“I am aware of our relationship, Master Culpeper. We are sixth cousins to be exact,” she answered him severely.
“You are adorable when you are being stern, Cat,” he said daringly. “Does the king like your mouth? I think you have the most perfect little mouth. It looks quite succulent.”
“You are dismissed, Culpeper,” she repeated coldly, but her cheeks were pink and her heart was beating quickly.
“I am always here for you, Cat,” he told her. “I know that it can be sometimes lonely to be the wife of an older man.” He bowed and left her presence.
What could he have meant by that? Catherine wondered. He was so handsome. Had he been flirting with her? Well, a little flirting never hurt anyone. Why could she not flirt back and still give her first loyalty to Henry? As long as no one else knew what she was doing. She giggled. Suddenly she felt happy again and she was no longer bored. The king returned to her bed two days later.
In April the queen thought that she might be with child, but either she miscarried early or it had been a false hope brought on by her natural anxiety to please the king. She wept, but the king had no time to comfort his wife. In Yorkshire a rebellion was being led by Sir John Neville, who wished to restore the more orthodox form of Catholic worship. The rebellion was fiercely put down. Henry Tudor would not have Rome meddling in his kingdom.
The king was now busy planning his summer progress to York and the northeastern counties. There was a small piece of business that he would take care of before leaving London. He would see to the execution of Margaret Pole, the Countess of Salisbury. She was an elderly woman, who had been lodged in the Tower for two years. Her father had been the Duke of Clarence, Edward IV’s brother, and she was one of the last Plantagenets. She had always been loyal to the Tudors, indeed had served as Princess Mary’s governess for many years; but her son Reginald, Cardinal Pole, had sided with the pope against the king. For this Margaret Pole would pay the ultimate price.
The queen pleaded desperately for the countess’s life. Catherine hated injustice, and her husband was not being fair in this matter, though Cat did not say that. “She is no traitor, my lord, and she is an old woman. Let her live out her old age in peace.”
Princess Mary also pleaded for her old governess’s life. The tone she took, however, was more apt to anger the king than turn his heart and save the Countess of Salisbury. “Her death will be on your immortal soul, my lord,” Mary told her father piously. “Do you not have enough sins piled up already? Would you really add the unjust death of Lady Margaret to that pile? Remember the last execution you personally ordered, my liege. You have come to regret it already in less than a year’s time.” She looked at him with her Aragonese mother’s dark accusing eyes.
She is twenty-six, the king thought irritably, but she looks older. It is all that black she wears. “Dress in a gay color the next time you appear before me,” the king said in answer to his daughter’s plea.
“I am no traitor,” the Countess of Salisbury declared when they took her to her execution.
The executioner was young and very inexperienced. He was unnerved by the fact the prisoner made him chase her about the block. Finally she was restrained. He hacked at her head, but his hands were shaking. Those who witnessed the execution later reported that he had butchered the poor old woman. It had been an awful death for a faithful servant. The court was secretly appalled by Henry Tudor’s unnecessary cruelty. In Rome, Cardinal Pole publicly declared that he would pray for the king’s black soul.
Plans for the progress proceeded in an orderly fashion now. France and the Holy Roman Empire were once again on the brink of war. They seemed to find it impossible to maintain a peace between them. François I, the French king, told his ambassador in England, Monsieur Marillac, to offer the Duc d’Orleans, who was the king’s heir, as a husband for Princess Mary.
“What a fine idea,” the queen enthused. “It is past time poor Mary was married. This is a perfect match! The French are as orthodox in their beliefs as are the Spanish. Mary will one day be Queen of France. Imagine! Your daughter! Queen of France!”
The young queen and Mary Tudor did not get along at all. Catherine believed that her older stepdaughter did not render her enough respect. The truth was that Mary did not. She thought her father’s wife a frivolous, silly chit. What Mary refused to face was that her father loved his wife. When the princess was rude to the queen, she would suffer for it. Already two of Mary’s maids had been removed from her household for a slight to the queen.
“I do not trust the French,” the king told his wife. “Besides, we must keep the Holy Roman emperor as an ally if the trade links so important to us are to be kept open between England and the Low Countries. There will be no French marriage for Mary.”
“She is no longer a maid with the first blush of youth upon her,” the queen argued quite sensibly. “If not a French prince, then who? You have turned down almost every legitimate offer from every respectable prince and potentate in all of Europe, Henry. Who is left for Mary if you do not accept this offer? How many more offers do you think you will receive for her?”
“Mary could be Queen of England one day,” Henry said bluntly. “England will have no foreign king.”
“You have Edward!” Catherine cried.
“Only Edward,” he growled at her, “and he is not even four. What if I were to die tomorrow? Will my son even survive to succeed me? I have no other sons, Catherine. For now Mary follows Edward.”
“I am certain that we will have children,” the queen consoled him. “I am going to ask Nyssa de Winter when I see her how she got herself with two babies. When I learn her secret, I shall have them two at a time. Two boys, Henry! One for York, and the other for Richmond!”
He laughed. She could be so naive sometimes, but then that was the absolute charm of his rose without a thorn. She was the perfect wife for him. He had never in his entire life been so happy as he was with her. He wanted to live forever.
They departed London on the first of July. Their train was absolutely enormous. This was an important progress, unlike most summer progresses that remained in and about the Home countries. Many in the court were traveling with the king this year, unlike other years, when they returned to their own homes. There were carriages to shelter the women, although many of them preferred to ride if the weather was fair. The baggage train was huge, for it carried royal pavilions that would be set up each night to house the king and his court, as well as all the equipment necessary for the field kitchens that would feed them.
While the pavilions were being set up, the court would hunt. Wildlife, wherever the king’s train passed by, was usually decimated quite thoroughly. The game, however, was used to feed them and all their retainers. The scraps were given to the beggars who followed in the king’s wake hoping for alms, or perhaps even the king’s touch for their illnesses. The king’s touch was said to be miraculously healing.
Dunstable, Amphill, Grafton Regis. The king’s progress moved with precision exactly on schedule. The Earl and the Countess of March were due to meet their royal master and his wife at Lincoln on the ninth of August.
Nyssa had been absolutely furious when the summons had come.
“I cannot leave my babies!” she shrieked. “I am barely recovered from my confinement. Ohh, I just hate Cat for this! I will never forgive her! You must go, Varian, and tell them that I cannot leave the children. The king will certainly understand. He will send you home again to us. You must do this for me!”
“The queen has specifically requested your presence, sweeting,” he told her. “Your mother is coming from RiversEdge with little Jane and Annie to look after Edmund and Sabrina. We have two wet nurses, and the twins will survive nicely. They will not even know we are gone.”
“I don’t want to go back to court,” Nyssa said mutinously.
“We have no choice,” he told her patiently, but the truth was he did not want to go either.
“My milk will dry up.
I have only had two wet nurses in the event that I became ill, Varian, and could not nurse our babies myself. Susan has helped me greatly, but Alice has a child of her own.”
“A child who is ready to be weaned,” the earl said.
“You want to go!” she accused him.
“Nay, but I know there is nothing we can do that will prevent Catherine from importuning the king to bring us back. So, we will go, and we will bore them all to death with stories of how wonderful our twins are and how marvelous country life is. They will soon grow tired of us. We will never be asked back to court again. I suspect we will be home by Martinmas.”
“I pray you are correct,” she told him. “I love nursing the twins. I will not be able to do it again once we leave Winterhaven.”
There was so much to be done in order to join the court on a progress. Tillie was quite excited about it despite all the work that would be involved for her. Her mistress would need several hunting costumes, riding costumes, and gowns for the elegant entertainments that would be held in the evenings. It would be hard to keep everything clean and pressed. This would be far more difficult than just being at Greenwich, or Hampton Court. There would have to be a coach for their comfort, and a baggage cart for the clothing, as well as another baggage cart containing a small private pavilion, bedding, and cooking utensils. They would have to travel with a change of coach horses, and Lord and Lady de Winter would need at least three horses apiece for riding and hunting. Tillie would have an assistant, Patience. One of the undercooks from Winterhaven’s kitchens, William, as well as Bob, a groomsman, would also travel with them. They would have to share quarters with Toby. It was a great undertaking to travel with the court in progress.
Nyssa’s mother arrived several days before their departure, alone. “Your father does not like me being away for so long at this time of year,” she said. “I have to agree with him, my child. There is soap to be made, fruit and conserves to be put up, fruit to be dried, ale and cider that will need to be brewed. There is no one at RiversEdge who can oversee these things for me if I am here at Winterhaven. It is also difficult for your sisters to be uprooted. I am going to take Edmund and Sabrina along with their wet nurses back home with me. They will be perfectly safe, and they are too young to be disturbed by a change of residence. The weather is fine, and the journey is but a short duration.”
“With your permission, my lord?” Nyssa questioned her husband. “Mama is really quite correct. It is too great a hardship for her to be here when she can manage quite as well at RiversEdge. I know she will share the bounty of her harvest with us this winter since I will not be here to oversee my own household.”
“I think young Mistress Browning is quite capable of doing some of your work,” Blaze told her daughter. “You are very fortunate to have her. I will stay the night and instruct her myself. That will give Susan and Alice time to prepare my grandchildren and themselves for the journey. Jane, Annie, and Henry are quite anxious to have their niece and nephew come to visit for a time.”
“It is obvious that you have everything well in hand, madame,” Varian de Winter told her. “I think your plan an excellent one.”
“Then it is settled,” the Countess of Langford said, pleased.
Nyssa had to steel herself not to create a scene the next afternoon when her mother departed with her children. The twins were five months old this day, and they had, their doting mother thought, grown more beautiful with each passing month. Both now had headfuls of dark hair like their father. It was lustrous and raven-black. Edmund had his mother’s violet-blue eyes, but Sabrina’s eyes were already turning the dark green of her father’s. The twins had very individual personalities, but they were both strong-willed.
Nyssa managed to hold back her tears as she kissed her babies farewell. Her mother could see how very hard it was for her.
“Now,” Blaze said, “you know how I felt when I left you to go to court after your father died.”
“Aye,” Nyssa sniffled. “Oh, keep them safe, Mama! We will come home as quickly as we can. If Queen Catherine had a child of her own, she would surely understand how I feel!”
Varian did not bother to explain to his wife that queens did not raise their children. Queens birthed heirs to the throne, and having done so, their job was considered over. Royal children were raised for the most part by favored nobility and servants. He put his arm about his wife as the Countess of Langford’s coach departed and Nyssa began to weep openly. There was, he knew, nothing he could say to comfort her. She would have to be sad for a day or two before her equilibrium righted itself.
Two days later, when they left Winterhaven in the coach, she asked him, “Do you really think the king will let us come home again soon?”
“We are not important,” he said. “It is only because the queen wants us that he has summoned us at all. Between us we will convince Cat to send us home, but we will have to spend some time with her first before she grows bored with us. Then, if she still cannot be reasoned with, I will speak to my grandfather. He will make her behave herself.” His eyes twinkled, for Nyssa looked rebellious at his suggestion. He knew that she absolutely hated the idea that she would have to ask Duke Thomas for anything. He could not help but chuckle.
“I will find a way to persuade the queen to let us leave court,” Nyssa said. “I will not ask that man for anything!”
“Are you not happy with me, sweeting?” he asked her. “Do we not really have my grandfather to thank for our happiness?”
“You said yourself that your grandfather cared not what happened to me as long as I was discredited in the king’s eyes. He would have put me in a groom’s loft bed to gain his ends had you not agreed to his scheme. I would have been truly ruined!” Nyssa said furiously. No man could anger her more than the duke.
“But it did not happen. Instead it was my bed in which you were found. We wed, and now have two beautiful children. You cannot continue to hold this grudge against my grandfather, Nyssa. He is an old man with no one to love him. I pity him, sweeting. I know now that I should far rather be a de Winter, content in the country with a loving wife, than a Howard striding the halls of power.”
She would not answer him, for the truth was she could quite easily continue to hold her grudge against the powerful Duke of Norfolk. She knew she would never be able to revenge herself upon him for what he had done to her. Her husband had asked her if she were not happy. The truth was, she was happy. She loved Varian and was proud of his newfound strength and pride in his family name. She loved Winterhaven. She loved their children. But the Duke of Norfolk had, with his ambition, taken control of her life away from her, and for that she would never forgive him.
Suddenly Nyssa’s eyes grew round as she realized what she had thought. She loved her husband! She did! When had it happened? She had not been aware of any dramatic turning point in their relationship, yet she had just said to herself that she loved Varian de Winter. She could not imagine her life without him, or their children. She peeped at him from beneath her long lashes. He was so very handsome. Both Edmund and Sabrina had his long face and straight nose. Her mother had told her that love could grow, but she had thought Blaze foolish. Now she knew that her mother was right. Love could grow, particularly when a woman had such a sweet-natured, thoughtful husband as she did.
She touched his arm, and he looked down at her questioningly. “I love you,” she whispered shyly to him, her cheeks turning pink as she said the words. The look that leapt into his eyes almost pierced her to the heart. It was a look of such joy that she was embarrassed to realize that she had caused it. She was not worthy of such love as he had for her.
His arm was about her shoulders, and now he took her hand in his, kissing the half-closed fist, even as he asked, “And when did you come to this most important conclusion, madame?”
“Just now,” she said. “When I was thinking about how angry your grandfather made me, I suddenly realized that I could not bear the thought of being without you,
Varian. My heart is so full of you.”
He found her mouth with his, kissing her sweetly, deeply. She returned his kisses with more passion than she had ever felt. His hand slipped into her bodice, cupping a full breast, fondling it, teasing the nipple. “I know the pain it cost you,” he murmured against her hair, “but I am glad you ceased nursing the twins. Now these little beauties are all mine again, my love.”
“I think I am glad now too,” she told him, blushing. Her fingers fumbled with the laces on his shirt, pulling them open so that her hand could slide in and rub against his broad chest. Beneath her fingers his heart beat a mad tattoo. She bent and kissed his chest, licking at his nipples and slipping her tongue across his flesh, down to his navel. Outside their moving coach the rain beat down.
He kissed her hard, his hand struggling to loosen his clothing. “Come upon my lap,” he groaned to her. “I need to be inside of you!”
“The driver!” she gasped, shocked by his boldness. “What if he should see us?”
“The coach will not stop until we reach the inn,” he panted, pulling her atop him. “He cannot see us.”
She positioned herself upon his lap, feeling him slide easily into her sheath. Frantically she pulled her bodice open so he might have the freedom of her breasts. Then bracing her hands upon his shoulders, she began to slowly ride him, her eyes never leaving his. It was so wonderfully wicked, Nyssa thought. Coupling with a man in a careening coach, her skirts bunched up about her milk-white thighs, his hands crushing the soft perfumed flesh of her bosom, while she moved up and down upon his shaft. She wanted it to go on forever, but their excitement was such that it was quickly over. They lay sprawled together on the seat, their breath rasping with the ferocity of their shared passion.
Finally Nyssa said to her husband, “Did you ever do that with any other woman in a coach?”
“You should not ask a man such questions,” he said, laughing.
Love, Remember Me Page 30