Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen: The Story of Elizabeth of York
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Seeing him now, she was impressed by the man as well. He could not be more different than his brother, she admitted. Where her father had been a giant among men, boisterous, and fond of flirtations that were happily returned, Richard was much smaller in stature, darker in coloring, and more reserved. If she looked closely, she could discern the twisting of his spine that gave him a slightly lopsided posture which he kept well hidden with expertly tailored clothing. His form was deceiving though. She knew him to be a battle hardened warrior who had never been defeated on the field. She examined more closely the firm, lean muscles that were visible beneath fine fabric, and then blushed with the realization of what she was doing. A quick glance around reassured her that no one had taken notice.
“My lady, Elizabeth,” he said to her as he took her hand. “I am delighted to have you and your family at court.” He gave her a slight bow and she could detect some auburn glinting in his dark hair giving evidence of his Plantagenet blood.
“Thank you, your grace,” she murmured with an expert curtsey.
As Richard formally greeted her sisters and mother, she watched him closely. Determined to decide on her own whether he was a man to be trusted or was the murderer of her brothers, she looked for clues that would give him away. He was shyly demurred to by her sisters, besides Cecily who flirted with the eagerness of a young woman kept too long in sanctuary. Richard took no note except for the slight upturn to one side of his mouth.
When he reached her mother, he politely bowed and kissed her hand as though she were still queen. She, on the other hand, stood stone-like, giving no acknowledgment that he was the current king. After some attempts at conversation, he turned to Elizabeth again, perhaps finding her the most receptive to his efforts. She curtseyed low before him once again.
He raised her up and held his arm out to her. Laying her hand lightly on his arm, she ignored the look her mother was attempting to dissuade her with and allowed herself to be led to the gardens while servants attended to her luggage. Jayne, who attended to Elizabeth now rather than her mother, followed closely behind, as did several of Richard’s attendants. Elizabeth was determined to make an unbiased judgement of her own of this mysterious uncle who had been revered by her father but despised by her mother as they strolled into perfectly manicured gardens.
Scents and sounds of spring and new life filled her with hope and joy for the future. Green buds popped out everywhere she looked, and early color from daffodils and crocuses splashed across the ground. The fertile smell of warm, damp earth filled her nostrils as she closed her eyes to fill her lungs.
“You enjoy the season as much as myself, I see,” said Richard, breaking her reverie.
She felt her face heat up as she cast a sidelong glance at him. “I do, but I would be grateful to be outdoors in any weather after these past months.”
“That is understandable,” he paused. “You do know that I have desired your presence at court all along?” he asked, and Elizabeth felt that he meant her in particular. He had a way of looking at a person that made her feel as though she was the most important person in the world. She wondered where the peculiar shade of green of his eyes came from, as neither she nor any of her siblings shared it.
“Of course, we received many invitations,” she admitted. “I am sorry that my mother was so distrustful.” Did she sound like an ungrateful whelp speaking of her mother this way? “I am most pleased that we can be here with you now.”
“Yes, well, it is certainly more comfortable for your family here, and my wife, Anne, is anxious to see you again.”
Had he purposely mentioned his wife, Elizabeth wondered. She found herself grasping his arm more firmly and standing more closely as they ventured down the green paths, but surely she had not been obvious. She was just now realizing how she had missed male attention during the months she had spent cooped up with her mother and sisters.
“I look forward to greeting my aunt as well,” she said. “And to speaking more with you.” She had not forgotten her quest to discover the truth about her brothers, but did not feel comfortable bringing them up quite yet.
“Of course. You and your sisters may join Anne and I at the high table for supper.”
“We would be honored, your grace.” She could not blame him for excluding her mother who would likely have balked at the invitation anyway.
He raised her hand not quite to his lips and said, “I must attend now to less pleasant matters. Excuse me.”
She watched him walk away before continuing a long walk in the gardens, treasuring her freedom as thoughts and feelings that were even more conflicted than before coursed through her mind.
~~~~
At their first ball since leaving sanctuary, Elizabeth and her sisters reveled in the food, music, and festive atmosphere of the court. Those who were less generous with their analysis of them thought they were flirtatious, just like their mother, but those who knew them to be pious young women saw their joy at being a part of the world they had missed for precious months.
Dancing with the handsome duke of Buckingham, Elizabeth momentarily forgot the reasons that she had given her mother for returning to court. She was lost in the moment as her lovely new aqua colored gown swayed elegantly along with her, giving her the appearance of dancing upon waves of the sea. Henry Stafford was married to her mother’s youngest sister, Katherine, so he was not a viable suitor, but he was a marvelous dance partner likely to earn her glances from more available noblemen. She gave little or no thought to Henry Tudor.
“You must be parched. Let us have some wine,” Henry said as the dance ended and another prepared to begin.
“That sounds wonderful.”
As they left the room for the cooler garden area, the duchess of Buckingham joined them. Since she shared her sister’s famous attractiveness, Katherine had no need to be jealous of her young niece and embraced her enthusiastically.
“I am so happy that you are here, Bess!”
“So am I,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “This evening is beautiful!”
“And so are you, Princess,” said Henry returning with wine. “Almost as lovely as my wife,” he added handing a cup to his wife as he placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Oh, Harry,” Katherine said as she playfully swatted him away.
Elizabeth hid her smile behind her wine goblet. How she longed for someone to share her life with as Katherine and Henry had each other. They had been married since they were children and had the close relationship of those who had grown up together.
“What young man do you hope to share the next dance with?” Katherine asked as she eyed the prospects.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Elizabeth sighed as she scanned the crowd. “I am simply happy to be here.” Her happiness was somewhat diminished by the thought that her betrothal meant that she shouldn’t be considering the marriagability of any of the young men around her.
“Well, I am certain that plenty have their eye on you,” her aunt assured her.
After dancing with several eligible bachelors, as well as a variety of extended family members, Elizabeth fell asleep content and free from worry that night.
~~~~
Elizabeth did not frequently get to spend time with her uncle and the opportunity to ask him about her brothers had not presented itself. Those at court seemed content with his rule, and she had to admit that he seemed more concerned with governing and justice than her father had been. She heard no rumors of mistresses in the palace, as she was embarrassed to admit had been the case with her father.
She was picking an arrangement of flowers for her sister, Anne who was not feeling well, when she sensed someone approaching.
“Lady Elizabeth, we meet again to enjoy God’s great creation.”
She turned to see Richard holding out a white rose to her.
She smiled. “A white rose of York.”
“Of course.”
“Anne will love it,” she said as she added it to her basket.
&nbs
p; “Is she still not feeling well?”
“I do not think it is serious, but the flowers will cheer her.” Elizabeth was touched that a man with as many responsibilities as Richard would concern himself with the health of her eight year old sister.
“Do let me know if she requires anything else.”
“Certainly. Thank you, your grace.”
“How is your mother?”
She examined his face for guilt but only discerned slight irritation.
“My mother is becoming accustomed to her new circumstances.”
Richard’s laughter surprised her. “Spoken like a tactful princess!” He let his hands glide along the small pink flowers of a dogwood bush before saying more seriously, “She has had a difficult time. It was not my intention, but it was necessary.”
Elizabeth kept her own focus on the flowers, though she wished she could examine his face and force herself to be bold. “She has not done much to make her burden easier. You have cared for us well since we left sanctuary. She could have done so sooner.”
“Well, your mother and I were never the best of friends,” he said with a wry grin, once again exposing a sense of humor beneath his solemn facade.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. She was old enough now to know some of what was said about her mother, and to know that at least some of it was true. She still was completely unclear about the man she was speaking to. Part of her was undeniably drawn to him, but then she would think of her brothers or uncle Anthony and feel compelled to draw away.
“I’m glad that we can be friends,” Richard said.
Elizabeth looked up at him, and a warm feeling deep within her momentarily chased away her doubts. “I am glad too.” She felt the heat rising to her face and searched nervously for words.
“Tell Anne that I pray for her healing,” Richard said, seemingly oblivious to Elizabeth’s embarrassed silence. He dipped his head to her briefly and walked away.
Elizabeth watched his confident stride as he purposefully moved toward his attendants waiting for him at the garden gate. It brought a smile to her face to notice him pause and gently touch a perfectly formed early bloom before carrying on. It wasn’t until he disappeared from her sight that she realized that she had missed the opportunity to ask him about her brothers. She angrily tossed the flower in her hand into her basket while mentally admonishing herself for her imprudent behavior.
A few days later, she was summoned to her mother’s rooms. Even without knowing of the missed opportunity, the former queen was attacking her daughter for being too fond of King Richard.
“Mother, you are being ridiculous!”
“You are affianced! Yet you throw yourself at the married man who murdered your brothers!”
Elizabeth’s face felt hot and her throat tight with anger as she retorted, “This again! I will never marry Henry Tudor! Richard would never even let him set foot in England, and you are a fool for believing otherwise.”
The slap that her mother placed on her cheek echoed through the chambers and left a dark, wine-colored stain on Elizabeth’s pale face.
“You cannot win with words, so you will choose to beat me. So be it, but remember that I am no longer a child.”
The two Elizabeths glared at each other, considering their next words.
“You cannot love him,” the older insisted causing the younger to look away.
“He is my uncle, of course I love him.”
“Ah, but I do not refer to familial love . . . . this you know.”
“He is a married man.”
“And you are a foolish girl.”
Anger flashed in Elizabeth’s eyes momentarily before dimming. She was being a foolish girl, but she could not seem to help herself. Her heart and mind were at war whenever she was in Richard’s presence.
“You do not know what you speak of,” she whispered.
Her mother seemed willing to give up her anger as well. “You think not? I was once a young girl as well.”
“I desire only to learn about my brothers.”
“You are convinced that he has not had them killed.”
“How could he? You know how loyal he was to father. To kill his nephews, it is incomprehensible.”
“Maybe.” She must not let herself hope. Tudor was their salvation now.
“I will ask him directly.”
“You will ask him if he has killed your brothers?” her mother asked skeptically.
“Of course not! I will simply ask where they are residing that I may visit them.”
“Hmmm, you make it seem quite straightforward.”
“Sometimes an uncomplicated solution is the best one.”
Before Elizabeth was given another chance to speak to Richard about the fate of her brothers, he had left on progress with Queen Anne.
April 1484
Elizabeth was surprised how much the absence of Richard seemed to affect her. She was not dishonest enough to deny that she had feelings for him that she should not, but she felt somewhat more empty than expected when he was gone. They had enjoyed just a few garden walks, evening dances, and shared meals, but her feelings for him had grown as had her faith in his good intentions toward her family.
Her doubts withered and she became confident that her brothers had been whisked away to a safe haven where supporters of Richard could not do him the favor of eliminating them and enemies couldn’t make them the center of rebellion. She did miss them and wish to visit them, but was no longer assailed by thoughts of murder and usurpation.
Sitting in her room with Cecily, they worked on embroidery which she found tedious but relaxing.
“When do you think uncle Richard will return?” Cecily asked as though reading Elizabeth’s thoughts.
“I certainly don’t know,” Elizabeth answered more tersely than necessary. Uncertain of her own feelings, she was uncomfortable having them guessed at.
Cecily glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Did you see Anne before they left? She is thin as a willow branch.”
“Yes. I think she makes herself sick with worry when she cannot have their son with her.”
Cecily nodded. “She will be happy to see Edward soon when their progress takes them to Middleham.”
“I do wonder why they have not brought him to court.”
“Maybe he is not healthy enough for the trip,” Cecily guessed.
“Do you think he is as ill as that?”
“Maybe not. They could be overly protective since he is their only child.”
“One child in over ten years.”
“It is sad is it not?” Cecily asked, considering her own large family.
“Anne does not look like she will carry more.”
Cecily gave Elizabeth another sidelong glance. “No, not likely,” she admitted.
Both sisters tended to their work without speaking for a few minutes, Cecily wondering if Elizabeth desired to be Richard’s next queen, and Elizabeth wondering the same.
“What of our brothers? Try as I might, it is difficult to ignore the rumors that are not so quietly whispered.”
Elizabeth sighed, “You have been speaking to our mother.” She stabbed the needle through the fabric with increased intensity. “I am determined to ask Richard about them as soon as he and Anne return to London.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. “Is that wise?”
Elizabeth looked at her contemptuously. “Of course it is wise.” She threw her work in the basket at her feet so that she could pace the room. Her gown swirled around her and stirred up the rushes on the floor. “Why on earth would Richard do anything to harm our brothers? Clearly, he has moved them somewhere secretly to avoid rebellion, nothing more.”
“I pray that you are correct, dear sister.” Cecily remained calmly in her seat, attending her own project.
“You will see. And mother too.”
“I’m sure you’re right, of course. I would not want conflict between us over something that cannot be proven one way or another.”
“What is it, mother?” asked Cecily. Setting aside her embroidery, she stood to grip her mother’s hands.
Elizabeth stopped her pacing and felt a weight in her stomach that portended bad news.
“Edward is dead,” their mother whispered with a mad gleam in her eyes.
The girls exchanged a look of concern.
“Yes, mama,” Cecily said, reverting to the affectionate term not used since toddlerhood in her distress. “We know that father died. He died a year ago.”
This seemed to shake their mother from her inner thoughts. “No, no! Edward. Richard and Anne’s Edward!” She said it almost with joy. The corners of her mouth were being forced not to turn upwards. “Richard’s heir is dead.”
“Oh no!” Elizabeth fell back into her seat as she thought about how this would affect Richard and poor Anne, who was such a devoted mother that she had hated being in London and away from her son, even if it meant being queen. She was also old enough now to realize the delicate position this left Richard in as a king with no heir to follow him.
Cecily was still staring at her mother, mouth agape. “Are you absolutely certain, mother?” In her nervous state, she was shaking her mother by the shoulders. “Who told you this?”
“A messenger from Middleham looking for Richard and Anne,” the former queen said as she tore free from her daughter’s grip. “Why are you looking at me like I am insane?”
The girls exchanged another look, silently asking each other what scheme their mother was already hatching in her head.
“Are you alright, mother?” Elizabeth asked. “I know that Edward was your nephew and named for your husband.” She hoped these reminders would keep her mother on her best behavior.