The King's Mistress (5 page)

Janyn stopped a few strides from them, crossed his hands over his heart, and bowed to Mother. “Dame Margery,” he said. “Welcome.”

She blushed, her blood providing the hint of color she so desperately needed, and bowed her head. “Master Janyn.”

She tried to meet his gaze, but he avoided hers, having already
turned to greet Father. I had never seen my mother look so vulnerable, so uncertain.

Janyn reached out with both hands to Father, and they clasped each other’s forearms, bowing and then exchanging friendly greetings. They appeared to be quite comfortable together.

Mother struck up a stiff but cordial conversation with Master Martin.

Before the round of greetings could lag, Dame Tommasa swept us all over to a table laden with food. It sat in front of double doors that stood open to a courtyard crossed and criss-crossed with beds brimming with blossoming plants. Roses and flowering vines, many of varieties I did not recognize, climbed and twisted over small arbors and low walls, creating a display as colorful as that in the hall.

I sensed Janyn beside me. “Shall we walk in the garden a moment?” he suggested.

“Oh yes, please! But your mother—”

“The others will not begrudge us a moment of peace.” He offered his arm, and I put my hand on it. My heart pounding wildly, I stepped onto the gravel path with my betrothed.

“You must love this house,” I said, “so full of light and color. So beautiful.”

“I have happy memories of this home,” he said. “And I still often dine here with my parents. But you must know that I no longer live here.”

I had forgotten, but I did not like to admit that, so I asked, “Do you live nearby?”

“My house is farther down toward the river, between the grand Coldharbour and London Bridge.” A very fine location. “I shall ask your father to bring you there, so that you might see it. After all, it will soon be your home as well.” He had led me to a far corner, to a bench beneath an apple tree in bloom.

As I sat, I withdrew my hand to spread my skirts but also to hide the cold that I had felt seep into me, thinking of living in Janyn’s home with him. I had become part stranger to myself, one moment wanting to cling to him, the next my stomach fluttering at the thought of leaving my family home and living with him. I took a deep breath and looked around, distracting myself by trying to name the plants I knew.

Janyn had settled slightly sideways, so that he could face me. “I am as ill at ease as you are, Alice. Would it not be more pleasant if we had
found one another by chance? It is difficult to feel comfortable when there are such expectations.”

I liked that he had noticed my unease and did not pretend he had not. “Yes. I feel as if the others are holding their breath and watching us while pretending to ignore us.”

We both laughed, then averted our eyes as if we had become too familiar too quickly.

“You do know that I am a widower?” he asked. “That I was married before, and that my wife died?”

“Yes, I do.”

Daring to look at him, I found him watching me with furrowed brow as if trying to understand what I felt. I wanted to reassure him, but I could not think what to say.

He took my hand, putting his other over it in a protective gesture.

“I begin life anew with you, Alice. Whatever you wish to change in our homes so that they are more to your taste and more comfortable for you, you must do so. I want only your happiness.”

I knew nothing of how to choose furnishings for a home, even less how to make one look like this beautiful place in which he’d been raised. Nor had I ever planned a garden such as this. But I did not want to disappoint him by expressing my doubts.

“Did you say ‘homes’?” I asked. It was the first safe, practical question that came to mind, and I did so want to keep him talking. “You have more than one?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. I did so like to make them do that. “Yes. I have one in the city and one in the country less than half a day’s ride away. Do you like the country?”

“I do not recall ever having been beyond Smithfield. I have always lived in the city.” I studied a spider spinning a web on the corner of the arbor, not wishing to see Janyn begin to understand how young and dull I was.

“Then this shall be an adventure for you,” he said. “Do you like riding? Have you a favorite place to ride?”

I wished he would stop asking so many questions. “I have never ridden a horse, or even a pony.” The spider had caught a breeze and was swinging out to catch a tiny flying insect, but he missed.

“You shall have a gentle mare to begin, and you shall have lessons as soon as possible. Unless you do not wish to learn?”

I glanced up to see if he was serious. He certainly looked as if he
was. “Oh, but I
do
want to learn to ride. Horses are so beautiful, so powerful. My brother John rode with Father on several journeys this past year. He looked so grand on horseback. He said that outside the city there were fields on every side, as far as he could see, and then dense woodland that could be dark as night in the middle of the day.”

Janyn was smiling, but not in such a way as to make me feel foolish to have prattled on. “I thought you would like animals, and the country,” he said. “I look forward to riding out to the manor by your side, watching you see the land and the house for the first time.”

“I had not imagined we would live both in the city and the country,” I said, trying out the
we would live
to see how it sounded aloud. It sounded very fine. Indeed, marriage promised to be more of an adventure than I had ever hoped to experience, being a girl. I was framing a question about what other animals Janyn had when his father stepped into the courtyard.

“Janyn, Mistress Alice, Dame Tommasa understands how pleasant it is to sit and talk in the garden, but she has prepared a feast and will be disappointed if you do not join us at once.” Master Martin’s broad grin and wink underscored the humor and lightness of his message, and I felt an upwelling of gratitude that he was to be my father-in-law. He patted me on the back as Janyn and I proceeded with him to the laden table, and I felt welcomed into the family.

I learned that day that like many London families the Perrers had continued the tradition of mixing English and foreign blood and connections. Janyn had a younger brother who resided in a monastery in Lombardy and a sister wed to a Lombard merchant—she lived in Milan. I wondered whether Janyn and I would travel to Lombardy to visit his siblings. Perhaps I would see the splendid market where Dame Tommasa might wear her fabulous overdress of gold stars and silver moons.

The meal was as colorful as everything else in the Perrers household, and my appetite returned. Dame Tommasa saw to it that my wine was well watered. I was grateful, for with her help I enjoyed the occasion and did not make a fool of myself in any way. Mother picked at her food and said little, but Father was expansive, talking of a shipment of rare spices expected any day. Dame Tommasa asked me about myself in an easy way, already showing more warmth toward me and more interest than my own mother ever had. Janyn discussed with her a mare for me—she knew of someone who wished to sell a horse that might do very well. My brother John teased me, certain that I would
be timid approaching a horse as tall as myself for the first time, and Master Martin Perrers swore that I would prove my brother wrong.

As I departed that evening, Janyn kissed my hands. I floated home on winged feet.

I
T WAS
the beginning of a new, exciting life for me. The next morning I accompanied Janyn and my brother John to see the mare. Janyn coaxed her to face me so that I might see how sweet she looked, how she responded to a gentle touch. With him guiding me, I stroked her face and then her neck, and suddenly I was being lifted up to sit sideways on her. It was only for a moment. Lifting me down again, he let his lips brush my cheek and forehead. Oh sweet Mary, Mother of God, was this how it felt to be the beloved of God? I crossed myself, realizing the blasphemy of that thought, and my brother laughed, thinking I protected myself against the mare.

Mother saw to it that I was brought back to earth as soon as I returned home. She had said nothing to me after the dinner at the Perrers home. Nothing. And when John and I spoke of the mare at dinner she loudly embarked on a tale of her walk to the market that day, and what she planned to change in the garden. When Father did not rebuke her I ached, deep inside, and imagined my icy hands shattering against the table as I pressed it in rising.

Several days later I learned that the mare was now mine, and, though Janyn would be away for a while on business, my lessons would begin as soon as my parents could take me to the stables near Smithfield. My heart sank at the news of Janyn’s absence but soared when Father added that the wedding was set for late October.

Mother said—to him, not to me, “Your mother has offered to help Alice prepare. To do this with ease, she suggested that Alice stay with her until the wedding. I told her that was quite suitable.”

I almost choked on the ale in my mouth, and looked to Father for an angry response.

But he nodded. “It will work very well for all concerned if Alice lives with her until the wedding.” He spoke in an oddly soft voice and avoided looking my way.

Little Mary cried out, “I want to go with her!”

“Grandmother should come here,” said Will, banging his fist on the table.

I would have laughed at my little brother’s imperious declaration
were I not in shock. To leave so soon! Even John asked why Grandmother or I could not walk from one house to the other, we lived so close.

But Father said, “It is already decided.” From the set of his jaw I read that to be the last word on the subject.

I
N THE
morning I lay in bed hoping I had only dreamed of my exile, but I had just pushed back the covers and touched my feet to the floorboards when Nan bustled in.

“I’m relieved to see you already rising,” she said. “I’ve left Will and Mary in the hall while I help you gather your things. I dare not leave them long.”

“I’m to go at once? Before breaking my fast?” I cried, still too sleepy to check my despair.

Nan looked up from the chest she had opened. “Oh, my sweet Alice. No, of course you are not being sent away without food. The master awaits you in the hall. I trow he hopes to assure you that he thought you would
enjoy
spending this time with your grandmother. He told me Dame Agnes wished to do this for you, to have pretty gowns made for you and to provide a welcoming hall to which your betrothed might come to be with you.”

“Because he is not welcome here. Are you certain that you do not know why Mother hates Janyn so?”

“To understand your mother”—Nan shook out my second best gown with more force than necessary—“I do not wish to try that. I imagine spiders in her mind.” Realizing what she had said about her mistress, she crossed herself and asked me to forget her comment. “I am angry with her for frightening you and behaving as if she does not love you. But she is beset by devils, Alice. You are the victim, not the cause, of her poor mothering. How much happier you will be with Dame Agnes, eh?”

“But I won’t have you and Mary and Will, or even John or Father there.”

That won me a sympathetic embrace and kiss.

“No, we cannot all go with you, my sweet.” The affection in Nan’s eyes calmed me a little.

“Will you visit?”

“I believe the master will visit you with your sister and brothers.”

“And you?”

“You will see me, I promise, even if I come by myself.”

I gave her a grateful hug.

It was not the prospect of biding with my Salisbury grandparents that pained me. Although we had spent little time alone together, I enjoyed Grandmother, and she seemed genuinely to enjoy my presence. She was a handsome woman, tall and strong, and I admired the way she dominated any room she entered. Mother was beautiful in a soft, pretty way, and people always wanted to make her smile and to fetch and carry for her; Grandmother was elegant rather than beautiful, and there was about her an authority and wisdom that inspired people to respect her and seek her advice. She could, however, be unexpectedly critical. Indeed, her sharp honesty often stung. Still, she was one of my favorite adults. And Grandfather Edmund as well, who was kind and gentle. I was grateful to be invited to bide with them.

But it hurt to be rushed off as if Mother could not rid herself of me quickly enough. And Father—a few days earlier he’d said that when I wed he would miss the easy companionship we enjoyed, yet now he, too, was pushing me out the door.

I resolved to make the best of it as I joined Father and my siblings in the hall for bread, cheese, and thick ale. But my fortitude was tested at once as Mary began to cry and Will declared he had no appetite. Only John expressed envy.

“Our grandparents will give you all you desire,” he said. “I must work for my keep.”

“I would not mind working,” I said. “If you have no work, the day is too long.”

John laughed. “You will soon be so busy at night you will be sleeping all the day,” he said.

“John!” Father barked, his face flushed with irritation. “I will not have you speaking so at my table.”

Though he dropped his head and muttered an apology to Father, me, and Nan, John was smirking. I was sitting at just the right angle to see that. I hated that he noticed my blush when he glanced my way and mimed a kiss.

But he was my brother, and I knew that this familiarity would fade once we were no longer together day in and day out. And I would miss it.

Too soon Father rose from the table and said that we must depart.
Mary burst into tears again and I held her so tightly she squirmed a little, but when I began to release her she clung to me.

“Don’t go!” she wailed.

I lifted her and sat back down on the bench, blotting her tears with the hem of my gown.

“I love you, Mary, and I wish you could come with me. But you need Nan, and she cannot come bide there as well and abandon Will—don’t you see? I would have been leaving in a few months anyway, this is just a little sooner.” I was babbling, but she had stopped crying, and when she began to hiccup I managed to make her laugh about it. Will joined in our laughter. “You see? Nothing has changed, we are all still as silly as ever!”