She lowered her lashes. ‘Certainly not this. And if I had, and the reality was less, then it would have been a foolish dream. And if I imagined less, then how much less should I settle for?’ She swallowed. Laughter and tears. Both sides of the same coin, and she was dangerously close to both.
‘I will give you the reality,’ he said. ‘You should dare to dream. We both should.’
Entering the bedchamber that had been prepared for the wedding night, Joanna inhaled a perfume of spices, rose water and incense. The quilted white coverlet, a gift from the King and Queen, had been strewn with rose petals, and sumptuous matching curtains were hooked back in two swathes. A lamp of tawny glass hung from the canopy on delicate chains, the oil within infused with musk and incense. Food had been set out on a table covered by a white cloth as well as a flagon and delicate glass goblets. A painted chest crouched under the window, decorated with the arms of Lusignan and England, of Marshal and de Munchensy, all gifts from Henry and Alienor. Joanna was taken to silence, and William spoke hoarsely for both of them. ‘Sire, madam, I do not know how to thank you, but our hearts are full.’
‘You are thanking me just by being here,’ Henry replied, his eyes glistening with tears. He swayed slightly, the worse for drink. ‘My family is of the greatest joy and importance to me. I wish I could give both of you much more – I swear I shall do in the fullness of time.’
The Queen raised her brows, as did several other courtiers, and taut glances were exchanged.
Henry took the hands of the newly-weds, making himself the link between them, and fixed William with an owlish stare. ‘I wish you the joy that has been mine and the Queen’s,’ he declared. ‘You have a veritable princess for your wife. She is very dear to me and I expect you to treat her with consideration. We all want to be friends on the morrow.’
Mortified, Joanna dared not look at William, who cleared his throat and bowed. ‘Sire, you have my word on it.’
‘Then that is good enough for me.’
The Queen stepped forward, and taking Joanna from Henry, enfolded her in a perfumed embrace. ‘You have all my love, dear Joanna.’ She turned to William. ‘And no less than my husband, I expect you to make her a happy woman in this marriage – not just for tonight.’
‘That is my intention, madam,’ William said with another deep bow, maintaining his aplomb, although his ears were scarlet.
Joanna kept her eyes modestly lowered as the maids removed her train, her headdress and her outer wedding gown, leaving her standing in her under-dress of embroidered cream silk.
William’s new valet, a Londoner named Jacomin, divested him of his wedding finery as far as his shirt and hose. The chaplain joined their hands and gave his blessing with a wish for fruitfulness and fine offspring, while an acolyte scattered them with water from a silver aspergillum. The bed too received a thorough sprinkling.
Joanna had heard of boisterous wedding ceremonies full of bawdy talk, but even with too much drink inside him the King was pious and proper in that respect, and with the blessing complete, he started ushering everyone from the room. ‘Come, there is wine and supper in the hall,’ he cajoled. ‘The finest musicians from Gascony shall entertain us while we take our final repast. Let us leave the bride and groom in comfort and peace.’
Full of drunken bonhomie, William’s brother Geoffrey brought a heavy hand down on his shoulder while giving him a smacking wine-sodden kiss. ‘Good fortune, little brother!’ he cried. ‘Don’t mess this up, for any of us. Acquit yourself with honour!’
Aymer and Guy dragged him away and out of the door.
Aliza kissed William and Joanna on the cheek. ‘Pay no heed,’ she said. ‘I wish you both well and will see you on the morrow.’
Finally, the last guest departed, closing the door, although the servants remained in the room – Mabel and Nicola, Joanna’s ladies, and William’s servants Elias and Jacomin.
The women completed Joanna’s toilet, combing her hair and removing her undergown to leave her clad in her chemise. Jacomin neatly folded William’s clothes and then attended to the refreshments, pouring wine into the delicate cups.
‘That will be all, you may go,’ William said, and then hesitated and looked at Joanna. ‘Unless you have any more need of your ladies?’
Joanna appreciated his asking her rather than dismissing them out of hand. She was battling her fear, for when the servants departed, she and William would be alone for the first time that day and with the expectation that they would consummate the marriage. Thus far they had been players in a pageant, two among many, but now the role had become real and personal. Soon they would take part in an act of the utmost intimacy while still being little more than polite strangers. ‘Yes,’ she said, and nodded to the women. ‘You may go – and thank you.’
As the door closed behind the servants, Joanna shivered. Nothing she had been taught by Cecily, for all her advice about meeting her husband frankly, had prepared her for this moment. Intensely aware of his every movement, thoughts flashed through her head faster than a guttering flame. She looked at the bed; the fresh linen sheets and bolsters; the embroidered pillows that she had worked on as part of her trousseau. Which side might he wish to sleep? How would it feel to lie beside him?
‘Do you want some wine?’
Joanna did not particularly, but tactfully accepted a cup. It was Gascon, sweetened with sugar and lightly spiced.
‘I am forever in the King’s debt,’ William said. ‘I fear that either I am going to awaken and discover it is all a dream, or else that it is true and I am not worthy of the responsibilities set upon me. I do not know if I am enough.’ He took another gulp of wine, but then put the goblet aside, and Joanna suspected he was trying to dissipate his tension rather than slake a genuine thirst. An attempt to normalise something that was not normal.
‘I have felt that too,’ she said. ‘The King and Queen have been so good to me and I do not want to disappoint them – or you. I was not born to what I have now. It has come to me because members of my family have died untimely – my mother, my brother, my uncles.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘I too do not know if I am enough for this.’
‘Then we are as one.’ The light from the glass lamp trembled as a moth blundered around the flame, and his face and hair were illuminated in gold. ‘You make me a proud man,’ he said huskily, ‘and a proud husband, and even for all I have been given, you are the most precious gift of all.’
She put her cup down and faced him, determined to claim her own power. ‘Then let it be more than words. Let it be more than the coin of the courtier. Let it be true and real and honest. That is what I desire from you most of all.’
‘I give it to you freely,’ he said. ‘Openly and honestly.’ He reached across the divide between them to touch a strand of her hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. ‘I never realised there were so many colours in brown – chestnut and hazel and gold.’ He raised the strand to his face. ‘It smells of roses.’ He ran his fingers delicately through the tress, and Joanna stood, breathing shallowly. Her maids combed her hair every day. Sometimes Cecily would do so in a tender, maternal moment, but now it was her husband on their wedding night and the feelings and sensations were very different, and intense. She wanted to reciprocate and touch his hair with its thick, vigorous curls, but she hesitated, thinking it too bold a move.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and then her neck in a slow, hypnotic movement, as if reading her by touch, and she quivered at the intimacy. ‘The King settled you upon me because of your wealth and lands and I need those to live in this country, but he also drew us together because he thought we would suit each other. He treasures you, and I will treasure you also, as my dearest friend and companion and love, and that, I swear, is the honest truth.’
Joanna looked at him, absorbing his words but still unsure. ‘You do not know me,’ she whispered.
