May all joy be yours, dear Alice, dear Janyn,” he said.

“I pray God that I deserve such joy as I feel at this moment,” said Janyn. “I pledge my troth to this most beautiful woman, Alice Salisbury.”

Father nodded to me. “And you, daughter, you must pledge as well.”

“I pledge my troth to Master Janyn Perrers,” I said, embarrassed by how breathless I sounded.

Janyn squeezed my hand. “Not Master, sweet Alice. I am Janyn to you now.”

W
HEN WE
were alone again, even the clerk having departed, Father and I sat quietly lost in our own thoughts. I bowed my head over my hands and inhaled the scent of my betrothed. Heaven must smell so.

“Look now, Alice, we must proceed with care.”

I was pulled from my happy reverie by Father’s serious tone, such a dramatic shift from moments ago. He frowned down at the table, playing with his mazer of wine, pushing it back and forth between his hands.

“Why, Father?”

“Your mother …”

I dared to ask, “Why was she not here?” When he did not answer at once, I guessed, “She does not know of this.”

He shook his head.

“She will not be happy about it.”

“No.”

“The Perrers are respected, wealthy—why would she disapprove?”

He sighed and wiped his brow. “You are too young to understand.”

I could not hide my feeling of frustration with his refusal to be honest with me. “Not so young as to have missed her words in church the day I first wore this robe. She said she would strangle me before she’d see me wed Janyn. What enmity is there between them?”

He looked stunned for a moment, then angry. “You heard that?”

“I did. She spoke it so that I would hear. Why would she threaten such violence, Father?”

“You never said a word.”

“Nor did you.” I held his gaze, imploring him to explain his silence, to apologize, to reassure me.

“Your mother says much that she does not mean, Alice.”

“What does she hold against Janyn? I deserve to know, Father.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it and shook his head, dropping his gaze, as if in shame or confusion. “You know that he is a widower. She did not like his wife. That is all.”

I did not believe him. “Father, tell me what Mother dislikes about Janyn.”

“She dislikes nothing about him. I swear to you, daughter. And that is all that I can say about the matter.”

“Why do you still push us together?”

“I will not have your mother ruin your happiness.”

“He is not the only marriageable man in London. Though I do like him above all other men, I could find happiness with another.” I did not believe that, but Father’s behavior frightened me. “Someone who will not turn my own mother against me.” Not that I had ever enjoyed her favor. But suddenly the thought of her hating me was too awful, too final. “I beg you, Father.”

Now he looked me in the eye with a temper I had rarely witnessed. “I will
not
bend to her will,” he growled. “You have pledged your troth to Janyn Perrers, made a binding contract, and you
shall
wed him. I’ll hear no more argument.”

Never had my father spoken so to me. I was dumbstruck. I had already felt depleted by the emotions I’d experienced while Janyn and his father were present, and this took away what little spirit I’d had left.

“Such dissembling.… It frightens me, Father. Why are you so desperate that I marry Janyn Perrers?”

“Desperate?” He shook his head. “You are wrong in judging me so, Alice. Janyn will be good to you. He is a kind, gentle man, as is his father. You will thank me for insisting on this union.”

He did not hug me. He did not ask whether he had reassured me. He merely instructed me to remain silent about this meeting until he had told Mother of my betrothal.

When I left the undercroft I was surprised to feel the heat of the afternoon after the dim, chilly interior. I took Mary for a long walk. Listening to her happy chatter was a soothing balm.

I slept little that night, lying awake for what seemed hours, keenly aware of how suddenly precious my siblings and Nan were to me, how I would miss them. Yet I thrilled at the mere thought of Janyn, of our kiss. When I finally slept my dreams woke me with a yearning for him that I did not understand.

W
ITHIN A
few days I received an invitation to dine at the home of Martin and Tommasa Perrers. It was most welcome, for the secrecy surrounding my betrothal had been so complete that sometimes I feared I’d merely dreamt the meeting in the undercroft. For his part, Father looked almost faint with relief that only he and I had been in the hall when the messenger arrived, though he assured me that he was ready to tell Mother of my betrothal. I dreaded that moment, and yet I also yearned to have it behind me.

The next day Father presented Mother with a cloak of pers as blue as her eyes, lined with miniver, a cloak so warm and soft that she chirped with delight when she tried it on and declared that now she could not wait for the first snow. The cloak fastened with a silver clasp made to look like delicate wings. I had never seen one so beautiful, and Mother only added to its beauty. My father watched her with a yearning that seemed almost sorrowful as she proceeded around the hall, spinning every few steps to reveal the full cut and the pretty lining. She was sweet to all of us at the table that afternoon. Seeing Mary’s and Will’s joy in her mood, I lost what little appetite I’d had, for I guessed that Father’s announcement at the end of the meal would bring on a storm.

But at the moment I had expected him to call for a toast and announce my betrothal to the whole family, Father rose from the table
and, bowing to Mother, held out his hand to her. “My love, will you step out into the garden with me?”

She smiled at his grand gesture and rose, accepting his hand, and they swept out the garden door.

Nan gathered the little ones and took them to the kitchen. The previous night, needing to tell someone before I burst, I shared with her what had transpired in the undercroft and about the invitation to dine at the Perrers’ home. She, too, expected a storm.

Both John and I paced the hall awaiting the next act. When at last our parents returned, Mother’s face was as white as alabaster and Father’s blotched with temper. As she fled past me to the door leading to the solar stairs she glanced at me and I saw tears just starting to spill down her cheeks. She opened her eyes wide and appeared to be about to say something, but then pressed a hand to her mouth and hurried out.

“I did not think her good spirits would last,” John said with a smirk.

Father turned on him. “Be quiet, you young fool!”

Later that day Father went out and returned after a while with Janyn, who presented me with a beautiful piece of escarlatte, a deep gold, he said, to match my eyes. Our hands touched as I took the gift, and I felt a jolt as if I had been struck by lightning.

“You honor me with this gift,” I said, blushing as I bowed to him.

“As I am honored to have you accept my love, Alice,” he said. Leaning close, he whispered, “I have not forgotten our kiss.”

“Nor have I … Janyn,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

We stood for a moment, smiling into each other’s eyes.

John and Mother were called to toast us. Mother obeyed, looking hideously white and without spirit. My brother beamed and seemed genuinely happy for me. Father found it difficult to sustain a cheerful mien, losing all light from his face with each glance at Mother.

And so was my betrothal made known.

• 1356 •

I
HAD WICKEDLY
prayed that Mother would refuse to accept the Perrers’ invitation to dine, but she was dressed in her finest gown and cloak and waiting in the hall for me when I emerged from Nan’s ministrations. My best gown, now so loose fitting, did not feel very special compared with Mother’s.

Although I did not expect an answer, I asked her how old she had been when she wed Father. I would turn fourteen in September.

“I was too young,” she said in a low voice, without emotion. Although she had obviously taken great pains with her dressing, she was not restless with excitement as usual when about to dine at someone’s home. For the first time in a long while she looked me in the eye. “Do you think you are ready to be a wife, Alice?”

“How would I know, Mother?”

But she was gazing past me, and I realized that Father had joined us.

“She is ready, Margery,” he said.

Mother’s expression was cold. “What would a man know of that?”

Father put a hand beneath my elbow and smiled encouragement as he led me to the door. “Come, Alice. I cannot wait to see your face when you see how grand a home you shall have when you are wed.”

When you are wed
. Those words thrilled me far more than the thought of having a grand home. I had seldom been in the abodes of
any but my own kin, and they were all much alike, suggesting prosperity without peacockery, their owners mindful of their good names, aspiring to hold civic offices such as guild master, bailiff, alderman, mayor. Even the Chaucer household was similar to ours. I was unprepared for the home of Martin and Tommasa Perrers.

It was in a wealthier neighborhood than ours, closer to London Bridge, all the houses larger. Dame Tommasa welcomed us at the door, something Mother never did as she deemed it more seemly to have a servant show guests into the hall. With a cry of pleasure Dame Tommasa folded me to her bosom, then held me at arm’s length and said, “Welcome to our family, Alice. You will be as a daughter to me.” She kissed me on the forehead, and then stepped aside to allow me to pass, the gesture stirring the sleeve of her overdress. As it caught the light, I saw with delight the gold stars and silver moons.

I felt as if I were stepping into a dream. The colors dazzled my eyes as did the brightness of the hall, lit by so many lamps and wall sconces that it was almost like daylight. Tapestries and painted cloths festooned the walls, patterned and embroidered fabrics covered all the furnishings. My eyes were drawn from one beautiful item to another until I was dizzy.

Master Martin, his kind face alight with welcome, took my hand. “My dear Alice, you are a vision of beauty.”

I must have responded, but I cannot recall what I said for all my attention was now on Janyn, who approached us with a welcoming smile.

“My beloved Alice,” Janyn said, taking my hands and kissing each one, then looking deep into my eyes. I wished he would enfold me in his arms as his mother had. But of course he continued on to greet my parents.

I was not so absorbed in him that I forgot to watch how he and Mother greeted each other. My parents stood just inside the door, Father holding Mother’s hand, his wide, beautifully draping sleeves revealing a slight tremor. I guessed that he was tightly clutching her hand to prevent her from making any ill-advised movement.