“What of our footwear?” Adair wanted to know, loath to let Lady Margaret forget that the king had promised them new shoes.
“You and Elsbeth will visit the royal cobbler,” was her answer.
The new shoes were forthcoming once the cobbler had taken measurements of their feet; and Elsbeth sewed diligently for several weeks to come on the new gowns. Adair, however, did her part, hemming each garment as Elsbeth cut it, and sewing each together. She had been careful in her choosing, picking material that was relatively plain, for Adair knew it would not do to outshine her royal half sisters.
England had finally settled down to peace. With King Edward’s successful return after his brief forced absence, all pockets of resistance were cleared up. Henry VI had been returned to the Tower of London, and died shortly thereafter under murky circumstances. His queen, Margaret of Anjou, had been captured and brought to the Tower on the same day her husband had perished. It was rumored that she was forced to view his body as it was carried from his apartments. Their sonhad died at the battle of Tewkesbury. Warwick the King-maker, whose allegiance to York had been withdrawn when Edward married Elizabeth Woodville, had died at the battle of Barnet, which preceded Tewkesbury. The king’s middle brother, George of Clarence, had begged his forgiveness, and it had been granted. But Clarence was unable to contain his ambitions, and was a constant source of trouble. Finally, in 1478 King Edward clapped him in the Tower, where it was said he drowned in a vat of malmsey wine.
On the frequently troubled borders of Scotland, Richard of Gloucester kept order. Adair looked forward to his visits to court. While he made a great deal of fuss over his brother’s growing family, it was Adair who received much of his free time. The queen’s children were a little wary of their father’s brother, for Elizabeth Woodville no longer bothered to hide her distain for Richard. Adair, however, felt no loyalty to the queen, and she adored Richard, or Uncle Dickon, as the children all called him.
The duke had married his childhood love, Anne Neville, the widow of Henry VI’s son, Edward, prince of Wales. A son, named Edward, was born to them at their home, Middleham Castle, Yorkshire, in December of 1473. He was a frail child, as was his mother, and the duke worried over both of them.
Adair rarely saw the king, for with stability and peace he was free to indulge himself with his many mistresses, of whom a goldsmith’s wife, Jane Shore, was his particular favorite. And yet he loved his queen. Their family grew in size to ten children, most of whom were daughters, although three were sons, two of whom survived infancy. Adair had been in the royal household four years when the king took an army ten thousand strong into France, where he was to be met by his brother-in-law, Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, and another ally, the Duke of Brittany. Edward meant to conquer France.
But neither Charles nor the Duke of Brittany appeared as they had promised to back up the ten thousand English. Fortunately King Louis XI was a shrewd man, and had no desire to squander his resources in a war. And Edward, without his allies, could do little more than cause damage to the French countryside. So when Louis offered to buy him off, Edward accepted, and returned home again to his life of feasting and women.
Three years later, when war between England and Scotland threatened, the king mounted a large army, but was unable to lead it, as he seemed to lose his strength. The authority was given to Richard of Gloucester, who kept the Scots at bay.
And afterward, when he visited court for the first time in several years, he was amazed to find that Adair was now verging on womanhood. Richard was a pious man who, like his mother, had a deep devotion to the church. Unlike his elder brother George, he was utterly loyal to the king. His own motto was “Loyalty binds me.” He adored his wife and son. He deplored drunken-ness and overindulgence, and if he kept a mistress it was not known who or where she was. Now he looked at the little girl he had rescued some ten years ago and found himself reminded of how much time had passed since that dreary day he had come upon Adair Radcliffe and Elsbeth and the great wolfhound, Beiste, wandering on the high road.
“How old are you?” he demanded to know as he detached her from around his neck. “My God, you are practically a woman, my lady Countess of Stanton.”
“I’ll be sixteen just after Lammas,” Adair told him.
“Do I really look grown-up, Uncle Dickon? Am I pretty? No one ever says it, if I am. Lady Margaret says a woman should not be prideful if God has made her beautiful.”
“You are beautiful,” he told her. “Why, you were all arms and legs the last time I saw you, Adair. Now, however, they must be considering which match would suityou. You will bring your husband an earldom, so you are to be considered a prize.”
“I don’t want to marry yet,” Adair said. “Bessie and I have decided we will marry in the same year. And Lady Margaret seems content with that too. The queen doesn’t care, and neither does the king. They live their own lives, and we live ours. Now tell me, how is the Lady Anne? And little Neddie?”
“Both well at the moment, praise God and his blessed Mother,” the duke told her.
“Good! Now come and greet your other nieces and nephews, Uncle Dickon. They are quite jealous when you come, for it is obvious that I am your favorite,”
Adair said a trifle smugly.
The duke laughed aloud. “That is something I have always loved about you,” he told her. “You say what you are thinking, poppet.”
“Not always,” Adair said. “Only to you, for I know you understand me.”
The duke chuckled. “Aye, I believe I do understand you, my lady Countess of Stanton. And you are still a proper minx.”
Adair slipped her arm into his. “Come along now,”she said. “The others are waiting for you.”
“Where is the queen?” he asked her.
Adair laughed. “Not waiting for you,” she told him.
“She likes you no better than you like her, my dear lord.”
“Are you as blunt with the others as you are with me?” he wanted to know.
“Certainly not!” Adair told him. “I am a paragon of exemplary breeding and good manners, according to Lady Margaret. It would distress her greatly to learn that all her hard work had gone for naught. No, Uncle, I am a perfect little courtier.”
“One day you may have to fly your true colors, Adair,” he warned her.
“And I will,” she promised him as they entered the section of the castle where the royal children lived.
Elizabeth, the eldest and now fully sixteen, came forward to greet the duke. Next to Adair she was his favorite. The others were lined up in order of their births. Next came Mary, almost fifteen now, but appearing frailer than the duke had ever seen her. Cicely, named after the king’s mother, was thirteen.
