‘I must buy him a pony.’ Warwick laughed. Then became serious as if he knew I would not like what he said. ‘The time has come, my lady.’ I regarded him quizzically, suddenly aware. ‘Now that the Young King is more than a year old, he must be put under the guidance of a governess.’
At first I did not quite understand. ‘Do I need more servants?’ I asked. ‘If so, my steward will appoint—’
‘The governess will be appointed by the Council,’ he said gently.
I felt that unpleasant shiver of apprehension. Warwick, as guardian, was a distant figure, willing to allow me a degree of influence, but a governess appointed by the Council would be ever present, a real and constant authority.
‘My son has a whole parcel of nurses to see to his needs,’ I remarked coldly. ‘Joan Asteley has my complete confidence. Mistress Waring, of course. Young Henry loves her.’
‘He needs more, Katherine. Mistress Waring’s influence must end.’ His gentle use of my name warned me. ‘He needs a governess to nurture him in courtesy and good manners. Most importantly he needs a governess who has the power to chastise the Young King if necessary.’
Courtesy. Good manners…My authority as his mother counted for less and less. ‘She would chastise my son?’ I was outraged. Yet had not our servants in France chastised me, and not always with a light hand? As I remembered the slaps, the sharp blows of a whip, my hands tightened into fists.
‘Only within reason, my lady.’
‘And what is reason?’ Abruptly I turned my back on him to walk to the end of the room. ‘She is not his mother. How will she know?’ I raised my voice. ‘I do not agree.’
Warwick followed me, eyes soft with sympathy, but he spoke plainly, as was his wont. ‘This is no argument here, Katherine. It will happen with or without your consent—and it must be no surprise to you. It is customary for princes to be raised in their own households. You cannot expect to keep him close to you, even though you live in the same palace. He will be raised with his own staff, eventually with youngsters of noble blood of his own age. He will learn what it is to be King. You know this. Surely you were brought up with your royal brothers and sisters in a similar manner?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted abruptly. Did he not realise? That was my reason for resisting. I remembered my own childhood far too vividly. ‘I know exactly what it can be like. I would not give my son to the possibility of such neglect. Or
‘It will not be like that.’
I took a turn to the window and back, hemmed in by the shadows of the past. ‘I hear what you say.’ I tried to hide the hopelessness that lapped against my heart. ‘Do I have any influence over who will be governess?’
‘The appointment will be decided by the Council,’ Warwick repeated.
So, no. The answer was no. I pressed my fingertips against my lips to still their trembling. I would not weep. I would remain strong, for my son’s sake, and I frowned at the idea that encroached, and not for the first time, since Gloucester’s dislike of me bit deep.
‘Is it because I am my mother’s daughter, and her reputation is not of the best? Is my influence not trustworthy?’
Warwick considered his answer.
‘I think you have to accept that there are those in the Council who wish to supersede your influence.’ He shrugged uneasily, aware that his reply had hurt. ‘You must accept it, Katherine. The governess chosen by the Council will deal well with the boy. He is growing quickly; he needs more than clean clothes and regular meals. He needs discipline and education, and he needs to be raised with all the tenets of an English prince.’
But did I not have the right to nurture him and see him grow out of babyhood? My mother had never watched me. I would watch my son, for he was all I had. In that moment I felt like resting my head on Warwick’s shoulder and weeping out my sorrows.
‘It will not be a bad thing,’ he told me. ‘They will appoint someone who is wise and kind and has experience of children.’
‘You are a member of the Council. Will you have a voice in who is chosen?’ I asked, raising my chin. I would not weep.
‘Yes.’
‘Can you sway them against any choice made by Gloucester?’
Warwick smiled dryly. ‘I am not without influence.’
It was my one hope.
I knew what I wanted, what I must do, for my own peace of mind. All that was required was a little careful intrigue. A week later, during which I was not inactive, I requested Warwick’s attendance at Windsor again, waylaying him as he entered the palace and crossed the Great Hall.
‘I have been considering my son’s governess, sir.’ He bowed with his customary grace, but his glance was more than a little wary, probably preparing for another battle with the Queen Mother, who ought to have the sense to accept the decisions made for her son. ‘Has the Council made its choice?’ I asked.
‘Not to my knowledge, my lady.’ He slid another glance in my direction.
‘Then come with me.’
