NOT ABOUT ANGELS | THE WHITE QUEEN

Chapter XLII

"Of course, my lady." Charlotte nodded, slightly confused.

"And you know what my father says, do you not?"

"We pay our debts," her response was swift and easy. "A bold order that has served your family well."

"It has. But I married a weak man and had to rule for him. I gave birth to a boy for whom I constantly fear," Margaret gave a soft laugh. "I will always do my best to protect my family."

"And my family stands in your way," Charlotte said, her heart clenching as she thought of her children. William would likely not recognize her when they met again — if they met again. "You have no need to worry. I will never betray your family."

"Not even for your children?"

Charlotte took a deep breath and looked into Margaret's blue eyes.

This was a strong woman who sat before her. She'd tried rule for her husband when he was incapacitated and if it were not for power-hungry men, men who thought women were too weak, she would have succeeded in securing her son's path for the throne. Instead, she'd been forced to raise and lead an army. Margaret of Anjou was not a woman to be trifled with, but then again, neither was she.

"I love my children, with all my heart," Charlotte finally began, slowly. "Lily and Edmund are bright children who make me proud every day and William is naught but a babe, yet that does not mean I love him any less. And, because I love them, the idea of putting them in harm's way makes me sick."

"Yet, you understand that they are a threat to our hold on the throne?"

"They needn't be," she said immediately, having expected the question. "They can take the cloth, have no children. Lily could marry a man of Lancaster blood, low in the line of succession. There is no reason they can't live long and happy lives under their step-father's reign."

"And who's to say no one would use them against us?" Margaret prodded. "Who's to say they will not grow with a thirst for vengeance for their father? Who can guarantee that your father will not be their puppet master if he feels he is not given his due?"

"I love my father, I do." Charlotte was surprised by how true that statement was. Even if Warwick could be harsh and neglectful, he still gave Charlotte life and loved her fiercely. He just had a poor way of showing it. "But he's thrown in his lot with you. He chose Lancaster and swore it on the Holy Bible. He will not break such a promise. With my marriage to your son, with the prince growing in my womb, he guarantees a daughter as queen and a grandson as king. Trying to crown Edmund or William would be folly."

"Then we might reach an agreement. Your sons will be men of the cloth and we will arrange a marriage for your daughter. Now," the older woman stood up and grabbed a book from her desk before returning to her seat, handing it over. "What do you know of this?"

Charlotte cautiously opened it, her eyes welling up with tears as she recognized the elegant scrawl on the pages, the way the is were dotted and the ts carefully curved at the bottom.

To my petite warrior, was written carefully at the top of the front page.

"It was my mother's," she stated, sure of herself.

"I found it in her chambers at court before we had to flee. I think it's only right you have it. I also...I have no daughter to share any knowledge with, so I made one of my own for the girl that would marry Edouard. It has been delivered to your chamber."

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"Charlotte?" Anne murmured that night as they laid in bed beside one another.