‘Joanna is a valued member of the Queen’s household,’ Cecily intervened. ‘The lord Edward dotes on her, and she is most helpful to Dame Willelma the Queen’s nurse, now that her hips are so stiff. She is a conscientious girl and never shirks her lessons.’
Joanna flushed, and her father cleared his throat. ‘I would expect no less of my daughter.’ He looked her up and down as though assessing the points of a horse. ‘I may not visit often, but your stepmother and I receive news of your progress and we are very pleased.’
Joanna lowered her gaze at the empty platitudes. Their interest in her was only because of the connections she was making at court. ‘I pray for you both and my stepbrother every day,’ she replied. It was true. Cecily had taught her all about her Christian duty, but sometimes she prayed through gritted teeth.
Cecily touched her sleeve. ‘Joanna, go and bring that piece you have made for your father. I think you have finished it.’
He cleared his throat impatiently.
‘It will not take a moment, my lord,’ Cecily said. ‘I know you are anxious to leave.’ She shooed Joanna. ‘Quickly, child.’
Joanna curtseyed and hurried back to the Queen’s chamber, wiping her cheek, knowing Cecily wished to have a private word with her father; she hoped it was all to the good.
‘I had not expected my daughter to look so fine and grown up,’ Warin said to Cecily. ‘She is almost of marriageable age.’
Cecily eyed him sharply.
‘As her father I must consider such matters.’ He hitched his belt officiously.
‘She is very young still,’ Cecily replied with composure. ‘It will greatly benefit her to continue her education at the court.’
‘Yes, for now, but that time is coming.’
‘Indeed, my lord, and the ties she is forming in the Queen’s household will stand her in good stead.’ Cecily had received the impression from his occasional visits to court that his daughter was a loose thread to be woven in somewhere useful on the tapestry, but of no immediate consequence – a girl with a high maternal lineage, but no lands to accompany that prestige. ‘Joanna will make a fine wife and I am sure a worthy husband will be found for her in due course,’ she added diplomatically. ‘Unless you are considering her for the Church?’
Warin shook his head. ‘Not at the moment.’
‘Well then, let her continue here for now. She is trustworthy and a favourite with the Queen, and her skills will only improve with further education. It takes four years to train a page to become a squire and seven years further to bring him to knighthood. Joanna is quick to learn and sensible for her years, but she is not yet a woman. There is time, my lord.’
‘Indeed, indeed,’ he said gruffly. ‘I am pleased to hear she is making such excellent progress and I am grateful to you and the King and Queen for your efforts.’
‘You should be very proud of your daughter. Seldom have I taught such a rewarding pupil. Ah, here she is.’
Cecily turned as Joanna arrived, flushed and a little breathless. Performing a curtsey, she presented her father with a small linen package.
‘What is this?’ He unfastened the ribbon tie and opened the cloth to reveal a pouch, embroidered with a white swan sailing upon three blue waves.
Joanna blushed bright red. ‘I made it for you, sire.’
He looked at her in amazement, and then at Cecily. ‘This is your own work?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘That is what I mean about your daughter’s accomplishments,’ Cecily said, pressing her point. ‘Before long she will be one of the finest seamstresses in the court.’
His own face reddened with pleasure and hubris. ‘I am blessed indeed that my seed has engendered such a skilled daughter.’
Joanna’s heart filled with pleasure at his praise, dulled by a touch of disappointment. He had taken away the shine of the moment by turning the glory upon himself as her begetter. She had expended many hours on that little pouch and he would never think upon the meticulous care and attention she had put into it.
He tied the gift to his belt and kissed her cheek again, this time on the opposite side. ‘Continue to do well for me, daughter,’ he said. ‘I shall look forward to hearing more of your progress.’ And then he was gone, hurrying from the hall and summoning his squires for the return to Swanscombe.
‘You have done yourself proud, child.’ Cecily gave her a quick, maternal hug. ‘You are a lady of the court, and your father now understands how much you are valued, and how accomplished you are.’
Raising her chin, Joanna tried to behave as if all was well and normal, but deep inside there huddled an insecure little girl whose mother was dead and who had her father’s duty, but not his love.
Six months later, Joanna sat at her sewing, one eye on her needle, the other supervising the lord Edward and his companions who were playing in their father’s painted chamber. Edward was galloping around on his toy hobby horse, his hair a flaxen nimbus, his dexterity and balance astounding for his age. His nurses were laughing at his antics as he urged on his mount with high-pitched commands to go faster and faster. His two small friends galloped with him – boys of a similar age who were the sons of two soldiers from the garrison. In later years their rank would separate them, but for now they were just infants romping together.
At the far end of the chamber, a painter, his apprentices and workmen sat on high planks of lashed scaffolding where they were working on a frieze of royal golden lions in a long panel intended to run the length of the chamber. They had completed several feet already and had paused to eat a noon repast of bread and cheese, perched like hawks overlooking all. Joanna often came here to watch them.
