The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XXIX: September- October 1460

Besides, Edward was merely jesting anyhow, I have convinced myself. Why would he entertain the idea of my hand in marriage, the daughter of an enemy party? I support his cause, but I wish to entangle myself in it no further- look what has now happened to my Father by resisting Yorkist forces. I want to marry Anthony, my knight, my troubadour, who alas, thank all the saints, is not dead at Edward's hand. A future with Anthony offers me hope when my Mother passes, for I will be quite alone, and what do I do in the world by myself?

Eleanor and I have walked back to the manor now. Her children sit subdued in the garden, rather than chasing one another. They are no fools; their eyes see everything. I feel awful that my Mother shall inevitably die at Eleanor's home- but we could not move her, or journey anywhere else, but at least she has the company of her kinswoman. Her health worsened after our visit to London. She fell into much lethargy and sleep, refusing food, taking tiny sips of the most heavily watered-down ale. She has suffered fevers, agues and coughs, but she says not to waste expenses on a physician, for she says her time has come. I do not want her to die. She cannot leave me orphaned, with no greatly close kin, with such a responsibility to suddenly deal with.

She is my poor Mother, and I wish to take back all the malice betwixt us in past years and repair it. I never indeed think she cared for me a trifle. 'Tis only now that I know she does love me as I do her, in my own way. We are so alike in many ways; argumentative, headstrong, vengeful, impulsive, and yet I never saw it. I cannot blame her for her pain over Thomas' death and those of her other babies' also, and how that seemed to turn her against me. Yet she was just so scared of losing me too, that she sought to distance herself from me. She did not know how to be with me. And now, even though I am quite young, I know what it is to lose children, miscarry, for your husband to break the vows he said before God, the desperation, the longing, the enclosing oneself away. I understood who she is, and I know everything she did for me was out of love to keep my person safe and happy, and not from hatred. I understand now that she just wanted the best for me.

I cannot blame her now as I walk into her bedchamber, and see her pale face, her hollow eyes, her twigs of arms. She is sitting up in her bed. My heart misses a beat.

"Mother?" I croak, "Are you feeling much better?" Do I dare hope? I walk to her bedside, clasping my hands together, as my throat runs dry. She has been gazing out of the window on the golden sun, and the growing browns of the leaves, and the last few honey-coloured fields of hay and straw dancing on the landscape. She turns to me, her eyes damp and ringed with red. I tremble. She reaches out for one of my hands, clenched tightly under black silk bordered with velvet. She looks at me. Calmly.

"Elizabeth, I am going to die today." I blink. What? I stare at her for a few seconds. My jaw moves up and down, lips parting and coming together as if I would say something, as my own eyes completely fill with tears. I sniff.

"Lady Mother, do not say such a thing," I whisper, "You appear much healthier," I lie, clutching her hand back. She cannot be serious. How can she know she will die? This cannot be truth. It cannot happen so soon after my Father. What will I do without Father or Mother? How does one live without that constant, steady presence telling, advising you what to do?

"I know you are lying, Elizabeth." She smiles ruefully. "I can see the angels coming for me." I gulp and let out a gasp, a sense of panic descending about me. Angels? Angels! How can this be happening?

"No, you cannot," I whisper, belly churning. She must lie. She must lie. My head begins to spin as the blood drains from my face and my heartbeat pounds in my head; a knell, like a bell. A death knell... "You cannot leave me."

"Elizabeth, when you visited St. Giles today, Eleanor spoke with the priest-"

"No!" I burst out, my hands clenching hers.