A Rose for the Crown (71 page)

“I am no better or worse than the next man fighting to keep a position. I did not ask to be born noble, Kate, but ’tis my duty to bring honor to that position and to my family. Can you see, love? I have sheltered you for my own selfish reasons. You are different from the grasping women I observe all around me at court.” He explained that Edward’s lust had caused the unpopular Woodville marriage, which might eventually jeopardize his crown. He did not add that his boyhood adoration of his eldest brother had diminished over the years in light of Edward’s licentious behavior. “Clarence and I could not afford to follow his lead, Kate, much as I would dearly love to spend the rest of my life with you. I have always been honest with you. From the first, you knew my mind on this. I must ask you now to honor the agreement we made. I cannot expect you to like Anne, but I expect you to accept her as my wife.”

Kate had not moved through his long speech. His honesty moved her deeply, and as much as her heart was broken, she knew everything he had said was right. Her decision to remain anonymous was indeed a blessing, she now realized, for she would never have to come face to face with Anne Neville or bear the whispered comments of courtiers every time she passed. By contrast, she would always have the memories of Richard’s presence in her own home to relive whenever she wanted, and she would see him reflected daily in her children. She finally shifted her gaze to him and sighed. “Aye, Richard, I will accept Anne as your wife, and since there is little I can do to stay you, I would know more of her,” she said as bravely as she could. “Perhaps if I know my rival, I can show my claws in my thoughts.”

Richard went to her and took her in his arms, and she sobbed quietly on his shoulder. He led her back to the fire and pulled up another chair.

“I am truly sorry for my bluntness and for your sadness, Kate. ’Twas not easy for me to tell you, but I have never lied to you on this account. You must understand. I must wed Anne, and my faith tells me I must keep myself only unto her. The memories I will take with me of you and our time together will warm me until I die. I know I have been lucky to know a love such as ours, and I pray you will feel as I do in the years to come.”

“Oh, fiddle-faddle!” was all she could muster. He laughed, knowing he was coaxing her out of her sulks.

“I will tell you about Anne, but promise me you will never scratch out her eyes should you meet. Though I cannot deny ’twould not be out of character.”

Kate managed a small smile.

“Anne is fifteen,” he began. “She is a little smaller than you. She has brown hair and . . . I confess I do not know the color of her eyes.”

Kate closed hers quickly. “Do you mean to tell me you do not even know the color of your future wife’s eyes? In truth, do you know mine?”

“They are never to be forgotten, Kate. You have beautiful eyes, the color of a beech leaf in autumn.” He smiled at her blush of pleasure and continued, “Anne is no beauty, but no matter, for she is a gentle soul. When I was at her father’s castle in Middleham, I saw her from time to time. The countess would make Rob, Francis and me dance with her and Isobel. I remember she giggled a lot, but she was like a little sister—a baby, really—to all of us.

“In truth, I had not seen her for two years until after Tewkesbury. They found her hiding with Queen Margaret in a nunnery across the river. She looked like a frightened mouse, so they say. She had just learned her husband was dead—though ’twas no great loss. Fighting was his chief pursuit. We suspected he even went to bed fully armed.” He laughed grimly. “She was found by William Stanley—you do not know him, Kate, he is a weasel of a man—and I am told he was none too polite. He took them to Edward at Coventry, and that was where I saw her again. She begged me to help her. She was terrified Edward would imprison her. I felt sorry for her. She had lost her father and her husband within two months.”

“Poor Anne,” Kate found herself saying, and they both laughed.

“’Tis not the worst of it, Kate. Edward sent me north and put Anne in the care of George and Isobel. Of all the addle-pated . . . I cannot fathom Ned’s brain sometimes. When it comes to Clarence, he just seems to have a blind spot. You do not know George. He has a tongue as sweet as honey when he has a mind, but it is split like an adder’s. So, Anne went to London with them, and since then I have discovered that she was treated cruelly by my dear brother.” Kate noticed the harsh tone he used earlier had crept back into his voice. “But you have not heard the half of it. Once my duties in the north were discharged and the border was quiet, I made up my mind I would seek Edward’s permission to marry
Anne. Certes, I needed to know this was not abhorrent to her, so I came south and went to the Erber—’tis the Warwick town house, Kate. When I first arrived, I was told Anne was ill and could not see me. I went away and returned a week later. This time I was told she was not there, and no one could tell me where she was. You can imagine my surprise—and my fury.”

“Had she run away, Richard?” Kate was quite caught up in the tale and had completely forgotten to be uninterested.

“Nay, though why she did not I cannot tell, for Isobel admitted George had been most cruel to Anne.”

Kate was incredulous. “What manner of sister is she to allow Clarence to behave so?”

“She is weak, sickly, and she adores Clarence, God help her! She was plainly frightened of me—I was shouting a bit, I suppose,” he admitted. “If George had been there, I would have throppled him, as they would say in the north. But it did seem as though she had vanished into thin air. Imagine, the widow of Prince Edward and daughter of one of the most powerful men England has ever known vanished into thin air! ’Twas hard to believe.”

Good riddance, Kate thought. I pray they never find her. But then she realized that of course they must have found her or he would not be marrying her.

“Rob, Francis, my squires and I began to search for her. I questioned the servants at the Erber myself, but it seemed none would betray their master. George had conveniently taken himself off to Richmond, so I could not lay my hands on him. We went to the mayor and asked that the watch be on the lookout for her. We interviewed boatmen and carters to no avail. And then, a few days later, after Rob and I had again visited Isobel at home and were leaving the courtyard, a serving girl appeared from nowhere and begged us to hide out of sight with her for she had some news for us.”

“’Twas dangerous for her to speak to you. I wonder that she dared.”

“Aye, she did seem afraid and trembled as she spoke. I tried to be kind and ask her name, but she did not want to tell me. I had thought George’s servants were loyal because he was a generous master, but now I think it was more from fear they did not speak.” Richard scowled. “The
girl told us that George’s steward had taken the clothes of another servant who was ill—a coarse gown, cap and apron and even some worn peasant shoes—and swore those who shared the attic room with her to secrecy. He threatened a beating and dismissal. As they did not know why the clothes were needed, the servants had no need to tattle—until I came to the house looking for Anne.”

“So they clothed Anne in a servant’s garb? But where did they think they could hide a highborn lady? Somebody would know she was not a servant. They would only have to look at her hands, her skin. Where was she? Sweet Jesu, she could have been anywhere in London. Where would you look?” Kate was full of questions.

“Aye, that was the challenge. I railed at Isobel, but I could see she did not know. To give the woman her due, she became hysterical when I told her my theory. I think George descended a few steps in her eyes. When she calmed down, she sent for the steward, and between us we persuaded him to talk.” Richard chuckled at the memory.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Persuaded, Richard? And what sort of persuasion did you use—the rack?”

Richard said, expressionless, “Nay, ’twas the thumbscrew that loosened his tongue. He is George’s faithful servant but did see the wrong in George’s actions. He was only following orders, he said. He told us that Anne had been put to work in the kitchen of Pountney’s Inn, not a stone’s throw from the Erber. She had been there for nigh on three months. Three months, the poor girl! Rob and I hastened there and demanded the landlord take us to the kitchen. He was terrified, but he, too, was an innocent. The steward had begged him to take on the daughter of a poor relation. The man was only too pleased to oblige the seneschal of the duke of Clarence.”

“But Richard, how did they make Anne dress in those clothes and perform those duties. I would have been kicking and screaming. Somebody must have heard her.”

“They must have drugged her. The landlord told me he thought she was drunk when she was taken into the inn. He was dubious about her ability to work, but the steward fobbed him off by saying Anne had been reluctant to leave her parents and so he had given her something to quieten her. Imagine all those lies, Kate!”

“May they rot in hell! Go on.”

“The landlord showed us into the kitchen—a filthier hole I have yet to see—and there, behind a mound of vegetables, her face pinched and dirty, stood Anne, turnip in one hand and a crude knife in the other. When she saw me, Kate, it was pitiful. She almost swooned after squeaking out my name. I carried her out of there and demanded a private room.” Richard was warming to his story and was pacing the room, stopping every now and again to mimic personalities with accents and voices. “After she had taken some of their foul wine and I had cleaned her face with a napkin, I called in the landlord. ‘The Lady Anne tells me she revealed her true identity to you and you would not believe her. What do you say, sirrah? Do you not have eyes in your head? Did she look like a peasant to you?’ The man groveled and mumbled, ‘If you please, your grace, the seneschal warned me the girl was touched in the head and had delusions of grandeur. I was not to believe anything she said.’ Dear George, ’tis no wonder nobody trusts him! ’Twas a heinous, fiendish plan.”

Richard rose and poured himself and Kate some wine.

“I do believe your brother wants you to wed Anne Neville even less than I do, Richard! ’Twas indeed a fiendish plan, and much as I hate to say it, I am right glad you found her. ’Twas cruel. I will wager she had never peeled a turnip or even set foot in a kitchen in her life. George deserves to be punished,” Kate finished angrily.

Richard looked upwards and spoke to an imaginary George. “Brother, I fear for your safety. My lady is sharpening her talons.” He smiled at her. “One of the things I love about you, Kate, is your sense of justice. A moment ago, you were ready to tear Anne’s eyes out, but now you are defending her.”

She pouted. “’Twas not my intent. I still loathe the rich land she stands on.” She took a long draught of wine and looked up at him over the rim of the cup.

Richard was serious once more. “Anne is out of harm’s way. I was the only one she would trust. Edward was amused by George’s attempts to hide her from me, but when he saw how angry I was, he agreed Anne should be kept from Clarence. He suggested she join the queen’s household, but Anne told me she was afraid of George’s sway with Edward.
She could not be certain Edward would not give her up again into George’s custody.

“Certes, our liege lord would not be so addle-pated after this sorry tale.”

“I think Anne would have been safe with the queen, I agree. But Anne is a widow, and a royal widow at that, and she demanded to be allowed to go into sanctuary. And that is where she is,” Richard finished quietly.

“How can Anne sit in a church for months at a time?” Kate’s lack of pretension and naive question elicited a kiss and a chuckle from Richard.

“St. Martin’s is accustomed to nobles and their ladies seeking a place of safety, be it from the sword or be it from fear of persecution, Kate. Anne has comfortable rooms and several gentlewomen to attend her. ’Tis a tranquil place to be while I fight for the right for us to wed.”

“May I assume the lady has no objections to your suit?” Kate asked sarcastically. “Certes, she would be a fool if she did.”

Richard laughed outright.

Kate’s eyes again filled with tears. “Do not laugh at me, Richard. I am trying to understand what is to become of me—and the children.”

“Do not weep, Kate, I beg of you. I cannot bear it. I will tell you what this means for us. Come, sit here beside me.” He arranged two cushions on the floor, flung another log on the embers, and sat down. Kate joined him, pulling the long bedcover over both of them. They sat under the tent like two children sharing a secret.

“We shall keep Christmas together here, and we shall make merry. I have planned music, plays and games for your and the children’s entertainment. I want us all to remember this season for ever. We will entertain only our close friends—Rob, for instance, and Francis. I regret Jack and Margaret are in Calais. They would have been made welcome. Martin will be certain to call on you, too. But I cannot take you to Westminster at those times when Edward demands I be there. ’Twould hurt my cause. Tongues would wag. Neither do I want to sully your reputation or have you mocked. ’Tis well known I am seeking Anne Neville’s hand, and if I come to court flaunting a mistress, well . . .”

“’Tis clear, Richard. You do not need to explain further. But surely the word will be passed around of your entertaining here with me. Is that not
tantamount to flaunting me? And what of George? Will he not use it against you?”