DUCHESS' WRATH
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The day before Elizabeth Grey was set to arrive, the sky opened up to the greatest downpour Grace had seen in years. It made the day's events increasingly duller than she'd imagined, so it was a blessing when George invited her and Cecily to play cards with him and Richard. While Edward was off ensuring everything was prepared for his wife, the two youngest Yorks had nothing to do.
That was what George told her, at least, but Grace didn't doubt there were a dozen duties he was dismissing for a later time and dragging Richard along with him. The ebony-haired duke didn't seem to mind. Not when he was free to speak with Cecily, who was seated beside him at the table reserved for their card game. Grace couldn't help but grin to herself, halfway hidden behind her cards, as a bright pink blush spread over his pale face and neck when Cecily looked at him for longer than five seconds.
They were adorable, and Grace suspected that something was growing between them. It was as slow as a flower blooming through a blanket of snow. It didn't matter, Grace told herself. They were both still incredibly young. There was plenty of time to figure out who they were and what they wanted.
Richard's shyness was brutally contrasted with George's bold demeanour. His words were constantly laced with a level of flirtation that made Grace want to curl up in bed and giggle, maybe even kick her feet like a girl dreaming of a fairytale prince. To some level, that was exactly what she was, but she didn't think she fit the role of an illustrious princess any more than George the honourable and just knight he was meant to be.
"Your turn," George spoke, the tone of his voice sultry in a way that made Grace afraid to meet his eyes. It was a wonder that Richard didn't raise his brows or elbow George in his side. Instead, the youngest of the brothers pretended he didn't hear a thing and continued to study his cards as if they were the most perplexing equation he'd ever had to solve.
With a slow exhale to calm her rapidly beating heart, Grace pulled a card from her hand and dropped it onto a pile at the centre of the table. Almost instantly, George's flirtations disappeared, and his jaw dropped, head shaking in mild disbelief.
"How have you not had a single bad hand this entire time?" he asked, exasperated. Grace couldn't help but grin at him and offer a nonchalant shrug. A giggle sounded from beside her, and Cecily attempted to hide it in time but failed, earning a glare from George. Cecily answered it by sticking out her tongue at him like a petulant child. Grace thanked god that they were all alone, save for some servants who wouldn't ever say anything because the four of them were acting like Richard and George weren't royal dukes but some random village boys instead.
"Perhaps fate favours me more than you!" Grace replied, concealing half her face behind her cards again. "And I shall win again!" At this, George seemed to reevaluate his tactic.
"You must tell me what you've been up to the past two years!" he said, a feeble attempt to distract her, which Grace saw right through. There was a level of genuineness to it though. While Grace had been away from court for a year before Edward's secret marriage, she and George hadn't seen each other for twice as long. Before she'd left, he had been the one living in the country, coincidentally returning only a month after she had left. "It's been awfully boring without you or Buckingham here."
"Where did you leave poor Ned? I swear, where one of you is, the other is not far behind!" George shrugged, flitting through the cards in his hand. "Or has he finally grown tired of your arrogance?" Grace asked, lightly kicking George's shin under the table.
"Ned adores me, I'll have you know!" George scoffed in his usual offended manner. "He's in Staffordshire 'looking after his estates', or something." He frowned down at the table as if Ned's absence was a personal slight against him. Grace almost thought he'd start pouting like a child.
Richard breathed a short laugh. "Or something, you know there is plenty he has to deal with!" Grace frowned but stopped herself from questioning. She was aware that Ned's grandfather, the late Duke of Buckingham, had a talent for overspending, and that he also had a great deal of money owed to him. Some debts were said to be twenty years old! She wondered if that was where the issue lay and Ned had finally decided to do something about it. "Besides, he'll be in London soon for the queen's coronation."
With a huff and a roll of his eyes, George tossed another card into the centre of the table, his turn coming around again. "Yes, yes, enough about me, I want to know about you." He motioned to Grace, curiously tilting his head. "Were you also managing your estates this entire time?"
"Hm," she agreed, "though I stayed away for so long for Henry's sake! He's just a child and I don't think his presence at court is necessary. I didn't want to leave him alone either, since he has no one else but me to take care of him." And Katherine, Grace supposed, though her mother went wherever Grace went. Margaret Beaufort, Grace's cousin and Henry's mother, was kept away from the boy in a move that could only be described as cruel. Grace wrote to her often to tell her of Henry's life, but that was all she could offer her. Maybe now that Edward was married and was sure to have heirs soon, she'd be able to convince him to allow Margaret to visit her son.
"And if you're at your estates, your mother can't pester you about considering marriage with every nobleman that walks past you," Cecily added, staring out the window in somewhat of a trance. Grace swore she saw George's entire body tense at the mention of marriage, even as Grace laughed Cecily's comment off.
"She thinks that if I get married of my own accord, Edward won't be able to force me into a match I won't want. She hates the idea of marriage as much as I do, but I think she hates the thought of me being stuck in a miserable, loveless marriage even more," she explained to the two dukes, though they probably could've already guessed. With a shrug, she sighed and added, "Bur Edward has sworn to never force me into marriage, and so I am free."
"Thank God for that!" Cecily turned back to the group, bored of whatever she'd been watching outside the window. "I'm glad my father hasn't mentioned such a prospect yet, though I don't doubt it'll come soon. Marriage doesn't seem so terrible, but I would rather not have to be tied down to a man sooner than needed."
"I don't think I should ever like to be married," Grace admitted, though it pained her to do so. George's gaze instantly shot to her, and a muscle feathered in his jaw as he tightened it. "My mother was happy enough never married. It was the betrothals she didn't want that that caused her strife."
Katherine had all but lost her entire family to them. First her betrothal to Jasper Tudor, which fell through when Grace's father grew infatuated with her mother, and then to a foreign duke that ended when he learned Katherine had lain with the king. Her father had been furious from what Grace had been told, and Katherine had never spoken to any of her sisters again. The only interaction from her family was the occasional tense conversation with her father, and then her brother. But they were both dead now, and the sisters that still lived didn't wish to speak to her anyway. Ursula, her niece, was the only family she spoke to outside of Grace now, as well as the few very distant cousins that were never involved in the storm that was Katherine's disowning.
"What if you find a man you do wish to marry?" Richard asked, frowning. "Wouldn't you want to marry a man you loved?" Grace sighed inwardly, marvelling at the innocence of his youth. He seemed genuinely perplexed by her words. Still, she had to admit that she didn't know what she'd want if she found a man she well and truly loved.
"I'm afraid I don't know, for there is no man I love, Richard." At this, George quickly looked away from her. His brows furrowed in a soft frown, and he seemed far off for a long moment. He didn't look at her again for the rest of the afternoon.
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Lady Elizabeth Grey was, Grace had to admit, one of the most stunning women she'd ever laid her eyes upon. Despite her relatively modest style of dress – a pale blue gown lined with fur, nothing compared to the dazzling and gem-encrusted gowns the rest of the court women wore – she shined like the brightest star in the sky. It was her smile, Grace decided. Everything about her seemed perfect, but that smile of hers seemed to light up the entire courtyard of the palace.
"She is beautiful," she whispered to her ladies and her mother. They all stood relatively close to the royal family, but still a few paces behind them. Warwick was close by, and she could almost feel the disdain he felt for the new queen rolling off him in waves.
"Not as beautiful as you, dearest," her mother whispered so only she and her ladies could hear, adjusting the long white veil of her hennin where it fell down her back and fluttered in the breeze. She smiled at her mother's words, giddiness rising in her as if she were a little girl, but she did not show her appreciation outwardly more than that. It was not every day that she received compliments from her mother – probably because they so rarely saw each other outside of court functions, let alone be amicable with each other – and to hear her mother say anything in her favour was welcome.
It was strange to be able to stand together so openly. The court used to look at them with so much disgust and hatred. All but her father, stepmother and a few of their closest supporters, whom her mother had befriended due to her closeness with the King. But Edward had shown his favour enough times already for people to at least pretend they didn't mind their presence, and she basked in it. King Henry had never been a strong enough ruler to dispel the enmity between Katherine and the other nobles. He was far too fond of compromises and believed in only the best in people. It blinded him to the pain his family suffered.
Had he not been like that, would the Yorks have ever even gotten the crown? Grace didn't think so. The Duke of York's head would've been put on a spike sooner than it had, and her brother would've still been the heir instead of a crownless prince in exile.
Edward bounded towards his wife with a broad grin, taking her into his arms and kissing her before the entire court. Grace couldn't help but raise a brow at that. She didn't think her father was ever intimate with Margaret in front of the nobles. She allowed herself to sweep her gaze over the other members of the queen's family.
The Woodvilles were all pale, light-haired and blue-eyed. The only differences between them were that some of the girls with taller, others rounder, and some had curls instead of straight locks. The tallest among them was also the oldest, their mother. Jacquetta of Luxembourg was still beautiful despite her age, proud and regal in the face of all the whispers going around.
"Good Lord," Katherine whispered beside Grace. "It's been so long since I've seen her." She'd almost forgotten that the two of them served as ladies-in-waiting together. She wondered if they'd been close. Friends, even. Jacquetta had always been kind to Grace and her mother, from what she could remember.
"Is it true she married a squire?" Eleanor inquired, rising on her tiptoes to see down into the courtyard. She was short of stature and incredibly slim, as was normal for girls at such a young age, and she could hardly contain her excitement at seeing the Queen, and she couldn't wait even a moment longer!
"Indeed." Katherine nodded. "Though I've never met the man in person. He stayed away from the court to save his wife the embarrassment, and the few times he did present himself to King Henry, he didn't speak to me." Grace couldn't decide if the baron's self-imposed isolation was sweet, or terribly sad.
Edward began to lead his wife up the stairs, caressing her hand in such a gentle way that it made Grace smile. Yes, he truly was in love with her. She couldn't find it in herself to be angry. Disappointed, mayhaps. But angry? No, not when his eyes sparkled like he was looking at the only blessed thing in the entire world.
"My brothers, George and Richard," Edward introduced Elizabeth. Both of his brothers bowed, as was expected of them, but Grace saw the unsure look they sent each other's way. "My sister Margaret." After that, Edward continued down the line. "The Duchess Grace FitzRoy, daughter of King Henry and one of my dearest friends!"
Grace sent Edward a smile before she lowered herself into a low curtsy, her mother and ladies following her example. "It is an honour to meet you, your grace." Elizabeth grinned and shook her head.
"The honour is all mine, duchess! I have heard much about you from my husband." Grace raised a brow, folding her hands over her abdomen.
"All good, I hope?" Elizabeth laughed softly and nodded. She swept her gaze over Grace's form. She was young, the queen noticed, and yet she seemed to have a blanket of maturity around her. It was not a good thing, she thought. The maturity was laced with sorrow, and no girl as young as the duchess should ever feel that.
Edward led Elizabeth further down the line. To the unsatisfied Warwick, his cold countess and unsure daughters, then to much more welcoming faces like Ned and William Hastings, one of Edward's closest friends. Even John Neville, Warwick's brother, didn't scowl at Elizabeth as she passed, offering up a charming grin.
"My royal court!" Edward called, eyes flickering between many of the nobles. "I give you the Queen of England."
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That afternoon, Duchess Cecily arrived from Baynard's Castle to Westminster. She'd invited Grace to sit with her in her solar as she waited for Elizabeth Woodville to come and present herself before her. Grace accepted the invitation, of course, giving her ladies some free time. All except for Cecily took her up on it, but the young Neville girl wanted to spend some time with he great aunt and Grace suspected she wanted to be present for the undoubtedly strained meeting between the dowager duchess and the new queen.
It felt so strange to sit beside the duchess, now of the same, if not higher, rank than her. Grace admired her greatly, and it felt like a blessing to even be acknowledged by her at times. But the duchess did not treat her any differently from any of her own daughters, taking her hand and laughing with her. There was no warmth now though, as the Woodville women approached the solar.
Duchess Cecily stared straight ahead like a statue as Elizabeth and her sisters and mother entered. It was unnerving how completely still she could sit, even with her large escoffion perched on her head. Grace herself tried to look more welcoming, but it seemed impossible in the stifling atmosphere the duchess' regality caused.
Elizabeth curtsied before the duchess, and her family followed her example. Grace swept her gaze over the Rivers girls. They were all beautiful and charming with their golden curls and bright eyes. The youngest ones looked so excited to be there, but the older ones looked upon Grace and Duchess Cecily with a wary gaze. Good, Grace thought. It meant they were smart.
"Duchess Cecily," Elizabeth said, her voice laced with joy and excitement. "It is an honour to meet..." she trailed off, face falling as Duchess Cecily levelled her with a look of disdain and looked away. "... you." Grace bit her tongue so she wouldn't say anything. It was not her place to do so.
"I am not happy about this marriage," the duchess sighed, disappointment more than evident in her tone. Grace couldn't say that she didn't understand. A king's marriage held a lot of weight. It could make or break his rule, his dynasty. Cecily had already lost a husband and a son to war. Was she prepared to lose another just because he chose love over duty? Grace doubted it, and she also didn't doubt that the word love would convince the duchess of anything.
While she might've loved the late Duke of York, their marriage was still very much political. She married off her daughters to men she hardly knew for politics. Her eldest, Anne, suffered in a loveless marriage. And now Edward, the king, the patriarch of the family, tossed all of their sacrifices away and led them onto unstable ground.
"What a shame," Jacquetta Woodville stepped forward. "We are all delighted."
"I would remind the Lady Rivers that the wedding was a secret one. Which means–" Duchess Cecily was promptly cut off. Grace felt her eyes widen in shock, but hid it rather well.
"Private. It was private, not secret. I was there, as were other witnesses." Duchess Cecily sent a glared Jacquetta's way. It held so much venom that Grace had to wonder how Jacquetta managed to keep talking, let alone not flinch away from it. If the duchess ever looked at her like that, she would most likely shrivel up and crawl to the nearest dark corner to hide for the rest of her life. "But if your son, the King, did not invite you then I'm afraid you must take that up with him."
Grace heard Cecily, who stood to her left right beside her armchair, inhale indignantly at the slight to her great aunt. "If you wanted to make a good impression on the nobility, Lady Rivers, then your attitude is stopping you from doing so." Grace sighed but did not say anything. Cecily was correct, despite how blunt her words were. "The Duchess Cecily is the King's mother and her concerns for her family's wellbeing are more important than your pride."
"What concerns are there to be had? My daughter has already proven herself fertile with two handsome legitimate boys. So we may feel confident that God will bless this new royal couple with issue," Jacqueeta answered. There was a hidden jab with the word legitimate that no one wanted to acknowledge. It was true Edward most likely had several bastards running around the country already.
"Yes, I am sure the King is also as fertile as a bull," Grace commented, attempting to smooth the tension out at least a little. She offered the Rivers girls a pleasant smile. "I suppose your daughter and he get that from their mothers." Elizabeth returned the smile, thankful that at least someone did not want to insult her.
The Duchess huffed. "Fertility is not much of a concern. Your daughter's blood, however, is." Grace clenched her jaw, frustrated that neither one of the older women was willing to back down. "Had she been the daughter of your first husband, the Duke of Bedford, I would not raise such protests."
"Ah, I see," Jacquetta remarked in a surprisingly light voice. "You would prefer a wife of Lancastrian blood for your son! Well, I am afraid there is only one such woman in the entirety of England and she sits beside you!" Grace's whole body tensed as all eyes in the room fell upon her.
"Lady Rivers, I assure you I have no intention–" But Jacquetta was not finished, and nothing could have prepared Grace for the vile attack that followed.
"Well, I'm afraid she would not be a fitting choice for your son either, duchess. Her mother has certainly shown that she is not fit to have children. Is Lady Sussex not the only one of her children to have survived out of six?" Grace felt her stomach churn at her words. Her knuckles turned white from how hard she gripped the chair's armrest.
It seemed like everyone in the room took a collective breath and a deathly silence fell upon them. Jacquetta's insult had been a clear-cut attack, a sharp blade aimed straight at Grace's heart. She'd wondered if the woman would still be friendly with her mother, despite not seeing her for years. This answered her question all too and reminded her that Jacquetta was born for politics, as versatile and able in them as Grace's stepmother was. And yet, this had been pointlessly cruel.
"That was not your information to give, Lady Rivers." She struggled to push the words passed her lips, voice strained with grief she could not understand. The court only knew about three of her mother's pregnancies. The one that had borne Grace, the one that followed after her and ended with a stillborn boy, and the very first one when her mother was fifteen. The rest ended too soon for any court announcement, and she doubted her mother would've even wanted to make a grand thing out of it. Jacquetta only knew about the three others because she'd served as Margaret of Anjou's lady-in-waiting. Of course, she'd know. Grace should have been prepared. "You will not speak one more word against my mother, or I will have your tongue cut from your skull. I do not care if you are the queen's mother or a saint or whatever else you wish to present yourself as. How dare you even say such words against me and my mother?"
Grace pushed herself from the chair, levelling Jacquetta with a glare that could burn down entire kingdoms. The lady did not seem that remorseful, but she did look away and bow her head slightly.
"You would blame my mother for miscarriages, something that she could not control nor would ever be able to? You would speak against a woman you served beside for years, only to further your position? Well, Lady Rivers, I am afraid your words have only harmed your cause. Everyone sees you for what you and your family are now. Uncultured commoners, not fit to walk the halls of a royal palace." Picking up her skirts, Grace walked directly into the crowd of Woodville girls, a certain vicious glee making her fingers tingle when they all quickly parted to clear a way for her. "Cecily, come." The skirting of feet behind her told her that Cecily did as she was told, hurrying after her.
The second they turned a corner and were far away enough, Grace slowed her walk as tears of frustration pooled in her eyes. She was too young to ever realise that her mother had been with child after her, but the knowledge that she could've had more siblings, that she could have not been so alone in her struggles, was enough to cause sorrow to embed its roots firmly into her heart. She could not even imagine how her mother felt, losing child after child. The grief must have been horrible. And now it was turned against her as if she was the only woman to ever suffer in such a way.
Cecily was beside her soon enough, rubbing a hand between Grace's shoulder blades to offer at least some comfort. "Do not listen to that harpy, Grace," she said, and Grace nodded. She knew she was right. What right did Jacquetta have to speak to her in such a way anyway? Why should she allow herself to be riled up?
They turned another corner, and it was as if God himself was playing a cruel joke on her because Edward was standing at the end of the hall, his brothers and Warwick beside him as they were locked in a heated debate. Probably about Elizabeth and her family, Grace almost snorted through her tears. She was quick to wipe them away, but she knew her eyes would be reddened regardless. She wouldn't be able to slip by unnoticed even if she wanted to.
Warwick was the first one to notice them, and he threw a questioning look at his daughter. He probably hadn't expected to see the Duchess of Sussex walk down the corridors of Westminster Palace with a torrent of tears running down her pale face. By the time Grace and Cecily made it close enough to the group to overhear their conversation, they'd caught the attention of the three York sons as well.
Edward's face contorted in a frown. "Grace, what is wrong?" he asked, searching for an answer in her face. Grace wondered what he was looking for specifically. A bruise? A cut? He'd have to look at her heart to find that. George inched closer to them as well, offering an arm to Grace as if she needed someone to lean on. She didn't, she was perfectly fine on her own, she told herself, but she took his arm regardless. A shield, a blanket of protection, that was what he offered to her.
Grace inhaled shakily. "You should ask your wife," she spat, squeezing George's arm tightly. "Her mother is a vile bitch." Shock rippled throughout the group like a wave, but Grace thought she heard Cecily hide a laugh behind a rough exhale.
"I don't understand–"
"My lord Clarence, the day is beautiful! I want to look at the gardens before the sun sets. Would you be a dear and escort me?" She altered her voice into the perfect courtly tone. Edward clamped his mouth shut, understanding the dismissal, unwilling to argue with her now.
"Of course, my lady." George grinned at her, leading her away from Edward and the stifling solar of Duchess Cecily. Grace thought that, for the first time, she understood Lord Warwick's pure distaste for the Woodvilles.
Author's Note
The reason I changed the meeting with Cecily scene was because I felt like there needed to be more drama (sorry not sorry). I feel like a lot of the Woodvilles are characterized as very just and without fault, which I think is not fitting with such a period in time. I want to portray Jacquetta as willing to do anything for her family, even if she hurts others in the process. To her, such an insult isn't pointlessly cruel, it is just protecting her daughter.