Chapter XV: March 1454
Little Easton, Essex, England
"Henry, why did you not tell me of such a splendid residence before?" I say in amazement, pulling off my gloves as we dismount from our horses, who are sweating from the weight of the saddlebags they both carry.
"Many repairs and improvements were underway." We have walked up the path to the sight of a very fine manor indeed, into a circular courtyard with many pedestals. A central fountain stands in front of an elongated house with bright, fresh wooden beams. The hedges about us are neatly trimmed, and to our left, stone steps lead down to the banks of a large pond.
The many adjacent red and white thatched outbuildings include a stable yard, from which two stable-hands rush to take our horses, and a small cottage, from which a man who presumably must be the steward hurriedly appears, doing up the buttons on his shirt and over his rather large belly.
"My apologies, my apologies. You must be Sir Henry and Dame Elizabeth." Henry and I quickly share a look, rather too embarrassed to correct him that Henry is not, indeed, a knight.
"I duly expected My Lady to greet you both; your lady mother must be coming. I shall take you inside and have your bags brought to your bedchamber." Henry and I share another glance, this time rather pained, for the steward did not say bedchambers- mayhap Lady Isabel did not know of the situation regarding our sleeping arrangements? Surely Henry would have mentioned it to Isabel? What should we do?
We follow him up through the door and walk inside to what must be the great hall, emblazoned all over with tapestries in gold thread baring the Bourchier arms, backed onto many different colours.
"Mother? Lady Mother?" Henry calls, looking about. We hear a pattering of feet and I inhale a deep breath as she appears, rather flushed, her eyes gleaming, her mouth smiling.
"Henry! Elizabeth! I bid you both welcome." She kisses Henry on the cheek, and we nod in deference to each other, unsure of how to behave after not having seen each other in so long. "I profusely apologise I did not greet you, thank you kindly William for showing them inside." I turn around, a stab of fear hitting my chest at the thought of William and his presence here. The steward, who must go by the name of William, bows and discretely takes leave. We pause until we hear the definitive sound of the front door closing, and I study My Lady. Can I put the past behind us, and look her in the eye?
"It is just I received some rather joyous news, but what of you, do you both fare well?" she says. We nod quickly.
"Your said news?" Henry prompts. We are still standing awkwardly, drenched in sweat from riding and rather weary, but Lady Isabel seems not to notice this in her flurry and fever of excitement as she hops from one foot to another.
"Of course, of course! Richard, my Richard has been made Protector and Defender of the Realm!" She holds the letter out for us to see. We widen our eyes. "He is king in all but name!" She says in a fervent, excited whisper.
We sit down to dine at once, on carp caught from the lake and a fresh tun of Gascon wine, not caring for our aching bodies and travel-stained clothes, hunched over the letter.
"Whatever kind of illness is this that can have afflicted the king so he cannot wake?" I say, quite happy to make conversation with her, on this topic of utmost importance.
"The doctors who leech and bleed him know not either, but they must despair of his recovery so for the lords to elect my brother as ruler of the kingdom!"
"I expect some will be unhappy," Henry says.
"Obviously, saying he means to usurp the throne!"
"I suppose Her Grace did not take the appointment well?" Henry says dryly.
"She tried to get herself elected as regent. As if any person would let that Frenchwoman rule!" Henry snorts in response to his mother's comment, and we all pause to drink. I find it rather amusing that we are so disloyal to the King and Queen. I- whose Mother writes of how she served the Queen during her confinement, Lady Isabel, whose own father was executed for treason against King Henry's father, by the fifth of that name, and my husband Henry, who as a boy, would have been thoroughly horrified to speak thus of those ordained by God. How we have changed.
"And what of Somerset, did he not protest?" Henry wonders.
Lady Isabel's smile curves wickedly. "I believe the first thing Richard did was imprison him and Henry Holland in the Tower."
"Henry Holland?" I frown, "Is he not married to-"
"Yes, my niece Anne. That wilful man is a knave and a troublemaking Lancastrian duke who has been nothing but hostile and ungrateful to our family." Her face darkens, and I nod, remembering the sneering man at Anne's wedding. He must be on very bad terms with his father-in-law to be imprisoned by him.
"Talking of hostility." I swallow.
"We shall forget past events and move on," Lady Isabel says, placing her hands on mine, and she smiles. I hesitate a little, slowly smiling back.
She turns to Henry. "How long do you envision the both of you will sojourn here?" she asks, whilst Henry yawns.
"A week or so, but dear mother, I must retire for the night, for I am fair exhausted. Elizabeth?" I freeze. He would like me to go with him. I cannot. Henry and I lost what we had with Isabel, my beautiful baby Isabel. How can I put myself through this again- for sure he will expect me to lie with him if we share the same bedchamber?
"I forgot to ask of you, My Lady, where are all your other children?" I say suddenly, taking in the empty table, desperately trying to delay our departure upstairs. Where is William, my haunting nightmare, and Humphrey, who could possibly still harbour romantic feelings of me? Where are Thomas and Edward and John play fighting, and little Florence toddling about?
"All my sons are now positioned in noble households training to be knights; William is at court with his father."
"And I hear he enjoys frequenting the brothels of London." Henry mutters under his breath. So, William is still a rogue.
"And Florence?" I ask. My Lady and Henry share a look, and my person suddenly becomes very cold.
"And Florence?" I prompt with a sense of urgency, starting to quiver. She is dead. She is dead and they did not tell me. How can this be?
"Now now, do not cry Elizabeth, she is not with God... in that way..." I feel a huge release on my chest, and I close my eyes in relief. Thank God, I think.
Lady Isabel hesitates. "She has entered a nunnery."
"A nunnery." I cry, gasping, widening my eyes. She must jest?
"Yes, at Barking Abbey."
"Why would you do such a thing? How could you do this, and not tell this to me!" I stammer.
"Many families offer a child to God," she replies steadily, as I burn all over, tears threatening in my eyes.
"How could you send your own daughter to a convent and not cast your eyes upon her ever again? Why did you not tell me of this? She was like my own daughter, for I named her, and now she is lost to me too, I have lost another daughter, I have lost Isabel and now her!" I begin to emit little sobs. I will never again cast my eyes upon my little Florence.
"I was not too happy regarding the situation. The Abbess there is the sister of the late Duke of Suffolk," Henry says shortly.
I round on her, flaming. "You gave Florence to a woman of our enemy-"
"A woman of God-"
"What kind of person can you be to willingly give your own daughter away? I would die myself to see my Isabel just once more, even for the most meagre, the most precious of seconds." I gasp. I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "I cannot even look upon thee who is so wicked!" I cry, and run from the room. I turn around in the doorway. "How could you not tell me?" I screech. I push open the front door with a strangled grunt, and flee down the steps to the lake, where I curl up and weep on the bank.
Isabel has concealed information from me once again, and Florence will forget me, locked up in the abbey with the sister of Suffolk forever. Lady Isabel is a wicked mother, indeed, to be able to part with her daughter. Why, why, why did she have to give Florence away? How can she have brought herself to do so, and not tell me? And Henry knew? I sit in silence for a few moments, crying into the lake.
I hear Henry striding up to me. "Elizabeth."
"When did she enter the nunnery?" I let out a sniff. "Funny she should enter the church and not yourself, as you once envisioned."
"A year ago." A year ago! I press my lips together to abstain from screaming, for this man looks down on me as unsympathetic as a father whose daughter had begot herself with a bastard. They hid this fact from me; they betrayed and lied to me again. I intake a large breath, and stand up.
"I shall leave for Tolleshunt D'Arcy on the morrow and then return home."
Henry sighs. "Elizabeth, can you not..."
"No. You have deceived me again, and you did not tell me for a year. I would gladly pay a king's ransom to see our baby again, yet your mother, of her own will, gave Florence away? Does she mean to cause me further great injury by taking away someone who is like my own daughter? I will never see her again." I look up at him. "Why did she do this? Why!" Henry shrugs his shoulders. I sigh inwardly. There is no point interrogating him, this man of few words. We stand in silence, staring out to the calm lake. I think back to another lake, another lifetime ago, where a smiling Harry and Lizzie started to fall into what I foolishly thought was love. And I stare upon the hard-faced reflections of them now, before we turn back inside, and Henry asks his mother to prepare another bedchamber, for we sleep separately. Once again, we sleep, but we sleep alone.