Cicely's Second King

by Sandra Heath Wilson

  ‘I am pleased to have been of service.’

  ‘It was more than that, Jon. Much more. You cannot know how I feel just to have you back again. I cannot bear it when you are away. You reassured and comforted me from the moment you came to Sheriff Hutton. I turned to you then, and you have never failed me and never questioned my feelings. You knew how my heart was given elsewhere, knew what that other love meant to me, but still you stood by me. Now I return your love, Jon. I did not know how much until I saw you again. I had to be with you, I had to have you. Does that sound foolish?’

  He smiled. ‘Sweetheart, the day I fully understand women will be the day of reckoning. But, I confess, your ardour took me by surprise.’

  ‘It was meant to. I wanted to excite you to the same level as my excitement. I had to have you like that.’

  ‘Well, you succeeded.’ He put his hands behind his head, his long legs stretched out.

  She looked at his thigh boots, and then slipped seductive fingers inside one, to caress him. ‘You have fine legs, Jon Welles, and these boots are particularly . . . well fitted. And unconscionably high. It looks so very, well, interesting when your, um, cock is exposed to my lustful eyes. There it slumbers, intent upon regaining its potency at its own leisure. I cannot allow that.’

  ‘Jesu, lady, you will have me like a log again if you say much more.’

  She smiled, and wriggled around to slip her arms around his hips and rest her cheek against his maleness. She breathed deeply. ‘You will soon wish you had stayed in Winchester,’ she murmured, kissing his genitals and pushing her face into them. Dear God, how she loved to be with him like this.

  ‘You underestimate me, I think,’ he said softly.

  ‘I do hope so.’

  He caressed her hair. ‘I know you still love Richard, sweetheart.’

  ‘Jon—’

  ‘Hear me out. I know you love him, and I do not want to detract from that. But I also know that you love me enough. I can be happy with that.’

  ‘But I do not want you to think . . . that you are second best. That is not what you are to me. You are my new love, Jon, the love who is with me now, who can be physically joined to me now. You are my present love.’ She moved up to look into his eyes. ‘I am a very fortunate woman, Jon Welles.’

  ‘I trust you are about to show your gratitude?’

  ‘Oh, yes, for I have you on a bed, and I am not about to let you go too soon.’

  ‘Not even when the king has requested my immediate presence?’

  ‘Especially not then.’ She stopped any further words with another kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Later that day, when Jon had been ensconced with Henry for more than two hours, Margaret, Countess of Derby, came to Cicely. She was, as ever, clad in black, with a white wimple that pinched her small face even more than it was already, giving her thin lips a permanently disapproving set.

  So far, because of her affection for Jon, his half-sister had shown herself as a friend to this daughter of Edward IV and niece of Richard III, but there would always be an element of doubt and suspicion. On both sides. And perhaps Margaret was suspicious now. Certainly there was something about her that made Cicely suddenly wary.

  ‘Lady Welles . . . Cicely, I am so very grieved for you, and for my brother. To have lost your child so very sadly . . . I also grieve because I have lost a nephew.’ Margaret came close enough to take Cicely’s hand and clasp it earnestly. Her grim black skirts brushed audibly against Cicely’s lime brocade in what seemed like an indictment regarding the absence of black.

  ‘You are very kind, my lady.’ Cicely still found it very hard to warm to Henry’s mother, because the woman had been instrumental in plotting against Richard, of fomenting so much unrest and treachery that she may as well have killed him herself at Bosworth. But more of a response was needed yet. ‘Lady Margaret, I am very grateful to you for . . . sending word to my husband when he was at Rockingham. I wish you to know that whatever Ralph Scrope told the king about my closeness to Richard, it was not true. My child was the child of Jon Welles, not my uncle.’

  ‘Jon has told me so, Cicely, and I believe him. Therefore I believe you. And so, I think, does the king.’

  Cicely doubted that very much. Henry would always suspect, partly because he genuinely disbelieved her protests of innocence, and partly because, even as he despised Richard, it excited him to think of her willing incest. He could not leave the matter alone.

  ‘I must warn you, Cicely, that you have a foe in my brother-in-law, Jasper Tudor.’

  ‘I realize that. If looks were daggers, I would have been stabbed to death long since.’

  ‘He mistrusts you because you were so close to Richard.’

  ‘I, on the other hand, merely dislike the Duke of Bedford for his own sweet sake.’ Cicely had been ignored and cut by Jasper Tudor once too often.

  ‘He is a good man, loyal to Henry throughout his life.’

  ‘I am supposed to be impressed?’ Cicely was chill.

  Margaret’s eyebrows twitched. ‘It is my earnest hope that I can bring about a better relationship between you and—‘

  ‘I would rather you did not. I have no desire at all to make the further acquaintance of someone who is so biased against me. Everything is my fault, Henry is a cherub. Do you think the king is a cherub? No, I thought not. The Duke of Bedford is therefore totally ridiculous, as I am likely to tell him to his face if I have the opportunity,’

  ‘I believe you would too. Well, there is not a great deal I can say after that. Jasper is not accustomed to being berated by a woman.’

  ‘He soon would be if I were around him much.’

  Margaret smiled a little, and then gestured for a page to bring her some wine, before seating herself by the fireplace, even though there was no fire. It was still sunny outside, and the Thames was as crowded as ever. ‘I trust you are content to be in London again, Cicely? I do not believe Wyberton is one of my brother’s most amiable residences.’

  ‘It is not, my lady, although the private apartments are pleasing enough. Especially when Jon is with me.’

  Margaret studied her. ‘So my brother is still pleasing to you, Cicely? I know that he loves you, but I must always be concerned that the reverse may not apply.’

  Cicely was startled. ‘Lady Margaret, I do return his affection, more than you realize. Why would you think otherwise?’

  ‘Because you have been observed keeping a tryst with the Earl of Lincoln.’

  ‘Well, that is to the point, my lady. May I remind you that the earl is my close cousin?’

  ‘How close, exactly?’

  ‘Not close in the way I think you suggest. There is nothing between the Earl of Lincoln and me. He was sent a message, purporting to be from me, that we should meet in the palace garden. I received a message, purporting to be from the queen, to meet with her in the garden. Someone made certain my cousin and I were seen, apparently keeping an assignation. It was not my doing, nor was it his.’

  Margaret continued to study her. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘Anyone who wished to be rid of the Earl of Lincoln would very much have a motive, Lady Margaret. He was, after all, Richard’s heir. No longer, of course, should my brothers still live.’

  ‘Ah, yes, we come to Richard again. That man is my curse, I swear.’

  ‘He is certainly Henry’s curse. But why yours? You have everything you ever wished for, my lady. Your son is on the throne, he will soon be the father of a child whose blood will unite York and Lancaster, and he is monarch by right of conquest. What more can you desire?’

  ‘The complete elimination of the House of York.’

  ‘Then you wish to eliminate me? I represent that House, my lady, and the fact cannot be changed. It is a matter of blood and lineage. I am proud of my ancestry, Lady Margaret, as I know you are of yours. I am also a good wife to Jon. I love him very much, because he is a fine and honourable man, well worthy of my respect and affection.
I would never willingly do anything to hurt or shame him. I certainly would not form an immoral connection with my cousin. Nor would the Earl of Lincoln disgrace his own vow of fealty to the king.’ As she said this she somehow managed to look Margaret innocently in the eyes.

  ‘My dear, I look at Jack of Lincoln and see a young lord of incredible appeal, as was his uncle. Your Richard.’

  Cicely smiled. ‘He was not my Richard, my lady, but I loved him as if he were. Oh, no, do not look shocked, for I do not mean that I would have lain with him. But he had something that bound people to him. His motto may have been Loyalty Binds Me, but we were all bound to him as well. You met him, my lady, so you know exactly what I mean. You hated him, I can understand that, but you would be dishonest if you said you were not affected by him in other ways. If he had been a Lancastrian king, you would have served him more than willingly. Tell me I am wrong. Tell me your only real reason for plotting against Richard was that he represented the wrong House. As a man he was unequalled.’

  Margaret drew a long breath. ‘He was a usurper, my dear. An astonishing man, I admit, but a usurper nevertheless. However, I have not come here to discuss him.’

  ‘Do you still doubt my love for Sir Jon?’

  Margaret sipped her wine, and then set the cup aside. Her elbows were upon the arms of her chair and her hands placed together before her mouth, which she tapped with them. It was exactly what her son would have done at such a juncture. ‘Cicely, you must not underestimate the extent of my love for my half-brother. I would shield him with my very life, and if you cause him pain of any description, I will see you dead.’

  ‘And if you cause him pain, my lady, I will see you dead.’

  ‘Ah, the Plantagenet in you is to the fore again.’

  ‘Of course it is, Lady Margaret, what else do you expect? I love my husband. I love him honestly, and I know it would grieve him very much if he ever discovered you have come here like this.’

  ‘You are right, of course. I would not have come if I thought there was even any vague chance of him being present. Forgive me, my dear, I did not want to say the things I have, but I think the Earl of Lincoln is a very comely proposition for any young woman, especially one upon whom he looks with such favour.’

  Cicely laughed. ‘Lady Margaret, Jack of Lincoln looks at every woman with favour. He has trouble keeping the ample contents of his hose within said hose. He is incorrigible. A rascal and born seducer, if ever there was one. It means nothing that he smiles at me, and it certainly means nothing if I return his smiles. We are fond of each other. How could I not like someone with such a wicked smile, an even wickeder sense of humour and more kindness in him than you could ever imagine? He has never made an advance toward me, he simply flirts with me. There is nothing in it.’

  ‘I do trust so.’

  ‘Lady Margaret, I respect your concern for my husband, whom I think we both love very deeply. When he comes to my bed tonight, I will keep him very busy, you may count upon it. And if he seems tired when next you see him, it will not be on account of the king’s business.’

  Margaret’s lips parted and her eyes widened. ‘You speak to me of such things?’

  ‘Why not? You would have lain with your first husband in exactly the same way, had he lived. Well, you would, would not you? There would be no piety or everlasting mourning, just the sheer bliss of being bedded by Edmund Tudor.’ It was said gently, but firmly.

  Margaret looked away. ‘You are right, of course. I will always miss him. A few months, that is all we had together. I, a child, he a warrior lord. He was so tall and handsome with long, fair hair and the bluest of eyes. Nothing like Jasper at all. He would hold my little hand and kiss it, smile at me and tease me, but so kindly. He was certainly my prince. Nothing can ever change that, and when I lie beside him again in death, I will be happy. Edmund Tudor was . . . so very dear to me.’ Margaret’s eyes met Cicely’s again. ‘So I understand love, my dear. I understand it very well indeed.’

  ‘Yes, I think you do, my lady.’

  Margaret gave a little laugh. ‘Of course, Edmund did not live long enough to change, to become anything I would not have liked. A little as it is with your uncle, Cicely. When they die young, we can never know what the future man may have become, good or bad, just or unjust, kind or unkind.’

  Your precious Henry will be bad, unjust and very unkind, Cicely thought. Unless he reforms remarkably. But then she remembered his lovemaking, such rare, beautiful lovemaking . . .

  ‘My son still thinks very highly of you, Cicely.’

  ‘He does?’

  ‘Well, he went out of his way to tell me he would consent to your remarriage with my brother. Considerably out of his way.’

  ‘What do you mean, Lady Margaret?’

  ‘That he came to Coldharbour to tell me in person. Believe me, that is not at all like him. He spoke of you in such a way that I—’

  ‘Yes?’

  Margaret met her eyes. ‘That I believe he feels he is married to the wrong sister.’

  Cicely gazed back at her. ‘I doubt he thinks that, my lady, for I stand up to him a little too much. I do not think he would appreciate such a wife.’

  ‘On the contrary, Cicely, I think he would. Take care, my dear, because although I love my son very much indeed, I know—as do you—that he thinks of you as he should not. He is the king . . . and I know what was done to John of Gloucester.’

  At last Henry’s mother had come to the real reason for her visit. ‘You fear for Jon?’ Cicely whispered, feeling suddenly very cold. Had something happened?

  ‘Yes, my dear. And for your cousin, whose sudden and mysterious demise or torture would surely unite far too many Yorkists.’

  ‘I am forbidden to the king, and he to me, because we are married to others. ’ Cicely paused. ‘Do you fear for my sister as well?’

  ‘Cicely, I do not know what I fear, just that I am very uneasy.’

  ‘So, you think Henry VII will do away with his wife in order to marry his sister-in-law? Why, is that not close to what was so falsely put around about Richard III?’

  ‘Do you think I find it easy to say these things to you, Cicely? Henry means the world and more to me, because I am his mother. But that does not mean I cannot see his faults. There was a time when I would have said he had none, but my eyes were opened at Christmas, when he exhibited Richard’s irreparably damaged son. I have been guilty of many cruelties in my time, and there have been cruelties done to me, but that was a terrible thing. I was forced to think of Henry anew. That is why I have come to you with all this. First I had to reassure myself concerning the Earl of Lincoln, and also that you do truly love my brother. I am completely content on both points, Cicely, and so I confide all this in you. Leave Jack of Lincoln well alone. He must live, do you not see? His sudden demise or torture will bring about rebellion. But with Lincoln gone, who might the Yorkists have to lead them? There could be such bloodshed, such jostling and threats. Such horrors. It is better that he lives and there is harmony because he stays with my son.’

  Better still that he lived and took back Richard’s stolen throne, Cicely thought.

  ‘So, if you are tricked into meeting him again, my dear, depart immediately. Advise him of the same. There must be peace now. Your cousin must be made to see it.’

  ‘Lady Margaret, far be it from me to point out that Richard too wanted peace, but you were not prepared to seek it with him, were you? You only hope for it now because your son is on the throne. The House of York has been put in the position the House of Lancaster was then. Perhaps it will feel it has no alternative but to follow your example.’

  ‘That is how the grim struggle will continue, Cicely. It has to stop somewhere.’

  ‘Preferably at the point that has been reached now.’ Cicely lowered her eyes, knowing that Jack would never remain passive in Henry’s England.

  Margaret moved the subject on prudently. ‘Cicely, I do not know what actually passes between you and my son,
just that there is something. Its seriousness is not certain, and for the sake of my brother’s happiness, I pray it soon passes. Please, I beg you, do not say or do anything that will put Jon at risk.’

  ‘I already do all I can to protect him, Lady Margaret. As I think you have guessed.’

  Margaret met her eyes. ‘Yes, I had guessed. Does my brother know?’

  ‘He knows nothing. I do whatever your son wishes of me, and I will continue to do it until he tires of me. He has no need to do away with Jon, Jack or with Bess, for he has me already.’

  ‘Maybe that is not enough. Maybe only having you as his queen will do for him. I have never seen this side of him before, Cicely. Oh, I had little contact with him for years on end when he was in exile in Brittany, but I still thought I knew him. He is my only child, how could I not know him? But the fact is, I do not know him. I wield influence with him, and he listens to me, but there is a side of him that will never listen. I think you possess that side, my dear.’

  ‘What else can I do, Lady Margaret? I give myself to him in order to shield those dear to me. I know not what else there is.’

  ‘Nor I, Cicely. Nor I.’

  ‘There is one way in which you can help me.’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘If there is ever a time when Jon suspects what I do, if I can say I was with you, maybe it will ease his suspicions.’

  ‘I will back you, my dear. Have no fear of that. I will always work to keep my brother safe. And my son, for I do not wish him to be like this. You certainly have turned his head, but what are your feelings towards him?’

  Cicely paused. ‘Perhaps you do not really wish to know.’

  ‘I will tell you what you feel. You loathe him for everything he has done, but there are times when you see something else in him, and it draws you. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I cannot blame his father for the way my son is, because Edmund died before Henry was born, but I can blame myself. I—together with Jasper—made him what he is, Cicely. There are many deaths to be laid at my door. Too many. My hatred, duplicity, plotting and ambition have created the Henry you see now. I would not let him be his own self. And Jasper kept making sure it continued in Brittany. My poor Henry has never been left in peace. Now, when it is far too late, I have a terrible conscience. Do not plot against him, Cicely. Do not support any Yorkist uprising. If you do, I will shield him and do all I can to destroy you.’