Chapter 4
Donington Castle lay four days’ ride north from Woodstock.
Jeanette and her household, escorted by Prince Edward, arrived on a day of damp, bone-freezing fog.
Harbingers had ridden out ahead of the main party, but even so the castle was unprepared for a sudden influx of visitors.
Everyone had expected their lady to remain at court for several weeks.
News of the Earl’s demise had only reached them a few days ago, and everything had frozen in that moment.
The arrival of the harbingers had broken the spell.
Floors had been hastily swept and the candle stubs dug out of their sockets and replaced with new ones.
Fires had been lit although the timber was damp and there was more smoke than flame.
The cook had set cauldrons of pottage to bubble and kindled the bread oven.
Edward tightened his lips at the shortcomings but said nothing until he had escorted Jeanette and the children to her chamber, which at least had better light and a decent fire in the hearth.
He had his servants carry his baggage to another chamber and sent his yeoman, Walter de Roet, to assemble the servants in the hall, not to castigate but to rally and give direction.
‘Your master would not wish you to linger in sadness and shirk your duties,’ he said.
‘Put your shock and grief aside and consider how you may best serve your mistress and her children. You owe it to your lord’s honour and your own to do your duty.
I shall stay for a few days to oversee what must be done, and some of my men shall remain to continue the work and report to me.
’ He ranged his piercing gaze over the gathering.
‘Your lord’s heir may still be some years from his majority, and these are uncertain times, but be assured, everything will continue in order – and you are the foremost part of that order.
Do I make myself clear? I expect the best of each one of you. ’
Having made his mark on the servants, Edward departed to his chamber knowing he had made the right decision to accompany Jeanette to Donington. She was still in a fragile state of disbelief and he had the authority to act on her behalf, and would do so in her interests.
Going to one of his baggage chests, he pulled out a folded blanket that his mother had given to him. Woven in plaid of copper, cream and gold, from the famed wool of Leominster, it was comfortingly soft under his fingers. Bidding his squires stay behind, he left the room and went to see Jeanette.
She was sitting before the hearth in her chamber watching the flames as if they were pictures. ‘At least the wood is dry,’ he said as he draped the blanket around her shoulders. ‘Someone’s put damp logs on the hearth in the hall, and it’s smoking like the devil’s chimney.’
Her polite smile of response told him she was only half in the world. He had observed during their journey that some days were better for her than others and today had been a difficult one.
‘Do not feel you must stay on my account,’ she said. ‘I would not tie you down, and you have much to do elsewhere I know.’
‘Nothing as vital as this. The earldom of Kent is a wealthy and important estate that needs managing. You already have excellent stewards who report to you, I know, but they must be held to account and audited by the Crown now circumstances have changed. I can take stock and ensure everything is done to your benefit.’
‘Thank you.’ She pulled the blanket around her body protectively, and fixed her gaze on the fire again, closing herself off from him.
He leaned round to kiss her cheek, feeling her smooth skin under his lips, inhaling her scent, then took his leave, pausing only to speak kindly to the children and to exhort Jeanette’s ladies to look after their mistress and make sure she ate something.
Staying longer would achieve nothing, and he had some hard thinking to do.
Back in his own chamber, he sent for wine, and restlessly paced the room, tugging off a gold ring, sliding it back on over his knuckle.
His close friend and a senior knight of his retinue, Sir John Chandos, observed him with shrewd eyes.
‘You have a thorn under your saddle, sire,’ he said at length.
Edward swung to face him. ‘I wish I could have saved him for her,’ he said. ‘If Thomas Holland had not gone to Rouen, he might still be alive.’
Chandos was a decade older than Edward, a wise, pragmatic counsellor, beginning to grey at the temples. ‘Who can say? It is God’s will, not yours.’
Edward grimaced. ‘Do you know my first thought when I heard the news of the death?’
Chandos shook his head, although his expression betrayed that he had an inkling.
‘That it meant she was free to wed again, and it might be to me.’ He swung on his heel and paced, dark feelings of remorse and self-disgust twisting inside him.
He had always loved Jeanette. Childhood friendship had deepened as the years passed – on his behalf anyway.
He knew their paths through life were different, but now, a crossroads had suddenly appeared that meant those paths might converge.
Chandos said quietly, ‘It is a natural thing to think – uncomfortable, yes, but not beyond the realms of redemption. It does not steep you in sin.’
‘Does it not?’ Edward shook his head and fell silent as the wine arrived.
‘Thomas Holland died, you did not wish him dead,’ Chandos replied with a practical shrug once they were alone again.
‘Of course not, I loved him too – I was envious but never bitter.’
‘Well then.’ Chandos sauntered over to the wine flagon and poured them each a cup. ‘So, are you going to act on these feelings?’
Edward rubbed his brow. ‘Why do you think I am pacing?’ Taking the cup from Chandos, he drank deeply. It was from a barrel they had brought with them from Woodstock and, even if last year’s Bordeaux, wasn’t yet sour.
‘She holds the keys to the earldom of Kent and other estates. Your godson won’t enter his majority for another ten years yet,’ Chandos pointed out.
‘You can make some lucrative marriage contracts for the children. The Countess is still of childbearing age and proven in the birthing chamber. Your father will not keep her a widow for long – numerous suitors will be seeking his approval.’
‘But how can I broach such a thing at a time like this?’ Edward felt grubby just thinking these thoughts even though Chandos was only repeating aloud his own circulating thoughts.
‘It is too early and I don’t want her to hate me, but marriage to me would offer her the best protection, and secure the children’s futures. ’
‘Perhaps it is too early,’ Chandos agreed, thumbing his chin. ‘But soon it will not be.’
‘What do you think?’
Chandos opened his hands. ‘You know your own mind, sire. If you truly want my advice in friendship: I think you will be taking a risk if you act on the matter now. Your father will need persuading. The throne will always take precedence over the heart for him – you do not need me to tell you that. But if you do not, you will wonder about the life you might have had, and you will look at your wife in years to come and think about Jeanette. It will be like having a splinter inside your shirt.’ He finished his wine and put the cup down.
‘Sleep on it, sire, and then sleep on it again – although I suspect the answer each time will be the same.’
Edward snorted. ‘You see the matter clearly indeed – better than I do myself.’
‘Is that not the role of a friend and adviser?’ Chandos replied, and Edward gripped his shoulder.
‘Indeed it is and thank you.’
Chandos retired, but Edward remained wakeful.
His thoughts continued to spin like a whirlpool, and the winter night was deep before he finally went to bed and tried to sleep – without success.
His proximity to Jeanette in a chamber close by led him to thoughts of having the right to wake up and see her lying beside him with that lush body and all that glorious golden hair spread across the pillow – of being her lover and husband, and of her being his consort and mother of his heirs.
It could be greater than imagination. It could be reality – but not yet, and perhaps never.
Edward left Donington a week later, having spent most of his time overseeing the business affairs of the estate and putting them in order.
He was more than ready to leave, for keeping an air of compassionate, impartial friendship in Jeanette’s company was becoming increasingly difficult when he wanted so much more.
Besides, he had other duties awaiting his attention – duties he had put aside to deal with fiscal and administrative practicalities where the heir was a ten-yearold boy, his mother a princess, and the vultures were gathering in hopes of a feast.
He left behind several men of proven administrative ability to help run the estates and made active use of stalwarts already in their posts who could be trusted to do their jobs well.
Jeanette assisted him and despite the cares of her grief had a clear awareness of who people were, and how to use them to their best ability and reward them for their loyalty.
When he took his leave, she came to the courtyard with the children to bid him godspeed, her eyes soft with gratitude. ‘Thank you for all you have done,’ she said. ‘I can never repay you for all your care.’
Edward took her hands in his and kissed her cheek, thoroughly aware of Chandos looking studiously in the opposite direction.
‘I will always help you, on my oath I swear it. I will return, I promise, and you must send word directly to me if you need anything – anything at all.’ He drew back to address the children.
‘Look after your mother,’ he said, gripping the boys’ shoulders in a man-to-man gesture and kissing little Maud and the rosy-cheeked toddler before turning swiftly to his horse, almost leaping into the saddle to release his tension.
At the gate, he looked back and saluted. Jeanette waved farewell, the children encircling her skirts like chicks around a mother hen. He heeled his horse to a trot and made his escape, feeling relieved and bereft at the same time.
Jeanette lowered her arm, her cheeks wet again. She wanted him to stay, but she would not hold him back. Why was it always the men who rode away and the women who watched them leave, never knowing if it was the last farewell?
She wanted to shut herself away, pull the bedclothes over her head and hibernate from her duty and her pain, but she had to pick up the threads and face the new reality of being the Dowager Countess of Kent.
Edward had sworn to look after her interests and take Tom under his wing.
He had promised that the younger children would remain with her, and she was deeply grateful to him.
When a father died, it was not always certain that a mother would retain custody of their offspring.
Standing in the winter morning, she remembered her own mother, widowed with three children at the age she was now.
She didn’t want to be like her and spend the rest of her years toiling over the estates, becoming dried up and embittered, all emotion subsumed by ambition.
And yet, the thought of living her life without Thomas, without that fire to keep her warm, filled her with desolation.
Where was the girl in the red shoes now?