“The king will be at Windsor next week,” Sir William said. “I’m leaving in another day or two. Ride with me. I can at least get you into his presence.”
“You have a new daughter, don’t you?” the earl said to his relation.
“Born on the day the old king died,” Sir William responded.
“She’ll need a husband one day,” Robert Bowen said.
“And he’ll need a rich wife,” Sir William observed. “My lass won’t have much, but I thank you for even considering it.”
“You don’t know what will happen in the next few years,” the Earl of Leighton told his kinsman. “Let us wait and see.”
When Sir William had departed Leighton Hall, Robert Bowen called for his horse and rode to the cottage where his daughter resided. Hearing his horse approaching, Cicely flew from the little house to greet her father. When he saw her, his heart contracted painfully. She was her mother’s image, with her rich auburn hair and her blue-green eyes. When she was grown she would be every bit as beautiful as Anne had been, if not more so. Even her creamy skin tone was Anne’s, and the long, dark eyelashes that brushed her rose-hued cheeks. The perfection of her skin, however, was marred by a purplish bruise upon her left cheekbone.
“Papa! You came! I thought you might be angry at me.” She looked up at him, concerned.
“Now, why would I be angry with you, poppet?” the earl asked her as he swept her up into his embrace, kissing her right cheek, gently fingering the bruise, disturbed when she winced slightly.
“I didn’t mean to anger your lady wife, Papa,” Cicely said as he set her down upon her feet. “Why does she hate me so?”
Taking her small hand in his big one, the earl led his daughter to a bench outside of the cottage door and they sat together. “I cannot sugarcoat the truth, poppet,” he began. “Your stepmother is a jealous woman, Cicely. She wants no other woman in my life but her. Sadly, I cannot change her, which brings me to why I have come today. Orva,” he called. “Please come and join us.” And when the serving woman stood by his side he continued. “For your own safety, and for the welfare of your half brothers, I am going to foster you out to a good family. There will be other girls with you from other families. The lady of the house will teach you all those things you must learn and must know one day when you become the lady of the house. Eventually I shall make a fine marriage for you, Cicely. Orva will go with you and continue to look after you as she has always done, poppet. You could not remain at Leighton Hall forever.”
“Where are we to go?” Orva asked the earl quietly.
He looked directly at her. “I do not know yet. I am going with SirWilliam to Windsor in a few days. The court is very busy now, and if I am fortunate I will speak with the king himself. I will choose wisely, Orva. In the meantime you must keep close to the cottage. There must be no opportunity for the countess to see you, or to see Cicely. Do you understand me?” he asked her softly, meaningfully.
Orva nodded. “I will keep the little lady safe, my lord.”
“Will I ever see you again, Papa?” Cicely asked her father, and he heard the fear in her young voice.
“Of course you will see me, poppet!” he assured her. “Sadly, your stepmother will not share her excellent household skills with you, and if you are to wed one day you must have those skills. Most girls your age are sent to other families. You will follow an age-old pattern, Cicely. And while I am at Windsor, Orva will make you some fine new gowns from the materials she takes from the storerooms. You will be the prettiest young lady in whichever household you join.” And Robert Bowen bent and kissed his little daughter’s cheek, careful to avoid her bruise. He arose from his seat. “I must return now to the house. When I come again, Cicely, I will know where you are to go.”
“Go into the cottage, child,” Orva said quietly. “I need to speak with your papa.”
Cicely obeyed immediately.
“Would you send her away if it had not been for the incident with your sons?” Orva asked her master frankly.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “She does need to know the things that only a lady of rank can teach her. Donna Clara tells me my wife speaks of harming Cicely, for the jealousy assailing her cannot be quenched. Sending my daughter away will keep the child safe, I believe. Don’t let Cicely eat anything you have not prepared yourself while I am gone. Do you understand, Orva?”
Orva nodded, her mouth quirking with her disapproval. “I have heard these foreigners like to use poison,” she noted.
The earl sighed and shrugged. “What else can I do but what I’m doing?” he said.
“Find us a good home, my lord,” Orva replied. “And find my mistress a good husband when she is old enough.”
The earl nodded. “I will,” he promised.
At Windsor his cousin managed to introduce him to the king, but the young man was more interested in preparing for war than in the fortunes of the daughter of an unimportant man. But Henry V was not heartless. Seeing the disappointment on the earl’s face, he said, “Such a request is not within my purview at this time, my lord, but I shall send you to my most excellent and well-loved mother, Queen Joan, with my request that she aid you in your endeavor.”
Relieved, the Earl of Leighton bowed low and thanked the king, who sent him off with a servant, promptly forgetting him.
Queen Joan’s antechamber was filled with petitioners. Robert Bowen was forced to wait, but the king’s servant waited with him to introduce him and present the king’s request of the lady.
Queen Joan had been Henry IV’s second wife. The daughter of King Charles the Bad of Navarre, and his wife, a princess of France, she had been married first to the Duke of Brittany, by whom she had had nine children. After her husband died she had acted as regent for her oldest son until he came of age at twelve. She had then married the widowed King of England, a father of six children himself. While both the king and queen were still young enough to have children, none were born to them. But Henry IV’s offspring adored their stepmother.
After sitting in the queen’s antechamber for several hours, the Earl of Leighton and the king’s servant were ushered into Queen Joan’s presence. The earl bowed low and kissed the elegant beringed hand held out to him.
“His Highness, the king, would have you aid this gentleman, madam,” the servant said, and then he backed from the room, leaving the earl to face the queen, along with her attendants, who sat about the chamber sewing and chattering softly.
