The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
'But we had decided on Elizabeth, had we not? You wanted Elizabeth.'
'There is no name which would please me more but. . . .'
'Then if it is your wish I am going to insist. The child shall be called Elizabeth.'
He kissed the lids of her eyes which gave such distinction to her face. Elizabeth used them sometimes because she feared her eyes might betray those innermost thoughts which she wished to keep from the world.
Now she did not wish Edward to see the triumph. The Duchess of York must learn that she could not insult the Queen and then condescendingly present herself and make demands.
Cecily indeed! After the Duchess who had made such an obvious show of her disapproval of the marriage.
Indeed not. The baby would be named Elizabeth after her mother.
The Princess Elizabeth was christened with a great deal of pomp and ceremony. Everyone was delighted that the King had a legitimate child. A son would have been a greater matter for rejoicing, but never mind, everyone was sure there would be a son in due course.
What was so comforting was that the baby's godmothers were the mothers of the bride and bridegroom. Jacquetta let it be known that she was of as high birth as Cecily Neville and that the Queen's mother had as much right to royal treatment as the King's had.
But the greatest relief of all was that the Earl of Warwick was her godfather. This must mean, it was said, that he was completely reconciled to the marriage. There would have been some perturbation if people could have guessed the inner feelings of the Earl of Warwick. Plans were forming in his head; and he rather welcomed this occasion for it enabled him to allay suspicions. He was not yet ready to act but he was not going to stand aside and see the Woodvilles take over the government of the country which was what they were beginning to do with so many of them placed in the greatest families in the land.
The christening was performed by George Neville, Archbishop of York. Warwick had scattered his men throughout the country which was what the Woodvilles were now attempting to do and it was maddening to contemplate that he, Warwick, was being defeated at his own game.
A few days after the christening came the churching. This should be a grand occasion, because the people must be made to realize the importance of Elizabeth the Queen; those remarks about her low birth and her unsuitability for her new role must be suppressed for ever.
The Queen looked beauhful; her pallor became her; she was exquisitely dressed and as usual she wore her magnificent hair flowing about her shoulders as she walked under an elaborate canopy and there was a grand procession from the Palace of Westminster to the Abbey with priests, ladies, nobles, trumpeters and other musicians. Jacquetta walked immediately behind her daughter, her eyes dancing with memories and anticipation of greater glories to come. Jacquetta often said to her husband that they had been right in everything they did. They had loved rashly, married even more rashly and produced the finest family that was ever granted to a man and woman. 'And it was because we were bold,' she insisted. 'We took what we wanted. We chose each other without thought of riches or greatness and you see riches and greatness are pouring into our laps.'
This marriage of her daughter's was of her making—so she believed. She had been its instigator. Oh, she was happy on that day. Her daughter Queen! All her children in high places! Oh happy happy day when she had conceived the idea of sending Elizabeth into Whittlebury Forest to meet the King ... by accident.
The ceremony over they were back in the palace for the banquet. There was a golden chair for Elizabeth. How wonderful she looked! How regal! Her ladies, her mother among them, knelt before her while she ate very sparingly, neither looking nor speaking to those who knelt so humbly before her.
In spite of the lack of a longed-for boy, Elizabeth had turned it into a triumph. And a few months later she was pregnant again.
It was August when Elizabeth gave birth to her second child.
To her disappointment—and that of the King—this was another daughter. But Edward was as deeply enamoured of Elizabeth as he had ever been. Her cool beauty was so refreshing after the hot passion of his other encounters. These were continuing, though not with the same frequency as they had in his bachelor days. He had no need to make excuses or invent lies for Elizabeth. She never asked about his extra-marital love affairs. They were unimportant. She was the Queen.
As long as he never lost his taste for her, no one could replace her. That was the only thing she need fear and it seemed very unlikely. Edward was polygamous. No one woman would ever satisfy him completely. He could not have chosen a wife more suited to him and as the years passed he became more and more devoted to her.
He quickly recovered from his initial disappointment over the second girl. The boy would come, he was sure. They were fertile both of them and they might have a girl or two perhaps before they got their boy. But the boy would surely come. Elizabeth already had two to prove it.
Elizabeth was already thinking of Thomas, the elder of her two sons by John Grey, because for him she wanted Anne, the heiress of the Duke of Exeter. Warwick had already decided on the girl for one of his nephews but Elizabeth had won the day. Warwick was annoyed about this, but he was still not showing what was in his mind.
The new baby was sent to the Palace of Shene to be in the nursery there with her sister Elizabeth who was her senior only by sixteen months. The Queen was determined that they should have a household worthy of Princesses who were heiresses to the throne. Therefore the babies' nursery was conducted in the utmost state and presided over by Margaret, Lady Bemers, the governess their mother had appointed.
There must be more children and most of all there must be a son, and Elizabeth was as confident as the King was, that in due course they would have that boy.
Elizabeth never forgot old scores which she had decided should be settled; and as she rarely acted in haste she was always prepared to wait for revenge.
There was one remark which had been repeated to her by the King himself which she had never forgotten. It was Lord Desmond who had made it before the birth of the Princess Elizabeth, when he had suggested to the King that he should divorce Elizabeth and make a more suitable marriage. Edward had laughed the idea to scorn, but Elizabeth did not forgive it for that reason. He had planted a bad seed in the King's mind and who knew in what dark spot it was sprouting. A little ill fortune, a suggestion which to an ambitious man would be irresistible . . . and before she and her mother could do anything about it, her enemies would be descending on her.
Therefore she was interested when she heard a criticism of Lord Desmond's rule in Ireland. It came from John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester. Worcester said that Desmond's rule appeared to be succeeding because he favoured the Irish. It was natural that the Irish should like him. Of course they did, he was an Irishman himself and Worcester believed that none could be so great a friend of the Irish without being a traitor to the English.
Worcester had always been a staunch supporter of the King. There was a family connection for his wife was the niece of Cecily, Duchess of York. Worcester's character appealed to Elizabeth. He was a man who would calculate long before he struck. In fact, he had a reputation for inflicting unnecessary cruelty on enemies who fell into his power.
He had been a deputy in Ireland and therefore knew what he was talking about. Later he had been sent out to see the Pope on a mission for the King and had stayed for a while in Italy, and his sojourn had had a great effect on him. He was said to have imbibed a great many Italian ways and was as much Italian as English now.
