The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗

'A plague on Gloucester!' he cried. But what was the use of words? He had to find a way out of this miserable situation.

He could see only one way of doing it, and that was to escape.

He began to plan. It would be easy enough to slip out of Sanctuary at dark of night, but where would he go then? There were many houses of ill fame in the city and he was known to them. The point was how far could they be trusted? When he was free, son of the Queen, companion of the King, rich, influential, he had been surrounded by friends. It would be different now.

Or would it? He was the sort of man people would be afraid to offend for the fortunes of war and politics changed quickly and he was of a vengeful nature.

He knew of one house where the lady in charge was particularly fond of him. He had great confidence in his power to charm. Should he sound her? No. That would be unwise. What if a message went astray? What if instead of the loving arms of the lady he found Gloucester's men waiting for him? He would find himself in worse state than he was now.

Nevertheless he must attempt it. He would slip out. He would find his way to the tavern and ask to be hidden there until he could get abroad or away to the North. It should not be difficult. It would be some time before his absence was discovered. His mother would make sure of that.

She listened eagerly when he told her of his plans. She was as weary of this confinement as he was and sure that they could rouse men to follow them. After all was she not the King's mother? And if Anthony could be freed and Richard with him they could immediately begin to rouse the country against Gloucester.

Yes, he must go. So one dark night Dorset left Sanctuary. He made his way through the narrow streets over the familiar cobbles, wrapped in an all-concealing cloak so that his idenrity was completely hidden. He knocked; he was let in; he asked for the lady of the house.

She came to him, and when he threw off his cloak she expressed her joy. The old magic had not deserted him. She was as enamoured as ever and clearly flattered that he had come to her.

T need to remain here for a night or two . . . perhaps a week,' he told her. 'Could you hide me?'

Indeed she could and it should be her pleasure.

He kissed her warmly on the lips in his own inimitable way. Old Edward himself could not have done better.

Her response was warm. He knew he could trust her.

Jane Shore was very uneasy. Life had changed so drastically for her within the last weeks that she was quite bewildered. Deeply she regretted the death of the King. Theirs had been a most

satisfying relationship. That he was really fond of her there was no doubt and their liaison had been of such duration that some might have said it was habit. That may have been but it was a very satisfying, comforting habit.

Jane had been faithful to the King even though Dorset had often tempted her to stray. She could not explain to herself the terrible fascination Dorset had for her. It was as though he had laid a spell on her. When he was near her that compelling attraction was so irresistible that she had to succumb to it knowing full well that there was evil in it—evil in him.

When the King was alive he had not dared to be too persistent. He had followed her with his eyes and in them had been that burning desire which against her will had drawn a response from her. She had fought it off successfully while the King lived. It was a different matter when he was dead.

Dorset had then claimed her and made her his slave. Jane was both repelled and utterly fascinated by the man. When he was not present she could tell herself that she must break away from him; but he only had to appear and she was lost.

Jane was not naturally a loose woman. She was not meant to be passed from one man to another. She needed a settled and respectable existence and with the King she had had that.

She had loved Edward. Who could have helped it? He had seemed to her—as he did to many—the most handsome man in the world. Moreover he had such charm of manner and such kindliness radiated from him; he was so powerful, so romantic, every inch a king, a perfect lover; he was all that Jane could ever have asked for.

She often thought of the early days, and how it had all come about. Her hfe had been simple enough in her father's household for he had been a well-to-do Mercer and those early days had been lived in the house in Cheapside where she had been born. Her mother had died and left Jane an only child to her father's care, which had been strict yet affectionate in its way. Thomas Wainstead had been eager to do everything for his daughter even to finding her a worthy husband in the goldsmith William Shore.

Perhaps all would have been well if Jane had not been so outstandingly beautiful that she caught the roving eye of one of the Court gallants who attempted to abduct her. That man had been William Lord Hastings and she had for ever after been wary

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of him. He was good looking—^but a pale shadow of Edward as every other man must be.

He was rich; he had the means to bribe servants and set the stage for abduction; and this might have taken place had not one of the servants—whom he had bribed to help him drug her mistress—not suddenly grown alarmed and warned Jane.

From the beginning marriage with Goldsmith Shore had been a dire mistake. Jane had wanted to be a good wife to him but she was naturally exuberant, full-blooded and romantic; and the goldsmith who was several years older than herself was certainly no hero of romance.

He was a highly respectable man—naturally he would be since her father had chosen him; he served the Court and was even more comfortably placed than the mercer; he was also deeply religious. Jane found him intolerable.

And then ... it was after the King's return from exile and that must have been some thirteen years ago ... he had come to the goldsmith's shop ostensibly to look at ornaments but in truth to see Jane of whom Hastings had spoken. Dressed as a merchant he had filled the shop with his magnificent presence and as soon as he saw Jane she had been aware of the glint in his eyes and understood.

It was a short step from then to becoming the King's mistress. She had never regretted it although she was often sorry for William Shore who in his way had been devoted to her. In those first days she had worried about her father, how he had taken the news, for there was no doubt that she had become notorious.

In the early days she had often wondered what would become of her when the King tired of her. Jane had never sought advantages; she delighted to please the King and although she knew she shared that honour with many others, still she did not care. She loved him. If she could please him that was her pleasure. This selfless attitude of hers, together with her amazing beauty which never ceased to astonish however many hmes the King beheld it, and her witty tongue which was never used unkindly remained a source of delight to Edward during all the years of their liaison.

For thirteen years they had been lovers. She was part of his life and a part he never wanted to change.

She had had standing at Court and the King had insisted that she accept a fine house which was full of treasures which he had

bestowed on her. He did not want to visit her in some hovel, he had said. And so she had lived in some state although she had not asked that this should be so.

Even the Queen had been kind to her. Elizabeth had sent for her and talked to her most gently. Jane knew that the Queen was aware of the life her husband lived. Perhaps she deplored it, but she preferred that he should have a mistress such as Jane, a good unselfish woman, by no means a harlot, than a succession of mistresses who would try to usurp the Queen's power.