The Follies of the King - Plaidy Jean (электронная книга TXT) 📗

never say what you do not mean?’

‘What would be the point of that?’ she asked. ‘Speech is to express what we feel.’

‘I like you, Philippa,’ he said. ‘You are different from other people. I begin to fear that I live in a world of deceit.’

He was frowning. He could not tell innocent Philippa that he believed

Mortimer was his mother’s lover and that his father had treated her badly

because he would surround himself with favourites whom he loved better than he loved her.

‘What do you mean, Edward?’ asked Philippa, but he shook his head.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It is too beautiful a morning to talk of such things.

Tell me about your childhood here. It was a happy one, I know. Your father and mother love you and each other dearly.’

‘But of course. We are all one family.’

He felt an impulse to lean forward and kiss her which he did.

She drew back blushing a little.

‘I like you so much,’ he explained.

‘I like you too, Edward.’

‘As a girl,’ he went on, ‘you will have to leave your home and marry one

day.’

Her brow clouded. ‘I know my parents think of it sometimes. I heard my

father say to my mother that she wanted to keep us all children forever.’

‘And do you want to stay a child forever?’

She was thoughtful. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not now. Besides it would be no use,

would it? I dare swear one day I shall have to go away. Margaret will go first because she is the eldest.’

‘Boys are more fortunate, especially heirs to crowns. They do not have to

leave their countries.’

‘No. You will stay in England and your bride will come to you. But she will have to leave her home of course. She will not mind that, though.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know she won’t mind once she sees you.’

‘Philippa, would you mind?’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I should be glad.’

Then she feared she had said too much for his eyes had taken on a deeper

shade of blue and he was smiling.

It seemed as though there was a sudden silence in the forest. Then Philippa said: ‘You will be a King and a King of England. They will have to find you a very grand princess to be your Queen.’

His mouth was firm and his shining eyes rested on her as he said: ‘I shall choose my own.’

Philippa was a little afraid. Instinct warned her that she should not be alone here with the Prince. Her mother would say it was wrong for her to allow herself to be led away. She had always obeyed her mother.

Instinctively she turned away, urging her horse forward. Edward walked his horse beside her and soon they were out of the clearing.

Before they returned to the castle they had joined the rest of the party.

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The Queen knew that she could not stay too long even when offered such

hospitality. The Count and Countess treated her like an honoured guest and Sir John hovered adoringly, but, as she said to Mortimer, they must move on.

However, she had a notion that coming to Hainault was going to prove one of the best courses they could have taken. She was going to speak to the Count of her predicament but first she would confer with Sir John. Sir John was only too delighted to enjoy a tete-a-tete with her, and posing as the pathetic lady in distress— which was the role in which he liked her best, she fancied she gave him a long account of her sufferings during her life with Edward and how it had come to the point when she could endure it no longer. He turned pale with

horror when she mentioned the fear she had of the wicked Despensers and how she believed that if she set foot in England that would be an end of her.

‘You must not go back without adequate protection,’ he declared.

‘You are right of course, my dear good friend, but how can I find that

protection?’

‘I will go with you.’

‘You are so good to me, but one man alone, however valiant, could not save me.’

‘I shall not go alone. I shall take an army with me.’

Isabella’s heart leaped in triumph. ‘You would do that?’

‘It would be my joy and my privilege.’

‘An army?’ she began.

‘Yes, an army to join your own. We would march on Westminster and force

the King to offer up those despicable men. I shall not rest until we have their heads for I see that you will be unsafe while they live.’

‘I cannot believe anyone could be so good to me as you are.’

‘You will see,’ he promised. ‘You will see.’

‘Do you realize, my dear Sir John, that this means going to a foreign country and fighting someone’s else’s cause?’

‘It is fighting your cause, my dear lady, and I ask nothing better than that.’

‘You would have to have your brother’s consent.’

‘Fear not, I shall speak to him.’

Her heart sank. This was a romantic young man. His brother, the more

mature Count who controlled Sir John and his armies, might not consent.

‘Do you think he will agree?’

‘I shall beg and implore him and continue to do so until he becomes so

weary of my importunings that he will be glad to be rid of me.’

‘Oh how I thank God for throwing me into your path.’

He kissed her hand. He would go at once to his brother, he said, and tell him that he proposed to go to England with her in order to set her son on the throne and depose that Edward who had lost the confidence of his people? and most heinous sin of all had ill-treated the most wonderful woman in the world.

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While he was sympathetic, the Count was far from enthusiastic at the

project.

‘My dear brother,’ he said, ‘you are proposing to go into a foreign country and embark on a war which is really no concern of yours.’

‘The fact that Edward of England has ill-treated a lady is surely of concern to any knight.’

‘You are young and romantic,’ replied the Count. ‘That is not good politics.’

‘What would you suggest I do?’

‘Escort the lady to the coast. Wish her well. Offer her friendship but not an army.’

‘I could not do that.’

‘You cannot involve Hainault in English affairs.’

‘It is not a matter of politics. It is one of chivalry.’

‘Oh, brother, I fancy the Queen of England is a very astute lady. She will know how to look after herself. No, I cannot give you permission to take an army to England.’

‘ I should raise that army. It would be my responsibility.’

‘You are my brother, remember. No, I could not give my consent.’

Sir John’s lips were stubborn. For the first time there was a coolness

between him and his brother. The Count thought: If I do not give my consent, he will act without it. That much is certain.

Isabella, knowing that the interview had taken place, was eager to know the result. She waylaid Sir John and was immediately struck by his dismal looks.

‘You have spoken to your brother?’ she asked anxiously.

Sir John nodded gloomily. ‘He is against it. Oh, believe me, he has the

utmost sympathy for your predicament. He would do a great deal to help you?’

‘But his generosity would stop at sending an army.’

‘That is what he says. But I do not despair. I shall persuade him?’

‘And if he will not agree?’

He kissed her hand. ‘I should never desert you,’ he answered.

Isabella sought an opportunity of talking to the Count alone, but she did not mention the fact that his brother had spoken to him.

She said: ‘It has been a great pleasure to rest awhile under your roof, Count, and do you know what has pleased me as much as anything? It is to see the

friendship which has sprung up between our children. Edward is quite enchanted by your delightful daughters and I fancy they are not displeased with him.’

The Count was alert. He had a great respect for Isabella’s strategies. ‘He is a charming boy. Handsome, tall, strong and of noble character. That much is