Read Online A Rose for the Crown by Anne Easter Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Easter Smith
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looked blankly at Mary. “The duke of York? Doesn’t the king have a son?” She knew there was a prince of Wales named Edward, who should surely be the king’s heir.
Mary shrugged; she didn’t really understand either. “All I know is that ’tis good for us,” she said confidently. She glanced around and then whispered, “Master Richard is for York, but because the king is Henry Lancaster, ’tis treasonable to say so whilst the king is still alive. King Henry is God’s anointed,” she continued, “and none must harm God’s anointed.”
Anointed with what? Kate wanted to know, but as she did not want to appear foolish, she just nodded. Mary went on to tell her there was a rumor—crossing herself as she did—that the king might be mad.
“I do not think it makes sense for a madman to rule other people, do you, Mary?”
“Hush, child! Do not say such things. ’Tis treason!”
Kate shrugged, but her interest was piqued. “Does the duke have children?”
“Aye, Kate. He has several. March be his heir, so now perforce he may reign over us one day. The other boys are Rutland and young George and Richard Plantagenet. And he has daughters, too, Elizabeth, Margaret—”
“March, Rutland?” Kate interrupted her. “Those be strange names for boys, Mary.”
The servant smiled over the bedcovers she and Kate were straightening in the Hautes’ chamber. “They are noble titles. Edward, earl of March and Edmund, earl of Rutland. George and Richard are but boys. They will be titled anon, I’ll be bound.”
Mary left the room to replenish the water in Elinor’s hand bowl, leaving Kate with many unanswered questions. Who was their mother? Didthey live in as fine a house as Ightham? And did Cousin Richard truly know them? For if he does, perchance we may meet them, too, Kate surmised. She imagined herself curtsying to this noble family. The duke would naturally be a tall, handsome man, his blond hair falling to his shoulders. Beside him would be his duchess, her hair hidden under an enormous hennin and her perfect body swathed in shimmering gold brocade. March would have his namesake-month’s wind-blown look and be a little smaller than his father but golden-haired as well, Kate decided. Rutland appeared out of focus in her mind, with no distinct features for her to remember in future daydreams. The two younger boys she had no trouble with at all. One had a flaxen head, the other was definitely dark. Not black, not red and certainly not a boring brown. However, in her dreams, all nobles were tall with fair hair and blue eyes, just like the knight whom she had seen riding through the marketplace in Tunbridge.
Her thoughts came back to the present, and she found herself staring at the rich, red-brown sauce she had been stirring mechanically. “That be the color of his hair, in truth,” she muttered, causing the maid who was tending a milky broth next to her to turn her head.
“Whose hair?”
“Richard Plantagenet’s,” Kate retorted and was rewarded with a blank stare.
“K ATE, where are you?”
Anne’s voice floated up from the foot of the stairs and broke Kate’s reverie. She had been gazing at the new hennin that had been made for her. The gauze was as fine as a spider’s web, she thought, made stiff by the use of arrowroot—another skill she had learned. The headpiece was blue to match her new gown, with dainty gold threads picking out a pattern of tiny flowers on the flat-topped cone.
“ ’Tis time for our music lesson, Kate. Kate, are you there?”
Kate needed no second bidding. The hour spent learning the magical instrument she had heard on her first night at Ightham was the highlight of her day.
“I be coming!” Hastily she corrected her country dialect. “I am coming!” Kate smoothed the coverlet on the tester bed once more before leaving her chamber to join Anne.
Will was seated by the window in Richard’s office and jumped to his feet when the cousins entered. He bowed low, which made Kate
Mary shrugged; she didn’t really understand either. “All I know is that ’tis good for us,” she said confidently. She glanced around and then whispered, “Master Richard is for York, but because the king is Henry Lancaster, ’tis treasonable to say so whilst the king is still alive. King Henry is God’s anointed,” she continued, “and none must harm God’s anointed.”
Anointed with what? Kate wanted to know, but as she did not want to appear foolish, she just nodded. Mary went on to tell her there was a rumor—crossing herself as she did—that the king might be mad.
“I do not think it makes sense for a madman to rule other people, do you, Mary?”
“Hush, child! Do not say such things. ’Tis treason!”
Kate shrugged, but her interest was piqued. “Does the duke have children?”
“Aye, Kate. He has several. March be his heir, so now perforce he may reign over us one day. The other boys are Rutland and young George and Richard Plantagenet. And he has daughters, too, Elizabeth, Margaret—”
“March, Rutland?” Kate interrupted her. “Those be strange names for boys, Mary.”
The servant smiled over the bedcovers she and Kate were straightening in the Hautes’ chamber. “They are noble titles. Edward, earl of March and Edmund, earl of Rutland. George and Richard are but boys. They will be titled anon, I’ll be bound.”
Mary left the room to replenish the water in Elinor’s hand bowl, leaving Kate with many unanswered questions. Who was their mother? Didthey live in as fine a house as Ightham? And did Cousin Richard truly know them? For if he does, perchance we may meet them, too, Kate surmised. She imagined herself curtsying to this noble family. The duke would naturally be a tall, handsome man, his blond hair falling to his shoulders. Beside him would be his duchess, her hair hidden under an enormous hennin and her perfect body swathed in shimmering gold brocade. March would have his namesake-month’s wind-blown look and be a little smaller than his father but golden-haired as well, Kate decided. Rutland appeared out of focus in her mind, with no distinct features for her to remember in future daydreams. The two younger boys she had no trouble with at all. One had a flaxen head, the other was definitely dark. Not black, not red and certainly not a boring brown. However, in her dreams, all nobles were tall with fair hair and blue eyes, just like the knight whom she had seen riding through the marketplace in Tunbridge.
Her thoughts came back to the present, and she found herself staring at the rich, red-brown sauce she had been stirring mechanically. “That be the color of his hair, in truth,” she muttered, causing the maid who was tending a milky broth next to her to turn her head.
“Whose hair?”
“Richard Plantagenet’s,” Kate retorted and was rewarded with a blank stare.
“K ATE, where are you?”
Anne’s voice floated up from the foot of the stairs and broke Kate’s reverie. She had been gazing at the new hennin that had been made for her. The gauze was as fine as a spider’s web, she thought, made stiff by the use of arrowroot—another skill she had learned. The headpiece was blue to match her new gown, with dainty gold threads picking out a pattern of tiny flowers on the flat-topped cone.
“ ’Tis time for our music lesson, Kate. Kate, are you there?”
Kate needed no second bidding. The hour spent learning the magical instrument she had heard on her first night at Ightham was the highlight of her day.
“I be coming!” Hastily she corrected her country dialect. “I am coming!” Kate smoothed the coverlet on the tester bed once more before leaving her chamber to join Anne.
Will was seated by the window in Richard’s office and jumped to his feet when the cousins entered. He bowed low, which made Kate
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