Read Online The Border Lord and the Lady by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
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house again to bring it laughter and joy.”
“I believe your words are comforting to my daughter,” Robert Bowen said. “She has never before been away from Leighton.”
“Oh,” the mother superior said, and she stooped down so she might speak face-to-face with Cicely. “You must not be afraid, my daughter. You have come to a good place, and within a few short weeks it will be and will feel like home to you. Do you like animals? The queen’s house here is always filled with dogs and cats.”
“I have a horse,” Cicely said. “My lord father gave her to me before we departed our home. Her name is Gris, because she is gray. I’ve never had a dog or cat.”
“Well, you shall probably find you have several once the queen is in residence,” the nun said cheerfully, standing up again. “Come now, my lord, my lady. We are about to celebrate vespers. Will you not join us? And then we’ll have supper. I know that Sister Margarethe has made a wonderful vegetable-and-rabbit potage for supper. I have smelled it cooking all afternoon.” She reached out and took Cicely’s hand. “But first we must go into the chapel and thank our dear Lord and his Mother for your safe arrival.”
The convent might be small, but the meal they were served after vespers was every bit as good as that served at the earl’s table. The
rabbit stew was flavorful, the bread warm and crisp, and there was an egg custard flavored with lavender, served last. The beds given them were clean and fresh, free from bedbugs and fleas. And in the morning their second meal of oat stirabout, with newly baked bread and butter was delicious. The earl thanked the sisters as they departed, pressing a generous donation into the hand of the mother superior.
“I hope we will see you again very soon, Lady Cicely,” the nun called after them.
“Do you think the queen will like me, Papa?” Cicely asked as they rode towards the village again, and the queen’s residence. “What of the other girl who comes with her? Do you know who she is?”
The earl nodded. “You must not fret, poppet,” he told his daughter. “Queen Joan is a good woman, and she cannot help but like you. Everyone likes you.”
“My stepmother does not like me,” Cicely said softly.
“Luciana does not know you, and she is jealous of the love I bear you, and bore your mother. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not. Queen Joan will like you.”
“And the girl? Who is she, Papa?” Cicely asked anxiously.
“Lady Joan Beaufort is the daughter of the late Earl of Somerset, John Beaufort,” the earl began. “His father was the Duke of Lancaster, a son of King Edward the Third, called John of Gaunt because he was born to Queen Philippa in Ghent. The duke had three wives, and outlived two. John Beaufort, his brothers Henry and Thomas, and his sister, Joan, were the children of the duke’s mistress, and later third wife, Katherine Swynford. The Beauforts were born on the other side of the blanket, as were you, Cicely. But like you they were legitimated. They and their descendants are not permitted to be placed in the line of succession, but they are legitimate. You, my daughter, are, however, in my line of succession. When I die you will receive an inheritance along with your brothers.”
“So this other little girl is royal,” Cicely said. Her stomach stirred nervously.
“Aye,” her father admitted, “she is. But she is still an earl’s daughter, as are you.”
They were now approaching the queen’s residence, which, like the village, was known as Havering-atte-Bower. It was a large dwelling that had been built originally by King William, known as the Conqueror, to serve as a hunting lodge. Over the centuries since it had been added onto, and made into a large, livable home. When they had come yesterday it had been quiet. Now, however, the path to and before the house was filled with carts, and horses, and servants of various rank.
One of the earl’s men rode forward,
“I believe your words are comforting to my daughter,” Robert Bowen said. “She has never before been away from Leighton.”
“Oh,” the mother superior said, and she stooped down so she might speak face-to-face with Cicely. “You must not be afraid, my daughter. You have come to a good place, and within a few short weeks it will be and will feel like home to you. Do you like animals? The queen’s house here is always filled with dogs and cats.”
“I have a horse,” Cicely said. “My lord father gave her to me before we departed our home. Her name is Gris, because she is gray. I’ve never had a dog or cat.”
“Well, you shall probably find you have several once the queen is in residence,” the nun said cheerfully, standing up again. “Come now, my lord, my lady. We are about to celebrate vespers. Will you not join us? And then we’ll have supper. I know that Sister Margarethe has made a wonderful vegetable-and-rabbit potage for supper. I have smelled it cooking all afternoon.” She reached out and took Cicely’s hand. “But first we must go into the chapel and thank our dear Lord and his Mother for your safe arrival.”
The convent might be small, but the meal they were served after vespers was every bit as good as that served at the earl’s table. The
rabbit stew was flavorful, the bread warm and crisp, and there was an egg custard flavored with lavender, served last. The beds given them were clean and fresh, free from bedbugs and fleas. And in the morning their second meal of oat stirabout, with newly baked bread and butter was delicious. The earl thanked the sisters as they departed, pressing a generous donation into the hand of the mother superior.
“I hope we will see you again very soon, Lady Cicely,” the nun called after them.
“Do you think the queen will like me, Papa?” Cicely asked as they rode towards the village again, and the queen’s residence. “What of the other girl who comes with her? Do you know who she is?”
The earl nodded. “You must not fret, poppet,” he told his daughter. “Queen Joan is a good woman, and she cannot help but like you. Everyone likes you.”
“My stepmother does not like me,” Cicely said softly.
“Luciana does not know you, and she is jealous of the love I bear you, and bore your mother. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not. Queen Joan will like you.”
“And the girl? Who is she, Papa?” Cicely asked anxiously.
“Lady Joan Beaufort is the daughter of the late Earl of Somerset, John Beaufort,” the earl began. “His father was the Duke of Lancaster, a son of King Edward the Third, called John of Gaunt because he was born to Queen Philippa in Ghent. The duke had three wives, and outlived two. John Beaufort, his brothers Henry and Thomas, and his sister, Joan, were the children of the duke’s mistress, and later third wife, Katherine Swynford. The Beauforts were born on the other side of the blanket, as were you, Cicely. But like you they were legitimated. They and their descendants are not permitted to be placed in the line of succession, but they are legitimate. You, my daughter, are, however, in my line of succession. When I die you will receive an inheritance along with your brothers.”
“So this other little girl is royal,” Cicely said. Her stomach stirred nervously.
“Aye,” her father admitted, “she is. But she is still an earl’s daughter, as are you.”
They were now approaching the queen’s residence, which, like the village, was known as Havering-atte-Bower. It was a large dwelling that had been built originally by King William, known as the Conqueror, to serve as a hunting lodge. Over the centuries since it had been added onto, and made into a large, livable home. When they had come yesterday it had been quiet. Now, however, the path to and before the house was filled with carts, and horses, and servants of various rank.
One of the earl’s men rode forward,
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