Chapter 16
Over the next few days, Jeanette continued to recuperate.
She was still bleeding, although not badly, and had to rest for longer periods than she had done during her other confinements.
Sewing was a trial she left to the more adept women, including Alys, who was busily embroidering pillow covers and cushions for the new chamber she was making for Tom’s return.
In his absence she was becoming an enthusiastic little nest builder, and Jeanette watched her with nostalgic, tender amusement.
Energy permitting, Jeanette kept busy with administration and correspondence.
She played with little Edward, cuddled the baby and talked to her daughters.
Maud was now ten years old, and Joannie was eight.
Although both girls were married, they dwelt in Jeanette’s household and would do so for many years to come.
She had made that a stipulation of the marriage contracts, and for now they remained purely strategic.
Maud’s husband, Hugh Courteney, was twelve years older than her and was taking part in the Castile campaign.
He was to be knighted with Tom and Roger.
Joannie’s husband, John de Montfort, Duke of Brittany, was also among that company.
He was a balanced man of reason with a courteous demeanour towards women, but for both girls, living as wives was far in the future, and they continued secure and happy in their mother’s chamber.
On the eighth day after the men’s departure, a harbinger arrived on a sweating courser to inform Jeanette that his lord the Duke of Lancaster would be here by mid-afternoon.
His arrival was anticipated and much of the preliminary work to accommodate his contingent had already been dealt with by Edward before he left.
The stables were prepared for an influx of horses, and a camp site had been organised for the soldiers, but there was hospitality to arrange for John, and Jeanette knew how difficult he was to please.
Even surrounded by capable women she could not trust anyone else to greet him.
‘Help me up and help me dress,’ she commanded.
Eleanor de la Warre eyed her with astonishment. ‘Madam, you cannot!’
‘Do not tell me what I can and cannot do – you of all people!’ Jeanette snapped.
‘Help me make ready to greet my husband’s brother.
I do not have to keep his company for long, but I will not have him find me weak and vulnerable in my childbirth bed.
Alys, Hawise, help me to dress. The mulberry gown with ermine is the loosest one.
Maud, bring my jewel boxes. Eleanor, Marjorie, go and make things ready for the Duke’s arrival and report back to me at need.
Rouse up the kitchens and make sure there are good fires in the guest chamber and the hall.
You know what to do – you have all supervised before.
Make sure the Duke’s chamber has fresh sheets and the coverlet with the gold lions.
And I want my own bed making up as a day bed – none of this lying-in business.
I will receive him in my usual chamber, the one I share with my lord, not the nursery chamber. ’ She paused to draw breath.
‘But your health!’ Eleanor exclaimed, aghast. ‘You are still bleeding!’
‘Let me be the judge of my health,’ Jeanette said curtly. ‘I will not have you or anyone else gainsay me. Pack me with extra moss and wool if you must but do not contradict me. Be about your business, and I shall be about mine.’
Eleanor pressed her lips together in disapproval but curtseyed and departed with Marjorie.
The power of status and command coursed through Jeanette’s veins, glinting with irritation.
No one had the authority to disobey her apart from Edward, and he was not here.
In truth, she was not doing this for him, beloved though he was.
His brother had considered her an improper wife for Edward – someone who would swan about in idle frivolity, eat sweetmeats all day, flirt with men, talk to all manner of undesirables, and lead her husband astray at night.
She was determined to meet him in her own power and show him her true mettle.
The ladies brought her mulberry gown and an ample sleeveless overtunic of green velvet trimmed with fur.
They plaited and dressed her hair, covering it with a silk veil, and topped the arrangement with the gold coronet she had worn when she became Princess of Aquitaine.
She called for her cosmetic pot and brightened her cheeks and lips – enough to give her a little colour but not to look obviously painted.
Even John’s sainted wife Blanche whitened her face with rice powder.
She told Alys to have a comfortable cushioned chair prepared in the reception room, and to bring Edward’s chair for John to sit upon.
The infants were to remain in the nursery and could be fetched at need.
Maud and Joannie would accompany her. Then she addressed her women.
‘All of you, make certain of your appearance and be cheerful and courteous. My lord’s brother will find nothing lacking at this court.
Since I shall be unable to dance, I expect you to dance in my stead.
’ She looked meaningfully around the gathering.
‘The Duke of Lancaster’s ways are of the high court, and we shall not shirk our standards before him nor give him cause to look down on us. ’
The women murmured assent, and Jeanette nodded firmly to set her statement in stone. Like a cat arching its back and fluffing its tail, she would put on a defensive show of strength. She was the authority in her husband’s absence, and by God, he would see it.
When a squire came running to report that the Duke of Lancaster had arrived, Jeanette made her way carefully to her audience chamber and settled herself in the padded chair Alys had prepared for her, with Edward’s own carved chair at the side, placed under a velvet cloth canopy.
Sitting regally, she raised her chin and gestured for her daughters to stand next to her.
As John entered the chamber with his senior commanders, Jeanette signalled, and trumpeters blew a bright fanfare from the gallery, while a herald declared John’s arrival in ringing tones.
A surprised expression crossed his face at the formal greeting, and Jeanette observed it with secret amusement. He had not been expecting that.
Recovering his aplomb, he approached her chair and knelt on one knee. Jeanette smiled a warm welcome.
‘You will forgive me if I do not stand,’ she said ruefully, using the words not only as an excuse but as a strength, because he had knelt to her, and she had not risen to curtsey to him. ‘My son was but recently born.’
‘Of course, sister,’ he replied. ‘I heard the news, and I would not expect you to.’ He rose and, taking her hands, kissed her cheeks. ‘I congratulate you and my brother on the event.’
‘And I thank you,’ she replied courteously. ‘You are a week behind Edward. We thought you might arrive earlier, but we were unsure.’
‘I was detained,’ he said, ‘but we have been swift since arriving in Gascony. We shall not impose on you beyond a few days – just sufficient to replenish our supplies and rest the horses.’
‘Of course.’ She gestured him to Edward’s chair at her side. ‘You and your men will be well fed and entertained. We have prepared everything in anticipation, but I wanted to welcome you personally.’
‘That is gracious of you, sister.’
Jeanette could not pierce his polite facade but was determined to show him her spirit.
She gestured again, and with swift efficiency the servants arranged trestle tables and laid out knives, bowls and napery.
She greeted the knights of John’s retinue, while John spoke to her own senior men, and then introduced him to Pedro’s daughters, Constanza and Isabella, to whom he responded with polite neutrality.
He would know from the correspondence between England and Gascony that the girls were intended as brides for high-born English husbands, one of them possibly his younger brother Edmund who was twenty-five and as yet unwed.
The girls responded in kind, and Constanza sent John an assessing look. There was no denying John’s charisma, Jeanette thought. He had a way about him that caused women to turn their heads. She was immune, but recognised its effect on others.
Her son Johan, now one of John’s squires, knelt to formally greet her. ‘Madam, my mother,’ he said in a deep voice that took her by surprise and filled her eyes with tears.
‘When did my boy become such a man!’ she exclaimed.
She had left him in the Lancaster household as a child of eleven years when they sailed to Bordeaux.
Now, at fourteen, he had grown tall and broadened out, the bones of manhood chiselling the puppy flesh from his features, filling Jeanette with pride married to a sense of loss that his father was not here to see his beauty.
‘It is so good to have you here!’ She opened her arms and hugged him hard, then he turned to greet his sisters and stepped back.
There would be time for family after the formalities, and Johan had yet to meet his two infant brothers.
The musicians played in the gallery while the company dined on tender cuts of venison served in a piquant sauce and fish in a green herb sauce.
There were chicken pies too, golden with precious saffron, sweet, tart apples, pears cooked in sugar and pastry, and a paste made from dates simmered in wine, rolled into little balls and dusted with crushed sugar and sweet spice powder.
‘I compliment you on an excellent table, my lady,’ John said, leaning back, replete and raising his cup in toast. ‘You do your husband great honour.’
Jeanette acknowledged the compliment with a dip of her head. ‘I am accustomed to running a household, even if my husband is absent in the field.’ She gave him a steady look, and to her surprise she saw the corner of his mouth twitch with humour. ‘How is your own lady wife?’
‘She is in good health,’ he replied. ‘We expect another child in the late spring.’
‘I shall pray for them both, and that all will be well.’
He inclined his head in return. She decided not to mention his infant sons who had died. It was part of the reason she had not brought Edward and Richard out of the nursery.
‘And you are well also, my lady? I was surprised to see you greet me. I thought you would be abed in your chamber with your ladies.’
Was there a touch of censure in his tone?
Doubtless Blanche would not have risen from her childbed to welcome guests, but she was not Blanche.
Nevertheless, privately, she was ruing her own stubborn determination to show John her mettle.
Her effort had begun to take its toll, and she would have to retire soon.
‘In Edward’s absence, it is my duty to see that all runs as it should when we have important visitors,’ she replied.
‘I am no weak reed to languish in my chamber. I wanted to ask you how the King and Queen are faring. We receive letters, but it is not the same.’
John’s expression closed. ‘There is little to report,’ he said flatly. ‘The Queen my mother performs what duties she can, and the King pursues his usual policies.’
Jeanette took no personal offence at his caginess. It fitted his pattern, and in a way she was glad that he was circumspect. She flicked her gaze to Johan who had sat down at a table with the other squires to eat his meal.
‘He applies himself to his lessons,’ John said judiciously as he followed her eyes. ‘He works hard, and he is willing to learn, not least because he is competitive, but he serves me well. I am a hard taskmaster, but never unfair. I curb him when I must, but that is not too often.’
‘He has grown so much since I saw him last.’
‘He needs more brawn on him, but that will come with age and training.’
‘For a mother it is hard to watch her sons leave innocence behind and grow into men. He was always desperate to keep up with Tom. There is less than two years between them, but he feels the gap keenly.’
John gave a wintry smile. ‘That is always the lot of younger sons if you could see inside our minds, although ten years between me and Edward makes the rivalry less immediate. Do not worry. He is safe with me, and I am training him well.’
‘That goes without saying, my lord. He is precious to me – as are all my children.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ he replied, and the hollows deepened under his cheekbones.
It was so difficult to penetrate John’s exterior. Jeanette lightly touched his sleeve. ‘I am sorry you and Blanche have had the grief of losing children. I know you may not wish to dwell on it, but I wanted to offer condolences and comfort, even though there can be none.’
‘And I thank you for your kindness,’ he said stiltedly.
She removed her hand. Having finished her wine, she signalled to her ladies, for by now she was surviving on willpower alone. ‘Forgive me,’ she murmured. ‘I hope you do not mind if I retire.’
‘Of course, sister,’ he said smoothly. ‘I shall drink another cup and retire myself, since I need to be awake with the dawn.’ And then his tone softened and he spoke with concern. ‘Pray do not put yourself out to entertain me or our company but take your rest. We shall see to ourselves.’
He rose and bowed to her as she took her leave, assisted by Alys, Eleanor and Hawise. She knew she was bleeding again but silenced everyone with a look that dared them to speak.
She retired to bed with fresh padding, and the midwife elevated her legs and scolded her while making her drink a goblet of raspberry leaf tisane.
Jeanette sipped the concoction, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Duty accomplished; she was relieved that she need not face John in public again.
Doubtless she had offended his sense of propriety by dining with him when she should still have been in confinement, but it might do him good to step outside his boundaries.
At least he had witnessed her ability to run a household in Edward’s absence and in tight order, even when at a physical disadvantage.