Wife to Henry V: A Novel by Hilda Lewis

Author:Hilda Lewis [Lewis, Hilda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 15th Century, France, England/Great Britain, Royalty, Military & Fighting
ISBN: 9780091118709
Publisher: HUTCHINSON
Published: 2014-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXI

She was for France.

Was ever woman so fortunate? She had enjoyed her pregnancy knowing herself beautified, loving her importance; childbirth had been easy; and she had given England its heir—a child beautiful as the little lord Jesus...and there had been no reprimand from Henry about the child's birthplace. Perhaps he was too busy; or perhaps he realized that it was woman's business after all. She had performed her duties, gone to her churching, baptised her son, chosen the godparents—John of Bedford and Bishop Beaufort...and Jacqueline. The King's trusted brother, the King's rich uncle. Henry should be pleased. But...Jacque. Would Henry be pleased about her, too? Why not? The Gloucester affair seemed to be fizzling out now that he was away fighting. Jacque sighed still for her handsome Humphrey...but he was not renowned for his faithful heart and there were plenty of pretty women in France. Besides, Jacque was, after all her friend, her own friend. Henry would see that; Henry was more reasonable than one might think from that dark look of his!

Her resentment against him was gone. He was a soldier with little time for love-making; and she must make the best of it. He wanted sons and he should have them. Several sons then, to please Henry; and a little daughter to please herself.

Her satisfaction was deepened by knowledge of her own good looks. The young thinness of her face had rounded; the Valois nose looked smaller. Her colouring was brilliant as ever and she would match it with the splendour of gown and jewel. She would dazzle them all including Michelle—for surely Michelle would come from Ghent.

It came to her, surprisingly, that she didn't want to dazzle Michelle, Michelle who was nothing though she was wife to the richest peer in Christendom. No, not Michelle with her yellow face and her long nose and her poor meagre breasts.

* * *

Master Owen Tudor came forward to greet the Queen.

Jacqueline's roving eye rested upon him with approval—the handsome fellow! But the Queen had little thought to spare for any creature but herself these days; not even for a gentleman so well-made, certainly not for one so humble. She barely nodded.

When the gowns were laid before her she shrugged, slighting the rich fabrics. She turned an impatient back upon Tudor. “When I ride through Paris for all the world to see,” she told Jacqueline, “I must be worth the seeing. When my sister Isabella came into England she brought with her gowns that were the wonder of Christendom, so I’ve heard!” She turned about to Tudor. “Match me those wonders.”

“There is but one wonder in Christendom,” he bowed to the Queen, “and she is unmatchable.”

She said, plucked brows lifted, “We will excuse the compliments, Tudor. Find me such gowns.”

“The Treasury, Madam.” He lifted empty hands.

She sighed, saying nothing.

“The Treasury?” It was Jacqueline who spoke. “Why talk of the Treasury? There's your dower.”

“There's no dower—unless I be widowed which God forbid. Henry took me at no charge to my parents.”

Jacqueline laughed.

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