Daughter of York (26 page)

S
HENE WAS AS
she remembered it, except that now it was early spring and even more enchanting than when she had been there in June four years before. As a child, Margaret loved the season that coincided with her birthday, and she thought God was giving her his special blessing every year with the return of warmer weather. She dubbed April God’s golden month, when the fields, hills, woods and streams burst forth in the yellows of buttercups, marsh marigolds, cowslips, broom, daffodils and her favorite spring flower, the primrose. Even the new leaves on the willows, birches, aspens and hazels had a pale yellow tinge to them before the summer sun lent a depth to the green.

England never looks more beautiful than now, she thought, meandering by the river between the palace and the orchard. She hoped she would never have to leave it, though she guessed she probably would. She bent and gathered several buttercups, examining their burnished petals and jagged dark green leaf fronds. She stopped and turned to Fortunata, who she knew would be right behind her, and held one of the blossoms directly under her chin. Fortunata frowned. “
Madonna?
” she questioned.

“I am seeing if you like butter,
pochina.
And I see that you do,” Margaret told her.

“What?”

“Not ‘what’ but ‘forgive me’ or ‘I beg your pardon’,” Margaret corrected her. She bent over, gave Fortunata the flower and told her to hold it no more than an inch from under her chin. “Can you see the yellow reflected on my skin?”

“
Si, madonna.
Very yellow!” Fortunata cried, fascinated. “Do you like butter, too?”

Margaret laughed. “Aye, I do.”

Fortunata ran back to the other ladies, who were also gathering flowers to tuck in their bodices. She tested each one, much to everyone’s amusement
ment, and Margaret watched her fondly. No one could have predicted the friendship that had grown between the tall princess and her dwarf, but with her quick intelligence and ability to read her mistress’s every humor, Fortunata was firmly established as Margaret’s favorite companion.

“A silver penny for your thoughts, my lady,” a familiar voice from her past murmured behind her. She swung round to face John Harper, his yellow-brown eyes smiling into hers. She had forgotten how handsome he was.

“Master Harper, you startled me,” she said, smiling back. “God’s greeting, sir. I do not remember how long ago it was when …” She tailed off, remembering exactly when it was he had given her that moment of ecstasy.

He picked up her hand that still held a buttercup and kissed it. “Ah, my lady, but I do. Would you like to know how many days I have counted since then?” His tone was seductive, and Margaret was tempted to flirt with him. But knowing how many eyes were upon them from her immediate circle to others who might be at the dozens of windows in the palace, she resisted the temptation. Perhaps Anthony was among those observing this little scene, she thought. Besides, she realized somewhat regretfully, she had no desire for John anymore. His desire for her, however, seemed to be as strong as ever.

“Dare I hope I have been as much in your mind as you have in mine, my lady? When I saw you among the queen’s party arriving from London, my heart stopped beating.” He was still holding her hand, so she gently but firmly disengaged herself from him.

“Master Harper, I am flattered by your declaration, but I was young when we first met, and I must ask your forgiveness that I behaved as I did with you. Please tell me you forgive me, and that this must be an end to our …” She didn’t quite know what the correct word was.

“
Affaire de coeur,
madam,” the crushed young man finished for her. “Ah, lady, then I must leave you with my broken heart.” He bowed curtly and strode over the grass to the palace. Margaret sighed. He was indeed appealing, but she knew she was destined for greater things. She hoped she had not been too cruel.

W
HEN SHE SAW
Anthony dancing with his wife, her thoughts flew back to the meeting in the garden. If she had not rebuffed John and could be
flirting with him now, she might have been able to give Anthony cause for jealousy. She was surprised by the resentment she harbored for Eliza Scales. The woman was quite obviously unaware of the magnificent man she had for a husband, for she hardly looked at him during the intricate steps of the
basse danse.
Certes, Margaret knew dance decorum ruled that a woman was not supposed to lift her eyes to her partner’s face, but tedium was written all over Eliza’s countenance. She was plainly bored with the dance, with her partner and with the whole court. Margaret wondered how she had taken the news that she was to be one of Elizabeth’s ladies-in-waiting, an enormous honor for Anthony’s wife.

Anthony was constantly by Edward’s side these days, much to the chagrin of Will Hastings, who was, however, still the king’s right-hand man. Through the years, there had been some bad blood over a land dispute between the Hastings and Woodville families, but Edward seemed oblivious to the hostility and trusted both men implicitly, making them uncomfortable bedfellows among his closest advisers.

Margaret grimaced watching the couple now. How she longed to have Anthony drop his wife’s hands, take Eliza to a chair and come and invite her to dance in Eliza’s stead. She and George had spent hours with their dancing master at Greenwich and had become accomplished dancers, and she knew she would make Anthony a better partner.

George must have thought about those lessons at precisely the same time, for there he was, exquisitely dressed in a peacock-blue doublet and spotless white hose, to ask for a dance. He tucked the trailing ends of his long sleeves in his belt behind his back and executed a graceful bow. Margaret draped the train of her skirt over her arm, showing off the brilliant blue silk underdress. The minstrels picked up their pace, the recorders, crumhorns, rebecs and tambourines striking up a lively
saltarello
, which allowed the dancers’ feet to leave the ground. Even though George was not as tall as Margaret, they were well matched in skill, and all eyes were on them as they made their way nimbly around the hall, her cream satin gown swirling gracefully behind her.

Edward, already in his cups, applauded loudly as they made their bow to each other at the end of the dance. George basked in Edward’s admiration and slowly and deliberately led Margaret to the throne, where they both made their obeisance.

“Why don’t you ask Bess to dance, George? I think she is every whit as good as Meg here. Go, my love,” he said to his wife, “I would see you dance.”

Elizabeth rose, curtseyed to Edward and took George’s arm. Edward patted her vacant seat. “I have seen your Harper friend here tonight, Meggie. He seems down in the mouth. Why don’t you cheer him up?” Edward muttered behind his hand. “’Tis no good pining for Anthony—aye, I have seen you staring lovelorn at him. You need a good romp in the hay with a lusty young man who has no wife!”

“Ned! Will you stop tempting me to risk my maidenhead,” Margaret said, also behind her hand. “I am in control of my behavior, which is more than I can say for you. You have been married but a year, and I have seen you make sheep’s eyes at several ladies in that time. And the rumors! ’Tis even said you have a bastard, and I cannot doubt it,” she tut-tutted teas-ingly. “How will Elizabeth put up with you? Does she know about Eleanor Butler, for example?”

Margaret was not prepared for the reaction to this name from the past, simply the first name that came into her mind. She saw Edward grip his chair until his knuckles were white, the color of his face when he turned and leveled his furious gaze on her. Had they been alone, she might have expected him to hit her.

“What do you know about Eleanor Butler?” he hissed under his breath, so angry that she was truly afraid of him.

“N-nothing, Ned, I swear. I only … Oh, I am so s-sorry …” She could not go on for the tears that welled up. She was grateful that they were set apart from the rest of the company so that no one could see her humiliation.

“You swear you know naught of Eleanor?” he said again, a little more gently. “Why did you mention her then?” His blue eyes bored through her, and the fear in them surprised her back to her rational self. Why, he is afraid of the Butler woman, she thought. Why? She had not seen Eleanor at court for more than two years, and everyone surmised Edward had grown tired of her.

“I know naught of her, I swear to you, Ned. Her name sprang into my mind, ’tis all. Did you cast her aside unkindly?” She waited, but Edward was sullenly silent. “Ah, perhaps ’twas she who cast you aside,” she said,
certain she had hit on the truth. “Is that why you are so angry? Fear not, brother, for I did the same thing today in the garden with Master John Harper.” She was cajoling him to let go of his black humor, and when she saw his complexion regain its natural color and his full mouth turn up at the corners, she knew she had succeeded.

“Oh, well, Meggie, more’s the pity. The young man might have given you a good deal of pleasure!” Edward chose not to answer her question about Eleanor, and he called to an attendant for more wine. Margaret sat back thankfully, her fear of him abating, and she vowed not to cross him again.

A
FEW DAYS
later, when seasonal showers were keeping everyone indoors, Elizabeth summoned Margaret to her privy chamber. Margaret still had difficulty acknowledging Elizabeth’s superiority after so many years as the highest-ranked lady at Edward’s court after Cecily, who was rarely in attendance there. However, dutifully she hurried to her sister-in-law’s side, Fortunata and Beatrice in her wake. Margaret had not been sorry to say good-bye to Ann, whose new husband had begged to be allowed to take his bride to live on his estates a few months previously. Jane was in seclusion with her monthly courses and regretfully relinquished her place to Beatrice.

Margaret found Elizabeth at her most animated when she arrived, curtseyed and sat in the other high-backed chair. Lady Alice Fogge brought her a footstool and was clearly offended when Margaret did not use it but tucked it beside her chair for Fortunata to sit on. Margaret took no notice of Lady Alice’s stuck-up nose but gave her a brilliant smile, shaming the woman into a curtsey and a “by your leave, my lady.” Elizabeth, too, eyed Fortunata with mild annoyance, but Margaret had to admit the queen had never again questioned the presence of the dwarf since that day on the river. Today, Elizabeth was too keyed up to pay the servant much mind, as she was eager to impart her plan to Margaret.

“I am so glad you are come, Margaret. I have conceived of a delightful
divertissement
that I read about in a book Anthony gave me, a chronicle of chivalric exploits. I have no doubt you have read it from end to end, if what I hear about you is true,” she said, her distinctive tinkling laugh lending her a warmth that was not always present. Edward must have
constantly made her laugh during their courtship, Margaret had uncharitably decided early in her acquaintance with Elizabeth. It lit up her face and transformed her.

Margaret smiled. “Was it perhaps Froissart’s
Chronicles,
Elizabeth? And, yes, I have indeed read them. They are inspiring, don’t you think?”

“Aye,” Elizabeth dismissed them. “’Twas one exploit that took my fancy, and I have received permission from Edward to re-create it now,” she went on excitedly. “Pray tell me what you think. It involves my brother and a flower of sovenance.”

T
WO DAYS LATER,
after High Mass, Anthony answered a command to visit the apartments of his sister the queen. He arrived and was surprised to see so many ladies in attendance, including a smiling Margaret, dressed in a gown that would have put the buttercup’s golden glory to shame. He extended his leg and bowed low in the midst of them, sweeping off his soft velvet bonnet.

“My sovereign lady,” he murmured, kneeling in front of Elizabeth. “I am your humble servant. How may I serve you?”

“My Lord Scales, we have called you here for a special purpose,” Elizabeth said, enigmatically.

Anthony looked up at her quizzically and dared to glance at Margaret despite the presence of his wife on Elizabeth’s other side. Margaret continued to smile and on a signal from Elizabeth slowly rose as another lady stepped forward to present her with a cushion on which lay an exquisite garter of gold garnished with pearls in the form of a flower. Before Anthony knew what was happening, Margaret was fastening the garter around his muscular thigh just above the soft cuffs of his leather boots. At the same time, his wife slipped a piece of parchment tied with gold thread into his hat. They all stood back to see their handiwork.

Anthony put his hand on his heart and thanked them all for this flower of sovenance, perfectly understanding that in the paper was the manner of his emprise, or adventure, and that he must now seek the king’s consent to carry it out. He rose, kissed Elizabeth’s hand, bowed to Margaret and took his leave, carrying his hat and parchment with him.

The clucking and twittering broke out as soon as the door shut behind
him and the ladies were alone. After enduring the unattractive din for a few moments, Elizabeth stood and held up her hand to silence it.

“Lady Margaret and I have charged Lord Scales to enter the lists in a two-day tournament in London with a knight of equal valor, the emprise being arranged within the year. The jeweled garter will be the prize for the winner. For those of you who may not already know, my brother is a master of the art of jousting, and I could not have a more admirable champion. We can all look forward to this special event.” Elizabeth was at her most charming, and Margaret found herself applauding with the rest as the queen sat down.

Margaret did not know that her name would be forever linked to the challenge that was given to Anthony, Lord Scales, that day.

W
ITH
E
DWARD’S CONSENT,
Anthony sent the Chester Herald to Brussels to offer the challenge—and the garter prize—to another Anthony, called Antoine in his native Burgundy. He was the illegitimate son of Duke Philip and was known to be the duke’s favorite son, especially since the duke’s falling out with his heir, Charles, count of Charolais. Within the month, the challenge was accepted by the Bastard in front of his senile father the duke and his half brother, Charles, as well as the great lords of Burgundy. After receiving many gifts, Chester Herald arrived back in England a few days before Elizabeth’s crowning, returned the garter and gave Edward and Anthony the Bastard’s assurance that he would be in England within the year as stipulated in the emprise.