Chapter 17 #5
‘Oh, Tom,’ she said, and stroked his face with tender compassion.
‘That must be a difficult thing to straighten in your mind. In the women’s household we dwell in comfort but wait every moment on tenterhooks for news.
We stitch and weave our own worries and hopes into our work and we live in a fear we dare not admit, and we pray, and we pray again, and we weep when no one is looking. ’
She reached to kiss him, and it took all his effort not to let the comfort lead him into a full encounter again. God, he could have stayed in bed all day.
‘How is your stepfather now?’ she asked. ‘I thought he looked thin.’
‘He is recovering,’ Tom said. ‘Now we are home, he will have my mother’s care and attention, but there is so much to be done and to be mended that he will not be able to rest as he should.
We won the battle, but it was a hollow victory.
’ He sighed. ‘There you have it, and the worst of it. The fight is not over. But for now, being with you is the best.’
As the full, high heat of summer roasted the land, the court moved to Angoulême.
In the month since the army had returned from Castile, Edward’s health had greatly improved, although he still tired easily.
Jeanette watched him closely, but concealed her anxiety, trying not to make her scrutiny too obvious.
If he saw her watching him, he became irritable and would growl that he was not a child to be coddled, and he was perfectly well.
Indeed, he had gained weight since his return, and the shadows under his eyes were less pronounced.
They slept together most nights, but they did not always enjoy each other’s bodies.
Sometimes he was impotent and had pain in his cods, but he had spoken to his confessor and physician and had made it clear to her it was a private male matter and not her concern.
Edward’s brother John remained in their household, aiding with the administration and rule of the principality – although Jeanette knew that England, and the King, would soon beckon.
One warm late summer evening, she saw him leaning in a window embrasure, gazing out at the sky.
Jeanette had noticed how he would withdraw into solitude sometimes, like a cat that only socialised when it wished.
She was coming to understand him better during this sojourn, and in his turn he had mellowed and let down his guard with her a little.
After a moment, she joined him at the window. ‘Star gazing?’ she enquired with a smile.
The candlelight cast glints of gold over his hair and shone on his midnight silk tunic. He glanced at her, then back to the sky and pointed. ‘See that line of stars? The ancients called it the plough because of its shape.’
‘Yes, I know it,’ she said. ‘You can use it to plot your way to the star that points north and know where you are going – or at least that you are not travelling in the opposite direction to your desires.’
He gave her a startled, quizzical look. ‘You have studied the heavens then, sister?’
She was amused by his surprise, and decided to prove to him that she was a force to be reckoned with and not a soft decoration in the household.
She had already shown him her resilience after he arrived in Bordeaux at the start of the Castile campaign, but she had many more talents that made her a fitting consort for Edward, and a future queen.
‘I have read books and talked to astrologers,’ she replied.
‘When I was on campaign with my first husband, we often studied the stars – from walls just like this, or at times from his tent. And always when at home in each other’s company.
We each knew where we would find the other if we followed the star map.
He showed me how to navigate the heavens, for even when we were separated, we were still standing under the same sky. ’
He regarded her with his mouth slightly open, and she returned him a warm, almost mischievous smile.
‘For example, if I were in England and I wanted to cross to Normandy, that line of stars would have to be on my lefthand side not my right. I would have to draw it for you, but I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye.’
‘Well plotted, my lady,’ John said, sweeping her a low bow. As he rose, she noticed that the wary expression was back in his eyes but mingled with admiration.
She lightly tapped his arm. ‘I must take you to task for that,’ she teased, ‘for you know I never, ever plot.’
He gave her an assessing look, then threw back his head and laughed aloud, and it was a wonderful sound.
Jeanette laughed with him before going to the buffet table to help herself to a small strawberry tart.
She brought one back for him too, and he bit into his with appreciation.
They stood together for a while, companionably eating, watching the night sky and commenting on what they saw and what they knew.
She realised this was the first time they had been comfortable in each other’s company in the way of friends.
Of course, one crocus was not representative of the full blossoming of spring, but she could grow a flourishing garden now the thaw had begun.
That night she and Edward sat in bed together, drinking wine and eating more strawberry tarts. She shared one with him, popping it in his mouth, determined to feed him up. He chewed and swallowed, then dusted crumbs from his beard.
‘You and John were getting on much better tonight,’ he remarked.
He had clearly been observing their interactions even while otherwise engaged; very little missed his notice. ‘He is as sweet as a strawberry tart if you can pierce his crust,’ she said. ‘The best brother you could ever have.’
‘I am glad you think so. It was uncomfortable sometimes to see the distance between you.’
‘That was because of his concern for you when we were first wed,’ she answered. ‘He thought I was a grasping widow digging her claws into a wealthy prize for her own protection and standing. He considered me a fickle woman with a murky reputation and thought you could do much better for yourself.’
‘It always takes him time to appreciate matters that do not accord with his view of the way the world should be,’ Edward said ruefully. ‘And you, my love, are a force of nature.’
‘You mean I was too much for him?’ she said with a laugh. ‘A dangerous abundance?’
‘You might say that.’ Edward looked amused. ‘He was young then, barely knighted and still finding his own manhood, and I suspect you unsettled him, although he would never admit it. Of course,’ he added, ‘you are never too much for me – I always want more.’
‘Flatterer!’ she said with another laugh.
She finished her tart and reached for another, sharing it with the hound sitting on the bed between them. She understood what Edward was saying. Her beauty and charisma had always disturbed men, and it was true, she had often played on it to her advantage, but at times it was a hindrance.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we both love you dearly, and that binds us more than anything. Therefore, I treasure him and will continue to nurture his friendship. He is a grown man, and his vision has changed. I am no longer a dangerous seductress but have become his brother’s loyal wife and a staid matron!’
Edward nuzzled the side of her neck and ran his hands over her body. ‘Never a “staid matron”,’ he said. ‘I will not allow that!’
‘And I love you for it,’ she said. She stroked his beard, noticing the new strands of silver amid the rich brown.
He gathered her into his arms and pulled her close. ‘My beautiful Jeanette, the wisest of women and the best wife and consort a man could have.’
They made love tenderly, and for Jeanette it was a gentle pleasure.
Not with the wildness and lust of the early days, but something comfortable, wholesome and good.
But at the back of her mind, as he gasped his release, there came a melancholy feeling akin to experiencing the closing days of a full, ripe summer and the first leaf-stirring wind of the dying year.