The King’s Concubine: A Novel of Alice Perrers

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by Anne O'Brien


  “So I am not pardoned.”

  “Yes, you are—but only on their terms—and mine.” His expression warmed. “You have of necessity to please me, so that I don’t cast you off.”

  “We cannot live without arguing!” I retorted.

  “Oh, I think we can.” He stretched his hands across the board again, to pin my restless fingers flat beneath his. “Don’t you trust me? After all we’ve been through? And I thought you liked living with me.”

  “Yes…No! Of course I do! But, oh, Will!” The words were there before I could stop them. “When you didn’t come back—I was afraid that you would betray me,” I admitted. “I thought you would agree never to see me again, and I would be alone.…”

  “Foolish girl!” He was completely unmoved by my lack of faith. By now he knew my buried fears well enough. “I will only abandon you and drive you from my door if you are very bad and argue over every juncture.”

  Turning my hands so that they could grip his, I sighed softly, letting myself respond appropriately to his dry wit. “Then I must be good. I’d better start now!” I reached for the jug again and refilled his cup, one question still remaining. “Why did they do it, Will?”

  “That’s simple, my love. The situation in France is deteriorating and they need able men.”

  I stared at him. Of course. It made sense. “You.” My heart leaped uncomfortably against my ribs.

  “Me, as you say. I think they have in mind a position for me. So they’re keeping me, sweet.”

  “You bargained with them.…”

  “I did. They’ve too many issues knocking on their door, not least a child king, to spend time on you and me.”

  “What did Joan say? Did you see her?”

  “Briefly.” His mouth twisted with distaste, but there was a flash of enjoyment after all. “Joan kept her opinions to herself in the presence of the young King’s counselors. She managed to refrain from cursing you—but from the look in her eye I expect she has set fire to Richard’s inherited bed. But for once she made the right decision. She put the good of the realm—my expert offices—before her personal vendetta—you, my love. She needs me.” He yawned widely. “Now, since you’re legally bound to be an amenable wife, or I may cast you from my door, come and help me remove these boots.…”

  I removed more than that. Nor was I reluctant.

  It was good to have him home.

  Windsor was right. What an uncanny nose he had for political intrigue. Within the month he had been offered the eminent position of Governor of the newly acquired port of Cherbourg. His eyes positively gleamed at this new venture, and in them I read that he could not refuse. Nor should he. He was a politician, through blood and bone and sinew.

  Ah, well! Loneliness beckoned for me.

  “You’ll take it,” I said, a statement rather than a question.

  “I think I will.” He slid me a quizzical glance over the official request, heavy with its ink and red seals. “But they’ll not get me cheaply. I’ll make them pay for my loyalty.”

  “With what?”

  “Aha! Nosy!”

  “Tell me!”

  “Not I! Or at least, not until I’m sure of my ground.”

  Not for the first time, his confidence, his damned superiority, rattled me. “Are you so sure you’ll find the right bait to hook Parliament?”

  “Certainly I am. There are few with my expertise in handling difficult provinces or squeezing money out of a reluctant populace.”

  He spent the next few days in the parlor, his lawyer and clerk in attendance, the door closed firmly against me. He emerged, so it seemed to me, only to eat and sleep. The work was long and laborious, if the number of ruined quills was anything to go by.

  Then, without a word of explanation, we were packed and off to London.

  “Why won’t you tell me?” I asked.

  “It would risk ill luck to air my plans at this stage. It’s the Lords I need to convince.” He was morose and preoccupied, staring between his horse’s ears. Perhaps he was not as confident as he would like me to believe, which made me shiver. Then suddenly he grinned. “But they will have no answer to make against my arguments, so there’s no reason for you to be concerned.”

  Westminster. The memories it stirred up ripped through my careful composure. How is it that dread, even when the reason for it is gone, is easily reawakened? When I had appeared before the Lords, Windsor had been refused admission. Would I be forced to wait out the time in an anteroom with pages and servants whilst he put some questionable bargain before the lordships that they could not refuse? I hated the thought, and my powerlessness in the whole proceedings.

  I was not even sure why he had insisted that I accompany him.

  “Why am I here, Will?” I asked as we stood in that same ill-fated antechamber.

  “Are you afraid?” He looked surprised. “Alice, my love. Would I have brought you back here if I had thought you in any danger at all?” He raised my hand in an unexpected grave and formal salute to his lips. “You are here as Lady de Windsor, my excellent wife, under my protection. The law can’t hurt you.…”

  “No, it’s not that,” I admitted. “I’m just not sure why you need me.…”

  “Because you are essential to me. Do you think you can manage an air of outraged innocence for the next hour?”

  I stared at him.

  “Perhaps not. Just don’t speak unless spoken to. Keep your eyes down in a wifely, respectful manner. And follow my lead. And here…”

  Rummaging in the leather purse at his belt, he removed an object that glinted gold. Seizing my left hand, he pushed the ring onto my finger. It was a tight fit. With a grunt of irritation, as if it were my fault, he forced it over my knuckle.

  “And make sure it’s obvious to every one of them!”

  Before I could ask more, Windsor was ushering me into the chamber and I was left to take in the atmosphere. The Lords were expecting an undemanding session to confirm Windsor’s promotion. Self-congratulation sat comfortably on them until I entered at Windsor’s side, with Windsor brushing aside any objection and addressing the Lords with impressive authority. A little bubble of laughter swelled in my breast. The expression on their collective faces—one of fury—was a blessing to me. Windsor ignored it.

  “My lords.” His voice and stance captured their attention. “The lady, known to you all, is here at my invitation. She is my wife, my lords. Lady de Windsor. The matter is pertinent to her and so the law makes provision for her attendance. She should not be required to stand. A seat for her, if you please.”

  An attendant scurried forward with a stool. Windsor led me to it, ignoring the rumble of comment. I sat. I tried to project outraged innocence, my blood humming in expectation, as I turned the gold circle with its ruby stone around my finger. It did not turn easily. What in heaven’s name was he about? Gaunt, to my relief, was not present, but I did not think it would have mattered one way or another to Windsor.

  Windsor bowed to me, then to the assembled gathering, and began without preamble. “I am honored by your offer of the post of Governor of Cherbourg, my lords.”

  “We value your experience, Sir William.” I watched Northumberland’s uncertainty with pleasure.

  Windsor bowed again, impressively austere in his courtesy. “I am gratified. However, I find my acceptance of the honor is compromised, and I am undecided. A small matter that you alone can rectify, my lords.”

  “We will do all we can.…”

  “It is the status of my wife, my lords.”

  It was as if every man there held his breath. So did I.

  “Indeed, sir?” Northumberland had no documents to help him now. I did not smile. I sat demurely with eyes downcast.

  “I request, my lords, a reversal and annulment of all your judgments against her.” Windsor’s voice filled the chamber. The air was as thick as smoke.

  What are you doing, Windsor? They’ll never do it.

  “The law demands that a man—or
woman—be tried in the weighty matters of fraud and treason before the Court of King’s Bench. When my wife was summoned by your august selves, she was given judgment by a Commission.” He allowed his eyes to roam thoughtfully over the startled faces. “My wife was not given due process before the King’s Bench, which is her right. Thus, I hold the judgment against her—of banishment from the realm, and most pertinently the confiscation of her property—to be illegal.”

  “It was a time of great uncertainty, Sir William,” Northumberland stammered.

  “It was a time when the law should have been upheld, my lord, as you and I both know.” Windsor drove on the attack. “Furthermore, my wife was not permitted to be present during the whole of the deliberations concerning her guilt or innocence. She was asked to leave the chamber. I know because I was cognizant of the whole series of events during your deliberations. This is not lawful, my lords. Do I continue? For I regret that there was yet another serious discrepancy between your conduct and the law of the land.”

  “Ah…! I am not aware.…”

  “My wife, my lords, was not given adequate time to locate witnesses and prepare her case.”

  “But, Sir William…”

  Oh, how he made them squirm. Oh, how I rejoiced!

  “One afternoon and one night, my lords. I know it for a fact, since I was present with my wife at the search for those who might stand for her. It was not sufficient time. It was not legal.”

  There was no response. Northumberland studied the knots in the floor at his feet.

  “And finally, my lords. My wife was tried as femme sole, a woman alone, and in her own unwed name.” How uncompromising his stance before the assembled lords. He did not speak loudly, and yet it seemed to me that his voice rang from the stone arches. Yet the thud of my heart in my ears almost drowned it out.

  “That should not have happened, my lords, as you are aware. You chose to take advantage of a woman alone. But Alice de Windsor is my wife and thus not without protection. By law, her property is mine. Whatever the judgment against her, Parliament had no right to confiscate her property, since, to put it simply, my lords, it was no longer hers to be confiscated.” I could taste the disdain in his condemnation. “The property is mine, my lords, and I demand its return. Immediately. As I demand a pardon for a judgment against Lady de Windsor that should never have been given.”

  Oh, it was masterly. But would they bend before such erudition? I saw Windsor’s hands tighten infinitesimally on the folds of the hat he held.

  “If you will give my arguments due consideration, my lords, and uphold the rights of my wife in this case, I will consider the post you offer me. Otherwise…”

  The pause lengthened. Windsor made no attempt to fill it. The covert threat hung in the air.

  We were asked to wait as they deliberated. Whilst I fretted and fussed, Windsor sat in silent contemplation of some distant scene, his shoulders against the wall, his booted ankles crossed. Only when we were resummoned did he take my hand and squeeze it hard.

  And he led me in.

  Neither of us sat. Their conclusion was stated within the time it took for the sun’s rays to crawl, snail-like, the width of a fingernail across the floor. The Lords, cowards that they were but with ludicrous dignity, deferred any decision on their trampling of the legal niceties of my case until the meeting of the next Parliament. A striking example of how to avoid the issue. I felt my courage draining away again.

  You’ve lost, Will. It’s a hopeless cause to get them to recognize my innocence. I admire you for it. I love you for it. But you should never have taken them on. You’ll lose your chance of promotion.…Oh, Will! Why did you risk it?

  “But you do admit to the validity of my arguments,” Windsor pressed them, unaware of my premonition of disaster.

  “We think that the new Parliament will consider the force of your argument, Sir William,” Northumberland intoned.

  “Excellent. Then I will consider the post of Governor of Cherbourg.”

  “Ah—we trust you will do more than consider, Sir William.…”

  “That, Lord Henry, might all depend.…”

  They understood each other very well.

  The audience was at an end.

  Windsor waved my doubts away. “I’ll get it. And you’ll get your pardon.”

  “They’ll keep the banishment hanging over me until the day I take my last breath.…”

  “They won’t, you know.”

  “And my manors are lost to me forever, most of them, I suspect, in Gaunt’s devious hands!”

  “I’ll be the new Governor of Cherbourg before the month is out. Just for once, Alice, accept that you’re wrong!”

  “Do you want this back?” I asked crossly, trying to work the ring over my knuckle without success. “Now that there’s no further need for me to keep it. If I can get it off! You might have to take a sword blade to it.…”

  “Keep it!” He watched my efforts with amusement until he closed a hand on mine to stop me. “You played your wifely part magnificently. Besides”—he kissed my palm, and then my much-abused finger joint—“I should have given you this years ago. It’s of no great value. It was my mother’s. I don’t think she would have approved of you, but still…”

  “I’m not good enough for you, I suppose.” I scowled to hide my pleasure at the simple little ring. It was of inestimable value to me.

  “No. But she didn’t have a very high opinion of me either.…”

  Was he never serious? I hissed my irritation. Windsor kissed me until I stopped. And he was right, of course.

  “Will you really reject the preferment?” I asked. “If you don’t get your own way?” Who could know what this complex, enigmatic man might do?

  His face was fierce with his achievement. “They’ll never know. And nor will you.”

  Epilogue

  Windsor went off to Cherbourg, looking every inch the puissant governor, with his weapons polished, his horse’s coat gleaming, and a new tunic and boots to mark the preeminence of the position. A port and fortified town, Cherbourg had been obtained by England on excellent terms from Charles of Navarre, and now promised to be a lucrative as well as a prestigious post for its new official. As I watched his wagons and pack animals plod steadily into the distance, I knew that he would enjoy the challenge of bringing Cherbourg firmly under English dominion, and of raising the revenues from the merchants there. In past days he had positively shimmered with energy. Life had been tedious for him since the end of his Irish sojourn. Windsor was meant for rural isolation as little as I.

  As for our domestic bliss together, would we live into our dotage with love embracing us?

  Never. The love was true. My heart was healed by it. But we were each too independent to rest entirely on the other.

  “Come with me!” he urged, even at the eleventh hour, when the horses were stamping and sidling at the delay. “Pack your bags and come to Cherbourg.”

  His stare urged me; his tone was imperative. His hands were strong around my wrists. By the Virgin, I was tempted. But…

  “And do what? Sit in my parlor and stitch altar cloths whilst you play the great man?”

  “You could entertain the merchants and their wives, seduce them into tossing gold into English coffers.”

  I raised my brows.

  “You could buy up property in and around Cherbourg.”

  I shook my head.

  “You could dress in silks and emeralds and play Lady de Windsor to your heart’s content.”

  “I have already dressed in silk and emeralds. In another life.”

  “Other women find it satisfying.” Impatient though he was, he pressed his lips hard against my temple, my mouth, and almost seduced me.

  “I am not other women.”

  “No, you are not.” His smile was a little twisted. “And I love you for that alone. Then stay and hold my manors for me.” He kissed me again, then scooped up Jane and held her high above his head. “Look after your lady m
other for me. Don’t allow her to become too combative if her position as lady of the manor is undermined.”

  Jane laughed and squirmed, uncomprehending. Joanne hung back, suddenly shy, behind my skirts. Braveheart joined her.

  “Farewell, my Alice.”

  “Farewell, Will. Keep safe.”

  And then he was gone.

  I wept. In the privacy of my chamber. In the far reaches of the great barn where no one would hear me as I howled out my misery. How could I be capable of shedding so many worthless tears over one ungrateful man? I missed him. Oh, how I missed him. I should have gone with him, I told myself—there would be no hindrance to my living across the Channel. My banishment might still exist before the law, to be enforced at any time—the new Parliament had not met to find its way to reconsider it—but Windsor was certain it would be revoked, and that as long as I lived under his roof no harm would come to me. So what if I had little to do in France other than order the household and ply a needle and gossip with merchants’ wives? I would be with Windsor.

  He has gone! He has left me! How can I live my life without him? Who will comfort me? What will I do if he forgets me…?

  What a miserable excuse for a sensible woman you are!

  How will it be if one day I cannot recall his face, the fall of his hair against his neck?

  You survived his absence well enough when he was in Ireland. Stop whining!

  So I set myself to work, a time-honored distraction. I had made my decision. Much as I enjoyed Windsor’s company, much as he had become strangely essential to my happiness, life as the Governor’s wife in Cherbourg held no attraction for me, and the pull of my beleaguered property, still under confiscation, was strong. So I remained at Gaines with my two growing girls and Braveheart—gray muzzled now but still prepared to chase the coneys from the orchard—and wrote Windsor long, informative letters. And sometimes, when he had the time, he wrote back.

  His visits home were sweet with reconciliation. It was not so difficult a journey for him, but they were rarely frequent enough for me.

 

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