William rubbed his hands down his tunic again. ‘And what will she think of me?’
John gave him a lop-sided smile. ‘That, my friend, is up to you.’ He looked round. ‘Here is the King now.’
Warm golden bars of morning light shone on the tiled floor of the Queen’s antechamber. Joanna stood very still in one of them while the ladies fussed around her twitching and smoothing. Her new gown, a gift from the Queen, was of dark-red damask, tightly laced at the sides to emphasise her figure. A white veil covered her coiled braids, secured by a delicate circlet of silver-gilt, intertwined with little enamelled blue flowers and green leaves. The Queen had given her that too, throwing herself into the arrangements. Not so much to please the King, with whom she was still a little annoyed, but for her own romantic gratification. She had bestowed a litany of advice, most of which had swept straight over Joanna’s head because she was too overwhelmed to absorb it.
‘It will be all right,’ Aliza said. ‘It is wonderful that you are to wed my brother and become my sister. William had better know how fortunate he is or I shall box his ears!’
Joanna smiled wanly at her friend. She felt queasy and feared she might be sick. She hated being the focus of everyone’s gaze and just wanted this public agreement to the marriage to be over.
‘William is just as anxious as you are,’ Aliza said. ‘It is a great moment for him too and he has to come and propose to you. You have the power to decline his suit, or look upon him with disfavour.’
‘But if I declined him I would be refusing the will of the King and my position would become untenable. I have no choice, although I do not find him distasteful.’ Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
‘I sat with him last night and he told me he could not believe his good fortune and he fears it might all be a dream. You are not alone in having qualms.’
Joanna raised her brows. ‘But he must have known the King would afford him a fine marriage as a means of remaining here.’
‘Perhaps, but not taken for granted,’ Aliza replied. ‘We are on probation, indeed on trial, and our every movement is observed and judged at court. We have no security other than the King’s will.’
A herald arrived to announce that the King and his brother, William de Valence, awaited admittance. Alienor gestured assent and rested her arms along the sides of her great chair. Joanna came to stand at her left, with the other ladies behind. A chair for the King had been placed at Alienor’s other hand and her chaplain, Brother Thomas, stood by it, representing the Church in bearing witness.
‘Bid my lord and the seigneur de Valence enter,’ the Queen said.
Joanna dug her fingernails into her palms. Her stomach was so tight she felt as if it was clamped to her spine.
The King entered the room, pacing slowly to give a heightened sense of occasion. William de Valence walked behind at his shoulder, followed by his brothers and John de Warenne. Advancing to the Queen’s chair, Henry bowed to his wife, and then took his place at her side, smiling. ‘This is a happy and auspicious moment,’ he said, and then extended his hand in an open gesture to William.
Doffing his hat, with a flourish, William made a deep obeisance. ‘Madam, I thank you for this opportunity and audience.’
Alienor graciously gestured him to rise. ‘You are welcome as my dear lord’s brother,’ she said. ‘And we are both delighted to oversee and bear witness to this moment of betrothal.’ She indicated Joanna with a graceful gesture.
William turned to Joanna, knelt again and bowed his head. He wore a tunic of fine dark-blue wool, and deep, reddish-brown hose, set off by ankle boots patterned with gold lions. Breathing shallowly, Joanna tried to take it all in and make the moment real, but felt as if she was standing inside an illuminated picture in one of the Queen’s romance books, created by someone else.
He raised his face and looked at her with his striking grey-gold eyes. ‘My lady, I hope you will do me the greatest honour of accepting my offer of marriage as conveyed to you by my brother the King, and I humbly ask that you might look on my suit with favour.’
His ears were scarlet and Joanna knew her cheeks must match, for they felt as hot as fire. She wanted to cover her face with her veil and hide. ‘You also do me a great honour, sire,’ she replied formally, her voice hoarse with tension. ‘I only ask that you treat fairly with me and I will do due diligence to you and gladly accept your proposal.’ She attempted to smile, but it was like trying to draw a tightly strung bow.
The Queen prompted her with a look and a small gesture, and Joanna realised, mortified, that William was still on his knees. Hastily she gestured him to rise.
He stood up and smiled at her with relief in his eyes. ‘My lady, I swear I shall treat you with all the honour, deference and respect that is your due. Indeed, I would stay on my knees for ever if you so bid.’
Joanna lowered her gaze. ‘That will not be necessary.’
‘I am mightily relieved, and glad for your lenience.’
She was too tense to respond to the flash of humour in his voice, but heard a soft grunt of amusement from the King.
‘I ask you to accept this ring as a token of our betrothal,’ he said, and produced a delicate gold ring set with a disc of exquisite Limoges enamel depicting a flower in blue and gold. ‘I hope it will be the first of many jewels and gifts with which to express my esteem.’
Joanna’s sense of unreality increased. Feeling ever more like a figure in illuminated parchment, she whispered her assent and extended her left hand so that he could slip the ring on to her third finger. It fitted perfectly, making her wonder if the Queen had been consulted about the sizing. He drew her hand to his lips, kissed the ring but not her skin, and then took a step back, but still holding her hand. Joanna looked down, blushing.
It was done. The Queen clapped, and waiting attendants brought drinks and refreshments for the guests. William took a cup of wine, handed another to Joanna, and they stood awkwardly side by side as they were congratulated and feted. Joanna lost count of how many kisses and embraces she received, although none from her betrothed, who did not yet have that right.
The moment came when they stood alone and Joanna had to fight the urge not to flee as she had done when first told of the marriage. ‘It is another fine day,’ she said to fill the awkwardness, and was utterly chagrined because the comment was so inane to mark a moment of such enormity.
‘It is certainly an auspicious one,’ he replied, and looked towards the window where the shutters were open to a jewel-blue sky.
She gave him a covert look, taking in the delineated masculine features, the sharp nose, the curly hair. What would it feel like under her fingers? She remembered what the Queen had said about it being a sign of vigour and a shiver ran down her spine composed of fear and anticipation. She was going to share her life with this man and be intimate with him. He would be the father of her children, and she the mother of his. She had always known she would have no choice in her marriage and would have to accept whatever dish was set before her, but this was like expecting a chunk of meat and being given a platter of rare confectionery instead.
