“You are?” Queen Joan asked Robert Bowen seated in a high-backed chair, a footstool beneath her feet.
“Robert Bowen, the Earl of Leighton, madam,” he told her.
“What is it I may do for you, my lord?” the queen inquired of him softly.
Quietly, as carefully and quickly as he could, the earl explained his situation. He did not wish to heap criticism upon his wife, but he did need Queen Joan to understand the desperate situation that he faced in the matter of his daughter.
The queen nodded slowly, and when he had finished she said, “Aye, I can see the difficulty, my lord, but you are partly to blame for it. When you took your bride you were not firm with her. Your daughter should never have been made to live outside of your house in another dwelling. Like my dear late husband’s uncles were, you legitimated your daughter. Your wife was obviously spoiled and allowed to have her own way by her parents.” Queen Joan shook her head. “But even if your wife had accepted your little girl, it would be better that she be fostered out. She has a dower portion, I assume.”
“With the goldsmith Isaac Kira, in London,” the earl said, and then he told the queen the amount he had placed with the goldsmith.
The queen drew in a sharp breath. “Indeed, my lord, ’tis a considerable amount. You will have no trouble finding a worthy husband of impeccable breeding for your child one day. But for now we must find a suitable family for her.”
“I would be honored if you could suggest such a family, Your Highness,” the earl said. “My family is old. It is honorable. But we have always lived quietly, avoiding entanglements that might bring dishonor to us or those we serve.”
Queen Joan nodded. “There is nothing wrong with being prudent, my lord. Now tell me how old your daughter is.”
“She is seven, madam,” he answered.
“Has she been taught? What languages does she speak?” the queen continued.
“She speaks both English and French, and can understand churchLatin, madam,” he told her. “She can do sums. She rides well, and her manners are good.”
“Then she is fit for the best company,” Queen Joan concluded. “Somerset’s widow has remarried herself to Thomas Plantagenet, the Duke of Clarence. She has left her children by John Beaufort in the care of others. Henry, the eldest, now holds his father’s titles, and remains in his own home. His three brothers are all fostered out, and serve different masters. His sisters are at home. The youngest will remain there for the interim, for she is only four, but I am considering bringing my namesake, Lady Joan Beaufort, who is almost nine, into the royal household. She is a sweet girl. Perhaps your daughter would make a good companion for her. Yes. I shall bring young Joan here, and your daughter will have a place among her maiden companions.” Queen Joan looked at the Earl of Leighton. “It is settled. Bring your daughter to me, my lord.”
Robert Bowen was astounded. Never had he anticipated such a high place for his wee Cicely! To be fostered within the royal house was an honor belonging to a greater name than his. “M-madam,” he stammered, and he flushed at his own awkwardness. “My family is not worthy of such an honor. Forgive me, but are you certain you would have my daughter? I am in your debt to such an extent I doubt I can ever repay you.”
“I am told you are clever with your investments, my lord.” Queen Joan surprised him again. “ ’Tis an interesting pursuit for one with so old and respected a name as yours. Is there truth to the rumor?”
He nodded. “My wife is extremely knowledgeable in such matters, having learned from her father in Firenze. I in turn have learned from her. I will advise you in any way that I can, madam. You have but to ask me.”
The queen nodded. “I will send to you now and again, my lord, for your thoughts in certain matters of finance. Now have your child delivered to my favorite home, Havering-atte-Bower, at the beginning of July. You may send a servant with her. When she is older I shallsuggest a suitable match for her, with your permission, of course, my lord,” Queen Joan said graciously.
“Thank you, madam,” the Earl of Leighton said. He bowed again as, with a nod and a languid wave of her hand, the king’s stepmother dismissed him. Robert Bowen made his way from the queen’s chambers and found his cousin.
“What happened?” Sir William asked, and the earl told him all that had transpired. “What good fortune you have had, Rob!” his cousin exclaimed. “You will never have to worry about your Cicely again if she gets on with the other girls in Queen Joan’s household. You must instruct her to make certain that she pleases the queen in particular. If she has that lady’s favor her future will be secured.”
“I still cannot believe all of this,” the earl said. “Of course I cannot tell Luciana exactly what has transpired. She will be jealous that I have obtained such a fine place for my daughter. I think she would have preferred I give Cicely to the Church with a meager dower portion and never see my child again. A cloistered order would have been her choice,” Robert Bowen said with a wry smile.
“Does she not realize that if your daughter makes the right friends at court, and marries well, that all of that would be of advantage to your sons?” Sir William said.
“Nay, she does not envision such things,” the earl answered. “When she considers Cicely she sees only a rival for my affections.”
“I am sorry for you then, Rob,” his cousin replied. “Surely then little Lady Cicely is better off leaving Leighton Hall.”
Robert Bowen nodded, but his eyes were sad.
He returned home, stopping at the cottage where his daughter lived before seeing his wife. Cicely ran to greet him, welcoming him home. Orva stood in the door to the dwelling, and their eyes met, hers questioning him.
“Let us sit down by the hearth,” the earl said. “The air is damp, and the fog not yet lifted from the fields.” He took his daughter onto his lap as he lowered himself into a chair by the small fire.
Orva put a small goblet of wine that was kept for his visits by his hand, and then she sat down too. When Robert Bowen visited his child they did not stand on ceremony.
“I have had an extraordinary piece of luck, poppet,” the earl began.
“You have found a family to foster me, Papa?” she asked, and to his sorrow he heard the fear in her young voice.
“Not a family, poppet, but Queen Joan herself!” he replied, forcing an enthusiasm into his voice that he did not feel. “And you will have another young lass for company who is coming to Queen Joan as well. Her little namesake, Lady Joan Beaufort. She is a year or two older than you, I am told, but it will be her first time away from her home too. Her father is dead, and her mother remarried. Her older brother is the Earl of Somerset. They are the king’s cousins, poppet. This is incredible good fortune for you to be taken into a royal household. And Orva is to come with you.”
