The Kingmaker's Pawn

Chapter Six

"He is here. Father is home." Anne exclaimed as she bounded into Isabelle's chambers early one morning. "I heard the horses, so I looked and he's here." Isabelle sat up in bed, and looked at her sister blankly. "He has George with him."

"George? The Duke of Clarence?" Isabelle said smiling at Anne. Anne nodded giddily.

"And Richard, he is here too!" Anne chirped. "Father has got them for us, we shall both be duchesses. Won't it be wonderfull Iz."

"Yes, wonderful." Isabelle told her sister. "Then, I suppose we best dress." She pulled back the bedsheet and let her bare feet adapt to the cold floor before walking across the room the the table. "Drink, sister?"

"No, not now." Anne said. "I can barely wait. Our father really is the greatest man in all of England. He got me Richard, I'll be his duchess. His royal duchess! And we will walk with the queen at court. Everyone shall see how great the Nevillie affinity is. How the River's have not drowned us! And if this queen has no sons you'll be queen, and if you have no sons, which I highly doubt, but you never know, then I'll be queen. Won't that be wonderful? Iz? A Neville queen." Isabelle could not stop the grin at the thought of being queen, though Anne wouldn't be queen. Isabelle would certainly have plently of boys. Anne trotted to Isabelle's side and watched as she poured her drink into the glass. "Aren't you happy, Iz? Father has got you George."

"Yes, Anne." Isabelle snapped. "I am sorry, I didn't mean too. I am tired. That is all." She drunk the ale and then poured another. "Now, go, get yourself dressed. I would presume father would like to see us. And if you see Margaret send her straight here."

"Okay. I will." Anne grinned and left without another sound.

Somewhere in the castle Isabelle heard a heavy door slam shut and thundering footsteps followed. She walked to the small window, she coudln't see the main courtyard from this room, only the fields that spread out for miles, interuppted only by a single small village. Isabelle drummed her fingers on the windowsill, wishing for her father to hurry and come to command her presence. She let her fingers walk up the glass, enjoying the sound her nail's made. It was like a gentle rain. The rains that she could forever drift asleep to.

Margaret came within half an hour. She was dressed in her best dress with her hair in a beautiful headdress.

"Why did noe on come?" Isabelle asked. "I was awake and no one came." Margaret began brushing through her hair. "Margaret?"

"The Earl, he is back. I would assume you heard the door and the banging." Maragret told her sister.

"Yes." Isabelle said. "It woke me." She grumbled as her nightdress was pulled over her head. Her arms wrapped around her like they alone could shield her from the feirsome cold that waited outside. Another attendant came and washed her down as Margaret prepared her dress. "What was that? The banging?"

"The Earl. He isn't happy, so best be good for him." Margaret sighed as she walked back with Isabel's dress.

"Was it something I did? Did I do something wrong?" Isabel turned to Margaret.

"No, it is the king, and the queen." Maragret told her sister as she and the attendants fitted the dress. Isabelle stood silently as they fastened the waisit and the sleeves. She didn't bother to compliment the fabric, or say how lovely one particular attendant looked with her hair in a certain way. She looked at Margaret, waiting for her to break and tell her the full truth.

She wobbled a little as the tightened the waist too much, but collected herself quickly. She was certain of what it was now. Margaret wasn't smiling, nobody was smiling. Only Anne was smiling and what did she know? Nothing, she got it wrong. Of course she did. Anne always got it wrong. That was why she was the fool, it was Anne's fault. If Anne had not begged for Richard. If she had not gone behind Isabelle and written begging thier father for Richard's hand Isabelle would have been betrothed. Isabelle would have been getting ready to marry George.