Chapter 5 #2
Jeanette shook her head. It was too much to think about and far too soon, but through her shock and instinctive recoil she recognised the truth of his words.
The King, who had his own agenda, would expect her to remarry in short order to someone of his choosing.
She would never feel about anyone the way she had felt about Thomas, but at least Edward was a known quantity who would have her best interests at heart.
In truth there was no one better. Nevertheless, even thinking such a thing made her feel that she was deserting Thomas and disrespecting his memory.
She lowered her hands and drew a long, steadying breath. ‘You have sprung this upon me. I trust your friendship, and I know you would be kind and honourable to me and my children. But what of the consequences? What will your father say – and your mother? You should consult with them first.’
‘My father will understand,’ Edward said, squaring his shoulders.
Knowing the King, Jeanette doubted that understanding would be his first response. ‘It took a long time for him to accept my marriage to Thomas – and a deal of persuasion from others. I do not think he ever truly reconciled himself.’
‘I am a grown man, not a boy.’ Edward’s voice was steely.
‘I am a veteran of the battlefield, experienced in diplomacy. By the time he was my age he had been King for sixteen years. If he wants me to govern Aquitaine, he must let me arrange my household as I see fit, including my marriage. I am heir to the throne, not a child in tutelage.’
She could almost see his raised hackles, but she pressed on.
‘We cannot marry without a dispensation. Your grandsire and my father were half-brothers, and a marriage between us requires papal consent. And what about my earlier marriages? You will need confirmation of how matters stand there to guarantee the legitimacy of our heirs should we have them.’
‘I have already considered it,’ he said. ‘I shall send a request to the papal court. There may be a few obstacles in our path, but nothing insurmountable. You are thinking in the moment, but I am not bringing you a half-cooked scheme – I have thought about this over many sleepless nights.’
Jeanette’s heart wobbled. The notion that he had been working on this idea ever since the news of Thomas’s death unsettled her.
‘You may have done so, but I know all about dealing with the papal court. It took nearly ten years to have my marriage with Thomas ratified. I would rather take nuns’ vows than endure that again. ’
‘It will not happen, I promise.’ Edward eagerly grasped her hands in his. ‘It was different before. This time the Pope will be dealing with the English Crown directly. Only agree to wed me and I shall move heaven and earth to make sure it is done.’
She shook her head and removed her hands from his clasp. ‘I do not doubt your care or your sincerity, but it is still too early.’
‘And I would not be asking so soon except to protect and keep you safe. I would give you time, but you will be pressured into marriage whatever you do – that is without dispute. If you take vows and enter a nunnery, where does that leave the wardship of your children? With me, you will not have to face that separation. I know the time is not right, but there will never be a better moment, trust me.’
Jeanette closed her eyes. She wanted the world to go away. She wanted to sit by the fire, stare into the flames and be inert. Playing for time would not alter the outcome, and if she declined Edward, the King would find her a match of his own choosing and less to her benefit.
At last, she raised her lids and found him waiting and watching with that single-minded concentration he brought to planning all his campaigns. ‘Very well, I shall marry you,’ she said, the words emerging despite her anxiety and doubt.
He exhaled a shuddering breath, and his grip tightened. ‘You will never have cause to regret your answer, I swear. I shall care for you and the children all my days.’
She bit her lip, too choked to reply. Dear God, Thomas, forgive me for this. Whatever he said, she already had regrets.
‘We should make an oath before a priest – this very day if you will.’
She drew back. This was too similar to the way her marriage with Thomas had begun, with secrecy and concealment and all travelling far too fast. ‘I will make the vows now but only per verba de futuro.’ The ordeal of her first marriage and the nine-year struggle to have it recognised had left her well versed in the legal Latin terms and the various ways such bonds were forged.
‘It is a future promise to wed, and we shall not share a bed until you have your father’s blessing and a papal dispensation.
Those are my conditions.’ Edward drew breath to argue, but she raised her chin and faced him out.
‘What happens if we consummate our match only to have the dispensation refused? What if you get me with child? My reputation is already a target for tattlers and folk with poisoned tongues – they will wag enough as it is. They will say I am a power-hungry, lecherous widow seizing upon other men with my husband barely in his grave.’
He looked exasperated for a moment, but then shook his head, and his expression turned to one of reluctant admiration.
‘On my life, Jeanette, you are truly worthy of becoming a consort, a queen and mother of kings. If this is your will and the only way I can have you, I agree. I shall arrange for our vows to be said, and I shall set the other matters in motion immediately. Even if a match can be undone when it is per verba de futuro and lacks consummation, the very fact of its existence is a shield.’
‘The children must not know – not until consents are confirmed. They have had enough disturbance in their lives already.’
‘Then if you are determined, it shall be as you wish.’ He took her hands and kissed them, then took his leave, pausing at the door to look over his shoulder. ‘All will be well, I promise. I will not let you down.’
When he had gone, Jeanette exhaled a long breath before summoning her ladies Hawise de la Salle and Eleanor de la Warre.
Hawise had served her for most of her life and was married to Thomas’s falconer.
Eleanor de la Warre was her cousin by marriage.
‘The Prince has asked me to marry him,’ she told them, ‘and I have agreed – per verba de futuro.’
Hawise, who had been a witness to Jeanette’s first clandestine marriage to Thomas Holland, drew a sharp breath. ‘Oh, my lady!’
Eleanor looked surprised. ‘Is that wise?’
Jeanette shook her head. ‘I do not know. Certainly, I am not ready, but if I refuse him, then who will stand in his stead as the guardian of my children? If I must marry again there is no one better in the world.’ She laughed bitterly.
‘I do not know what Thomas would say – no, that is wrong. I fear what he would say – and it breaks my heart.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘What am I to do?’
Hawise clasped Jeanette’s hands in her own broad, capable ones.
‘I witnessed your marriage to my lord Thomas,’ she said.
‘There was no greater love in the world than yours, but the vows say until death you do part, and now you are indeed parted. He knew the reality of the world and he always dealt with it practically. He would tell you to do what is best for yourself and your children, and what better protector than the Prince himself?’
‘It is not as simple as that,’ Jeanette said, wiping her eyes.
‘Thomas became Earl of Kent through my blood and that was as high as we rose, but Edward is heir to the throne. He will be king one day . . . and then I shall become England’s queen.
Hah!’ She gasped and folded over, overwhelmed as the realisation caught her full on.
All the responsibility that a queen consort wielded as the cushion at the back of the throne.
If one side of the coin was powerful protection, the other was danger and constant exposure to opinion and judgement.
Eleanor, briskly practical, brought her a cup of wine, and Jeanette took a trembling sip.
‘He does not know what he is asking,’ she said.
‘I think he knows very well, my lady,’ Hawise replied. ‘He has always been fond of you – everyone sees it. But he also knows the qualities you will bring to this match. Do not underestimate your own power.’
Jeanette stared at the cup in her hands.
Edward had given it to her more than twelve years ago as a New Year’s gift.
It was engraved with her name, and beneath it a running terrier – her dog Nosewyse, long since buried in the gardens at Windsor.
How would she fare alone? Was it better to stay with her feet on the ground, or let Edward reach down and swing her on to the back of his horse and take that ride?
What a leap of faith when she was not ready, but when refusal had its own dangers. What did she dare?
She raised her head and looked at Hawise. ‘Will you be my witness as you were before when we were girls? And you too, Eleanor, will you stand witness?’
‘My lady, you know I will, and gladly,’ Hawise replied.
Eleanor nodded her agreement. ‘If that is your wish, my lady, I shall be honoured.’
Jeanette finished the wine and felt the solid, cold silver of the cup against her fingers.
Was it her wish? She did not know, but she had to cling to something in the turmoil of massive change and rather Edward than someone unknown to her and the children.
At least without consummation the vow could still be dissolved by consent, and once sworn, it would protect her from being married to someone else against her will. It was for the best.
Dressed in a simple dark velvet gown, her hair covered with a plain white wimple, Jeanette entered Donington’s small chapel, where Edward waited for her at the altar with his chaplain, and his knights John Chandos and William Burgesh as witnesses.
Edward wore dark velvet too, with a heavy jewelled belt encircling his lean hips.
He smiled at her as she arrived, but she was sick with apprehension and still unsure that this was right.
For all Edward’s assurances, she knew the great risk they were taking.
The ceremony was a swift formality, a matter of a few words before the chaplain and the four witnesses.
Edward’s gaze on her was a controlled blaze as he made his pledge.
Returning his look, she tried to hold her ground, but she was shaking as she gave her own consent and a part of her wanted to run far away.
Edward slipped a ring on to her finger, made from Welsh gold with his motto Ich dien – ‘I serve’ – engraved on the inside of the band.
The fit was so perfect that it led her to wonder how long he had possessed it – perhaps for as long as he had been planning to marry her or perhaps as soon as he heard that Thomas was dead.
He raised her hand to kiss the ring, and then her lips to seal the vow, but in a formal, chaste manner, and swiftly drew back.
‘Now we are sworn husband and wife in the eyes of God,’ he said. ‘Let no man say differently. I shall do my part to obtain dispensations and approval. You need do nothing. I shall keep you informed of my progress.’
Lowering her gaze, feeling sick, Jeanette fought for composure.
Oh Thomas, help me, what have I done? The marriage was complete – a formal promise to wed at some point in the future.
Even if the vow was not locked tight with consummation, it was still sacred and meant neither of them could commit to anyone else.
‘You will never regret this,’ Edward said. ‘I give you my word.’
‘Then let your word be your deed,’ she said, her voice hoarse with tears.