What the Duchess Wants

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Though Louis would remain her liege lord for her lands and titles in Aquitaine and Poitou, a marriage to Henry would return her to the same status, perhaps even higher, than her now-former husband and any new wife he might seek. Louis most likely did not wish to do so, though finding a new wife, begetting a male heir, was something his ministers and advisors, both religious and secular, would pursue vigorously. In order not to be shamed by this new social order, marriage to someone equal to or higher than Louis would be necessary.

  Eleanor sighed then, realising the political efficiency of this proposed match bore more weight than she had first considered. Much as she’d like to think it could be about other matters or issues, it would not be. She was a woman of rank and privilege and as such would never be free from the responsibility to marry well.

  ‘That does not bode well for my suit,’ Henry said softly as he reached up and gently moved a few loosened strands of her hair out of her face. He turned his hand and caressed the exposed area of her cheek as he smiled. ‘Is there ought I can do to remove the frown from your brow, Eleanor?’

  If she closed her eyes and listened only to the sound of his voice, she could almost believe they were simply a man and a woman. Her biggest concern lay in the most dramatic difference between the two men she would call husband—Henry’s appetites, for all things exciting, would bring her into a life very different from the one she had with prayerful Louis. She’d watched all of her life while sexual affairs changed the world around her and she suspected—nay, she knew—Henry would never be limited to one woman in his bed.

  All she could hope for was his regard, his respect and possibly his love, even while she knew she would share his body with others.

  ‘I think you will break my heart, Henry.’ She shared her deepest fear. ‘I think you will break it often.’

  Regret entered his grey gaze and Eleanor read the truth there—Henry knew their life would not be easy and that her fear would be realised. Men of power and status lived a certain life with perquisites and expectations. Women other than their legal wives were always part of that life. Though not a large problem as Louis’s wife, Eleanor understood that it would be a part of any marriage with Henry, especially as young and vigorous as he was. When he opened his mouth as though to speak against such accusations she placed her finger over his lips to stop him. Better not to make promises she knew could not be kept over time.

  ‘But we will manage this, will we not?’ she asked.

  ‘Better than manage,’ he whispered, and he guided her head down so he could touch his mouth to hers. ‘We will be spectacular together, Eleanor. Spectacular.’

  The kiss that followed his words gave her hope of such things. He tangled his hands in her hair and one kiss led to another and another until she could think of nothing else but having this man as her husband.

  Chapter Four

  City of Poitiers, Duchy of Aquitaine, 18th May 1152 AD

  The day dawned bright and sunny as days in her favourite city often did in the midst of spring. Gentle breezes flowed around the city, rustling the flags that flew high on the walls of Poitiers. The colours of the Duke of Normandy interspersed with her own decorated the castle and the cathedral, announcing to all their future lord’s arrival. Eleanor leaned her head back and inhaled the fragrance of the blossoms of May.

  She would never tire of this place and its beauty. She was of this land and of these people and it would always be part of her soul. Did he feel the same about Normandy or Anjou? Or England? Was there a city or province that called to his blood the way Aquitaine did hers?

  Her gaze moved over the people gathered along the sides of the road as her carriage made its way from the castle stronghold to the cathedral where the marriage would take place. Though no announcement had been made, word had spread and her people came to wish her well. Waving to her as she rode past, they smiled and some of the children even tossed flowers at her.

  Negotiations had concluded that afternoon they’d spent in the garden and now they would wed. The ceremony would be much smaller than personages of their consequence might have been expected to hold but the circumstances around this marriage warranted it. They and their advisors understood that the king could take offence to it since they did not ask for his permission, as those sworn to their liege lord should have.

  She sighed then, catching the attention of the two women who accompanied her inside the carriage. Constance and Eloise smiled and she allowed them to continue to think she thought on Henry and his many attributes—attributes they’d discussed for hour upon hour these past days. A woman on her wedding day should not be thinking on the possibilities of coming war and retribution claimed by a king.

  After discussing this same issue with Godfroi and other advisors, Eleanor suspected that Louis’s true opinion about this situation was that, though he’d released her from their marriage, she should not seek another on her own but wait for him to arrange one. In her mind, she could see his reaction, his usual Capet calm regard exploding into something completely different. She’d seen it once, in Antioch, when accusations were made against her behaviour towards her uncle. She had no doubt that the news of her marriage to Henry and the merger of all of their lands and titles would enrage him as little else could.

  ‘Madam,’ Constance said. ‘We are approaching the cathedral.’

  Eleanor nodded and arranged her gown so that she could climb down more easily. The horses drew to a halt and the crowds cheered. Peering through the window, she saw Henry walking down the steps of the cathedral towards her. In an unusual gesture, he was coming to her.

  She smiled and allowed the others to climb down first to assist her. As they moved a few steps away, Henry appeared with his hand outstretched to her. He smiled and bowed to her and her people cheered loudly. His garments were of the finest cloth and he wore a heavy gold chain around his neck. A signet ring was his only other jewellery but the large ruby in it spoke of its value. His red hair gleamed in the bright sunshine and his eyes sparkled as he helped her out and gathered her at his side.

  He kept his arm around her waist and guided her up the stairs to the door of the large church. It was inappropriate and daring, but she loved the gesture. She, the Duchess of Aquitaine, did not enter as a supplicant to this marriage. They entered together, as equals, and he even had the audacity to pause at the doorway, turn to face the crowd and then kiss her before them!

  Eleanor was still laughing and breathless when they reached the altar and, try as she might, it was difficult to regain the composure expected of a duchess on such an occasion. Instead she and Henry shared glances and even gentle touches as the ceremony commenced. Although this wedding was nothing when compared to her first one, there were sufficient witnesses of significant standing to ensure its validity. And the Bishop of Poiters and several others attested to the lack of obstacles in making this marriage.

  Eleanor found herself nervous just then, as the last clause of the marriage agreement was read aloud and it was time to exchange vows with this man…vows that would make her his property, under his control and no other’s. Her throat tightened for a moment and she swallowed against it.

  ‘Here now, Your Grace,’ Henry whispered. ‘Be of stout heart and take me as your own.’

  He squeezed her hand then and nodded and it both relieved her fears and warmed her heart. He’d noticed the unaccountable nervousness and tried to assist her. If he would continue to do that, she had great hopes for their life together.

  Henry felt her hand tremble ever so slightly and squeezed it, willing her to look at him. Eleanor of Aquitaine, a woman who had travelled the world and seen a holy crusade, was nervous about marrying him? He would never have thought it possible. But then, until just a few months ago, he would never have believed such a marriage possible either. Now, as she smiled at him and he saw some softer emotion flicker deep in her blue eyes, he was glad his beliefs had been so misplaced.

  When she’d arrived before the church and he’d h
eard the people chanting her name and his, his heart had raced with excitement and anticipation of their joining. He watched as she prepared to climb from the carriage, smoothing the blue gown that matched the colour of her eyes and adjusting the shimmering veil that covered her long hair, hair left unbound as though a virgin bride.

  The blatant desire in her eyes as their gazes met only served to confirm that virginity could be overrated and that a woman of experience had much to offer. The passion that awaited them both would be as exquisite as she was and his body shook from the power of his response to her. Only hours remained until they were one in name and in body and he hoped he could resist acting the barbarian and carrying her off to his bed before the festivities concluded!

  Her boldness, her vitality, her sense of humour and adventure, all called to him. Her beauty and her innate passion riled his blood. She would be a fitting wife for him and he was glad of it. The bishops, surrounded by the wafting smell of burning ashes and candles, consecrated their union by praying blessing after blessing for them and offering a seemingly endless litany of prayers. Henry grew anxious to reach the end of this ceremony. ’Twas sacrilegious possibly, but he wanted her called wife so that he could have her to himself—and that could only happen when they were declared married.

  With each passing prayer, he drew her closer, enjoying the feeling of her body near his and the knowledge that she was minutes away from being his. At last, the final benediction was prayed and, as they knelt next to each other, Eleanor squeezed his hand in response.

  She was a fitting match for him and would be the wife he would need at his side during these next crucial years as he claimed England at last and forged his own kingdom. Everything he needed in a helpmeet, everything he wanted in a future queen and everything he wanted in a woman he found in Eleanor.

  As he helped her stand and listened to the bishop’s words declaring them man and wife before God, Henry felt the laughter bubbling up from within and he let it out. It echoed through the large open spaces in the cathedral and then hers joined his as they raced down the long centre aisle towards the doors and the rest of their lives together.

  Reaching the doors, he paused only long enough for the guards to open them before drawing Eleanor into his arms and kissing her the way he wanted to, beginning to make her his and to claim her passion for himself. Then, waving off those who would help, he lifted her onto one of the matching horses that stood waiting for them and climbed onto the other.

  Trumpets flared and drums beat. Their names were chanted by the crowds and echoed down the cobbled streets of Poitiers as they made their way slowly back to the castle where they would celebrate with a feast and dancing for the rest of the day. Eleanor’s every move was filled with elegance and grace, as she nodded to her people, now his, and accepted their adulation as though it was more than simply that expected of a people for their liege. She was accepting their love.

  Though his men surrounded them as their honour guard, Eleanor’s own troops led their way along the streets. An example of what their marriage meant, this merging of Normandy and Aquitaine, Angers and Poitou, would create something new and different among the powers on the continent. Henry smiled and waved as people called out his name.

  As he turned back, he caught sight of Eleanor smiling at him and, for a moment, they were not duke and duchess or count and countess. They were not heirs or heiresses. Instead they were simply Henry and Eleanor, a man and a woman, married and beginning the rest of their lives together. In that instant, Henry offered up a prayer for all those things every man must wish for at such a time—many years together, a happy life and the blessing of children.

  Eleanor nodded at him, seeming to understand and share his feelings, and Henry knew all would be well between them. Reaching over, he held out his hand and took hers. They rode the rest of the way with hands joined.

  ’Twas hours later when Henry announced an end to the feast and sent Eleanor off with her ladies to prepare for their marriage bed. Though his men and those he called friends called out bawdy words and offered challenges to him, he brushed them off and arrived at Eleanor’s chambers alone. A formal bedding ceremony was expected, but Henry had ordered there be none. She would be his wife for the rest of their lives, for Henry had no intention of repeating Louis’s mistake in letting such a treasure escape. He would never repudiate their marriage or the woman herself and he had no intention of exposing her loveliness to the gawking gazes of others.

  As arranged, she was alone when he entered, her women leaving just as he closed the door behind him. Uncertain of what to expect or where he would find her, Henry lifted the candle he carried and saw her in the bed. He lost the ability to think in that moment, for the sight of her sitting there among silken pillows and sheets, with only her hair covering the creamy flesh and feminine curves, was too alluring to resist.

  What should not have surprised him was the way she watched him as he walked across the bedchamber to stand before her. If he thought she would watch him with less intensity or interest than he watched her, Henry discovered differently in a very short time. He remembered the moment he caught her staring at him in Louis’s court last autumn and saw the frank assessment in her knowing eyes. The same gaze greeted him now and he wondered how bold she could be.

  Henry paused at the side of the bed, placed the candle on the table to join the others there and began to untie the laces on his tunic and shirt. She never said a word, but she missed nothing. He lifted his arms and tugged the garments over his head, allowing her to watch.

  He could feel the heat of her gaze move over his flesh and his body reacted to her frank scrutiny by readying itself for what was to happen. Eleanor shifted in the bed but said nothing. Then a slight smile curved her lips and she nodded, giving him permission to continue! He laughed then and reached for the belt around his waist. Watching her reaction caused his heart to pound and his blood to race through his veins, heating every part of him.

  Henry bent down and removed his boots and stockings before loosening his trews and pushing them down and off. Standing, he faced Eleanor and let her look her fill for he intended to do the same of her before the night was done. If he thought she would look away or not carefully examine his manliness, he was wrong, but the true surprise came when she spoke.

  ‘As I said some weeks ago, Your Grace, you will do.’

  He would have sputtered out some words but her gesture forestalled him. Eleanor lifted the sheets, gifting him with a view of her full breasts and narrow waist. When she opened her legs and offered him a place between them, he accepted the passion and the woman she offered.

  Only some hours later, when their ardour had been spent by several bouts of pleasure together did he respond to her words.

  ‘As will you, my sweet Eleanor. As will you.’

  Epilogue

  Le Mans, County of Anjou, 1157 AD

  Eleanor, Duchess of Normandy and Aquitaine and Queen of England, smiled as the baby was handed to her husband. Henry had wanted sons and this was the third they’d produced—something even she had wondered would be possible when they’d married five years before. After having only daughters with Louis Capet, the doubt had lived deep within her. The births of little Henry and this son had eased her grief over losing the firstborn of Henry’s get and now her contentedness in the marriage she’d sought with the House of Anjou increased. Henry examined the baby and then nodded his joy at her.

  ‘I agree with your choice, Eleanor. Richard is a fine name for my son,’ he said. He handed the baby back to his nurse and sat on the bed, next to Eleanor, sliding their hands together. ‘I am pleased, wife.’

  Eleanor understood that part of her husband’s pleasure involved tweaking the nose of her former husband, who could not seem to have a son. Word would be sent out announcing the arrival of the latest son in the Plantagenet family and she could imagine Louis’s reaction.

  ‘As am I, husband,’ she said, accepting the kiss he offered.

  ‘He
will make a fine heir to Aquitaine,’ Henry declared as boldly as ever, knowing that the decision was hers and not his to make.

  ‘He could,’ she answered, not consenting or rejecting the idea as yet.

  Five years before he had relented in his demands over this issue, but, like a dog with a juicy bone, he could not let it go. Though he’d gone on to make his claim on England the year after their marriage and then assumed the throne there another year after that, Henry still wanted Aquitaine. Even having England within his grasp did not cause him to let go of her claim of control over her provinces.

  Now though, he was happy with this new heir she’d given him and would be gracious in her refusal. He realised it even as she did and so she eased her stance the tiniest bit.

  ‘Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Aquitaine,’ she said. ‘It does have an appealing sound to it.’

  Henry leaned in close and touched his mouth to hers, gently squeezing her hand as he did so.

  ‘You will do,’ Henry replied. Kissing her again, he gathered her close and held her in his arms, mindless of anyone else in the chamber. ‘Aye, you will do, Eleanor.’

  Author Note

  As we all know, the marriage of Henry and Eleanor would last for decades and be one of the best known of all of the royal matches in British history. From their legendary squabbles which split apart the Angevin empire (and were the basis for dramas like The Lion in Winter) to the extraordinary long life of Eleanor (she died in her eighty-third year), who tried to hold it all together for her sons, their story was filled with all of the things that families deal with even now—love, betrayal, support, estrangement, restoration and competition.