There had been three princesses of England under the bright summer skies. Now, as the gray clouds of autumn arrived, one was lost and another would soon follow. The only princess left would be the scandalous one.
As much as it hurt, death never stopped life. Even if I wanted to collapse and cry about my sisters who died before they could even live, I was needed in other places. I had to assist with the preparations for Joan's wedding and take on a bit of Mama's role as she mourned the daughters she loved more than me. Since my girlhood, death had shadowed my life. The pestilence stalked every area of England, taking lives and leaving heartbreak. It had to be accepted. It didn't mean that I enjoyed hearing Mama and Papa discussing plans for their tomb effigies. It didn't make me happy when I was in church seeing paintings of the damned tortured in hell.
I left the chapel, relieved to leave the morbid place. Of course, that blasphemous thought would have to be told to my confessor later. A foul mood already had a hold over me, and my stomach sank when I saw Enguerrand approaching. I was already on the edge of an emotional abyss and was afraid of what talking with him would do.
I bowed my head. "Good day, my lord."
When I lifted my head, his somber expression could have been a stone effigy. I avoided him, thinking that he would only want what most men wanted. But that was one summer night we would never have again.
Except it didn't seem like that was what he wanted. Concern showed in his eyes. "How do you fare, my lady?" He sighed. "I am sorry for the death of the Duchess Mary. That is a great loss."
I always had a quick remark ready, but now found myself at a loss for words. If I spoke about my sister, I might lose control of my composure.
"I have heard your sister Margaret isn't well and have prayed for her," he said.
Don't cry.
I smoothed my dark mourning skirts. "Indeed. Thank you for your kind words. I will be sure to convey them to my parents."
"I was hoping we could talk," he said.
Only young Katherine stood with me. A servant lingered with him, but I assumed he could be trusted. I still needed to choose my words carefully. "If you were hoping there was a time we can dance again, I think that moment has passed." I curled my fingers, disregarding my faint regret. "Summer was a time for celebration. This is a time for mourning."
"I don't need merriness," he said in a soft voice. "I would only like to speak with you. I want to be your friend."
I should refuse him. I was a fearless princess who could handle any hurt on her own. But I hesitated for far too long, filled with the desire to speak with someone who didn't know Mary or Margaret as well. Someone who wouldn't hurt if I said their names.
"We're speaking." I arched an eyebrow. "If you would like to say anything further, I will be in the garden later."
A stupid thing to say. The last thing I needed was to share my pain with a French hostage, someone who might flirt with me, but would never have a good opinion of my family. He gave a sweet smile at my suggestion and I wanted to kick myself for giving him hope.
But I didn't take back the words. Instead, I went along with my day, going over letters of requests that were meant for Mama and seeing what could be granted without having to force her out into her queenly role while she still had so much pain. The day dragged on, and it was almost too late to go to the garden. That would be for the best. If anything, it would send Enguerrand the message that he was trying to woo an unkind lady. Any lady of sense should take that course.
I always had to take the hard path. As light rain fell on the garden, chasing away most from the area, I walked in Enguerrand's direction. I had forgotten my pattens, so my fashionable shoes were going to be ruined by the mud.
I didn't care.
I spotted him a distance away, standing in the damp garden. Rare hesitation caught me and I wondered if I was taking the right course. Doubts frustrated me, so I forced myself forward. My slipper caught on something in the muddy ground and as I struggled to free it, I tripped and fell like a jackass. My priceless surcoat was ruined and my cheeks burned.
"My lady?"
I stifled a groan. Of course, Enguerrand had to witness my ridiculous fall. "All is well. I'm practicing to be the fool of the court."
"You could never be a fool, my lady." Soft footsteps approached me. "May I help you?"
I would have preferred to bury myself in the earth at that moment, but I let him take my hands and hoist me up. The courtly contact brought back memories of a hot summer night when his hands were all over my body. Rather than let myself get swept up by memories, I pulled away.
"Thank you, my lord," I said in a stiff voice. "Now I must leave and see if this surcoat could be salvaged."
A flimsy excuse. I intended to have it torn up for rags. I didn't like wearing mourning. It would be ideal if I never needed it again, though I knew soon I would lose another sister.
"Must you leave?" His shoulders slumped. "I was hoping to speak with you."
"Now is hardly the time, my lord." I brushed back my damp hair. "I'm filthy."
"I won't keep you," he said. "I only wanted to know how you are faring."
I have him the false smile I had perfected for the court. "I am always quite well, my lord."
His forehead creased. "You needn't pretend with me, my lady."
"It is quite a bold thing to think I am putting on an act," I said.
"You've lost a lot."
I lifted my chin. "Haven't we all?"
"That doesn't make it easier," he said in a gentle voice. "I know how much your family means to you."
"This isn't the first sister I lost." I clenched my hand. "I trust she is in Heaven."
"Of course she is," he said. "That doesn't make it any easier for those who remain on Earth."
I swallowed and tried to fight the emotions that were welling in me. "Harder for my parents. Mary was their good daughter."
"They still have you," he said in a gentle voice.
"I'm sure they count their blessings." Anger slipped past my fortifications. "Their extravagant daughter. The one who does nothing but cost them. The one who destroyed any chance of a good marriage."
He stepped forward. "Your parents show much care for their children. They would never think that way."
"How could they not?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "I know what the court whispers when I walk past. I know what my mother's ladies think of me. I'm the unwanted princess. The good ones are gone."
"You are not unwanted," he said with intensity.
"But I'm not good enough." I closed my eyes, seeing the day I walked away from marriage with the greatest people in England as my audience. "I never wanted to be."
"Would you change that now?" he asked.
Even now, I knew I would make the same choice. If I had gone through with the wedding, I wouldn't have been there for Mary's last days. But I had to accept that I would always be seen as a scandal. I opened my eyes and clenched my jaw. "People would think better of me."
"I wouldn't," he said.
My stomach twisted at his words. So few thought anything decent about me.
"Don't go down this path, my lady." He dipped his head and heaved a sigh. "Sometimes I think I am not good enough. My father died when I was six at Crécy. He fell a hero for his king. His honor will be remembered forever. I wanted to live up to the name of Coucy. A warrior like him. Instead, I've found myself a prisoner of England and known only for being a charming young man."
The bitterness made me wince. "You are here in place for your king. There is nothing more honorable."
"It doesn't feel that way." He looked up with a joyless smile. "It feels like I'm going to become a wastrel. All I can do here at court is dance and gamble away all my time. I've been here for a year. Far from my home."
I flinched. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said. "These things are out of your hands and mine. I understand how you feel because I live with it every day. I live in the shadow of my father. I have the pain of his loss and my mother's loss and the feeling that I am letting them both down."
"The pain never goes away, does it?" I murmured.
"No." He shook his head. "I am sorry you have to live with it."
His earnest words rocked me. He had no reason to care so much about me. I blinked, afraid I would start crying like a fool.
"You should give yourself more credit." I swallowed a sob. "Not only have you honor, but you are kind."
Too kind to the princess whose family stood in the way of his freedom.
"Thank you." He inched over to me as if he wanted to take my hand. "You have been a good friend to me."
But I couldn't be what he wanted.
I leaned close to him, so close that our lips almost brushed. Even if I couldn't be what he wanted, I could be there for him.
I hoped we weren't making a mistake.