Thwarted Queen Part 5

"You are not yet worthy." Mama's voice s.h.i.+nes into the darkened room: "No."

Chapter 5.

Bisham Manor, Berks.h.i.+re April to May 1437 On the death of my lord father, the marriage negotiations fell into the hands of Salisbury. Fortunately for me, brother Salisbury is more at home commanding his soldiers than persuading Mama to discuss my marriage, so he doesn't try too hard to press Richard's case. Enjoying a girlhood my sisters never had, every May for the next eleven years I set off with Mama and Salisbury into the north of the country to manage our vast estates in Yorks.h.i.+re and Westmorland. We go with a heavily armed escort, for the new Earl of Westmorland continues to feud over the Middleham estates and the Percies make occasional raids. Every October, we return south to Bisham Manor to spend Christmas with Salisbury's wife, Alice, and their growing family.

Alice and other ladies of my age and status grow old and ill as they birth one child after another. Still I have no husband. Yet while this makes me sigh with relief, thanks to father, I'm styled d.u.c.h.ess of York and am always announced as such. I haven't seen Richard in eleven years, and with leisure, I ponder: What should I do with my life?

The answer comes from an unexpected quarter. Now that Mama spends half of the year at Bisham Manor in the south of England, the abbess of Barking Abbey makes it her business to call frequently upon her half-sister. Abbess Margaret de Swynford travels with several nuns in her train and is kind enough to bring her cousin Elizabeth Chaucer and her half-niece Lady Jehane de Neville with her. And so Mama is able to see a niece, as well as a daughter she believed to be lost.

Lady Jehane, my long-lost sister, has cultivated an air of quietude that draws others to her. She listens attentively as I tell her about my dilemma.

"Richard is not a bad person," I say. "I think he's fond of me, or was. But I don't love him, and I don't think he could make me happy. Indeed, my whole being revolts at the idea of being tied down in marriage."

"There's no reason why you couldn't take the veil."

"But I couldn't leave Mama."

"Of course not. She has set much store by you, her youngest daughter." Lady Jehane gives me a smile, untinged with bitterness. "But one day, Our Blessed Lady will gather our lady mother into her arms. If you're not married by then, you could take the veil. I would help you."

My soul soars. I would be spared the rigors of childbearing. I would have opportunities few other women dream of. I could cultivate my mind and improve my handwriting and my grasp of languages. I could learn to make medicines. I could lead a life of quiet contemplation.

I would have a measure of freedom.

But Richard achieved his majority in 1432, obtaining his vast estates back from the Crown. He became the wealthiest peer in the land. Then, in 1436, the king's council decided that Richard of York should replace the king's uncle as governor of Normandy and regent of France, the Duke of Bedford dying unexpectedly at the age of forty-six.

Becoming governor of Normandy was quite a coup for a young man of twenty-four, but it was not a coup for me as Richard now pressed his suit with more vigor and persistence. In April 1437, he even returned to England from Normandy.

Now, he demands to see me.

I recoil.

I remember well how my lord father gave me a beating after I'd dared to question his right to lock me up. I have the scars to prove it. The last time any man touched me was when Sir Ralph Neville lifted my skirts in the stables at Castle Raby. Even now, that humiliation makes me shudder.

The world of men is filled with violence, and I want none of it.

I am seated on a low stool, singing softly, surrounded by brother Salisbury's children, when the crunch of gravel reaches my ears. Looking up, I find a young man.

He is well dressed in rich hues of velvet, as befits a n.o.ble. He fingers his heavy gold collar, decorated with white roses done in enamel. From this showy bijou drops a huge spear-pointed diamond.

A p.r.i.c.kle wends it way up my spine. There is a silence as he stares at me.

"Need you something, my lord?" I enquire.

Absently fingering the diamond, the young man stutters out a reply. "My lady Cecylee-forgive this intrusion-I see you know not who I am." He takes a deep breath. "Remember you a boy named Richard?"

G.o.d have mercy upon my soul. I look down at my lap. I had better get this over with, and quickly. I look up, and lock eyes.

He reads my face hungrily, as if concerned about my feelings. Then he smiles. His smile transforms his face, lighting up his blue-grey eyes and imbuing his expression with warmth and delight.

I cannot help it, I smile back. "Richard, it is you!" I exclaim. "Only you look different. I had not expected to see you look like-"

"Like what, sweetheart? You mean old and ugly?"

I tilt my head as I take him in. "There is a different feel about you." I frown, trying to reconcile the serious, rather pompous boy I'd known with this attractive young man who kneels before me. Then I blush. What am I thinking? I do not wish to marry.

"I see my intrusion has discomforted you, my sweeting, for the which I am sorry. I should not have come upon you this way."

I graze him with a glance. Is he making fun of me?

"We promised once to marry, my lady, but I'd not force you to it against your will."

Now I stare.

He leans forward. "Is it still your wish to be my wife?"

I thin my lips and veil my eyes with my lashes. So this is why brother Salisbury has been closeted inside all morning. They must have been signing the marriage papers. Naturally, no one bothered to inform me.

I rise. "You know me not, my lord," I say. Then I sweep out of the garden.

I go to Mama. I do not have to say anything, for she takes one look at my face and nods.

I am gone within the hour.

A message reaches me at vespers the next day: my lord of York arrived to pay a visit but was turned away. He will return in a week.

I smile and toss the note into the flames.

A week later, at the appointed time, Richard, Duke of York, claims admittance to Barking Abbey, where I enjoy the hospitality of Abbess Margaret de Swynford. Lady Jehane has kept me company during this time, and I have attended every Holy Office. I find the quiet darkness of the church where the nuns murmur their prayers soothing to my spirits.

I will tell Richard no, then stay here and take the veil.

I sit in my chamber when he appears. The windows face out onto Abbess Margaret's herb garden. The scent of rosemary and sage fill the room. Audrey and Jenet sit in a corner, engaged in sewing. I read a book in Latin, making notes about it in French.

Richard stares at this scene while I turn to my book.

"How did you learn Latin?" he asks, sitting down beside me without invitation.

"While I waited for you to return, I decided to educate myself," I reply. "My brother Edward was learning Latin, so I begged my lady mother to let me sit in on his cla.s.ses. Eventually, his tutor Doctor Eusebius agreed to take me on as his pupil."

"I see," says Richard. His eyes strain to look at the t.i.tle of the book on the table. I give it to him to examine. It is Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. He stares at me. "Do you like philosophy?"

"It makes you think hard about things," I say. "It is very consoling in times of crisis."

I put that book down and open another. Again, Richard cranes his neck. I hold it up for him to see. The City of Ladies by Christine de Pizan.

Richard's eyebrows lift as if he's never allowed that a woman could write a book.

"Christine de Pizan was a learned lady, highly regarded by the Queen of France," I say. "This book is a retelling of history from a woman's point of view." I pause and turn to be sure I have his attention. "Have you noticed that history is always told from a man's point of view?" I smile. There.

He stares back but does not recoil. "Cecylee, you are full of surprises," he finally says. "I never would have guessed that the pert, contrary young lady I used to know has turned into a scholar and an ascetic."

I lower my eyes. "You don't have to marry me if you think it unseemly to have such a well-educated wife-"

I stop, because Richard is kissing me. On the lips. I shudder. No one has ever done this before. I close my eyes; I'm grasped firmly, yet gently; the warmth of his body penetrates my fine woolen gown. At the softness of his lips, I feel myself begin to swoon. "Cis. Don't tease. You know more than anything I want to marry you. But you treat me so badly."

"Don't," I say. "Don't-"

But he kisses me again. I can't help it. His kisses are gentle and respectful, and he holds me softly in his arms. To my surprise, I find myself melting into him.

"You see me for a few hours, then you take fright and rush off in that reckless way you have, forcing me to cool my heels for a week while I'm panting with impatience to see you-"

He sounds like a lover. Does he love me? Is there anything for me in this marriage, apart form an exchange of money and land? "Am I really so difficult?"

"Difficult. You've never been easy. If I weren't madly in love, I'd be tempted to give you a good shaking."

I gaze at him.

He gazes back, his eyes fixed on mine. He looks as if he might care how I feel.

"I'm sorry, Richard," I find myself saying, now calculating. "But I did have to think. It was too much for me after so many years of not seeing you, of not expecting us to marry, of not expecting you to love me or even be very interested."

He should be horrified by this speech. Instead, he looks hurt and-baffled. "How could you think that? I've always been intensely interested in you."

I put my hand on his arm. "Now, d.i.c.kon, don't be angry. When my lady mother gave me the girlhood which my sisters never had and I educated myself, many people told me that no gentleman would want to marry me and I'd have to spend my days in a convent."

"But, Cis! You don't understand! I love you! I want your company!"

I give him another hard stare. But he meets it without flinching. He takes my hand and brushes his lips over it. I s.h.i.+ver with pleasure. "Have I now proved to your ladys.h.i.+p's satisfaction that I will be a good and loving husband?"

I come to. He hasn't proved anything. I rise and search through my books. "There is just one more thing."

"One more thing?" His voice mounts higher. "Cis, how much longer do you plan to torture me?" He moves closer and puts an arm around my waist. Again, I feel a pleasurable sensation radiating from his touch. I don't understand it. Surely, after the mistreatment I've met with at the hands of men, I should be dead to amorous advances.

I ignore my feelings, find my book, and say, "Only until you've read this." I hand him The Wife of Bath's Tale. "It has some things to say about women, which I would like to discuss with you."

Richard groans but does not lose his temper. Instead, he takes me in his arms and kisses me. "And that will be all? You promise?"

"Promise," I say. If he can swallow that, maybe I should marry him. But I am nearly sure it will enrage him. In which case, I shall refuse him.

Richard sighs. "I don't know why I allow this, but I will read this ... tale and return tomorrow morning." He strokes my cheek with his finger. I close my eyes at the unexpected intimacy of his touch.

The next day Richard reappears. "That's a rather subversive story, Cis."

I look straight at him. "Do you agree with it?"

"You mean that women want to have mastery over their lives in the same way as men? That is what you want me to remember?"

"Yes."

Normally marriage negotiations are handled by my liege lord, my father or brother, without taking my views into account. Yet here I am, twenty-one years old, old enough and well educated enough to act as my own advocate. At this moment I know I have the makings of a ruler, just as Mama said.

I draw myself up. "Remember, Richard, I have a soul to keep. That is why the church allows women to give or refuse their consent to marriage. It is important to me that my soul be well matched to that of my husband. Women are not things. We do not want to be viewed as good only for making babies. It is insulting to our intelligence and to our feelings to be treated thus."

Richard's mouth opens, horrified.

I experience a moment of disappointment. But after all, he is a man. What did I expect?

"Cis!" he stutters.

I stare into the abbess's garden as I brace myself for the tirade. I smile.

But Richard does not say anything for a long time. I had forgotten about these silences. I take a deep breath.

"We could make beautiful children," he finally says.

I whirl around and glare at him.

He takes a step backward.

I fold my arms tight across my body. "I do not wish for a lord and va.s.sal relations.h.i.+p. I want you to love me as your equal."

"But haven't I given you every reason to believe that?"

"I have to give up all my legal rights to be your wife."

"You would be d.u.c.h.ess of York."

"What would you do if I displeased you?"

"A marriage vow is a sacred obligation."

"Women have the dice loaded against them."

"Cis!"

"Every time a woman has a child, she goes to the gates of death."

"What are you saying?"

"To please her husband, she is usually required to have one child after another, which is bad for her health."

"Do you take me for a brute?"