Virgin Widow (34 page)

‘Why can
you
not rule in my favour? If it is wrong, a trick, a manipulation of the law by Clarence, why can you not stand for me before the Courts? Surely
you
could demand that Clarence acknowledge what is mine by the laws of inheritance.’

‘It sounds a simple matter, but it isn’t.’ Edward’s
voice might be soft with understanding, but his words were as cold as the grate of a key in the lock of a prison door. ‘It’s important for all manner of reasons that I leave the decision to the letter of the law. Because if I judged against him, it would drive Clarence to become my sworn enemy again. He’s fickle, self-interested and untrustworthy. I know it. But I need him with me not against me. His followers turned the tide for me against Warwick at Barnet. He’s popular and powerful and I cannot have him taking up arms against me. I won’t push the country into open warfare again. Not even for you, my dear. It’s unfortunate, some would say despicable on my part, but that’s as it stands. I’ll not be responsible for the spilling of more English blood.’

‘But you are the King…’

‘And as King I must abide by the law in such matters. I will listen to the arguments over your rights and I will make a judgement, but I will not willingly drive Clarence into opposition.’

I stood, head bent as I absorbed Edward’s damning explanation. Until my thoughts returned to most painful wound of all. ‘And Isabel knows of this. She would go along with Clarence’s plan.’

‘Yes.’

Of course she would. Isabel had been the one to introduce the thought of retiring to a convent, with the prospect of power and influence for me as Lady Prioress.
If I had suddenly discovered myself to be surrounded by enemies, it was Isabel’s betrayal that hurt most.

‘She would shut me in a convent,’ I repeated.

‘Yes.’

‘It is unjust!’ I covered my face with my hands, struggling to hold back the tears that blocked my throat and threatened to spill. I would not weep! But the pain of it seemed like to overcome my will-power.

‘Anne…’ Richard was there at my side, but I drew back, resisted him.

‘No!’ I would accept no comfort from him. I did not even know that he would offer it. He wanted my land more than me. ‘I shall not faint or weep. I am not so weak. I am so angry!’ I muttered behind my fingers, even more furious that I could barely restrain the tears.

To my surprise it was the Queen who rescued me. A silent, critical observer so far, and still seated on the floor, Elizabeth leaned to tug on the hem of my gown to draw me to sit in the King’s chair at her side. ‘Sit here. It is not necessary for you to distress yourself.’ As I sat, because my knees threatened to give way, she waved a hand at the King and Gloucester and I heard her sharp tone. ‘I will deal with this. Go and talk of how to really draw blood. You have done a good job here between you.’

‘She needed to know,’ Edward retaliated.

‘Yes, so she did. But now she needs some advice.’

So they withdrew to the window embrasure, and I
sat beside Elizabeth. The revelations of the past hour sank in and became plain, but the hurt did not lessen and I wiped away the tears I could not control with my fingers. Until, to some extent composed, I looked up and found her pale eyes fixed on me. Speculative. A hard diamond edge. Certainly no compassion.

‘What makes you so indecisive?’ she asked as if she could not imagine such a state.

‘Richard says he wants to marry me.’

‘And so?

‘It’s all so complicated…’

‘I see no complication.’

‘I thought he loved me,’ I tried in the face of her palpable disdain. ‘But I think he loves my inheritance more. Perhaps he always did.’

I felt her eyes narrow on my face. ‘That need not be a bar to marriage.’

‘It would make for a cold future together.’

‘I presume you love him.’ I thought her lip curled a little.

I did not answer directly. Instead I spoke the one thought that came directly into my mind. ‘I think he killed Prince Edward.’

‘Perhaps he did.’

‘Does that not matter?’ Her icy self-possession, her brutal acceptance, shocked me.

‘To kill can be a political necessity.’ A cold shrug. ‘Have you asked him?’

‘No. We have barely exchanged any conversation before tonight. I could hardly ask him if he murdered my husband in the middle of a round dance, could I?’

‘Perhaps not.’ She gripped my clasped hands with one of hers and I felt the power in her. ‘Listen to me, girl. I’ll give you some valuable advice. Better than any from the King or Gloucester.’ She leaned close so that her words would not carry. ‘Unless you wish to be a cipher, it is necessary to fight for what you want in this life. If you don’t, you will be pushed and manipulated to suit the interests of the men who surround you. And sometimes—to get what you want—you must be prepared to accept the apparently unacceptable.’

I found myself drawn into her gaze, fascinated. Here was a lethal ambition that would stop at nothing. I knew why Richard hated her, and in that moment I knew I must never trust her. They said that she had drawn Edward in to an enchantment to ensure her place in his bed and at his side. I could well believe it. I might have thought she was being kind to me in her advice, but she was not. She was only tolerant of me because I was no threat to her.

‘I can see your thoughts,’ she mocked, the direct stare gleaming, causing me to flush. ‘You have to make a decision, Anne. Forget love. Do you want him?’

‘Yes.’ I could be nothing less than honest.

‘Do you wish to marry him?’

That was the sticking point.

‘Of course you do. All that matters in this life is power. If you wed Gloucester, the knight who will stand for you and fight for you, you will get your precious inheritance. If you reject him, you will get nothing. Do you want that? Do you want to live out your days as a nun? If you reject him, you have less wit than I would have expected from a Neville—and I’m wasting my time here.’

There it was. I might stiffen against her criticism. Her advice might be delivered without any compassion for my situation, but I could not deny its truth.

‘Take him. You’ll be a fool if you don’t! And you’ll deserve to take the veil!’

She raised her hand to attract Edward’s attention. I watched them approach, reading nothing in Richard’s face other than impatience. Presumably with me. This time I stifled the sigh.

‘So,’ Edward said hopefully, ‘will you take my brother? You have the right to refuse. You are under no man’s authority in this.’

‘Not even Clarence’s?’

‘No. He is not your guardian. I merely put you into his care. You are your own mistress here.’

I looked at Richard, my chin a little tilted, a little raised. ‘Well?’ I asked. I would not make it easy for him and he recognised it, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the glint of light there betraying his awareness of my challenge. Even so he remained dispassionately aloof, and his request was not in the words of a lover.

‘This is not how I thought of wooing you, lady, rushed and dangerous with an unfortunate need for secrecy. I hope you are not blind to my feelings for you. I would be honoured if you would become my wife.’

Cold, efficient, it smacked of a business transaction. He had not even touched me, much less declared his undying affection! Resentment still bound me. Unsurprisingly I retaliated in similar vein.

‘Nor is this how I would wish to be wooed.’ Still I balked. ‘I am unsure of your feelings towards me. The best I can say is that I will consider your request, sir.’

‘That’s settled, then.’ Relief swept Edward’s face as if I had given my consent. I saw nothing in Richard’s as the brothers looked at each other. This plan had, it seemed, already been in the making, with or without my agreement. ‘I shall put in hand the matter of the dispensation,’ Edward stated. ‘You, Anne, will return to Cold Harbour under a royal escort—with some explanation of attack by footpads from which you were rescued. Not difficult.’ He swept the little problem aside. ‘You will continue your life there under Clarence’s protection until all is arranged. This meeting never happened. The matters discussed here and agreed on will not be talked of.’

Had I agreed?

I had said no such thing. I had given Richard nothing beyond notice of my dislike of his dealings, a cool promise to think about it. As a well-mannered
daughter of Warwick I had to crush the scream of vexation that bubbled to my lips. The King, I had been led to understand, had decided with or without my consent.

‘Will you be here at Westminster?’ I asked Richard in a deserted audience chamber, the briefest of moments before an escort was arranged for me.

‘No. Edward sends me north. I shall return before the dispensation.’

I suppressed the intense regret that I should not see him.
I have not yet said I will wed you!
So much still unspoken between us.
Tell me you love me! Now, before I must go. If it is so, then tell me!
I didn’t say the words. I couldn’t. Nor could I speak of my love for him.

Then the echo of Edward’s footsteps could be heard and we must of necessity part. It would not do for Richard to be seen with me in the public rooms of Westminster or in the outer Courts. No one must see or hear anything that placed us together, that could be reported back to Clarence.

‘Adieu, my dear girl,’ he said gravely. He lifted one hand to smooth my unveiled and untidy hair from my forehead. ‘God be with you and keep you safe until I can come for you.’

The blessing touched my senses and all my previous resentments softened. For the briefest moment I caught his hand, enfolding it within my own, savouring
the warmth of his palm, before I lifted it to press it against my cheek, all the while trying desperately to hold at bay my anxiety at my growing isolation. Returning to Cold Harbour was like being thrown back into the lion’s den. ‘Don’t forget me,’ I murmured.

‘How could I ever? It would not be possible this side of the grave.’

I breathed out softly, my lips turned against his palm. It was not much of an avowal of love perhaps, but enough to light a little flame that would warm me through the following days. There would be no time for more between us as I could hear Edward’s voice approaching, summoning me. Instinctively my grasp of Richard’s hand tightened as, at the same time, he pulled me off balance against him. Next moment I was in his arms and they were banded tight around me, his mouth hard on mine. My whole world became encompassed by the strength and nearness of his body, as the flame between us, a mere flicker no longer, leapt to a scorching heat. Stunned into awareness, with no comparison to make between this and the sweet kisses of our young courtship, I could do nothing but cling to him, allowing him the hot possession. I had dreamed of this for so long, but with no understanding of the magnificent reality. I was breathless from the power of it.

Until he released me as suddenly as he had swooped. My inexperience, I realised, was glaring, as
I was abandoned in a little space to look at him in wordless amazement. Was this how a man kissed a woman he loved? What drove Richard to this? The look on his face was more one of pain than delight, before it was smoothed over. I had no familiarity with such emotions at Prince Edward’s hands to deduce it for myself. For sure, it seemed to give Richard no pleasure, rather a fury of need.

‘By God, I want you, Anne, and I will have you yet.’ He spoke his intent as if it were a sacred oath. ‘No one, not even the King, will stand between us.’ But no, I realized, it was no sacred oath after all. More the determination of a predatory male to own the object of his desire. Richard Plantagenet desired me and would possess me, letting no one stand in his way.

The ruthlessness might shock me, but not the sentiment. For if I had ever questioned my love for him, I could no longer. Whatever he had or had not done, whatever blood had been spilt by his hands, that one kiss had stirred my emotions into blazing life. And I, with my heart bounding in my chest, my lips tender, could find not one word to say to him.

Then Edward was at the door.

‘Anne…’ Richard said.

‘Yes?’

But he shook his head. ‘Nothing. Be safe.’

I went with Edward, too shaken to speak, but turned at the last to look back. Richard still stood
where I had left him. Our eyes touched and held. He bowed formally, before he walked away.

I found myself escorted back to Cold Harbour. On that short journey I buried the disturbing remnants of that embrace in the deep recesses of my heart. Instead I took to turning over in my mind the one subject that had not been touched on in the whole discussion. Deliberately so, I was certain. The Countess, my mother, shut away under guard in Beaulieu Abbey. The lands and titles under such intense discussion were hers. But they were not free to be inherited. Nor would they be until she was dead. She was barely more than forty years old.

Suddenly I had another fear to squeeze my heart.

‘You seem very calm. Surely you were frightened,’ Isabel observed.

‘I am calm now. I was terrified then. But I am safe, as you see.’

The explanation of the attack on me and my escort, and thus my late return under royal protection, caused no undue comment at Cold Harbour. These things happened. How fortunate I was to escape the alesoaked thieves who prowled the streets after dark, with nothing more than a ruined veiling and a fistful of bruises to show for my adventure. I played my role to perfection.

‘You’ll not leave these gates without a stronger escort in future,’ Clarence decreed, scowling heavily at no one in particular.

Magnificently guileless, I agreed. ‘Obviously, it’s not safe.’

‘And Francis Lovell came by chance to rescue you,’ Isabel marvelled.

‘Yes. Wasn’t that fortunate?’

Beneath the surface my blood simmered, but I would keep my temper with Isabel, however much I was provoked, however much the devious plottings hidden behind her smooth face and friendly smiles disgusted me. I must exercise every last ounce of will to preserve an innocent and compliant demeanour. If she suspected any attachment, any suggestion of marriage, I would be parcelled off to a convent quicker than an arrow could leave the bowstring of a Welsh archer. My sister had learnt her lessons well from her grasping husband. It astonished me that I could pretend an apparent indifference to Isabel’s constant closeness and well-disguised deceit, but I polished my skills of benign geniality as outrage swam just below the surface. The only blessing was that Clarence was much occupied at Court. I could not have borne to sit across from him every morning over ale and bread whilst I kept my fury within bounds.