FRIENDS LIKE THESE
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April 1461, London
Edward's victory caused London to be in a joyous uproar, the sort that Grace had never seen. The Londoners had been pro-Yorkist for a long time, so it was no surprise to see the city's inhabitants celebrate their new king. Their excitement tied in perfectly with the celebrations and feasts Edward had planned. Grace was having a gown made for one, seeing as most of the clothes she used to own were too small for her now. Seamstresses piled in and out of her chambers with various fabrics and threads, all as expensive as the next.
She hated staying still as the women took measurements, but she enjoyed how she looked in the mirror. When she used to live in Westminster, she rarely got so much attention, even when the queen herself gifted her fabrics and other things. She wasn't worth it, then. A daughter of the king, but not a princess. Now, she was a duchess with her own lands and riches, and suddenly she was more than worthy of recognition. Women wished to befriend her, men wished to seduce her into marriage to earn her title through it, even though she was only twelve, a month from her thirteenth birthday. Luckily, Duchess Cecily chased them all away with a stern glare. The only men she ever wanted to talk to were Edward and Ned, who had returned from Townton unharmed.
She was glad that Ned ended up supporting York, but they hadn't gotten a chance to speak one-on-one throughout all the hassle around the celebrations. She was too busy being prepared for the feasts, to look the part of the previously Lancastrian lady turned Yorkists, while Ned was locked in a constant whirlwind of duties as a very young duke who had to support his widowed stepmother and half-brother.
"Does the fabric pinch here, your grace?" one of the seamstresses asked, pressing down on a seam at her side. Grace shook her head and the seamstress returned to work. There was such a clamour in her chambers that it was difficult to focus on one singular thing. She almost didn't even hear it when a servant approached.
Her blood ran cold when she spoke. "Your mother is here to see you, my lady." The long-awaited arrival of her mother was something she hadn't been looking forward to. Her hands became clammy and a strange pain bloomed at the back of her skull, as if the skin there was tightening and burning all at once. She wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation. She bade the servants to let her mother in.
Katherine Howard looked the same as she had the day she left, if not a little more subdued. Deep auburn curls were pulled back into multiple braids, which were in turn pinned to her skull in an intricate style she wore often. A string of pearls was woven into it, the white glint of them standing out against the fiery colour of her locks. An indigo gown fit perfectly onto her body, rich but not so much that it would garner backlash, just like when Grace's father was still king and she was attending courtly functions with the queen.
"Mother," Grace greeted her, staring at her through the mirror while she waved the seamstresses away. She couldn't entirely turn around with all the needles sticking in her gown. "I am glad you have arrived safely." It was the truth, but that didn't mean she didn't feel a sting of anger and betrayal at seeing her face again. She was reminded all too much that this woman who called herself her mother had abandoned her and left her alone in an enemy court. Just because Grace managed to survive in it didn't mean she would be forgiven.
"Darling," Katherine answered, voice breathy as if she couldn't believe whatever she was seeing. She stepped around all the seamstresses until she stood in front of Grace, looking up at her where she stood on a stool to allow the seamstresses better access. "That is quite the extravagant gown."
Grace nodded, though she wasn't sure if the tone of her mother's voice was approval or displeasure. Tilting her head down, she roved her eyes over the embroidery and gems that lined the dress – creme and gold, to celebrate the victory of the white rose, with a tinge of red lining for her own house. The fabric that made up the skirt was a heavy brocade. Grace couldn't imagine how much it had cost, but she would have to thank Duchess Cecily again. The woman had provided a vast array of fabrics to create her new wardrobe, including some that were still yet to be delivered, travelling from Burgundy with her youngest sons. She'd also gifted her jewellery, gold and silver with various gemstones of all possible colours.
The Yorkists had been kind, bestowing all this upon her and letting her keep her title and lands. Edward could've stripped them from her and no one in his court would've batted an eye. And what could her stepmother do from her exile in Scotland? She doubted her father was even aware enough to do anything, either. If he was, his hands were tied just as much as Margaret's. Edward had granted her a castle inside in duchy which had previously belonged to other Lancastrian supporters. Hertsmonceux Castle was beautiful, from what she'd been told.
To her great surprise, even Warwick had gifted her something: two greyhound pups to show off his goodwill and thanks for keeping his daughter safe. Grace and Cecily spent a long while naming them until they finally settled on Area and Athena for lack of better ideas. It fit them well enough, Grace thought, and she was keen on keeping the names when she saw how excited Cecily was to be able to name them. The girl rarely ever smiled, and who was Grace to snuff out the little happiness she did have? She'd even managed to convince Warwick to allow his daughter to stay in her service if that was Cecily's wish.
Lord Warwick's kindness was strange, but she was glad for it. There were too many people in court who looked at her with suspicion at best, and hatred at worst. Having a friend, no matter how conditional Warwick's cordiality might be, was good for her.
"It is, isn't it?" Grace replied, her voice voice tinged with affection, though it was not meant for her mother. "The Duchess Cecily thought I should have clothing befitting of my station." She ran a hand over the fabric of the bodice, enjoying the raised layers of the embroidery.
"You seem fond of her." Grace expected her mother to sound annoyed, maybe even a little bitter, but she seemed saddened above all else. She offered Grace a small, unhappy smile.
"I am very fond of her. She was kind to me at Ludlow and she is kind to me now. The Duchess was there for me when I needed someone." Grace couldn't help the jab she hid in the words, relished how her mother's face twisted in a grimace when she noticed it. She was here and you weren't, mother.
"It is good you have someone from that family to rely on," answered Katherine, her smile tightening. She inhaled deeply, roving her eyes over Grace's entire form. "You remind me so much of my mother in that gown, do you know that?" That took Grace completely off guard. She blinked a few times down at her mother, showing her confusion, but the only thing she got in response was a genuine chuckle from her mother. "She preferred green and blue clothing, but she wore white often as well. Pearls were her favourite, I swear she wore them everywhere." Katherine ran her fingers over the pearls in her hair, staring off into space for a while. "The Duchess of Sussex. And now the title belongs to her."
"What was she like? I never met her," Grace asked, feeling suddenly awkward. She hadn't even realised the duchy had once belonged to her grandparents. Her mother so rarely talked of her own parents, and when she did it was never in a positive light. "I do not even know her name, only that she was a Neville."
Katherine hummed. "I regret that I haven't told you more about her, but the memories are often painful," she admitted, lowering herself into an armchair. "Adela Neville, she was Salisbury's older half-sister." With a start, Grace realised that made Katherine Warwick's first cousin, and it almost made her burst out laughing. She had no doubt the earl would curl his nose up at that and sneer. Though he had referred to Grace as his cousin a few times, she doubted he felt any true familial affinity towards her at all. Not that she felt anything of that sort towards him either.
"That is a strange thought," Grace giggled.
"Indeed," Katherine agreed with her own smile widening. It was easy to forget she'd abandoned Grace, if only because she wanted to forget it. She was her mother, the only family she could rely on until suddenly she couldn't rely on her either. "My mother was as wild as the sea in a storm and as stubborn as a mule. She and my father got into screaming matches often because she refused to back down, and in a way, he was just like her. I think she would've loved you, had she met you. She wouldn't have abandoned either of us as my father did."
Something pressed down on Grace's chest, and she realised after a while that she was saddened by that. She'd seen her grandfather only from a distance at court when he was still alive. The old duke had been a man of tall stature with a muscular build even in his older age with red hair shot through with silver. She recalled him with a constant grimace, but sometimes she'd catch him looking at her with a strange, forlorn look in his eyes. There were times when she'd wished to approach him, but her mother had forbidden it after the first time she'd tried, tears streaming down her face. Grace had been five then, and it was the last memory of her grandfather before he'd passed.
"How did she die?" Grace asked, even though she knew it would only pain her and her mother. Katherine's smile fell, but then she sniffed and cleared her throat like she was preparing herself.
"In childbirth, like many women before her and many after her." Katherine wiped beneath her eyes, almost like she was expecting to find tears there, but her cheeks were dry even as her voice strained. "I was her eldest child, born after eleven years of marriage and I was thirteen when she died birthing my only brother. My father waited almost two decades for his male heir, only for my mother to die when he was finally born. It had been unexpected. Everything seemed well and then the next day the fever gripped her and it was over before nightfall."
Grace grimaced, fingering the hem of her sleeve awkwardly. "I'm sorry, that must've been horrible." Katherine shook her head.
"Do not worry yourself with such things. It is decades in the past and there is no point in dawdling in it." She stood up suddenly, strutting forward with such purpose that Grace could barely blink an eye before she stood directly in front of her. "Grace, I need you to promise me something."
She grabbed onto Grace's hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt. Eyes wild, she began to plead, "I know you think the Yorks are your friends, but believe me when I say they are not. The second that something – anything – goes wrong, they will turn their backs on you. Swear to me that you will do everything possible to survive, even if you have to betray them in turn."
Tears welled in Grace's eyes as her chest tightened and she tried to pull away, burning hot like flames. She despised the words and thought she might despise her mother even more at that moment.
"Why do you hate them so much?" she demanded, tearing her hand from her mother's grip. Katherine offered a sardonic smile and a shake of her head.
"It isn't about hate or love. It is about human nature and what always happens. What do you think will happen when Margaret of Anjou crosses the Scottish border again? Do you truly believe Edward will let you live when you're a bargaining chip she can use? At best he will marry you off to one of his supporters and let them breed you into submission, but tell me which fate you'd prefer. The headman's axe or the childbed like my mother?"
The tears were coming in a full torrent now and Grace couldn't find a way to stop them. Edward wouldn't do that, she knew he wouldn't. Her mother was just trying to get her to support Lancaster again. She was wrong. But was she? Somewhere deep down, Grace didn't think she was. Not entirely anyway.
"Please leave," she croaked out, unable to meet her mother's gaze. "I wish to be alone."
"Grace–"
"I said I wish to be alone," Grace shouted suddenly, shooting the angriest glare she could muster in her mother's direction. "Get out before I have the guards drag you away." Her mother, surprisingly, did so without question, leaving Grace standing in the centre of the room with large hot teardrops rolling down her cheeks and choking on her own sobs. She failed to hide it all when the seamstresses reentered the room.
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The gardens were just barely entering the days of spring, but they were beautiful either way. Patches of unmelted snow dotted the area and early spring flowers sprouted from the earth in various places. Even with the chilly wind, Grace had accepted the invite to walk with Ned, needing desperately to get out of the palace. The young duke's presence was comforting, even when they couldn't be completely alone and the ladies assigned to her followed them everywhere.
Ned appeared as though he'd aged a decade since they'd last seen each other. Dark circles were lining the skin beneath his eyes and Grace didn't think she saw him smile once. He always used to be so excited about everything, but now he simply existed.
"How are things going with your minority?" Grace asked, looking at the side of Ned's face as he led her through the gardens. Despite the obvious fatigue, his features remained handsome and the vivid colour of his eyes remained unfaded.
Ned let out a heavy exasperated sigh. "Things have been... difficult." She knew he said it for lack of a better word. "The only person I trust to make decisions in my name is my stepmother, but parliament doesn't think her to be fit enough. They suggested my grandmother, but I'd sooner gouge out my own eyes than allow her to hold that kind of power again. Besides, the only reason they're not allowing my stepmother to hold the position is because she's a Beaufort."
"I thought you liked your grandmother," Grace remarked, frowning. "I don't think I've ever heard you say a single ill word about her." Ned let out a bitter laugh, his face twisting into a grimace. He looked as though someone had shoved a blade into his belly.
"I thought she was kind and honourable," he stated, then cut himself off. He didn't continue until Grace gave him a questioning look and nudged his side with her elbow. "When my grandfather died, I took over the estates as his heir. The first place I visited was Tonbridge Castle where the Duchess of York and her youngest children were kept." He laughed again, just as bitterly. "Imagine my surprise when I found out how terribly they were treated. My grandmother is Duchess Cecily's sister and yet she stood by as my grandfather treated her and her children horribly."
Grace's blood ran cold. She didn't even want to think of all the things that had happened, but she had to ask. "What did he do?"
"I don't know the full details. I don't want to know them. All I know is that she was still covered in bruises when I arrived, no matter how old. The eldest boy George swung his fist at me the moment I entered their given chambers! That's how convinced he was that I would hurt his mother, that's how abhorrently my grandfather treated them." Despite the awful circumstances, Grace felt her heart warm. Of course, George would do that. He'd always been the Duchess' favourite, and his temper had the shortest fuse Grace had ever encountered. "I decided to get them out of the country then, and they were gone by the end of the month."
"I am glad you did that. I want to thank you for fighting for Edward at Towton as well. The decision couldn't have been easy, as I well know." She squeezed her arm tighter around Ned's, hoping to offer at least some comfort.
Ned stated without a single moment's hesitation. "I didn't do it for him." Before Grace could ask what he meant by that, someone called both their names across the garden.
In a flurry of emerald skirts, Cecily came running towards them with a large grin on her face. Her curls bounced wild and untamed with every hasty step. "They're here!" she cried happily, giggling as she grabbed onto Grace's hand and spun. "Richard is here!"
"Already?" Grace gasped the question. "But they weren't to arrive until tomorrow!" Cecily shrugged and spun again, her arms outstretched and Grace chuckled at her antics. "Well if I'd known you'd be so excited about Richard's presence, I would've bade Edward to call him back sooner!"
Cecily hit Grace's arm playfully. "We grew up together! There were no other kids our age who wanted to play with us, so we ended up spending all our time together when we could." She shrugged. "Anne was too young and a little annoying, Isabel didn't want to be around us and George was too busy chasing after his older brothers to care about us." Grace recalled the many times when Richard hid away instead of playing in the gardens with her, George and Margaret, and distantly wondered if he did so because he missed his only friend.
Beside her, Ned was suddenly buzzing as though he was filled to the brim with unreleased energy. "I suppose we should go greet the king's brothers then?" he asked rhetorically before he pulled Grace and Cecily back towards the palace.
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The entire court was present for the arrival of the king's two remaining brothers, lining the courtyard from all sides as well as the walkways right above it. Grace stood at the very top of the stairs leading up to them with Duchess Cecily, Ned and Warwick beside her. His children and wife stood a few feet behind them, all three girls dressed in rich gowns.
A retinue of guards rode in first, followed by a carriage that must've contained the two youngest York children. Duchess Cecily seemed to wait with bated breath as the carriage pulled to a stop and only relaxed when the first of them climbed out.
George's brown hair looked laced with gold as the sun hit it, and Grace was struck with the thought that she'd never seen such a colour on anyone else before. He was taller than before, that much Grace could tell even from far away, but other than that he seemed unchanged. He stood by the carriage until Richard climbed out as well – albeit a little impatiently – before they both made their way over to where Edward awaited them at the foot of the stairs. When he looked up at the walkway, his gaze met Grace's.
After a moment, he gave her a small, barely noticeable smile. She almost forgot to reciprocate it because of how unexpected it was. Lancastrian whore. The words rang through her head in painful echoes, the image of the hate swirling in his irises when he said them as clear as a painting in her mind. Then she was reminded of his apology and his admission of his fear, and suddenly she didn't feel so hurt by the words anymore, despite them still staying at the forefront of her consciousness.
Edward greeted his brothers with a joyous laugh and a tight hug. If Grace looked close enough, she could notice the tight press of his jaw as he gritted his teeth, staring off into the cobbled ground over George and Richard's shoulders as he brought them in close to his body. His arms were a shield, a fortress, and nothing would be able to hurt the two boys, so long as he lived. When he pulled away, he grasped their arms and tugged them towards the stairs.
Duchess Cecily let out a relieved sigh when Richard ran up the stairs and into her arms, pressing his face into her chest as though he'd been able to hide from the world completely. George stood slightly further away, waiting his turn. He looked over at Grace again, and then at Ned. A large grin broadened his lips and he stepped past his mother, who was still embracing Richard, so he could talk to the young duke.
"Buckingham," he greeted, a brow quirking up as he roved his eyes all over his body. "You aren't dead I see."
Ned chuckled, blue irises dancing with mirth. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said sarcastically. "How is your hand, George?" The question was just as sarcastic as his previous words, but even then he jerked his chin in the direction of George's left hand. When he lifted it, Grace noticed the barely visible white lines of scars on his knuckles.
The eldest boy George swung his fist at me the moment I entered their given chambers. It looked more like he'd fisted a wall than Ned's face. Maybe he had, Grace thought, but she didn't say anything as George shrugged and ran his thumb over his knuckles.
"Still ready to pummel you, Buckingham." George smirked, letting his arm drop back to his side as Ned let out another melodic laugh. His umber eyes swept over the nobles around him until they landed on Grace again. "It is good to see you as well, Lady Grace."
"Duchess Grace now," she corrected him with a grin. Something sparked in George's eyes and his smirk widened.
"Of course! How could I forget?" He reached for Grace's hand, lifting it to his lips. A flutter in her stomach made Grace's face heat up and turn red. "You will have to forgive my impudence."
Grace hummed. "I'm sure I can forgive this one transgression. Giving that you show me the utmost respect from this day forward." She could hardly take herself seriously, and she could tell George was close to breaking character as well. Before that could happen, Duchess Cecily pulled away from her youngest son and stretched her arms towards George instead.
"My dear boy," she said, clearly close to tears, and George's arrogant demeanour crumbled as he instantly dashed into her embrace. Grace smiled at the sight, glad the duchess could have at least some solace after all these months.
"It's a good thing they're back," Ned muttered at her side. Grace nodded in agreement.
"Yes," she sighed. "It is indeed."
A/N
We finally made it to the end of the first act! I'm super excited to start writing for the actual show. The next chapter will ofc have a time skip of about 4 years.
Cecily being mistreated by the Duke of Buckingham is a real thing recorded in some chronicles btw!