Carefully he detached my hands, folding them one upon the other in my lap. ‘Because it wouldn’t do to cause political tongues to wag,’ he stated, smiling down into my eyes, willing me to see the future as he saw it. ‘Not yet. You must trust me.’ Even though his voice remained unemotionally cool, as if we were discussing the arrangements for the journey, Edmund remained implacable. No one would suspect the heated tenor of his reply as he leaned over me, arranging the cushions for my comfort.
‘One day you will be mine. I will take you to my bed as my wife, and there I will open the windows into heaven for you. You must be patient, my loved one. First I must make my intentions known to Gloucester and Bishop Henry. To the Royal Council. You are Queen Dowager and I am a Beaufort. Ours will be a political alliance, as well as one grounded in true love. It will not be done in secret.’
Which made good sense.
He reached up to untie the curtains, to shield me from the sharp wind. ‘Exercise patience, Queen Kat, and hold on to the fact that my love for you is infinite.’ And the curtain was dropped into place.
But how difficult it was to be patient. What possible obstacle would there be for the marriage of a widowed queen and a young man of royal blood? It would harm no one. Young Henry liked Edmund. And I was tossed in a sea of longing, to be with him and know the happiness of fulfilment.
I could not wait.
But wait, Edmund had advised. Wait for a little time. So that was what I must do. I settled back against my cushions. I was too happy to be concerned, too secure in his love, anticipating the day when we would be together.
Back at Windsor, leaving Edmund to stable his horse and a tight-lipped Master of Household to organise the dispatch of my litter and escort, I went straight to the royal accommodations. And there was Young Henry in a creased tunic and hose, his fingers sticky with some sweetmeat, his hair clearly not having seen a comb for some hours. He ran to me and I lifted him into my arms. He was growing heavy at almost five years.
‘Have you brought me a gift,
‘I have.’
‘Can I eat it?’
I enclosed his hand in mine to prevent him smearing honey on my bodice. ‘I don’t think you can.’ A creak of the hinge on the door and a soft hush of skirts caught my notice. ‘Look who’s come to find you, Henry. What do you think, Alice? I think he has grown in even a short few weeks.’ I turned my head, smiling my welcome. ‘Do you?’
It was not Alice who had entered. In the doorway I saw that the woman had not Alice’s upright carriage or robust figure; rather my visitor was fragile and moved with care over each separate step. And then she moved forward into a stripe of sunlight and my visitor was plain to see. Letting my son slide to the floor, I walked to meet her as I smiled, my heart warming, silently admitting that the blame was mine for the distance that remained between us.
‘Madam Joanna!’
It had been too long—Henry’s funeral, in fact—since I had last found time to sit and talk to her.
Young Henry ran to her, but, seeing her involuntarily drawing back, I caught him before he could hang on her skirts. The lines gouged beside eye and mouth, more cruel than I recalled, told their own tale.
‘Will you sit? You are right welcome.’ Keeping Henry at bay I took her hand and led her to a settle that was not too low, where I helped her to sink slowly back against the upright support.
Joanna sighed, a sound that was almost a groan.
‘Thank you, dear child.’ She managed to summon a smile. ‘Now you can kiss me.’
I did, shocked by the quality of her skin at close quarters for it was dry and as thin and yellow as old parchment. The pain in her limbs was clearly great, the malaise gaining strength with each month’s passing. Acknowledging that she would not wish me to talk of it, I merely kissed her cheek again.
‘When did you arrive?’ I asked.
‘Yesterday. I came up in easy stages from King’s Langley.’
‘To see me? Then it is my fortune that I returned today.’ I enfolded her gnarled fingers with their swollen joints very carefully in mine.
‘They said you were at Leeds.’
‘Yes.’ I whispered in a restless Young Henry’s ear and sent him off at a run to bring wine for our guest, nodding to my page Thomas, who would follow him, while I sat at Joanna’s side. She shuffled in discomfort and I could not but ask, ‘Madam Joanna, are you quite well? Should you have travelled so far?’
‘My joints ache, but I expect no less.’ The movement of her lips was spare. ‘I thought I had to come.’
‘Well, of course.’ Not quite understanding. ‘Why should you not visit me? Although it would have been more thoughtful of me to come to King’s Langley. Forgive me, madam. Will you stay? If only for a few days? Henry will enjoy showing you his new skills with a wooden sword. As long as you stay well out of reach, of course.’
