The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XIII: Lammastide 1451

And now Henry is standing here to ask of me what he would want us to do, one year on from her death. I cannot quite believe it was one year gone. On her birth date this year, I told Henry I wished to be alone. He is the father of my dead child, the child that I surely murdered in my womb, and my husband, yet I could not seek condolence from him. I sat in my bedchamber crying all day, remembering how I had laboured and screamed to birth her, my small little bundle of joy... I would not even let Bessie in, who has now journeyed to be with me, and who I have become rather close to over the last few months.

"Elizabeth?" Henry says quietly. I look up.

"Next week...," he hesitates, "would you like to journey to Tolleshunt... and visit the... churchyard?" I blink. Would I? Does Henry wish to do so? How much does he grieve as well, or does he not think of Isabel, our baby that we created from a love we once shared, when he wakes every morning in his separate bedchamber? Does he lie there torturing himself at night, wishing she were still alive? Yes, it will be upsetting, and I do not want to let go of Isabel, ever, but mayhap visiting will give me strength to cope better, and when I see her grave, realise it is true...

"Yes, I would like that," I say slowly, smiling a little.

"Very well." He hovers. "Listen, Elizabeth." Henry moves to sit beside me, "I have been thinking of late of how you are my wife and how we should repair our ill-will. I do wish we could converse as we once did, Lizzie. I propose again... we share a bedchamber and try and replace Isabel with a new baby." I gasp a most horrified gasp. How could he? How dare he?

"How could you suggest replacing Isabel? I do not want another child at present, how many times must I tell you. I am not even sure if I could ever have another child." I stand up sharply. "Maybe I am like my Mother- maybe I am just going to have miscarriage after miscarriage, or all my children will die. Henry, I do not think I have the strength to face it."

"Elizabeth, we will have to-" He rises too.

"No, we will not," I say, holding my chin up. How can he have moved on from Isabel's death so quickly? Did he not have any affection for her whatsoever? Does he blame me still for her death?

"Elizabeth, you are my wife, you are my property and-"

"Your property?" I shriek. Replace Isabel. Your property. Since when did Henry become so sharp with words? "You believe you own me, do you indeed? You believe I am your property, like the property you desired from me, my inheritance, my barony?" I fold my arms, bottom lip wobbling. Henry turns away, wiping his brow.

"By god's bones, Elizabeth, will you forget that? I did not know until my wedding night, and that silly chain of events was a whole year gone. I did harbour feelings for you; I never lied to you, as you perceive my lady mother and I have to done so. Surely you grew up knowing you would be wed to your family's advancement and that as an heiress you were most desirable?"

"Yes, I did!"

"Then quit placing blame on my family and I for your anger over Isabel's death."

"I am not!" I scream, biting my lip as I quell my sobs, "You do not understand."

"I do understand, Elizabeth. You cannot forget my brother's actions, Isabel's death, and my lady mother supposedly deceiving you. How can you doubt I care for you after I rode all the way after you last winter? How can you doubt my Mother, while she may have had ulterior motives, genuinely liked your person? She always had you in mind for William, but changed her mind when she doubted William would take good enough care for you after the way she saw him behaving. She was correct-look what he did. Sweet Jesu, Elizabeth, stop being so stubborn. It seems you are unable to forgive. William is my brother and I must forgive him."