Jean Plaidy (12 page)

My hopes that the project must fail were short-lived. Once the bargain had been struck my father would be eager to proceed with it. I learned later that I owed the delay to the fact that there was difficulty in persuading Queen Margaret to accept my father as her friend. But I suppose his reputation and power, and the men he could command to serve him, made it difficult for her to refuse him as an ally; and eventually she gave way to what must have been very distasteful to her: accepting me, Warwick's daughter, as her daughter-in-law.

My mother, my sister, and I were all in a very melancholy mood while we waited for developments.

Within a few days of my mother's telling me of the plans for my future, my father arrived at the convent. He had come to take his family to Angers, where I was to be betrothed formally to the Prince of Wales.

My mother must have told him how worried I was at the prospect, for he sent for me.

I went apprehensively, expecting to be peremptorily told to hide my repugnance to the match, but it was not quite like that.

My father was not an unkind man and I believe that, as he studied me, he was thinking of the ordeal he was about to thrust on me. Ambition was the great force in his life and nothing could deter his following it wherever it led, but, at the same time, he could spare a thought for those whom he used to further his ends—particularly if they were members of his family.

“I hear, daughter,” he said, “that your mother has told you of the glorious future that awaits you.”

“She has told me that I am to be betrothed to King Henry's son.”

“That is so. Henry is to be returned to the throne and in due course his son will inherit it. It is a great opportunity for you.”

“It is difficult for me to think of him as a husband.”

“I'll swear it would be difficult for you to think of anyone as a husband, as one has never been proposed for you before.”

“But we were always brought up to hate the Lancastrians.”

He waved his hand impatiently. “This will be a great match for you. The best you could possibly hope for. You will see your son on the throne of England. Is that not enough?” I looked at him blankly and he smiled at me. “Your betrothal will take place very soon,” he went on. “You should prepare to leave this place.”

I wanted to plead with him. I wanted to explain what this prospect was like for a young girl who had not seen very much of the world until lately (when I had witnessed some of the less pleasant aspects of it), who had lived most of her life at Middleham and who had—on those rare occasions when she had thought of marriage—had one in mind who had always been her friend and who, she was sure, had some affection for her.

But how could I explain to this man? He was my father; he was fond of me in a way; but to him I was just an object to be moved around to whatever position could bring most gain to him.

It was an unfair world. It terrified me. I did not want to marry…yet. I wanted to go on being a child. I had seen what marriage had done to Isabel and she loved her husband.

I wanted to go back to Middleham, to live quietly there; and vaguely, in my dreams, I had thoughts of Richard's coming there and saying, “Marry me, Anne. I love you and you love me and we both love Middleham. Let us live there happily ever after.”

What foolish dreams! How could I ever have thought I could make my father understand them? How could I expect him to abandon a plan that was important to him, for the sake of making me happy and allaying my fears?

I left him and made my preparations to leave.

         

My mother came to me just before we left. She looked as though she had good news to impart, and she had.

“The wedding cannot take place until there has been a dispensation from the Pope, and that, as you know, takes a little time to come by.”

“Then why do I have to leave here now?”

“Because there must be a betrothal before plans go ahead. You see, the marriage is very important to your father, and Queen Margaret is not very eager for it. She has to be persuaded that it is her only chance of getting the throne.”

“She does not want me,” I said. “And I suppose Edward does not either.”

“They will want you when they realize what this marriage means.”

“It is hateful. I am not like a real person. I am just tolerated because of a treaty.”

“Marriages of people in high places are often like that, my child.”

“I hate it. I hate it.”

She put her arms around me.

“It will take a long time for the dispensation,” she said, “and you cannot be married without it. Perhaps it will never come.”

I looked at her wonderingly, and she tried to brush aside that last remark. But at length she said, “Well, King Edward would naturally try to stop it if he could, wouldn't he? And you know what popes are. They fear to offend people in high places. I am just saying that it may not be easy to get the dispensation.”

“But I shall have to go through with this betrothal.”

“Yes, you must do that.”

“Does that mean I am married to him?”

“In a way, but the marriage is not consummated until the ceremony takes place. That means that you will continue to live under my care until you are actually married.”

I must say I felt a little better after that. The marriage was not imminent. Fervently I hoped the pope would refuse to give the dispensation.

We were an unhappy party that left the convent on that June day. Isabel was bewildered, still weak from mental and physical exhaustion, still mourning the loss of her child. I think she was not ambitious for power; but she wanted grandeur and excitement; she had dreamed of herself as a queen and now it seemed that role might well pass to me. That I was reluctant to receive it was of no importance.

I wondered what Clarence was doing. He did not come with the party to collect us. I was shocked by the manner in which my father could coolly cast him aside. I knew that he had been assured that he would be well treated in the new reign. He was to have vast lands that would bring him wealth and a certain amount of power; and if the Prince of Wales and I died without heirs, he was to have the throne. Poor consolation for a man who had so recently been promised it unconditionally.

Poor Clarence! Poor Isabel! But I was far more sorry for myself.

We were going first to Blois, where I was to be presented to my formidable mother-in-law-to-be and my future husband.

Blois is one of the most impressive
châteaux
in France, but I was overcome with dread as we approached those magnificent gray stone walls emblazoned with the swan and arrow, the emblem of the counts of Blois. I felt as though I were going into a dark prison.

Aware of my fears, my mother tried to reassure me and I noticed that even my father watched me with some concern in his eyes. That was because, I told myself with some bitterness, I was important to his schemes. If only King Edward had not married Elizabeth Woodville, this would not have happened.

The dreaded moment arrived, and I was face to face with Margaret of Anjou. She was seated in a chair that looked like a throne, but perhaps that was because she was in it and made it seem so. She was intimidatingly regal—a tall, stately woman with remains of beauty still visible in her ravaged face. There was a hardness of expression that could have been induced by suffering. I felt a twinge of pity for her. What bitterness must have been hers, proud woman that she was! She had married a poor weak man and tried to maintain him in his place. I believe she must have given the whole of her married life to fighting for his crown and my father had been the one who had taken it from him and put it on Edward's head. Now that was changed, which was, of course, the reason why I was here.

Even as she looked at me, I could see why she hated me, as she must have hated everyone connected with the House of Warwick.

Coldly she extended her hand. I knelt and took it. Her eyes assessed me, summing up every little detail of my appearance. I could feel those cold eyes attempting to pry into my mind.

“You may rise,” she said at length.

I heard that when my father had first seen her she had been so determined to refuse his offer that she had kept him waiting for hours before she would receive him, and when she did she made him kneel for fifteen minutes before bidding him to rise. I could imagine how my proud father relished that. But he was a man to whom the project of the moment was of paramount importance and he would endure a great deal to succeed in his plans. How I wished they did not include me!

“Sit beside me,” she commanded. “I would speak with you.”

I obeyed in silence.

“Your father has told you of the great honor that awaits you.”

“He has told me I am to be married, your grace.”

“To the Prince of Wales,” she said. “You will be presented to him shortly. Your father and I have agreed to this marriage. You are indeed fortunate. I trust that we shall soon be back in England, in our rightful place. In the meantime you are to be betrothed. I have told your father that there will be no marriage until the kingdom is in King Henry's hands.”

That was the best news I could have, and I hoped it took a long time, and my hopes that it would were high. Edward was not going to relinquish it easily. Richard would be beside him to hold it with him. Indeed, even with all my father's power, it was going to be a hard task to wrest the crown from Edward. And I was not to enter into this odious marriage until they did!

She clapped her hands suddenly and imperiously. “Tell the prince that I wish to see him,” she said to the woman who came hurrying to her.

My heart was beating fast. She did not like me. She hated this marriage. She was accepting it under duress because it was the price my father demanded for helping her husband to regain his crown and she would suppress her dislike of anything connected with Warwick to realize her greatest ambition. As for my father, he wanted revenge on Edward; he wanted to set up his own puppet. But how would he fare with such a woman as this? And, of course, he wanted to see his daughter on the throne, so I was to be used to bring about his desires. I must marry this prince whom I had never seen. I must provide heirs to the throne that my father might be satisfied and the future kings of England would have Warwick blood in their veins.

I had never felt so humiliated. I was just a creature to be used to satisfy their ambitions. It was a sordid bargain, and I was at the center of it.

He stood before me—my future husband. He was of medium height and tolerably good-looking; his chin was weak and there was a slackness about his lips and a glint in his eyes as he studied me. I did not like his manner.

I suddenly realized that I was comparing him with Richard; and I faced the truth then that, up to this time, I had cherished the thought that marriage with Richard was feasible. The brother of the king and Warwick's daughter. Yes, it could have been a possibility. Was I not—as Isabel had reminded me—one of the richest heiresses in the country?

I was afraid of this man. I tried to remember what I had heard of him and could not recall. Few people had talked of him; they had believed that his mother had left the country forever. Edward of York appeared to be firmly on the throne and had heirs to follow him—so why should people be interested in Henry's son?

“The Lady Anne Neville,” said Queen Margaret. “Lady Anne, the Prince of Wales.”

He took my hand and I wondered if he were aware that I cringed. Perhaps he was, for he looked faintly amused.

I wanted to shout, I cannot marry you. I will not. There was a hint of derision, even of cruelty in his smile. I knew that I had been a fool to show my fear.

         

Angers is a beautiful city situated on the left bank of the River Maine just before it joins the Loire, but to me it will always be one of the places I most wish to forget.

My mother might try to soothe me with assurances that the ceremony that was about to be performed was not in itself a marriage. Queen Margaret herself had insisted that that should not be performed until her husband was firmly on the throne of England. I kept reminding myself of that. On the other hand, betrothal was binding and was in some respects tantamount to a marriage.

The massive moated castle, with its seventeen towers, was like a prison to me. How often I thought of Middleham during those dark days! Oh, to be there…to be young again…getting to know Richard…forming that friendship which, as far as I was concerned, would last through life!

But what was the use of dreaming of Middleham? I was at Angers where I was to be the sacrificial lamb offered to my father's ambitions.

And there I was at the altar. All present were required to swear on the relic of the True Cross to be faithful forever to King Henry the Sixth. The betrothal ceremony followed and all the time I was thinking, I shall never be happy again.

When it was over, I was to be in the care of my future mother-in-law until that time when I should be truly married. I was glad there were those two events that must take place before that could be: my father must win the crown for King Henry and there must be a dispensation from the pope. I prayed fervently for the delay of both of them.