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Authors: Anne Easter Smith
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must be in peril of his mortal soul! But he didn’t look very worried about it, she admitted. She chose to say nothing but smiled back at him, hoping to elicit more confidences. She was awed and fascinated by the assured ease with which her big brother grasped life by the horns. She wanted so much to be like him, and yet …
“Just be careful, Meg. In truth, I will be needing you for some future marriage negotiations, and a virginal bride is usually part of the bargain.”
“Ned!” was all Margaret could manage. She felt the familiar icy fingers of fear brush her heart with the mention of marriage. Why must I be used as a pawn, she wondered miserably. Surely it would not be so if I were a commoner.
She was startled from her thoughts by Edward’s next statement. “I see you looking at men, Meg. I know you have carnal feelings like me. We are alike, you and I, so I am just asking you to be careful.” He smiled at her embarrassment. “And I have a favor to ask of you.”
Relieved that he was not asking her to admit to those carnal feelings, she nodded readily. “What favor, my lord? You have only to ask.”
“Although Mother will still rule the roost”—the siblings grinned in unison—“she has no desire to act as my hostess until I take a wife. As soon as she feels you are ready to take her place, you will serve me in that capacity, and she will keep her court at Baynard’s. You will have your own household when the time comes. We shall miss her, but she says she has lost interest in being my helpmate since Father died. Unless she knows I have need of her, she prefers to keep her own company.”
Margaret was stunned. She had not envisioned life without Cecily at her elbow, showing her the way. “Certes, ’tis hard to believe, Ned,” she exclaimed. “George, Dickon and I still need her. You cannot let her go. Edward, please!”
“Me, stop as stubborn a woman as Proud Cis? I may be able to win battles, Meg, but those are simple skirmishes compared with battling our lady mother! Nay, her mind is made up. With your sisters Anne and Elizabeth having ducal households of their own to manage, Mother and I believe you will, with their help, serve the court well—until I find myself a suitable bride, that is.” He grimaced at the thought.
As Ann and Jane prepared her for bed a little while later, Margaret’s mind was in a whirl. First lady at court! She would be a queen of sorts. Holy Mother of God, she panicked, and I told him aye! At her prayers that night, she begged the sweet Virgin to keep her mother from retiring until Edward found a queen. Then she allowed thoughts of Anthony Woodville to flit through her head as she snuggled into her feather pillow and breathed the scent of sweet herbs tucked into it. Anthony’s face became confused with John Harper’s, and a smile curled her mouth as she drifted into slumber.
T HE SUN SHONE on Edward’s triumphant entry into London on the last Friday of June. He started at Lambeth Palace, then rode across London Bridge and along Eastcheap and Tower Street to his royal apartments in the Tower of London. Then on Saturday afternoon, like every king of England before him, Edward, mounted on a richly caparisoned horse, wended his way from William the Conqueror’s palace through the city streets to Westminster, accompanied by the newly dubbed knights of the Bath. Among the knights, clothed in blue gowns with white silk hoods, were the small figures of George and Richard. George strutted purposefully behind Edward, nodding graciously from left to right at the cheering crowds. Cecily, Margaret and her sisters watched from the canopied dais set up in Westminster Palace’s courtyard in front of the great hall.
“I am assuming Edward has told George he is to be duke of Clarence,” Cecily said. “Look at him, as proud as a peacock!” The description could have fitted his mother as her eyes followed George.
Margaret, too, had been watching George with affection. She
“Just be careful, Meg. In truth, I will be needing you for some future marriage negotiations, and a virginal bride is usually part of the bargain.”
“Ned!” was all Margaret could manage. She felt the familiar icy fingers of fear brush her heart with the mention of marriage. Why must I be used as a pawn, she wondered miserably. Surely it would not be so if I were a commoner.
She was startled from her thoughts by Edward’s next statement. “I see you looking at men, Meg. I know you have carnal feelings like me. We are alike, you and I, so I am just asking you to be careful.” He smiled at her embarrassment. “And I have a favor to ask of you.”
Relieved that he was not asking her to admit to those carnal feelings, she nodded readily. “What favor, my lord? You have only to ask.”
“Although Mother will still rule the roost”—the siblings grinned in unison—“she has no desire to act as my hostess until I take a wife. As soon as she feels you are ready to take her place, you will serve me in that capacity, and she will keep her court at Baynard’s. You will have your own household when the time comes. We shall miss her, but she says she has lost interest in being my helpmate since Father died. Unless she knows I have need of her, she prefers to keep her own company.”
Margaret was stunned. She had not envisioned life without Cecily at her elbow, showing her the way. “Certes, ’tis hard to believe, Ned,” she exclaimed. “George, Dickon and I still need her. You cannot let her go. Edward, please!”
“Me, stop as stubborn a woman as Proud Cis? I may be able to win battles, Meg, but those are simple skirmishes compared with battling our lady mother! Nay, her mind is made up. With your sisters Anne and Elizabeth having ducal households of their own to manage, Mother and I believe you will, with their help, serve the court well—until I find myself a suitable bride, that is.” He grimaced at the thought.
As Ann and Jane prepared her for bed a little while later, Margaret’s mind was in a whirl. First lady at court! She would be a queen of sorts. Holy Mother of God, she panicked, and I told him aye! At her prayers that night, she begged the sweet Virgin to keep her mother from retiring until Edward found a queen. Then she allowed thoughts of Anthony Woodville to flit through her head as she snuggled into her feather pillow and breathed the scent of sweet herbs tucked into it. Anthony’s face became confused with John Harper’s, and a smile curled her mouth as she drifted into slumber.
T HE SUN SHONE on Edward’s triumphant entry into London on the last Friday of June. He started at Lambeth Palace, then rode across London Bridge and along Eastcheap and Tower Street to his royal apartments in the Tower of London. Then on Saturday afternoon, like every king of England before him, Edward, mounted on a richly caparisoned horse, wended his way from William the Conqueror’s palace through the city streets to Westminster, accompanied by the newly dubbed knights of the Bath. Among the knights, clothed in blue gowns with white silk hoods, were the small figures of George and Richard. George strutted purposefully behind Edward, nodding graciously from left to right at the cheering crowds. Cecily, Margaret and her sisters watched from the canopied dais set up in Westminster Palace’s courtyard in front of the great hall.
“I am assuming Edward has told George he is to be duke of Clarence,” Cecily said. “Look at him, as proud as a peacock!” The description could have fitted his mother as her eyes followed George.
Margaret, too, had been watching George with affection. She
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