Read Online Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) by Diana Rubino - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diana Rubino
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Valentine a chance in your marriage."
"Aye, when he's home, which is precious little enough," she
blurted out, still stung at the shame she had endured at his hands
when he had rebuffed her offer of wifely companionship on more
than one occasion.
"Mayhap you should travel with him, then?" Anne suggested mildly.
"Richard's mother was famous for ever being at her husband's side,
until death finally claimed him."
Denys sighed heavily. "I fear I am not the stuff of such legends,
Anne. Valentine certainly is, but I just want, well, a real home,
not courtly splendor and the dazzle of politics."
Anne nodded, but cautioned, "Yet you cannot love your man if you
resent his work. And it is great work they do, rebuilding England
after us all being at war for so long."
Denys bit her lip and sighed. "I know. It's just hard. All my life
I've been asked to make sacrifices. I just wish there was some
reward at the end of it, but there never is for me. Valentine has
all he's ever wished for, while I—"
Anne shot her a sharp look. "All he ever wished for except a
contented, happy wife. He does care for you, you know. Is it so
much to expect you to try to do the same for him in return?"
"I can't see—"
"A man in love will do anything to see his woman safe and well
provided for."
Denys shook her head. "In love, nay, except with the power all his
offices give him."
Anne nodded. "Aye, the power to do good. To help. To heal. Just as
a woman has that power, if she chooses to use it. But as I said,
Dove, it's your choice. No one else can make it for you. No one
else can open your heart. But if you choose not to, well then,
forgive me for saying so, but you are no better than Elizabeth
Woodville, for she does nothing but take all she can, and gives
nothing back but trouble and ingratitude to all who care for her
most."
Denys shuddered at the mention of her coldly calculating aunt, and
sighed. "I know, you're right, of course. I have no reason to be
discontent with my lot, since it was of my own choosing. I just
wish I had had more choices."
Anne looked at her in mild amusement. "What other choice would you
have made than a noble husband, and children and a fine home one
day? You certainly had no vocation. If you had, you'd have fled to
a convent rather than wed."
Denys blushed at that. She was still as virginal as a nun, but
Anne knew her all too well. Devout she might be, but she was too
worldly to ever give up her pleasures and devote herself to
service for others in a nunnery.
And as she admitted that to herself, she began to admire Valentine
all the more for helping everyone he came across, even though he
clearly would have liked nothing better than to have a fine time
in his own beautifully appointed manor.
Too fine a
time? she found herself wondering.
Nay, she had seen no signs of wenching, gaming, nor any other
objectionable pursuits in himself or his men. Perhaps he was
right, perhaps they were not so different from one another after
all….
"I will think on all you have said, Anne. You're right. What else
could I possibly wish for except a family of my own to love and
cherish."
When, at the end of the visit, Anne bade Denys Godspeed, she gave
her a roll of parchment on which was mapped out her own
genealogical table, quite a thorough one indeed.
"Perhaps you will see something on it. Maybe another name will
spark your memory. Things like that do happen, you know. We
remember names and places from way back in our pasts that just
come out of nowhere, from the dark recesses of our minds. Would it
not be a delight if we were truly related, Dove, you and I!"
She nodded, feigning enthusiasm, for although she appreciated
Anne's help and generosity in giving her such a precious document,
she doubted she could have any connection to the Nevilles, and was
not so sure that would be a blessing anyway given her husband's
already
"Aye, when he's home, which is precious little enough," she
blurted out, still stung at the shame she had endured at his hands
when he had rebuffed her offer of wifely companionship on more
than one occasion.
"Mayhap you should travel with him, then?" Anne suggested mildly.
"Richard's mother was famous for ever being at her husband's side,
until death finally claimed him."
Denys sighed heavily. "I fear I am not the stuff of such legends,
Anne. Valentine certainly is, but I just want, well, a real home,
not courtly splendor and the dazzle of politics."
Anne nodded, but cautioned, "Yet you cannot love your man if you
resent his work. And it is great work they do, rebuilding England
after us all being at war for so long."
Denys bit her lip and sighed. "I know. It's just hard. All my life
I've been asked to make sacrifices. I just wish there was some
reward at the end of it, but there never is for me. Valentine has
all he's ever wished for, while I—"
Anne shot her a sharp look. "All he ever wished for except a
contented, happy wife. He does care for you, you know. Is it so
much to expect you to try to do the same for him in return?"
"I can't see—"
"A man in love will do anything to see his woman safe and well
provided for."
Denys shook her head. "In love, nay, except with the power all his
offices give him."
Anne nodded. "Aye, the power to do good. To help. To heal. Just as
a woman has that power, if she chooses to use it. But as I said,
Dove, it's your choice. No one else can make it for you. No one
else can open your heart. But if you choose not to, well then,
forgive me for saying so, but you are no better than Elizabeth
Woodville, for she does nothing but take all she can, and gives
nothing back but trouble and ingratitude to all who care for her
most."
Denys shuddered at the mention of her coldly calculating aunt, and
sighed. "I know, you're right, of course. I have no reason to be
discontent with my lot, since it was of my own choosing. I just
wish I had had more choices."
Anne looked at her in mild amusement. "What other choice would you
have made than a noble husband, and children and a fine home one
day? You certainly had no vocation. If you had, you'd have fled to
a convent rather than wed."
Denys blushed at that. She was still as virginal as a nun, but
Anne knew her all too well. Devout she might be, but she was too
worldly to ever give up her pleasures and devote herself to
service for others in a nunnery.
And as she admitted that to herself, she began to admire Valentine
all the more for helping everyone he came across, even though he
clearly would have liked nothing better than to have a fine time
in his own beautifully appointed manor.
Too fine a
time? she found herself wondering.
Nay, she had seen no signs of wenching, gaming, nor any other
objectionable pursuits in himself or his men. Perhaps he was
right, perhaps they were not so different from one another after
all….
"I will think on all you have said, Anne. You're right. What else
could I possibly wish for except a family of my own to love and
cherish."
When, at the end of the visit, Anne bade Denys Godspeed, she gave
her a roll of parchment on which was mapped out her own
genealogical table, quite a thorough one indeed.
"Perhaps you will see something on it. Maybe another name will
spark your memory. Things like that do happen, you know. We
remember names and places from way back in our pasts that just
come out of nowhere, from the dark recesses of our minds. Would it
not be a delight if we were truly related, Dove, you and I!"
She nodded, feigning enthusiasm, for although she appreciated
Anne's help and generosity in giving her such a precious document,
she doubted she could have any connection to the Nevilles, and was
not so sure that would be a blessing anyway given her husband's
already
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