By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (11 page)

Anne looked at her sister’s face, flushed with excitement, and wondered what she knew. The only words Lady Stanley had spoken had been filled with doom and dire warnings about their fate. She seemed to have resigned herself to being locked in the Tower on her arrival and remaining there for the rest of her short life, but Izzie’s face spoke of celebration and privilege rather than imprisonment.

Anne turned as she heard someone else arriving and saw Lord Stanley ride into the courtyard and dismount to greet his wife who was still sitting in the carriage.

“Come, my lady, allow me to assist you. What ails you?” he asked when he saw Lady Stanley’s tear-streaked face blinking at the evening sunlight that fell across the shingled rooftops.

“I am pleased to see you in good health and with your freedom, my lord,” she replied in a trembling voice when he had given her his arm and helped her out. “I had grave concerns as to whether I would find you alive, let alone at liberty.”

“Oh hush,” he told her. “Did you not know that I would fight for the winning side?”

“The winning side?” she asked as she gazed at him in bewilderment.

“Yes. With the assistance of the Stanley armies, King Edward, God bless him, has re-taken his rightful place on the English throne.”

Anne watched as Lady Stanley continued to stare at her husband. “You fought for the Yorkists?” she asked. Her voice rose as she spoke and she raised her hand to her forehead as if she might fall into a fit. But then she regained her composure and turned away from him to enter the house. Lord Stanley followed with a slight smile playing around his lips.

“Have no fear, daughter,” he said as he passed Anne. “You are safe and welcome in London. We are here to celebrate!”

“Come in,” said Izzie as Lord Stanley followed his wife to their private chamber. “There is so much I have to tell you.”

Anne followed Izzie up the stairs to the bedchamber and, after washing her hands and face and taking a drink of wine, she lay on the bed and listened as her sister prattled on about herself and John and all the things they had done since they had arrived in London.

“And then we saw Gloucester,” she said.

“The Duke of Gloucester? Did he look well?” she asked, sitting up.

“Well enough for a man who’s just killed a prince and a king,” remarked Izzie with distaste. “I always told you that I disliked him and now I have good reason.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Anne. She had been about to reply that Richard could never kill anyone, but she had swallowed back the words because she knew they were untrue. At Hornby she had seen the glint in his eye as he unsheathed his sword with a determination that left her in no doubt that he would delight in using his weapon should the opportunity arise.

“They say that after the battle at Tewkesbury the Prince of Wales fled on foot,” said Izzie. “Gloucester went after him and cut him to death with no more hesitation than killing a deer at the end of a hunt. They say he did it because he was jealous that the prince had married Anne Neville. They say he wants her for his own wife and killing the prince made her a widow.”

“What nonsense!” said Anne, but the stab of jealousy was sharp and she found herself rubbing at the imaginary wound to her heart.

“Don’t tell me you still have feelings for him. After all this time?” said Izzie, watching her sister. “Oh you must forget him, Nan,” she said with a serious expression. “He killed the king as well. King Henry, the Lancastrian king. When he came back to London from Tewkesbury he went to the Tower and plunged his dagger into old Henry too.”

“Who has told you these things?” demanded Anne, picturing the feeble old king cowering in fear before a glinting blade held by a shadowy figure that she would not imagine as Richard.

“Everybody says so. Lord Stanley says...”

“And you give him credence?” interrupted Anne, angry that her sister accepted the lies of the Stanleys despite no evidence for what they told her. But what Izzie said created a sore that festered in the back of her mind. Richard was capable, she knew, even though she refused to believe he had done such things.

When Anne came downstairs to supper and saw the bulk of Sir William Stanley sprawled in front of the fire she was thankful, for the first time, that she was a married woman. Her young husband, Edward, may have ignored her when he arrived earlier but at least that was preferable to the leering gaze of his uncle as he stared at her breasts, which were just showing above the fashionable yellow gown that Lady Stanley had chosen for her.

“Marriage agrees with you,” he commented, knowing full well that her marriage was nothing more than a legal contract. “Do you have a kiss for your husband’s uncle?”

“I do not think that would be seemly,” she replied with as much composure as she could manage.

“Oh come now, Anne. We were friends at Skipton. Besides, I have had a trying time these last few days,” he remarked in a clumsy effort to win her sympathy.

“And why is that?” asked Anne, her curiosity aroused despite her resolve to distance herself from him.

“I escorted the former queen to a chamber in the Tower and had to tell her that her son was dead,” said Sir William.

Anne felt an unexpected sympathy for the lady. She doubted that Margaret of Anjou would have received much compassion from Sir William. But it was Edward of Lancaster’s widow, Anne Neville, who interested her more. She too had been brought to London, though she had not been taken to the Tower but was in the custody of the Duke of Clarence and his wife, who was her sister. She wondered if Anne Neville grieved for her dead husband, and if it was true that Richard planned to marry her.

“But now,” continued Sir William, “my brother has invited me to feast with him, to celebrate our victory. I was made a knight banneret by King Edward on the field of battle at Tewkesbury! Your uncle was knighted too,” he said. “He is Sir Robert Harrington now.”

“Not that it will do him good. Or his brother,” said Lord Stanley, coming into the hall. “The king has assured me, daughter, that Hornby is still yours. You have nothing to fear. I intend to keep your inheritance safe. In fact,” he continued, “the king has requested that you and the lady Elizabeth attend court. He is keen to meet the two heiresses who have been the cause of so much strife.”

The thought of going to court and meeting the king didn’t excite Anne as much as the hope that Richard would also be there.

“Your uncles are summoned too,” went on Lord Stanley. “The king has decided to tell them in person that Hornby Castle is not theirs.”

Anne didn’t reply. Lord Stanley, with his inscrutable eyes, made her even more afraid than Sir William. At least with Sir William she had some idea what he was thinking; Lord Stanley was a riddle.

They dined with all the family gathered at table. There was laughter and boasting from the men about their prowess on the field of battle, and for their part the ladies and younger children were required to listen and be astonished. Everyone seemed joyful at the eventual outcome, except for Lady Stanley, who sat beside her husband but did not look at him or speak to him - and on the one occasion that his arm brushed hers as he turned to gesture to a servant she cringed from his touch.

Anne spent a restless night, turning in her bed, with fleeting dreams of Hornby and Richard jumbled in incomprehensible visions. Soon after sunrise a servant woke her and brought clean linen and stockings. Anne told the girl to bring her the gown of a midnight blue, that covered her almost to the neck. It had a cap of matching material and Anne asked the girl to pin up her hair beneath it. The effect she saw reflected back at her in the mirror was what she had hoped for – demure, refined, but not unattractive.

The court was gathered at Baynard’s Castle, just upriver from Stanley House, and those who had assisted Edward in the recent turmoil were invited to a great feast there to celebrate the king’s reclamation of his throne. Anne followed Lord and Lady Stanley, in their jewelled and magnificent robes, down to the steps at the water’s edge where the Stanley barge was waiting for them, its canopy flapping in the breeze. Her husband, Edward, walked beside her. He had almost reached her height, but still seemed small as he hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes downcast. Behind her came the Stanleys’ eldest son George, and then Izzie and John giggling together as usual.

Lady Stanley’s disapproval that she had chosen not to wear the yellow gown was still evident in her frown as she watched Anne take her seat.

“You look like a novice, not a Stanley,” she had muttered when Anne had come down the stairs, and her eyes had fallen with more warmth on Izzie who wore a gown of pale green silk, cut fashionably low, with wide slashed sleeves that gave a glimpse of her lemon kirtle beneath.

It was only a short distance from Stanley House to the royal residence and Anne watched with excitement as the high walls drew nearer and the oarsmen manoeuvred the boat up to the landing stage. The barge rocked as they all stood up and Anne, looking up at the towering palace rather than where she was placing her feet, stumbled as she stepped ashore in her soft leather shoes.

She followed in the wake of the Stanleys, up the wide stone steps and through a series of chambers until they reached the huge hall where there seemed to be hundreds of people milling around in their best, brightly coloured clothing. The rising hum of conversation was almost as loud as the musicians and Anne found herself staring open-mouthed at the splendour of the high arched windows filled with stained glass and the lavish tapestries that adorned the walls.

The crowd parted like an ebbing tide as a pageboy showed them to their places at a long table covered with the whitest linen she had ever seen and set with silver cups and platters and flagons of wine. As soon as she was seated Anne’s eyes searched the room for Richard, but the royal party had not yet arrived and the elaborately carved chairs behind the table on the dais were still empty. Then the royal trumpeters sounded a fanfare and the guests rose from their benches to bow and curtsey as the royal party entered. Anne saw a tall fair man wearing a jewelled crown who must be the king. With the tips of her fingers on his sleeve walked a woman wearing purple velvet set with jewels. Then came a man who must be the Duke of Clarence and a small dark woman, his wife Isabel. Anne’s heart beat faster when she saw Richard, dressed in a blue doublet that she knew matched the colour of his eyes. He briefly acknowledged the assembly with a nod of his head and as soon as the king had taken his place he leaned forward to speak in an urgent manner to his brother.

Once the royal party was seated, the trumpets and drums announced the first course and the servants carried in the food, serving the royal table first before bringing overflowing platters to the other tables. The musicians continued to play as the guests ate their way through innumerable dishes, interspersed with huge intricate subtleties that made the diners gasp as they were carried in – a peacock with its huge tail displayed and a swan that concealed a pie filled with live songbirds, which flew in alarm to the rafters of the hall as soon as they were released. And even though there were tumblers and jugglers who strolled between the tables for their entertainment, Anne watched Richard. She willed him to look in her direction, but he remained deep in conversation.

The food could have been horse bread for all that Anne tasted it. Her nerves had dulled her appetite and she could only nibble on some of the tastier morsels as she waited for the feasting to end, hoping that when the time came for her to be presented to the king she would not stumble again, and Richard would at last notice her. But the banquet seemed endless and every time Anne thought it must be finished, more food was borne in.

At last the king gave a signal and the platters were cleared. The jugglers stopped, the minstrels were silenced and an expectant hush fell over the hall as the king turned to beckon Lord Stanley forward. In turn he crooked a forefinger at Anne and Izzie to follow him and Anne slid out from behind the table to approach the dais. She knew she should keep her eyes respectfully lowered but risked an upward glance and met the keen blue gaze of Richard who was looking directly at her. Her stomach fluttered and her heart began to race. She managed to give him the vestige of a smile before Lord Stanley took her elbow and pushed her forward.

“Your Majesty, may I present my daughter, the lady Anne Stanley.” It was the first time she had heard her new name spoken and for a moment she hesitated, thinking that someone else was being presented first. “Make reverence!” whispered Lord Stanley angrily and Anne, gathering her senses along with her skirts, sank to the ground aware of a flush suffusing her cheeks as she stared at the king’s pale leather boots and the fur lined hem of his gown.

“Lady Anne,” she heard him say.

“Kneel before the king,” muttered Lord Stanley in her ear and as Anne moved forward she saw Richard watching her with an amused half-smile.

“Your Majesty,” she managed to say as a large, be-ringed hand was extended before her and she leant forward to give it a tentative kiss before becoming aware of Izzie beside her.

“Stand up. Stand up!” ordered the king after Izzie had paid obeisance. “Let me look at these two heiresses who have caused such argument.”

Anne could see the king clearly now and she was amazed that these two men were brothers. The king was fair-haired and tall, but as he met her gaze she noticed that his eyes were the same shade of blue as Richard’s.

“So you are Anne? The elder of John Harrington’s two daughters?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied lowering her eyes.

“Then you are the owner of Hornby Castle,” he said.

“But...” began Richard.

“I have decided!” replied the king in a voice that made Anne quake as he held up a hand to silence his brother.

“Yes, my lord,” replied Richard with an unfathomable expression and he began to fiddle with the small jewelled knife he used to cut his food.

“Anne. You are your father’s eldest child and I will not deprive you of your inheritance. I have appointed Lord Thomas Stanley as your guardian and he is a goodly and pious man who will guard your interests well. He has already taken you as his own true daughter and your marriage with his son is beneficial to you and to your lands. It is an arrangement with which I am content. And your sister, the lady Elizabeth,” he continued, “will have Melling. There is to be no more dispute in this matter. Call forward Sir James Harrington and Sir Robert Harrington!” said the king and Anne peered down the hall as her uncles came forward wearing the livery collars of the Duke of Gloucester with their white boar pendants.