"Richard was not after my money. That is George."
"My dear sister, this has upset you. Let us not talk about it." I said with some exasperation: "Isabel, we must talk about it. It is at the heart of the matter. I want to marry Richard. I am going to marry Richard and no one not even George is going to stop us."
"Anne, you are very young."
"Oh no, please. Not that old theme. I was not too young to be betrothed to Prince Edward. Most girls in our state are married by the time they are my age. Why this sudden concern for my youth? I have been through a great deal. I am not a child and I want to marry Richard. I always wanted to marry Richard."
There are those terrible stories about him. Those children ... and he is their father. What do you think of that?"
"That is over."
"That is what he tells you."
"Most young men have a mistress before they marry."
"And what about the children?"
"Isabel, you know very well that there is nothing unusual in this. Richard will be faithful to me from now on."
"What if he is like his brother the king? They say no woman is safe from him."
"Simply because these women do not want to be safe from him. You know very well they go to him most eagerly. Richard is not like the king. George is more like he is."
"Are you suggesting that George ...?"
"I am not suggesting anything. But it is silly of you to talk thus of Richard. Richard is a normal young man and I know he will be a good husband. This thing which George did to me "George did nothing to you except care for your future. He was very worried when you ran away."
"It was his doing. He arranged it. He deluded me into thinking I was going to Richard. He made one of his servants trick me; he sent me to that horrible cookshop. Isabel, you can have no idea what it was like there ... that kitchen ... and I had to wash the horrible, horrible pots. It was the most menial of all the tasks. Imagine that."
"It was horrible, but you should not have run away. You should have trusted us."
"I trust you, Isabel, but I do not trust George. I know he is behind this and I know why. It is unfortunate that you and I are heiresses, Isabel."
"When George married me he did not think of that."
I did not say what was in my mind but merely marvelled that she had lived with him so long and did not know this. I think he was fond of her because she saw him as the George she wanted him to be rather than the one he was: and that suited him very well. And I knew that whatever evidence was brought against him she would never believe it.
I talked then of our mother.
I said: "Richard wants her release. Would it not be wonderful if she could come and live either with you or with me?"
"George thinks it is better for her to remain at Beaulieu."
"She is more or less a prisoner there."
"Oh no. She lives in comfort. She is very happy there."
"Isabel, you know our mother. She will never be happy while she is parted from us. She always wanted to be with us in the old days."
"Well, we are grown up now."
"Richard will ask the king if she could be released and be with one of us."
"Why don't you come back here with me?"
I looked at her hopelessly. What was the use of telling her that, having once savoured something of George's 'protection', I was of no mind to try more of it. But she was his wife and theirs was what would be called a happy marriage. She would never look closely into George's motives. I wondered whether she was afraid she might see something which she would rather not.
How I wished that I could have talked to my mother!
Perhaps I should soon. Richard was a determined man. His methods were not impulsive like those of George, and I felt sure he would get his way in the end.
I talked to Isabel of the old days: we laughed a little. I could see that that was the best way and I was pleased to be with my sister again.
Time began to pass. The king would not give a decision. Richard explained to me that he felt he could not offend George. George was so hot-headed. One never knew what steps he would take. He had too much power and he had a following in.the country.
"Bear with me for a while." he said.
"I promise you all will be well in the end, but we must proceed slowly in the matter."
Going slowly was the last thing we wanted.
"There is, of course, the dispensation from the Pope," Edward had said to Richard.
"You should have that, you know."
I wondered about George then. Would he have some plan to bribe the pope, to persuade him in some way to withhold the dispensation?
But in spite of these obstacles which had to be overcome, I could not help feeling an immense relief every day to be in such comfortable surroundings. Always the memory of the cookshop must come back to me, no matter what happened, and I must say to myself, at least I have escaped from that.
It may be that such experiences bring some good to us since they make us less likely to complain about minor irritations.
Christmas came. I must spend it in sanctuary. Richard said he would not have a moment's peace if I were to emerge.
He told me that it had been a miserable festival at court. Edward was not pleased because of the strife between him and George, and whenever he and George were in each other's company they came dangerously near to conflict.
Edward was getting angry.
"He is so lenient most of the time," said Richard.
"But he does hate trouble in the family. So you can imagine, Christmas was not what it should have been."
Then came the day when Richard arrived at St. Martin's. I could see at once that he was very excited.
"Edward has a solution." he cried.
"I wonder if you will think it a good one."
"If it means that I can leave here and we shall be together, I certainly shall."
"The heart of the matter is, as you know, the Warwick inheritance. Edward feels that if George had the larger share of it he might be prepared to give his consent as your guardian to our marriage."
"I do not care for the estates."
"Nor I. It will make my brother very powerful, of course, and that is not good. He has enough already to make him a menace. Nothing will satisfy him but to have the bulk. He wants Warwick... the castle and the earldom ... and Salisbury as well, which are the important ones, of course. And you and I are to have Middleham."
I clasped my hands in pleasure.
"Oh, that will be wonderful, Richard. How often have I dreamed of Middleham!"
"Yes. Middleham will be ours. The place we love best, and with it all your father's northern estates. And there is something else, Anne. Edward wants me to hold the north for him. He says there is none other whom he can trust to do it. Our home would be in the north."
"In Middleham!" I said ecstatically.
"We should be back there in the place which has so many memories for us."
"That makes me very happy. And George has agreed to this?"
"Not yet. It remains for him to do so."
"Do you think he will?"
"He wanted everything, of course, and that is what he was planning to get."
"But he failed to do so. Perhaps ..."
"We must wait and see. But I have a feeling that he will take what he is offered. The earldom of Warwick will surely tempt him."
"I long to hear that he agrees, but I cannot help thinking that he has come out of this far too well. When you think of what he did to me... I believe he intended to be rid of me altogether."
"He would not have dared. Anne, what do you say to this chance? Are you sorry that I have told you Edward will agree to it?"
I shook my head.
"I only hope that George will."
When the proposition was put to him George was a little hesitant, I heard. He had schemed to have the entire inheritance and no doubt felt he had been cheated of it. But, thanks to circumstances and Gilly, that plot had be
en foiled; and here I was, safe in sanctuary. And while his villainy had not brought its just deserts, he was still able to bargain; but at length he realised that he must settle for the larger share of the Warwick fortune.
Richard told me how Edward had sent for him.
"There were tears in his eyes," he said, "and he turned to me and cried, "The Lady Anne is yours, and I wish you great happiness in your marriage. And now all you need is this dispensation from the Pope." And when he said that there was a hint of mischief in his smile."
"Why? What did he mean?"
That he would not expect a man in love to give too much thought to such a matter."
"You mean ...?"
"That nothing should be put in the way of our marrying and since the dispensation from the Pope was so long in coming, we might do without it."
He put his arms round me and held me tightly to him.
"There shall be no delay." he said.
"We have waited long enough. It will not be a grand ceremony, of course. We do not want to call the Pope's attention to our disobedience. But do you care? Do I care?"
"We do not,"I said.
"Then let there be a wedding, and then ... to Middleham!"
The Duchess of Gloucester
Richard and I were married and there followed two of the happiest years of my life. We were young: when the ceremony was performed I was sixteen years old and Richard was twenty -but only in years. We had both suffered experiences which had inevitably matured us. We were both deeply aware of our good fortune in being together and were determined to enjoy this happy state to the full.
How fresh seemed the northern air! And what a happy journey that was, riding side by side on the way to the home which we both loved.
The north was for Richard. The people liked his quiet ways, preferring them, I imagined, to the ostentatious splendour of his brother the king. They came out of their cottages to cheer for the Duke of Gloucester and to give him a "God bless you, your Grace." to which he responded with a dignified greeting.
How different he was from Edward and George, that pale shadow of his magnificent brother! These people knew that they could trust Richard and it was to him that they gave their loyalty. Edward had shown his wisdom when he had selected Richard to guard the northern territories.
And there was the familiar castle. My heart bounded with emotion when I saw it. It would always be home to me. Of course, there were sad memories. I felt a longing for my mother and a sadness for my father. I could not help recalling those days when he had come to the castle, his followers about him, to the shouts of "A Warwick', and I could see the banners of the Ragged Staff waving in the breeze.
We had been so proud of him, Isabel and I, as we watched from the turret. Our father the king of the north the king of the whole country, in fact if not in name, for we knew it was he who made the king and decided how he should rule. Then I thought of his body lying on the battlefield at Barnet... stripped of power ... stripped of life. A kingmaker but in death no different from the commonest soldier.
But these were morbid thoughts. I was home with my husband. At last we were together; and the past must be forgotten because it had led us to this.
How happy we were! How we laughed and remembered! There was the field where the boys had tilted; there had the hero of Agincourt taught them the arts of battle; there was the seat near the well where Richard had sat, tired from the exercises, with me beside him, the only one who was allowed to see him at such a time because no one must know that he was not as strong as the others, and I could be trusted to keep the secret.
There was much to occupy us. Nobles from the surrounding country came to Middleham to consult Richard, and each night there was entertainment in the great hall. Then Richard must make his pilgrimages through the neighbourhood, and I accompanied him. How proud I was to see how the people respected him. I liked their frank manners. I was one of them, born and bred among them. It seemed fitting to them that the lord of the north should be allied with Warwick's daughter.
It was comforting to be free of court intrigue ... far away from Clarence and his schemes ... though I should have loved to see Isabel and my mother.
I could sleep beside Richard and there were no more dreams of the cookshop. With each passing week it became more and more like a hazy fantasy.
We were far away from London, far from the court. And that in itself was wonderful.
I told Richard that George was welcome to have the rest of the Warwick estates because he had left us Middleham.
So passed those idyllic days, and then came the discovery that I was to have a child.
I had never thought such happiness possible. There was only one thing now to make me sad, I told Richard.
He was eager to know what it was.
"It is my mother. They say she is in sanctuary, but it is prison to her. How she would love to be with me and particularly to be with her grandchild." "Edward has half-promised that she shall be free," he said.
"I expect George is persuading him that is better to keep her at Beaulieu. When I see him I shall talk to him."
To talk to him you would have to go away," I said, "and that is the last thing I want."
He looked at me rather sadly then. I knew that this cosy happiness of ours could not go on for ever. One day there would come a summons for him and he would have to leave me.
I did not want to think of that. I just wanted the joy of being here with my husband where we could both look forward to the coming of our child.
Isabel wrote to me. She was exceedingly happy.
"I am going to have a child," she said.
"Oh, Anne, you cannot understand how I have longed for this! Do you remember how we set out for Calais? Oh, how I suffered! That fearsome journey ... with the ship pitching over the sea ... and there was I ... in agony. And all to no avail! Do you remember, Anne?"
I did remember. It was one of those memories I should never forget. I could recall it as clearly as though it had happened yesterday ... the solemn prayers and the little body being swallowed up on that turbulent sea.
"I am at Castle Farley which is near Bath. Here I shall stay until the child is born. I am a little frightened, but this will be different from that other. If only our mother were here! She should be with me at such a time, but George says it is better for her to be where she is."
George, I thought! It is George again who is attempting to guide our fates. Why will he not let my mother go? And why does the king think that he should be placated at such cost to us all?
"George is sure the baby is going to be a boy. I hope so too, but I am sure I should love a little girl. Oh, Anne, I do so wish that I could see you! The north is so far away. Richard will surely be coming south some time. You must come with him, I shall want to show off my child.
"Do you remember Ankarette Twynyho? She has gone back to the queen. The queen wrote to me most graciously and said that she had lost one of her women who is travelling with her husband for a year or so and Ankarette was so good with the children. She does not know of my condition, of course. So would I "lend" her Ankarette?
"So Ankarette has gone back to her. She is quite pleased to do so, I think. She will get the best of the gossip at court. So I must needs manage without her. And at such a time!
"However, I am surrounded by good friends, and think of all Ankarette will have to tell me when she comes back!"
It was with great pleasure that I wrote and told her that I, too, was about to become a mother.
I was a little sad, thinking of her. She was such a part of my life. We had bickered, as sisters will, but there was a strong bond between us. How I wished that she had not married George. But to our father it had seemed desirable that his daughter should marry the brother of the king he had made, but Isabel's marriage had come out of the attempt to unmake that king. Well, Isabel and I were there to go the way our father decided and our future had been planned by him to augment that power which had all come to nothing on the
field of Barnet.
I thought of the marriage he had arranged for me and that brought back memories of Queen Margaret. I believed she had left the Tower and was in some mansion under the care of her hosts which meant that she was a prisoner still. I wondered if she would ever be allowed to go home to her family. I knew that she would be a sad and lonely woman, for never would she recover from the loss of her beloved son.
Life was cruel. Life was hard. One must rejoice when happiness came, even when one's instinct warned that it can only be transient.
Then came the day when my child was born a beautiful boy to gladden our hearts and fill us with pride. This was the culmination of happiness.
It was Richard's wish that we call him Edward after the man he most admired: and I had no objection to this.
I heard from Isabel and was overjoyed that she, too, had come safely through her ordeal. She had not been blessed with the longed-for boy, but she was very pleased with her daughter who was to be called Margaret.
I wanted my life to be always as it was at that time. If I could only know that my mother had her freedom I would have been completely happy.
Richard shared my contentment with our life at Middleham, but he had certain anxieties. There was always the danger of the Scots making trouble on the border: moreover he was a little unsure of some of the nobles. The lords of the north had been the Nevilles and the Percys, and since the power of the Nevilles had declined with the death of my father, the Percys were in the ascendant. Richard, as the king's brother, was in command over all, of course, but this rankled with the Percys. Conflict with this powerful family had to be avoided, and this was a continual concern to Richard. If we were to keep peace in the north, he needed to have the Percys working not against him but with him and he had to be constantly on the alert.
I knew that he had sent a message to Edward explaining the situation, so I supposed I should not have been surprised when an emissary from the king arrived at Middleham.
He was closeted with Richard for some time and I was fearful of what news he brought. Richard was soon able to tell me and he was very grave.
There is trouble brewing," he said.
The Reluctant Queen Page 21