The Traitor's Wife (9 page)

“If your list grows longer, I'll never get to leave!” Eleanor settled back and waved as the litter moved forward. The two couples were still waving as the litter pulled out of sight, and their cheerful expressions had not faltered.

Hugh's mother had died shortly before Eleanor had married him, and it was her old chamber, freshly painted, that Eleanor was given to await the birth of her child. There she received all the cosseting that she had wistfully longed for when she was with the queen, and more.

She had brought back a couple of tapestries given to her by the queen, and spent so much time deciding where to hang them and then changing her mind that Hugh teased her, “Shouldn't you be moving this one again? It's been hanging in the same place for the entire morning.”

“I may be moving it soon, but I like the way the light catches at it. Of course the sun will fade it, so perhaps I should move it after all. Doesn't Isabella have wonderful taste, Hugh?”

“Exquisite.” They had been lying in bed together, Hugh with his hand on her belly feeling the baby's gyrations back and forth, but at Isabella's name he drew his hand back for an instant. “What is it, Hugh?”

“Nothing, my love. Here's an elbow, I'll wager.”

“You dislike it when I speak of the queen. And I don't see why. She has been very kind to me.”

“I know, my love.”

“And you needn't agree with everything I say.”

Eleanor was eight months with child now and growing rather fractious. Fortunately, Hugh was not unprepared for this, for shortly after Eleanor's arrival back at Loughborough, Hugh's father had taken him aside and explained some things to him. “Your mother when she was with child was hell on earth during the last few weeks, son. Hell on earth. Be patient, Hugh.”

“My mother was not of the easiest temperament at any time, Father.” Hugh smiled complacently. “Eleanor is of a much sweeter nature.”

“True,” Hugh admitted rather wistfully, for he had loved his high-strung wife, Warwick's sister Isabel Beauchamp, and had married her without royal license after remaining a bachelor until he was well into his twenties. He could have obtained the king's permission, he supposed, but so eager had he been to marry her that he had not bothered to wait. “But they can turn on you when they're with child, son, and no one warned me of it as I am warning you. Trust me. Something happens to women in that condition.” He shook his head. “Right before you were born I would have welcomed being sent off to fight the Scots single-handedly.”

And now, inexplicably, Eleanor was crying. Hugh reviewed the events of the last few minutes and could not think of anything amiss. “Darling?”

“I look like hell, don't I? You'll never touch me again, will you?”

“I
am
touching you,” Hugh said reasonably.

“I'll never have a pretty figure like the queen. I'll be fat.”

“The queen is too thin.”

“There you go! Always criticizing her.”

Hugh, realizing he was beaten, took a deep breath and stood up. “I'm going hunting, my sweet.”

“Why did I ever let him touch me, Gladys? I'll never let him touch me again. Never!”

Gladys, rubbing her lady's temples with ice, nodded sympathetically, but Janet the midwife, standing patiently by Eleanor's feet, suppressed a grin. Fifteen years ago at Caerphilly Castle in South Wales she had stood by in awe, holding supplies, as her own mother, midwife to the Clares for many years, had brought the young lady she now attended into the world. Since then many babies had come to that place under Janet's own auspices, and this birth, for all of Eleanor's complaining, was proving to be easy and quick for a first child. The girl was built for childbearing, and if she broke her vow never to let her husband touch her again, as fortunately her charges invariably did, there would be many more Despensers to come. “Push, my lady. Harder.”

“I am pushing, damn you.”

Oh, things were going nicely indeed. “Look at your fine boy, my lady. What a big fellow he is!”

Eleanor, smiling and crying, took little Hugh, who was holding forth indignantly on the subject of being hustled out of his womb into Loughborough. He was indeed bigger than most newborn babies, but no less red and wrinkled, and no one but the woman holding him could have found out a resemblance between him and any adult human being. “Look at him, Gladys. Doesn't he look just like Hugh?”

“Most like, my lady,” Gladys said loyally.

She would have had Hugh—Hugh her husband, that was—brought to her immediately, but the ladies—Gladys and Hugh's sisters—insisted on tidying her up first, while the wet nurse bathed little Hugh and swaddled him. At last, however, she and her baby lay side by side on fresh linen, and Hugh came into the chamber. As Eleanor lay in a newly made bed with her freshly brushed hair flowing prettily over her shoulders, and little Hugh after expressing more indignation about being bathed had fallen asleep, the new father could perhaps be forgiven for thinking that the travails of childbirth were somewhat overrated. He stared at the baby as if his being there was a surprise to him, and then he bent and kissed his wife on the forehead. “He is beautiful, Eleanor. Absolutely beautiful. I am so proud of you.”

“Won't you hold him?”

“What if I drop him?”

“You won't drop him, silly! Sit beside me and I'll show you how.”

He obeyed, and Eleanor eased Hugh into his father's arms. Hugh held his son gingerly at first, then daringly moved an arm sufficiently so as to put a finger between the baby's. “My God, Eleanor. He is
perfect
.”

Eleanor laughed. “I think so too.”

They sat smiling at their new son and each other until Eleanor yawned. Hugh carefully passed the baby back to the wet nurse, who had timely appeared in the background. “I will let you rest now, sweetheart. Gladys told me you need it, and I obey Gladys in all matters.”

“Hugh, I have been horrid to you lately. Scolding and crying and arguing. I wonder how you have borne with me, my love.”

“You have made me the happiest man in the world.”

“You don't wish you had married a great heiress?” It was a thought she had from time to time; she could not say why.

“What nonsense! You are all I want in this world—you and our fine new son and the other children you shall give me. There is nothing else I desire, my love.”

And on that day, he meant it.

T
O THE BARONS' UTTER DISGUST, GAVESTON WAS DOING WELL IN IRELAND. His qualities as a soldier had won him the notice of the first Edward, and Ireland gave him ample opportunity to exercise his abilities.

Edward, still working assiduously to end his friend's exile, was delighted as reports came in of Piers, each more favorable than the last. “How can they not allow him to come back now?” he asked any confidant who happened to be around him—Hugh le Despenser the elder, or Gilbert de Clare, or even Isabella. “He'll be back soon, I warrant.” And then he would call for a clerk and dictate yet another letter, either to his friend or to someone on his behalf.

Eleanor herself knew of Edward's efforts only secondhand, for she had not been at court since Hugh's birth. Though Hugh of course had a wet nurse, Eleanor spent much time with her son herself. He was a thriving baby, seldom succumbing even to routine ailments, and was regarded by his parents and grandfather as precocious in all things.

She was not entirely happy, though. Hugh her husband was a concern to her. Always restless, he had been more so after his son was born. With Eleanor reluctant to leave Loughborough because of the baby, Hugh would set out on horseback by himself and not return for weeks at a time, then return just as unexpectedly. Within minutes of his return he would contrive to get Eleanor alone somehow, and soon they would be carrying on together in a manner that made Eleanor blush sometimes to think of afterward. So he could not possibly have a mistress, could he? She was too proud to question him closely about his comings and goings, though, and he volunteered little information beyond the fact that he had been traveling.

Philip, Hugh's younger brother, and Isabel, Hugh's younger sister, could be questioned, however. Philip was still in his teens and had not yet married. Isabel had already been widowed—her first husband had been a Clare, a cousin to Eleanor—and married again, to Lord John de Hastings, not long before. She was a pretty, delicate-looking girl of eighteen with thick dark hair that fell almost to her knees when loosened. Her husband, a man in his late forties with children older than his second wife, doted on her, and when she announced her first pregnancy, he had readily agreed to let her stay at Loughborough to await the birth.

“Do you know what Hugh does when he leaves here?” she asked Isabel one day as they sat in her chamber. “Do you think he has a mistress?”

Isabel laughed. “I doubt it, Nelly. He gets bored, that is all. Life here has never suited him. He might be going abroad, for all I know.”

“Without the king's license!”

“Hugh never was one to stand much upon formalities.”

“He would like to have a place at court.” Philip, whose health had always been delicate, had been standing by the fire warming himself, though the February day was mild and the women saw no need to be near the fire. “A high place, though; he would prefer to go elsewhere rather than just to be another face in a crowd of courtiers.”

“It is true,” agreed Isabel. She hesitated. “As you and my father are in favor with the king, Nelly, I have often wondered why he has not risen at court. He has brains and could serve Edward well.”

“No need to wonder about that!” Philip laughed. “Forgive me for speaking frankly, but Gaveston crowds out all others. Even while he is in Ireland.”

“I should hardly want Hugh to rise in
that
manner,” said Eleanor primly.

“In any case, our father has not won himself any friends for staying by the king and Gaveston,” said Philip. “Hugh is wise to stay detached from all of this. A hornet's nest it is.” He could not keep from sounding a bit wistful, however, for he longed himself to be of service to the king. But even after a few miles' riding, he felt tired, although he tried to hide it.

A messenger approached Eleanor and handed her a letter. “From the hornet's nest itself!” said Eleanor, seeing the royal seal.

“How important we are,” said Philip cheerfully.

The short letter did nothing more than inform Eleanor that the queen would very much like to see her back at court soon. Though not worded as a command, it was certainly one, and a similar note from the king underscored it. “The queen asks me to join her at Langley,” said Eleanor. “I must get ready. But if only I knew where Hugh was!”