Royal Mistress (33 page)

I
t was the most lavish of all yuletides, and even Edward remarked upon the extravagance.

Elizabeth scoffed at him when he came to find her in her bedchamber on the morning after the Feast of the Circumcision. “You have only yourself to blame, my lord,” she told him from the warmth of her downy bed, a coverlet of squirrel fur cozily tucked around her. Lady Bourchier, her sister and lady-in-waiting, curtseyed to Edward and withdrew. “Other than to justify your own squandering of English taxes, to what do I owe this rare visit?”

A fleeting expression of annoyance crossed Edward’s fleshy face at the insinuation they were no longer intimate. Since May of the previous year, when they had grieved for the loss of their beloved fourteen-year-old daughter, Mary, Edward had been absent from Elizabeth’s bed. Elizabeth knew that in some way Edward blamed her for Mary’s sudden death from a fever that had occurred while he was at Windsor and she and the children at Greenwich. Edward had adored the frail, pale-eyed beauty with her almost white hair, telling Elizabeth she was the child that most resembled her lovely mother.

“I was not complaining, Bessie. England prospers under me, so why should I not indulge myself and my household? You do not
spare yourself,” Edward said, eyeing the lavish new bed curtains and fur coverlet with amusement. “But I pray you, forbid me such extravagance next year, or all my hard work will go the way of five hundred tuns of wine, a dozen deer, three boars, five sheep, seventeen peacocks, and I cannot tell you how many fish. Gobbled up!” He threw up his hands, as if all these comestibles had vanished into thin air. He smiled. “But that is not why I came. Certes, I came to see how you are, my dear. You have been abed for two days now and no one can tell me what ails you. So I thought I would come and see for myself.”

“Most considerate of you, Edward,” Elizabeth said sarcastically, wondering why he had not come yesterday. “Doctor de Serigo believes I have an infection of the liver, and I must be purged every twelve hours. The yellow bile is up and thus my humors are imbalanced. ’Tis nothing serious.” She did not add that the good doctor worried that a lack of sexual activity had built up the seminal humor, which could be dangerous, or that he had earnestly advised her to pleasure herself as often as she wanted, even at her ripe age of forty-five. Nay, Edward did not need such details, she told herself.

Edward knew about purging; he had done it himself often enough after feasting when his gluttony had overreached his reason. He made a sympathetic face and patted his wife’s hand. “Unpleasant business, my dear, and I am sorry for you. I suppose you will miss the banquet tonight? I have promised the company jugglers, mummers, and a magician.” He smiled at her, all the while planning how to fetch Jane for the festivities with Elizabeth’s absence now assured. “I will come and tell you all about it tomorrow. Rest that beautiful body well, my dear. I will have prayers said for you at vespers.”

Elizabeth made an effort to smile. “I am sure you will have a merrier time without me, Ned.” She knew full well Jane Shore would take her place by his side, and there was naught she could do to stop it. How she still hated the woman!

“Pish!” Edward said, using his mother’s favorite disclaimer as he eased himself out of the chair. He did not want Elizabeth to read the truth of her words in his eyes. But before he could open the door and escape, she fired one final taunt.

“Look to your harlot, Ned. She may be deceiving you. My son, Thomas, was seen leaving her house, I’ve been told. Perhaps she prefers men her own age?”

Edward’s hand froze for a second on the door handle, but then he strode out without another word.

“S
tay away from her,” Will Hastings fumed at Tom when the young marquess had tried to beg a second dance from Jane during that night’s celebration. He drew his stepson-in-law into an empty room used by the king’s secretary during the day. “She belongs to the king, and you would do well to remember it, Thomas.”

Earlier, Edward had pulled Will aside after mass and relayed Elizabeth’s accusation. “Is it true, Will?” Edward asked with a hint of desperation that surprised his friend. “Is Jane involved with Tom Grey? I cannot bear disloyalty—especially from Jane.” Sweet Jesu, Will had thought, the king really did love Jane, and he was briefly amused by the irony that the same mere merchant’s daughter had ensnared not only him and Edward, but Tom as well.

“Jane has never mentioned Dorset to me in any conversation we have had, your grace,” Will assured the king. “Also, as you know, I am a frequent visitor and have never seen him or any of his household in the vicinity. Could the queen have jested out of jealousy? She knows we have shared women in the past, which would have made her statement seem plausible. Tom was the obvious culprit, but I believe she was baiting you, sire.”

Feeling somewhat appeased, Edward nodded. “I do not doubt Bessie is jealous, and your explanation makes sense. Even so, Will, I would ask that you watch Tom Grey closely tonight.”

And so Will had done his king’s bidding; with his sharp eyes,
he had followed the man throughout the evening and observed with growing suspicion how Tom never took his gaze from Jane. And in turn he watched Jane. Her attention, he had to admit, never wavered from Edward, except when she was being partnered by the marquess, and even then, her eyes were on the floor. He could not see how tightly she held Tom’s fingers or how her heart quickened as they stepped to the rebecs, viols, recorders, and tabors. Nay, if there was interest, it was all on Tom Grey’s part, Will decided. And he could put a stop to that.

In the antechamber, Tom sneered at the portly Hastings. “Jealous, are we? Aye, I have seen how you follow Mistress Shore with lovelorn eyes. I heard she rejected you many years ago—too old for her.” Then he laughed. “Who could blame her for looking to a younger man after you and the king have done with her?”

Will grabbed the impudent man’s wrist and twisted it so Tom was an inch from his livid face, surprising Tom with his strength. “You lie, sirrah! Jane has only ever lain with the king, and you slander her and insult the king at your peril if you say different.”

“Mayhap she has and maybe she has not, my lord Hastings. It is not for me to say.” Tom, too, was seething. “Now, I pray you, stand aside so I may dance with Mistress Shore a second time. She appeared to enjoy the first.”

Tom’s cockiness further infuriated Will, who forced the young man onto his knees, both their backs to the door and unaware the king had entered.

“Presumptuous pup! You will not enjoy her again, I promise you!” Edward’s furious voice made Will let go of his prey and Tom scramble to his feet. “You have annoyed the lady enough for one evening.”

Edward looked from one belligerent man to the other and stood like a bulwark between them. “My patience is at an end with your quarreling.” He was unwilling to make a scene within earshot of his courtiers, but his tone was commanding nonetheless: “Will,
you should know better, and Tom, ’tis about time you went home to your wife and new child. Your neglect of them discredits you and displeases me.”

Will agreed with Edward’s assessment of Tom; he had heard enough at home on the subject from Katherine, who was concerned about her daughter and grandchildren.

However, ignoring the king’s implied command, Tom responded with a derisive snort. “And my mother, your grace? Why are you not at her sickbed instead of lewdly cavorting with your—”

“Hold your insolent tongue!” Edward interrupted. “And get you gone before I take a horsewhip to you. You are no longer welcome here!”

Will held his breath. Even as the queen’s son, Tom had gone too far, and unlucky for him, his mother was not present to protect him.

Needing no further warning, he pushed past Will and fled.

J
ane, too, had seen Will follow Tom into the antechamber and had held her breath as she danced to an estampie with John Norrys. When she noticed Edward’s absence from his seat, she had tried in vain to find him over the press of people but prayed he had merely stepped out to the garderobe.

Jane was radiant in pearly white satin that night, a black sable collar plunging from her shoulders in a V to the gold band around the high-waisted gown at the base of her cleavage. She had attempted to augment her height with a butterfly hennin of twisted gold and white bands, its veil supported by six-inch-high invisible underwires. Edward’s latest gift, a heavy gold choke necklace set with rubies, accentuated her long neck. She had been thrilled with the gift, a sign that she was still in the king’s high favor.

When Edward returned to her side, she sensed the change in his humor, but she knew him well enough not to pry. His anger had somewhat abated as she thanked him again for her gift. He smiled, and offering his arm, he led her to the dance floor. Seeing
Jane smiling into his eyes, he was satisfied. ’Twas not her fault that men were so charmed by her, he decided.

On their way from the dais, and attempting to dispel his sour mood, Edward whispered, “You look like a queen tonight, my dearest.”

Jane gasped at the comparison. “Do not say so, my lord. I have no wish to rival her grace, nor do I presume to rise above my station. I am your devoted mistress and loyal friend, no more.”

In a happier moment, Edward might have been charmed, but now he just found himself exasperated. “Why will you not simply accept my compliment, Jane?” he said as they took their places at the head of the dancers. “ ’Tis no secret I adore you. Are you so independent that you have not wondered what will be your lot if I tire of you? Perhaps you should be
shoring
up wealth for that day.”

Edward could instantly sense Jane’s dismay at his callous remarks despite the wordplay, but for once he would not recant; Tom Grey had spoiled his pleasure and made him testy. However, Jane’s hurt silence eventually pricked his conscience, making him feel churlish. Again, he admitted, her charms were not her fault, nor his adoration her design.

The flutes and lutes were wringing out the plaintive notes of a stately basse danse as all eyes remained riveted on the couple, and Jane knew she must not reveal that she was anything but merry. She forced a smile, but her thoughts were tumbling like a troupe of uncontrolled acrobats. Was Edward truly tiring of her? Dear God, she panicked, what made him say that now? True, he had not enjoyed her body for a long time, but that was through no fault of hers. Had he found someone new? It had happened to Eleanor Butler and to Elizabeth Wayte, both of whom had not lasted as long as she had. Nay, surely her friend Will would have warned her. Then she heard her little imp remind her of Tom Grey’s visit, and her belly churned. Sweet Mother of God, had Edward found out? Was that why she had seen Will speak angrily to Tom earlier?
And now Tom was gone and Edward’s humor had darkened. Had he been with Will and Tom?

Jane’s mind and heart raced at an equally frightening pace. As she passed her partner in the dance, she raised her eyes for an instant from the floor to Edward’s face and caught him watching her. His sheepish smile instantly reassured her that she was being foolish. She smiled back, genuinely this time, but apprehension still lingered.