“I am king of Scotland,” James Stewart said proudly. “Do you think the Beauforts can find a better match for this girl than a king of Scotland?”
And, of course, they couldn’t.
Bishop Henry wasted no time in seeing that his niece finally met with James Stewart. The next day in the gardens of Windsor Castle he introduced them formally, and then took Lady Cicely Bowen firmly by the hand, saying, “I am given to understand, young mistress, that you have not made your confession of late. I shall hear it myself now in the royal chapel.”
Cicely gasped softly, then said, “But, my lord bishop, I have been good. I swear it.”
The bishop of Winchester shook his head sadly. “Ah, the sin of pride,” he lamented. “This will take some time, I fear.”
But he was near to chuckling, for he knew very well that Cicely Bowen was indeed good. From the moment she had entered the household of Queen Joan she had endeavored to bring honor to her family at Leighton. And five years ago, when Queen Joan was accused of witchcraft, stripped of her possessions, and confined to Havering-atte-Bower, Lady Cicely Bowen had behaved in a most circumspect manner as she and Lady Joan Beaufort were taken away from that lady to be resettled in Queen Katherine’s household, where they knew no one and were virtually ignored. It was that more than anything else that had cemented the friendship between the two girls.
Queen Joan had been released just the year before, and her property returned to her despite the fact that it was her confessor, Father John Randolph, who had accused her. No charges had ever been filed, and the priest found himself confined to a monastery for the rest of his days. Lady Joan and Lady Cicely, however, were not sent back to Havering-atte-Bower, being considered old enough to be in polite society. And Cicely Bowen’s good influence on Joan Beaufort was a deciding factor in allowing the two girls to remain together.
“I think perhaps if you remain here in the chapel meditating foran hour or more,” Bishop Henry said as they reached their destination, “I can absolve you without further ado, my lady.”
“Oh, no, my lord bishop, on reflection I believe I do need to make my confession,” Cicely said wickedly. “I have questioned why God would choose handsome men for his priesthood instead of ugly ones. Is it not a sin to question God?” She looked up at him, her blue-green eyes wide with feigned innocence.
He was startled by the question, and then, realizing she was teasing him, he said, “My dear child, isn’t it nicer to confess one’s sins to a handsome man rather than an ugly one? God understands the workings of the female heart, for it is he who created it.”
“Oh,” she said mischievously, “and I suppose men making their confessions can feel superior to even a handsome cleric, for the priest has given up women and other worldly things, while a normal man may revel in them, and then say he’s sorry. But if a priest envies a normal man his sin is greater, is it not?”
Now the bishop of Winchester could not refrain from chuckling. The girl was clever and quick. He understood why his niece was so fond of Cicely Bowen. “Very well, then, Lady Minx, you will kneel and, placing your hands in mine, make your confession now.” He led her into the chapel and stood on the steps before the altar.
Cicely did as she was bidden, all mischief gone from her voice as she asked forgiveness for sins she had long since thought she had put behind her. Anger at her stepmother for not loving her, for not being her friend and mentor, for taking her father from her and forcing her from Leighton Hall. Anger that she had not seen Robert Bowen in two years now, and was not even certain he received the letters she wrote to him. And, to her surprise, anger at Queen Joan’s confessor for causing that good woman difficulty, and anger at the women of Queen Katherine’s household, who did not hold Lady Joan Beaufort in proper esteem. “I am not important, my lord, but Jo is royal, and should be treated with kindness and respected.”
Bishop Henry listened. He understood the anger Cicely kept socarefully hidden away from others. He remembered his own childhood, when people had not respected his beautiful mother, and scorned her because of her loyalty and love for John of Gaunt, her lover, and her three sons and little daughter because of the stain of bastardy that touched them. He remembered how their attitudes had changed when his father was finally able to marry Katherine Swynford and legitimate their four children. But his mother had taught them all to be proud of who they were, and allow no one else’s opinions to matter to them.
Young Cicely had the same ethic, and he admired her for it, for she was a girl and, but for his niece, without influence. The bishop also appreciated her loyalty to Joan Beaufort. And he was quite interested in what she had to say about the priest who had accused Queen Joan of witchcraft. Though the man had claimed falsely, it was later proved, Queen Joan’s malice towards Henry V, it turned out that he had learned from a serving girl that she was teaching her two fosterlings how to prevent conception once they were wives. Outraged but canny, the priest had decided that accusing Queen Joan of treason against Henry V would gain him more than the truth. He had, of course, been wrong, for Joan of Navarre’s love for her stepchildren was a well-documented fact. Still, no stone was left unturned in the investigation, which had never learned the real cause of the priest’s ire, but had learned there was no threat to the king.
The bishop of Winchester listened to Lady Cicely Bowen’s confession, and then gave her a mild penance that would keep her in the chapel for at least another half an hour. Putting his hand on the head of the kneeling girl, he blessed her and left Cicely to her meditations, smiling.
Cicely, however, was not thinking of her alleged sins, or her penance. She was wondering what would happen to her when Joan Beaufort married the young king of Scotland. If James Stewart wanted the king of England’s cousin for his wife he would have her. The match was one that would be advantageous to both nations. Where wouldLady Cicely Bowen go? Would she be expected to return home to Leighton? If Luciana had disliked the child she had been, she would certainly not appreciate the young woman she was becoming. It was unlikely that Joan could include Cicely among her ladies. A position as one of the queen’s ladies would be eagerly sought after by families more powerful than hers. Perhaps, however, Joan Beaufort would not like James Stewart, and would refuse to marry him no matter how advantageous the match to both countries. Just perhaps.
But Lady Joan Beaufort was, to her own surprise, as immediately smitten with James Stewart as he had been with her on first sight. She returned starry-eyed from their meeting and their subsequent meetings filled with chatter about his charm, how wise he was, his beautiful poetry, his plans to bring Scotland into the modern age. Cicely grew more and more depressed. Then one night Lady Joan Beaufort came back to the chamber she shared with Cicely to announce that Scotland’s king had asked her to marry him, and that she had accepted.
When her best friend promptly burst into bitter tears, Joan Beaufort was astounded. “Ce-ce! What is the matter? Aren’t you happy for me?”
“How can I be happy when I am shortly to lose you?” Cicely sobbed.
“You aren’t losing me,” Joan protested.
“You’re going to be married!”
“So will you one day,” Joan replied.
“You’re going to Scotland! You’re going to be a queen, Jo, and I’ll never see you again for the rest of my life!” Cicely wailed.
“You’re going to Scotland too,” Joan Beaufort said. “You didn’t think I was going to leave my best friend in all the world behind, did you? Oh, Ce-ce, I would never leave you. You will be one of the queen’s ladies.”
Cicely’s tears ceased. “But, Jo, there are nobler families who will want a place in your household. My family isn’t important at all.”
“Your father is a rich man, Ce-ce, but more, he is clever at investing, and his advice is greatly sought by my family, by Queen Joan, by others. Your family has far more to offer me and the king I am to marry than some spoiled get of a duke, or one of my relations. Besides, Scotland is not considered the most fashionable country. Only the families of girls difficult to marry off will be fighting over the places in my retinue.” Lady Joan Beaufort chuckled. She hugged Cicely. “I would never leave you behind, Ce-ce!”
Now Cicely began to cry again, but this time they were tears of happiness. “I am so happy!” she sobbed, and then, as Joan’s laughter bubbled up, Cicely’s tears turned to laughter too. “May I write this news to my father?” she asked her friend.
“Of course! He must, of course, give his permission,” Joan replied.
“He will,” Cicely said. “Luciana does not want me back, especially now. She was quick to give Papa three sons, but for years she has shown no signs of having another child. Yet she is soon to deliver another baby. She prays, my father writes, for a daughter. I hope she has another boy, Jo!”
