The Kingmaker's Pawn

Chapter Sixteen

It was pleasant to return to Warwick Castle. George wasn't peering over Isabelle's shoulder now, asking what it was she was doing every two moments and demanding she recall every word she had spoken to the Queen that day, just in case she might have given away that George's loyalty still wavered. As if she could be such a fool. She was offended to know George thought that she would betray him. What good would that do her? They would say she had some part in it, for she bore his child, and she had conspired against the crown with him, how else would she know, a husband surely would not tell his wife such matters. What woman could keep a secret?

Isabelle could, she knew she could and as she sat in her presence chamber she could barely count all the secrets she had been forced to keep since she had married George.

Spring was finally on its way, it had been a long winter that felt like it would never leave, the bitter cold snow had lingered far too long delaying their homeward journey. At one point Isabelle had feared her son would be born in Westminster. Now the chicks had begun to appear, and the sweet spring birdsong fill the air each morning as Isabelle woke. It was her favourite time of year. There was no freezing cold to keep her up by the fire, nor the sweltering heat that made her regret the number of sheets on her bed.

Anne poured herself some weakened ale and slowly sipped at it as the maids stoked up the fire by which Anne insisted on hovering. She was not so pale as usual. The whole winter she had not ailed with anything. It was like god had decided to bless their house, a healthy babe for Isabelle, a relief from illness for Anne and not to forget the forgiveness of the King.

Soon Isabelle and Anne would be together as Isabelle entered her confinement. Their Lady mother had told Isabelle Anne would not be needed, but she could not face the thought of child bed without Anne to cheer her. Even if she could be an irritating child she was Isabelle's dearest companion, and with their bastard sister Margaret absent in confinement herself, who else could tell charming tales as Isabelle waited flat on her back for her son.

The chambers where Isabelle would go into confinement was being prepared by Lady Anne, she knew far more than either of her daughters of what was fitting. So alone she ordered for the right drapes, candles and adequate furnishings for the room. It would be dark, that was all Isabelle knew.

It was hard now for Isabelle to do much more than sit, her back ached if she walked so far as towards the door, and once the pain began she would be in agony until she could sit with cushions plumped behind her back. Despite the largeness of her belly and how often she felt the baby kick, her lady mother had the physician check her over each morning and evening. He said she was pale, and too thin. Though she had never been fatter.

She was to eat double portions, and it would not be gluttony because she was feeding the boy too. They said that would stop her wrists showing through near transparent skin. Isabelle told them it had always been like that. She'd always been skinny, her joints bony and skin pale. It was how she was. None of it meant she was sick.

That did not stop their fretting, and she was giving vile medicine that they swore would strengthen her but she refused to take it. They couldn't do any more than insist, not without forcing it upon her and George would never allow them to do that. Even if she was dying he would not let them force their poisons down her. Not if it could hurt the baby. Every time she gave that reason they would laugh, tell her they would never do anything to hurt the baby, but how was she to know they were telling the truth?

A fortnight after Isabelle had arrived George rode into the courtyard, Isabelle watched from Anne's window, resting on the ledge as she back felt like someone was taring out her spine. She didn't let the pain show, and waved down to her husband, before rubbing a hand over her belly. George laughed up when it saw it, and pulled off his cap letting his gold hair tumble loose, and bowed to her.

She giggled to show him just how much he flattered her before having Anne shut the window.

Isabelle bent over and coughed. She held a hand over her mouth and coughed again.

"Shall I fetch Lady Mother?" Anne asked realizing that letting Isabelle into her rooms was a mistake. She knew Isabelle was to stay in her rooms until she was healthy again else the baby might be damaged, but how could she deny her? She reached out to support Isabelle. "Should I get her Isabelle?"

"No, no," Isabelle stood back upright and coughed more gently into her hand as if she were just clearing her throat, "I had something stuck," she lied, "I think it best we returned to my rooms, before Lady Mother tells you off."

"I shan't be the only one in trouble," Anne remarked as she held onto Isabelle's arm to support her.

"No, but why would Lady Mother punish her heavily pregnant daughter when it was her little infant that let her loose," Isabelle told her sister with a childish smirk.

"I am not an infant," Anne laughed knowing the insult was not meant to truly offend, simply to tease.

"Of course not,"

"Will the baby be okay?" Anne asked as they reached Isabelle's chamber. Isabelle was heaving for breath and took a few moments to reply.

"Yes, why wouldn't he be?" Isabelle asked reaching out to her chair, the cushions had been plumped and looked so welcoming. She lowered herself down as if she were elderly. "He's always moving."

"Because your sick," Anne sat cross legged near Isabelle, "won't that make him sick too?"

"He isn't me, he isn't really anything to do with me. He will be a fighter like his father, he'll never be sick." Isabelle boasted with her hand cradling what she presumed to be her boys head. "He won't succumb to something so slight as me being a little pale and too thin for their liking."

"It's just I heard them saying,"

"You shouldn't be eaves dropping, its rude," Isabelle scolded her sister, taking her hand and slapping it though not hard enough to leave a red mark like their Lady Governess used to. She tutted and shook her head, "what punishment can I come up with?" Anne stood back up and dusted off her skirt.

"Oh Isabelle stop it," Anne whimpered as Isabelle ticked her stomach. She folded over trying to contain the laugh she wanted to let free but daren't in case it drew their mother's attention. Or had a servant call for her worrying what was happening, "Isabelle!" She squealed.

"Are you going to apologies? Are you?" Isabelle persisted. "Are you going to go to those physicians and say 'sorry but I'm a very naughty little girl and I was listening to your conversation', are you going to say it?"

"No, Isabelle stop it." Anne wriggled away from her sister, wiping away the tears that had been drawn to her eyes. Her cheeks had tinted red in the excitement.

The two sisters fell silent for a moment. Both staring at the other waiting for a word or movement to signal that they could begin again. Instead they irrupted in laughter.

Cackling, Anne went down onto her knees and tried to calm herself with a few deepened breaths. But she could barely contain herself after looking over to Isabelle who was still sniggering away. Instead she shuffled on her knees towards her sister and rested her head on her lap.

"I love you Isabelle." Anne said and closed her eyes as she held onto Isabelle.

"I love you too, Annie," Isabelle lent down and kissed her sisters head before resting her head back where it had previously been. "I love you too."

***

A short update, I hope you enjoyed this scene between the two sisters and I promise to try make my next chapter longer.

Catherine x