Royal Mistress (20 page)

The lord chamberlain had not been aware that his expression had changed, but Edward’s tone told him. “I see I have touched a wound, my lord. You told me she had rejected your advance, and it so happened I received the mercers here one day and was transported by her beauty.”

“Aye, I am sure you were, your grace.” Hastings had tried not to think of Jane during those weeks in Calais, but there was no denying the ache he felt for the charming young merchant’s wife. He had cursed his age, thinking it the reason for Jane’s rejection.
Could Edward’s dozen years fewer have made him more attractive? Nay, he had to admit to himself, it was more than that. Will did not have Edward’s allure—not only was the blond giant handsome, easygoing, and a practiced lover, but he was the king. Nevertheless, Hastings was a man, and a man in love, and thus he had had a hard time suppressing his anger that Edward would go behind his back and snatch Jane away. He had pretended to be engrossed in scratching the proffered belly of Edward’s wolfhound while he struggled to control his temper.

Might this be the time to remind Edward that his chamberlain was keeping safe the king’s dirty little secret, that Edward had promised marriage to the beautiful Eleanor Butler to get her into his bed and then had conveniently forgotten the precontract, or promise of marriage, when he fell for and married Elizabeth? Edward had felt relief when poor jilted Nell had died forgotten in a nunnery, Will well remembered. And he remembered the drunken night when Edward and he were in exile in Bruges and the king had confided in his best friend. “Not even Bessie knows, Will, and you must swear by all that is holy that you will tell no one.”

Will had wondered then what Elizabeth might say or do if she ever found out the precontract by law rendered her marriage to Edward bigamous and her children bastards. It would not be pretty, he had thought with grim humor. Neither man had spoken of it since, and so, in a quick slap to the hound’s scrawny haunch, Will had decided then and there that Mistress Shore was not worth the loss of his king’s confidence. After all, he was Edward’s loyal and devoted liegeman first; he owed all he had attained to his younger master. So he put on a smile and encouraged Edward to tell of Jane’s first visit. At the mention of her maidenhead, Will had reacted with surprise, and Edward had nodded and agreed: “I did not believe it either.”

Poor Jane, Will thought now while pretending to read a
document and making her impotent husband wait. He could not help but wish he were the one to cuckold this pasty-faced mercer, but when it came to Edward, Hastings would not be disloyal, and he had decided he could champion Jane just as well by being her friend. The baron was a man of his word, and he would never break his unspoken promise to her on the hill at Greenwich. Thus it was for Jane’s sake as much as for his sovereign’s that he was standing here now with William Shore. Jane needed to be rid of the man.

Shore finally cleared this throat, and Hastings looked up, an eyebrow arched.

“You sent for me, Lord Hastings? How can I be of service?” He smiled, rubbing his hands. “A new gown perhaps?”

Hastings forebore to laugh at the man’s blindness. “Master Shore, it has come to the council’s notice that your wife has been seeking an”—he paused before slowly pronouncing—“annulment.” Ah, that elicited a glimmer of something akin to concern, he observed. “I shall not go into the reason for it; that is between husband and wife, but I am advising that you do not challenge the petition.”

Shore’s mouth opened and closed twice before he asked, “How do you know of this?”

“Very little goes on in London that the council does not know,” Hastings lied airily. “Having made your wife’s acquaintance, I offered to expedite the process.”

Shore was so taken aback by this turn of events that he merely stammered: “I see, my lord.”

And now for the unsavory business of bribing him, Hastings thought, grimacing. He walked away a pace and without looking at Shore, stated: “It is my understanding that you have been looking into merchant adventuring. Am I correct?”

The mercer, perturbed by Hastings’s knowledge yet intrigued by the turn in conversation, stammered, “You are, my lord.”

The evident eagerness in his voice disgusted Hastings. Was the man not even going to pretend to fight for Jane?

“If I procure a place for you and fund your move to Bruges, will you grant your wife the annulment—upon the grounds originally sought?” There, he had said it, and hoped Nicholas, who was standing silently in a corner, did not lower his high opinion of his lord.

Shore’s gap-toothed stare accompanied his weak “Aye, my . . . my lord.” He wanted to ask why, but his thoughts were not organized.

“And if I effect this move, sir, I must have your word you will deal no more with Mistress Shore, other than returning those goods and chattels she is owed.” Hastings could not believe the man did not appear to wonder why the lord chamberlain would involve himself in such a mundane business, but if he did not seek an explanation, then none would be forthcoming.

“I agree, my lord,” the seemingly incurious man said as he signed the paper Hastings laid for him on the table. As he began meticulously dotting the
i
’s in his name, he suddenly hesitated and looked up. Ah, perhaps now the man would finally demand an explanation, Hastings thought. But instead, it seemed the mercer had his own condition that had nothing to do with Jane. “I must see to my business for a few more months before transferring to Flanders. I cannot go immediately; I have apprentices and journeymen to make provision for.” It was only then that something else occurred to him. “Where will my wife go? Her father will not have her back, I can promise you,” he said with disdain to no one in particular, “for it would not surprise me if she has lain with others, and neither he nor I would condone a wagtail abiding with us.”

Hastings was not prepared for his own indignation; with uncharacteristic rashness, he struck William across the mouth. “Leave now, Master Shore, or I may rescind my offer,” he menaced and was relieved when his victim, clutching his bruised face, fled from the room.

“Good riddance, you weedy, whey-faced puttock!” he barked at the closing door.

D
ean Reynking gave a loud sniff and wiped his dripping, bulbous nose on his sleeve. “You have friends with influence, I perceive, Mistress Shore,” he said, staring at Jane over the top of his spectacles. “I have here the papal approval for an annulment. ’Tis astonishing how quickly it was obtained—only four months; these things usually take years. It appears you are released of your marriage contract as of today, if you would but sign this paper.”

Jane took the proffered quill and, smiling triumphantly, carefully inked her name:
Elizabeth Shore,
finishing with several curling loops below the final
e.
It pleased her that she had been able to flout this rheumy old priest’s patriarchal prating about church law.

“God’s will be done,” Jane said in parting, and as she closed the door behind her, she smiled. “Or is it the king’s?”

“T
he king?”

William Shore stared at his erstwhile wife in disbelief. Certes he had known of her attempts to seek an annulment, but as Dean Reynking had not yet summoned him to the Court of Arches to dispute the accusation of impotence, he presumed the cleric had given him the benefit of the doubt and had dismissed Jane, as any sensible man might a whining woman. It astonished him that Jane had succeeded without his testimony. However, the manner in which she had succeeded stunned him even more.

“The
king
arranged for a papal dispensation?” he spluttered. “Pray, why would he do that? Why would he care about you—a mere mercer’s wife?” It annoyed him to watch Jane calmly pour herself some ale as though she had merely commented on the weather, and so he went to the window to stare out and organize his reeling thoughts.

William had not yet connected his meeting with Hastings to
the king. He had assumed Hastings had bought his silence so the codding old man could seduce Jane, and he had seen no reason to intervene and ruin his chance to fulfill his latest ambition to grow prosperous with the adventurers abroad. His wife’s charms seemed fair exchange for such professional advantage. He was not as short-sighted as Jane thought; he had sensed the chamberlain’s attraction to Jane from the moment the man had entered the shop on Coleman Street. Had he not encouraged his wife to go on the hunting spree, hoping thus to solicit more business at court? But today’s news that Hastings was acting on the king’s behalf was quite unexpected. Why would Edward concern himself with a subject’s unhappy marriage?

Before he could come to his own conclusion, Jane broke into his ruminating with a throaty laugh. “Why would he care about me? Is it not obvious?” She mocked him, enjoying herself.

Then the truth slapped him in the face and he whirled around. “Good Christ! So that is the way of things, is it? The king would have you as leman?” He gave an unpleasant laugh. “My wife a king’s whore?” he sneered. “Why, Mistress Shore, how you have risen in the world.” He glared at her with disgust. “God’s bones, but I am well rid of you!”

“And I you, William. You cheated me long before I cheated you,” Jane retorted, setting down her cup with purpose. “You cheated me out of a loving coupling, and you cheated me out of children.”

William ignored her rebuke. “When exactly did you fornicate first with our sovereign?” he spat. “And I am certain he was not the first.”

It was Jane’s turn to leave fingermarks on the mercer’s face as she reached up and slapped him hard, shocking him into silence.

“Do you remember your futile journey into Kent in February?” she asked. “Aye, I see you do. How do you think that was arranged?”

William fondled his stinging cheek and seethed inside. He had wondered briefly at the time whether Hastings had sent him on
a fool’s errand, but the man had been in Calais and so William had dismissed his suspicion. He glowered at Jane. “Wait until I tell your father,” he threatened, hoping to instill some fear in this defiant woman.

Jane laughed. “My father has never cared for me, William. I was lost to him when I was but a child. And being as greedy as you, he may well see advantages to my being close to the king.” She picked up her cloak and flung it about her shoulders. “I came here to tell you the truth before you heard the talk in the taverns. The king has shown me more kindness in one meeting than you have in a whole year. I bid you farewell, and God speed on your new venture. You may deliver my few belongings to The Mermaid, where I shall stay for now.” She pulled off her wedding ring and placed it on the table. “Never let it be said I took anything from you.”

“I should never have agreed to marry you.” William scowled as he watched her glide from the room. “A pox on all women.”

E
vents happened so quickly for Jane after that, she hardly had time to contemplate the dramatic changes in her life. Edward’s ardent wooing flattered and delighted her. He kept his promise to the queen not to set up Jane in an apartment in the palace, as he had done with Elizabeth Wayte, but found her a small but well-appointed house near Hastings’s residence on Thames Street.