Chapter 9 Windsor Castle, Berkshire, October 1361 #2
‘I am counting on both of you,’ he said quietly. ‘Do not let this prove to be against my better judgement.’
‘Sire, I swear you shall never have cause to regret your consent,’ Edward replied.
‘Indeed, I hope not,’ his father said. ‘I want to rejoice, not weep.’
A warm fire burned in the bedchamber at the top of the tower, banishing the autumn chill.
Painted red and white roses, climbing, and entwined, decorated the white background on the walls – a design chosen by Queen Philippa, creating light and beauty.
A table draped with a white cloth was laid out with tasty morsels on silver platters and a carved crystal flagon of wine stood beside two enamelled goblets.
A coverlet of midnight-blue embroidered silk gleamed on the bed, the colour contrasting with the turned-back sheets of white linen.
Archbishop Islip had blessed the bed, sprinkled the covers and the newlyweds with holy water, and departed with the rest of the well-wishers to continue feasting in the hall.
Jeanette stood still to let her women undress her, but all the tugging and unpinning was an endurance.
She wanted everyone to go away. There had been no elaborate bedding ceremony to endure, for which she was thankful.
Edward had stipulated it was to be a simple, personal affair, and the matter should be conducted with decency for the sake of the bride who had so recently lost her first husband.
There was no need for bawdy jests and listeners at the door.
Her ladies unpinned and combed out her hair, still as heavy and lustrously gold as it had been ten years ago.
Her night chemise of fine Cambrai linen modestly swathed her body, while hinting at what lay beneath.
Now the moment had arrived, Jeanette was stiff with trepidation.
The last time she had lain with a man was with Thomas before he went to Rouen, and after a decade of marriage, each had known the other’s body intimately and been familiar with the routines that gave pleasure and satisfaction.
This would be so different. She had known Edward since childhood, and they had always been friends, but now he came to her as a husband and a lover and she was daunted.
On the other side of the room Edward was being attended to by his own servants who had undressed him to a linen nightshirt that fell to his shins.
At a gesture from him, they bowed and retired, closing the door behind them.
A log settled in the hearth. Edward turned and looked at her, his face flushed and his eyes alight with desire.
Jeanette swallowed, feeling as if she was about to be eaten alive.
‘I have been waiting for this moment for ever,’ he said. ‘Our marriage is a sacred thing, but you have come from a place of deep loss and grief to be here now. I do not forget it or take it lightly.’
‘I know you do not,’ she said, and bit her lip.
‘I would be lying if I said I have not thought often of Thomas recently and grieved anew, but I have closed that door. My heart will always be open to the memory of my first marriage, but it is open for you also, and the future we shall build together.’
The flame in his eyes softened. He took her hand in a courtly fashion and assisted her to climb into the bed, then got in beside her and drew her into his arms. Jeanette touched his face, exploring its contours – the familiar feeling of male skin under her fingertips, the soft prickle of moustache and beard.
His kiss, flavoured with hippocras, was a new sensation as she parted her lips and opened her thighs.
His smell was not Thomas’s, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and there was an underlying green scent from the herbs in which he had bathed that morning.
Everything was familiar yet so very different.
She closed her eyes the better to focus on the natural sensations of her body.
It had been so long since the last time.
Edward was young, handsome and virile, and although eager, he was also experienced – a battle commander in control of himself, able to await her pleasure.
As the sensations rippled through her, Jeanette sobbed out.
It was such a relief and a release to have that moment with a man inside her again, full of heat and strength and wanting.
To hear the sound in his throat and feel the flexing of his haunches as he reached his own satisfaction.
The way his head pressed down at the side of her neck as the storm shuddered through him.
The clenched, taut stomach muscles and his rapid breathing with her own in counterpoint.
The surge receded, leaving her body heavy and languorous.
She stroked his hair, and he lifted his head and smiled at her.
She smiled in return, pleased that he was pleased and wanting him to feel good about the moment – which had been good for her too, even if unsettling.
Doubtless, though, she would grow more accustomed in time.
Once recovered, Edward left the bed to fetch food and drink from the table, and she admired his body.
He was tall and well proportioned, muscular but not muscle-bound, with a flat, taut stomach.
The shape of his buttocks made her think of their vigour as he had thrust into her, and she wanted him all over again.
‘Today has been a success in every way,’ he said as he clambered back in beside her, handed her a goblet and placed a dish of small pastries on the coverlet between them.
‘Indeed, it has. I hope your father is reconciled.’ She suspected that some of the royal bonhomie had concealed less positive thoughts and emotions – the King had always been a magnificent dissembler.
‘Yes, and he will further come round. This is the best outcome for all of us. There may be a few knots to unravel, but all will be well. You worry, but you should not.’ He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger.
She smiled to be agreeable, and hoped he was right, given that her own relationship with his father had been difficult in the past, and the Queen’s days of influence at court were diminishing because of her failing health.
‘I hope soon that we shall be able to take him and your mother a grandchild to secure the dynasty,’ she said. ‘I know it will be welcome to them.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said, and when they had finished eating and drinking, he snuggled down into her cleavage and rubbed his hand over her buttocks. ‘I will never tire of this – never.’
They made love again, and this time Jeanette was able to relax into the moment. It was comforting as well as pleasurable – life-affirming, like food, and if she conceived quickly, so much the better.