The King's Grace (48 page)

Edgar would remain behind. “The viscountess was kind enough to allow you to stay with her household while I am gone, and Master Gower will be responsible for you. Matty will remain here, too. It will not be for very long, for the queen dowager is ailing,” Grace explained.

Before she could say any more, Edgar fell to his knees, and Grace was disconcerted to find they were still only eye to eye. How she wished she were taller! Still, she knew that, despite her lack of inches, she was ten feet tall to Edgar. Grace was astonished to see a tear fall down his jowly cheek, and she cocked her head at him. “How now, Edgar, what is the matter?”

“I be your servant, my lady. I don’t want to stay here. I must serve you; I must protect you. Please take me with you,” he begged, pulling off his hood and holding it to his heart. His sparse brown hair stuck up at all angles and reminded Grace of a patch of winter-dead reeds on a riverbank.

“Come, Edgar, you know the abbey. Why would I need protection there when I have Brother Gregory and his minions to fend off vagabonds? And I cannot believe you want to return and live among those unkind grooms again. Nay, ’tis my wish that you remain here,” Grace said in what she thought was a firm tone.

At that moment Tom came around the corner by the stable and stopped when he saw her, with Edgar there on his knees. Her unpleasant dream still floating around in her head, Grace’s first instinct was to turn her back on him, but then she admitted Tom could not be held responsible for his actions in
her
dream. So instead she beckoned to him, and he walked slowly towards her.

“Well met, husband,” she said for Edgar’s benefit. “Perhaps you would
be so good as to explain to my groom why he must stay here while I am at the abbey. It appears he wishes to provide me with protection there. I told him he is being absurd, but he is insisting.”

“Edgar is right, Grace,” Tom said, much to her chagrin. “As your husband, I insist that Edgar go with you, if for nothing else so I may have news of you. He can be a messenger between us.”

Edgar gave a loud grunt of approval that made Grace jump. “Aye, sir,” he said with alacrity, bowing as best he could on his knees. “I will be a good messenger, I thank you, sir.” He stood up, unheeding of his now muddied tunic, and grinned down at his mistress. “I be right, all right, my lady. And the Bible says a wife should obey her husband. Ain’t that the truth, sir?” he asked so earnestly that Grace had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“You are right, Edgar, so ready yourself,” Tom said sternly, ignoring Grace. “I think my wife should read her Bible more carefully,” he added bitterly. And with that, he turned to leave.

“What, no farewell for me, Tom?” Grace murmured as Edgar hurried off. “Are you still so angry?”

Tom stopped and thought for a moment before facing her. “Aye, I am still angry with you. If you care to know—though I doubt it—being angry with you is not the same as not loving you. You go with my love, but also my anger. I regret the unpleasantness between us, but I do not know how to reach you, Grace. You seem bent on disliking me.”

“Disliking you?” Grace said, taking a step towards him. “How wrong you are. I like you better than anyone else in the whole world. And when you left me the other night, I thought my heart would break. I am sorry for what I said, and if my monthly visitor had not intervened, I would have given you my apology sooner. I beg of you, Tom, do not send me away without saying you accept it. Please,” she implored, her eyes watching his for any relenting. “Please.”

Without a word he drew her to him then, a look of relief flooding his face. As they stood silently in the middle of the stableyard, her head on his chest and his arms holding her close, they did not see the amused glances of the stable hands or hear the whispered comments of a couple of laundrywomen passing by to hang up their washing in the kitchen garden beyond.

In that quiet moment, Grace knew she could finally move John into a
locked compartment of her heart and open the rest to Tom. John would always remain there, but she understood now that he was dead and gone, and he had never really been hers.

B
ROTHER
D
AMIEN WAS
the first to greet the two women who arrived on horseback on that cold afternoon in January. He oozed unctuous charm as he escorted them up to the queen dowager’s apartment, professing to have missed Grace these months past.

“How kind of you,” Grace murmured, although to herself she said, Pish! What a hypocrite. You were hardly aware of my existence all those years.

Edgar, in his new role as Grace’s servant, was able to recruit one of his former fellow grooms to help him carry Grace’s wooden chest up the stairs, and Grace was amused to see Edgar’s smirk of satisfaction when the groom grumbled but obeyed.

Poppy’s yapping alerted Elizabeth and Katherine to approaching strangers, but the terrier’s furiously wagging tail and snuffling under the door told them the strangers were well loved, and thus they were not surprised when Grace and Cecily entered. Poppy launched herself at Grace’s knees, then sprang vertically up and down with excitement until Grace bent down to gather the bundle of white fur in her arms. Thus encumbered, she sank into a low curtsy next to Cecily, as civility required, before she had had a chance to look at Elizabeth properly. When she did, she had to force the smile of greeting to stay curved upon her lips. Profoundly shocked at the dowager queen’s deterioration, she waited until Cecily had greeted her mother before rising and kissing Elizabeth affectionately on both cheeks.

“Well met, Grace,” Elizabeth said, her sunken eyes warm and her tone welcoming. “I wager you did not expect to have to sleep here another night when you left last summer. You see, your bed is still here”—she indicated the narrow wooden truckle bed at the foot of the poster bed—“although Anne complained of its size and hardness. ’Twas not the only thing Anne complained about. Sweet Virgin, but I birthed a spoiled child in that one.”

“Bess told us Anne was sickly and should not stay,” Cecily replied. “What ails her, Mother?”

“Christ’s nails!” Elizabeth rasped impatiently. “There is naught that ails her except a sharp tongue. She is as healthy as a horse, and I predict she will outlive all of you.”

Privately, Grace thought Catherine and not Anne was the healthiest of the siblings, with her rosy cheeks, clear eyes and merry mien. As for the sharp tongue Anne was accused of, Grace knew exactly from whom the girl had inherited it. Cecily had caught her eye and winked at the remark.

“Aye, she proved difficult company, my lady,” Katherine said to Cecily. “Your lady mother was kindness itself, but the Lady Anne was frequently disrespectful. And with my poor dear Elizabeth not herself.” She stroked Elizabeth’s arm, watching her anxiously. For all she is an old harridan, Grace thought wearily, she is entirely devoted to the queen. She wondered if their relationship would mellow as their mutual affection for Elizabeth must surely supersede their previous animosity.

When Cecily left not an hour later, the attendants helped Elizabeth back to bed and Grace was horrified to know that she could lift the queen so effortlessly. She caught Katherine watching her from the other side of the bed and their eyes met in full understanding over the frail form under the covers. Leaving the third attendant, Alison Mortimer, to watch over Elizabeth, Katherine invited Grace to walk with her, greatly surprising the younger woman.

“I would show Grace how the stable has been rebuilt,” Katherine lied, and Elizabeth waved a clawlike hand to dismiss them. “She will be asleep before we close the door, mark my words,” Katherine said to Grace.

At least a wintery sun accompanied them on their brief walk, as they made their way to the herb garden through the main courtyard. Brother Oswald called cheerful welcome when he spotted Grace, and she again admired his fortitude for tending to the herbs and vegetables that still grew in this cold season, for he was now more than sixty years of age. She drew her fur-lined cloak around her and found Katherine eyeing it with envy.

“’Tis handsome, is it not?” Grace said. “’Twas a gift from Lady Welles. She has been more than generous since I went to be her companion. I pray you, take my cloak for today, Lady Katherine, and I will gladly wear yours. The wind is cold, in truth.” Grace pushed the hood back, unhooked the silver clasp and swung the garment off her shoulders. Katherine did not protest but unhooked her own worn velvet mantle and encased her old shivering body in Grace’s with girlish glee.

“’Tis indeed a thing of beauty, Grace. I thank you.” She reached out and touched Grace’s arm, as the younger woman wrapped herself in the
thin black velvet. “I now have a confession to make.” She took a deep breath, and Grace wondered what was coming. “All these months after you were gone, I wrestled with my conscience for the manner in which I behaved towards you. I spent many hours with my confessor and on my knees, asking God for forgiveness and for the chance to make amends. It seems my prayers were answered, for here you are in person. In truth, I never thought to see you again.” She paused to take a breath, but hurried on. “’Twas only after you left us and the queen’s spirits sank so low that I saw how much goodness there is in you. Lady Anne showed me how fortunate we were to have had you in our lonely exile. She is my dear friend’s daughter, and yet she could show only a modicum of the love you showed a woman who is not your own mother.” Her fingers tightened on Grace’s forearm. “Will you forgive an old lady her unkind jealousy?” she asked. “For I believe now that is what it was.”

Grace stared at the woman who had brought her so much misery for so many years and saw true contrition in her eyes. How much courage must she have mustered to tell me this, Grace thought, awed. As faded memories of Lady Katherine’s cruel taunts and insults came crowding back, they seemed petty now, after all Grace had experienced since leaving the abbey. Katherine was watching her anxiously, the seconds eroding her confidence, and so she begged once again. “Please forgive me, Grace.”

Grace’s face softened into a sweet smile. “Certes, I forgive you. I am honored by your honesty and grateful for your apology. ’Twill make her grace’s last weeks on this earth more peaceful, I’ll wager—not to have us squabbling. Now, let us speak no more of it.”

If someone had overheard the exchange without seeing the women, he might have thought Grace the older of the two. In a year away from the bitter older women she had acquired confidence and an understanding that not all in life was black or white. “You must tell me all that has befallen the queen to reduce her to this sad bag of bones,” she said. She patted Katherine’s arm, acknowledging the tears of relief in the older woman’s eyes, and they resumed their walk.

I
N
A
PRIL, THEY
thought Elizabeth’s last hour had come. In the middle of the night, she called for Grace to light the candles and fetch parchment and a pen. Elizabeth had woken in a sweat, certain the Devil was hiding
behind every piece of furniture and wall hanging to snatch her off to Hell. Katherine and Alison bustled about with the tinderbox and taper until every rushlight and candle had brightened the room.

“As God is my witness,” the queen dowager cried in fear from her pillow, “I have done nothing to deserve the flames of Hades. I was faithful all those years to Edward, despite his infidelities, and I gave him many children.” Grace went to her side and held her hand. “If I have sinned because I did my best to better my family, then I know not what it means to be a dutiful daughter and sister. Aye, I schemed to keep Richard from the crown, but only to protect my own children’s right. And I entered into an alliance with that Beaufort woman to give Bess to her measle of a son, but only to raise up my own child, who in the end might wear the crown.” Katherine took the bony hand out of Grace’s so Grace could make ready her quill. But Elizabeth wasn’t finished. “My only sin was the failure to be a good mother to my boys. How could I let them go—especially Dickon? If I could take back one decision I made in my life ’twould be the one on that June day. I should never have agreed to let Richard take Dickon, God forgive me. And now, I suppose, both boys are dead,” she cried, a great sob racking her. “And I shall die without ever knowing.”

Grace hurried back to the bed and set down her implements. “Nay, your grace, do not say that,” she whispered, bending close to Elizabeth. The rancid odors of foul breath and incontinence almost caused her to retch, but she controlled herself and stroked the queen’s perspiring forehead. “Remember your sister-in-law sent assurances that Dickon lives yet,” she told the distraught woman. “And there is more news of him.” She turned to Katherine, who raised her brows in surprise. “Aye, he has been recognized in Ireland—in Cork—and now it seems he is the guest of the king of France. People have seen him; people have declared he looks the image of his father—
my
father,” she said, excitement in her voice, and she was cheered that Elizabeth’s eyes had brightened with her words. “I promise your grace, Richard of York will come to claim his throne. ’Tis why you must stay well, so you can greet him—so that we all can greet him.” She looked from one eager face to the next. Alison Mortimer had covered her mouth with her hand, her already bulging eyes now almost popping out of her head; Katherine, a lopsided grin on her face, was crying tears of joy; and Elizabeth, using all her strength to raise herself into a sitting
position, stared openmouthed at Grace. “Is this true? Is he coming home?” she whispered.

Grace nodded, her eyes shining. “I do not know when, but he will come. So you must be well when he does. And I,” she cried happily, “shall finally meet my brother.”

The news made Elizabeth forget her will and, after an infusion of valerian root, she finally went back to sleep. “I will send a message to the royal doctors to attend Elizabeth soonest; she trusts these two men, and I have no doubt will make them executors of her will,” Katherine whispered to Grace as they settled back on their truckle beds. Katherine had given up sharing the softer bed with Elizabeth once it had become so unpleasant to do so, and Grace could not blame her.