Royal Mistress (68 page)

U
nbeknownst to the king and queen of England, on that Christmas Day, in the great cathedral of Rennes a hundred leagues from Westminster, Henry Tudor, earl of Richmond, knelt at the altar
in front of his fellow exiled compatriots and his host, the duke of Brittany, and pledged to wed Elizabeth of York should he return to his native land and win back the crown for Lancaster.

In her forlorn lodgings in Westminster sanctuary, Elizabeth Grey, as the former queen was now known, prayed she had done the right thing in facilitating the event. Would Edward have approved? She could not say, but her decision haunted her waking hours that yuletide season.

T
homas took care of all the legalities, and on one snowy January morning soon after Twelfth Night, he and Jane were married quietly with Jane’s parents, Ankarette, Sophie and Jehan, and Thomas’s superior and mentor, Morgan Kidwelly, in attendance. Jane’s brother, Sir William Lambert, parson of the parish of St. Leonard’s in Foster Lane, performed the brief ceremony outside the church door.

Jane wore a gown of palest green satin with an overdress of dark green velvet, a gift from her father. “The color of hope,” she had assured Sophie as she went to be joined to Thomas, her golden hair loose about her shoulders like a maid, covered by a shimmering piece of gauze and crowned with ivy leaves. “Then your eyes are full with hope,” Sophie whispered back. Even though Jane had just turned thirty-two, Sophie thought her friend had never looked more beautiful.

Thomas’s hand was warm and reassuring when Jane gave him hers to receive his ring. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, wilt thou love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?” Father Lambert demanded, daring Thomas to change his mind. Although he had long ago agreed to disavow his wayward sister at the behest of his father, William Lambert could never forget the childish devotion Jane had shown him, and he was
glad that their father had finally forgiven her. William was now determined to see his sister happy.

“I will.” Thomas’s robust response mollified the priest and made Jane smile. She gave her answer just as enthusiastically and felt Thomas’s fingers squeeze hers. After they spoke their vows, the ring was blessed, and considering Thomas had managed to remain a bachelor for thirty-eight years of his life, he did not flinch from firmly fitting the gold band on Jane’s slender finger.

The expressions of relief on the faces of the family might have been misconstrued as signs of contentment by the few curious onlookers witnessing the handsome couple plight their troth. John Lambert found Amy’s hand and entwined his fingers in hers, which made Amy smile all the more on the happy union before them.

Thomas took Jane in his arms then and bent down to kiss her waiting lips. Her heart sang when he beamed and said, “God’s greeting to you, Mistress Lyneham.” She would never again be addressed as Mistress Shore and, as though reborn, she knew she could release the person she had once been as well as relinquish the many travails that name had brought her.

T
homas entered Jane’s chamber clad only in his shirt, open at the throat and showing a prolific amount of chest hair. The sight caused Jane’s blood to flood her lower belly and thighs in the primeval tug of desire. Although she was no longer a maid and had obviously not been averse to giving herself outside of marriage, Thomas had respected Jane’s wish for celibacy throughout the betrothal period. She knew it was because she was afraid of intimacy after Tom’s betrayal, but she knew she could not keep Thomas from her bed once they were married. And now, as the familiar rush readied her for his intimate touch, a seductive smile curved her lips, and she reached out her hands to him.

Gently removing the ivy crown and veil, Thomas took handfuls of her luxuriant hair and buried his face in it, breathing in the
exotic scent of cinnamon and rosemary. Ankarette and Sophie had removed Jane’s gown and underdress before, and she stood barefoot in her spotless linen shift, the outline of her body silhouetted through it by the candles behind her. Jane let Thomas move his hands to her face and then her neck, as if he was committing to memory every satiny inch. His tenderness thrilled her, and she laid her hands on his chest and felt the muscles flex beneath her fingers. Sensing that his respect for her was making him reticent, she stepped away from him and without a word pulled loose the ribbon at her throat and let the flimsy undergarment slip off her body and to the floor.

Thomas gasped in awe. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined in my dreams,” he confessed, reaching out and touching her creamy skin. Jane gave a little moan of anticipation, and seeing the telltale movement of his rising excitement under his shirt, she knew she wanted this man as passionately as he did her.

“Then step out of your dreams, Thomas, and take me to bed, I beg of you. We have waited long enough.”

When they both achieved rapture at exactly the same exquisite moment, Jane experienced tears of joy in bed for the first time, and she knew, with the certainty of one who had suffered too much in her young life, that her heart had finally found its home.

A
few days after the wedding, Thomas had left her at the Lamberts’ when he was required, as a king’s councilor, to attend Richard’s first Parliament, which convened on the twenty-third of January. As he sat in a boat headed for Westminster pier and thought on his new status, he determined to prove to Richard that Jane was not the unprincipled, sinful woman the king thought she was, and he gave silent thanks for Richard’s trust in him.

Thomas also prayed that, in the near future, Jane’s opinion of the king might be tempered by evidence of his good governance, or fair distribution of the law. Thomas also thought Jane would
be surprised by the reports that Richard had even held a festive yuletide season that might have been worthy of King Edward.

P
arliament was dismissed in late February, and in mid-March the Lynehams went to look at a house for rent in the Strandway. It stood just past the bishop of Bath and Wells’s impressive inn and far enough away from the crowded city to enjoy a more rural setting with a garden that ran down to the river. Jane was ecstatic.

“Are you sure we can we afford to live here?” Jane asked after running from room to room and exclaiming at the views from the second-story windows. They stood by the wide casement in the airy solar looking out over the garden to the river as a light snow fell. Jane leaned back against her husband, and he cradled her to him.

Thomas laughed. “I am on the king’s council, my love, and when his grace gave me that commission to investigate a case of treason in Essex last month, I was well paid.” Jane knew that Thomas had also been granted the fees associated with being named escheator for Essex and Hertfordshire, and for his services during the recent rebellion, Richard had rewarded his solicitor general a manor in Bedfordshire. “Besides I promised your father I would keep you happy, and as I have noticed you have a penchant for luxury, my love, I am keeping my promise.” He chuckled mischievously as he moved one of his hands to cup her breast.

Jane slapped the hand playfully. “Be serious for a moment, Thomas,” she scolded. “Then if we can afford the house, naught would make me happier than to live here.”

How safe she felt, she marveled, thinking back to a year ago when Edward had begun to feel unwell and Will Hastings had been sent to the Tower for a spell. It conjured up the first—and so far only—meeting face-to-face with Edward’s youngest brother, and now Richard was king. How much had transpired in one short year, she realized, including the end of her relationship with three men who had loved her and the start of one with Thomas. What fate
had in store for her now, she could not begin to imagine, but she knew for certain that, barring war or the plague, Thomas Lyneham would anchor it for a long, long time, and, she hoped, forever.

Jane turned in his arms, sensing this was exactly the right moment. After all those years with Edward, the nights she shared with Will, and the lusty couplings with Tom, she had never conceived. Had God forgiven her her sins that He had waited for her to be married before quickening her womb? She and Thomas had been wed for only two months and yet she had already conceived. “I have something to tell you, Master Lyneham,” she said, with a radiant smile. “God has finally looked on me kindly, my dear, and I believe we are going to have a child.”

As if she were that child, Thomas lifted his wife into the air, his grin wide and his eyes shining with pride. “Thank God,” he said, happily, “our prayers have been answered.”