Joanna spent three months at Goodrich with the children, taking stock and recovering from life at court. However, she did not dwell in isolation, and often entertained guests on their travels through the Marches. Even so the pace was much gentler and she was relieved not to be constantly on her guard. She visited Dene Abbey, a Cistercian foundation eight miles away that had rents and farms from Goodrich, and she became friendly with Osmund, the Abbot. She would eat with him once a week while they discussed business matters and items in common with the estates. Elderly but spry, Osmund had an especial interest in astronomy and he delighted in teaching Joanna about the constellations.
On clear evenings she would climb to the top of the keep and pick out the shapes in the heavens – Capricorn, Pisces, Taurus the bull, Orion the hunter. Knowing William would be looking at the same stars in Gascony brought both comfort and longing. She would envisage his face and imagine running her fingers through his thick curls, and would feel the bite of loneliness. While she delighted in having the bed to herself in the summer heat and being able to curl her toes in the coolest corners, she missed the reassuring security of his body, and the pleasure he took in her and she in him. However, on a parallel course, she set such longing aside, knowing she must become both lord and lady in his absence.
After a few weeks the letters had begun arriving from Gascony, often worn and curled at the corners from their long journey, sometimes salt-stained and smelling of wood smoke, but at least William had remembered his promise to write. He told her he had been involved in several skirmishes and seen fighting, sometimes leading as the battle commander, but he had played a part in diplomacy too, and was busy advising the King and witnessing documents. He expected to be gone for some time yet, but hoped to see her in the spring – in Bordeaux, if she would come.
She returned his letters, telling him of her life at Goodrich and the daily running of the estates, and how well the children were progressing with their lessons. She wrote a little about her star-gazing, but not in great detail, for she wanted to share it with him in full once they were reunited.
Summer turned to autumn with golden harvests of wheat. The castle’s flock of geese roamed the fields, fattening on the grain that had dropped through the stubble. Apples were pressed for cider and the hogs sent into the forest to feast on beech mast and acorns. The days shortened and morning mists floated in veiled layers above the grass. Fires were lit earlier and the smell of wood smoke permeated the air. Still Joanna lingered, eking out and savouring the last days while watching the weather.
Receiving news that Queen Alienor had been safely delivered of a baby girl, christened Katharine, was the catalyst that set Joanna to packing carts with her household goods and closing up the castle, leaving it to the care of a small garrison and necessary servants. Glancing over her shoulder, as the cart rumbled away from the castle, she vowed to return and make it magnificent.
At Westminster, the Queen welcomed Joanna back to court with cordial but formal courtesy. The earlier quarrel, although mended, had left its scars. Joanna was no longer part of the Queen’s inner circle, even while afforded the respect due to her as a family member by marriage. She was given a place of honour at the feast held to celebrate Alienor’s churching, but the conversation lacked the old warmth and intimacy, which saddened Joanna, even while she realised that time had changed and moved on.
Edward had grown again and his voice had broken, becoming strong and rich. He towered above many of the mature male courtiers and reminded Joanna of a virile young lion prowling his domain.
‘Aunt Joanna!’ He kissed her cheek before lifting her in his arms and swinging her round. ‘Hah! You used to do this to me when I was little, but now I can do it to you.’
‘That does not mean you should, Edward,’ she remonstrated, but she was laughing. ‘Just remember that when you are King.’
He set her down with a flourish. ‘Uncle William always says how wise you are.’
‘I am glad to hear it. A sensible husband should always listen to his wife, because she knows best.’
‘Not to his mother then?’ he asked with an expressive grin and a glance in Alienor’s direction.
‘You should always respect your mother, and she has raised you to do so,’ Joanna answered diplomatically. ‘But the final responsibility lies with you. We all hope for great things from you, nephew.’
His smile was disarming. ‘Is that so?’
She gave him a level look. ‘Yes, indeed.’
He returned her stare. ‘I am to be wed in order to make peace in Gascony – to the half-sister of Alphonso of Castile if all goes to plan. Her name is Leonora.’
Joanna touched his arm. ‘Be good to her and you will do well together.’
‘I shall be as chivalrous as Uncle William is to you,’ he said gallantly. ‘When my bride comes to England, I shall bring her to see you, for she will need someone to give her advice and friendship. My mother will love her as a daughter, but she will still be my mother.’ Joanna understood his meaningful gaze. Alienor would always consider herself the most important woman in Edward’s life and the new bride would be a daughter-in-law, not a daughter.
Edward went off to join his companions, a spring in his step, and Joanna went to look at the new baby, Katharine, cradled in her wet nurse’s arms. She had rosy cheeks and dark-blue, myopic eyes. Joanna had brought her a gift of an ivory rattle, but when she shook it in front of Katharine, the infant paid no attention, although she had a beautiful smile for her nurse.
‘What a fair child,’ Joanna said. She shook the rattle again, but the baby still did not look towards the sound. Joanna put the toy on a cushion at the nurse’s side. ‘Perhaps she will like it later,’ she said, and departed to work on some correspondence dealing with her estates, although first she went to the King’s painted chamber, to visit the figure of Hope, and touch her gold-painted shoe.
24
Bordeaux, France, June 1254
Hot sun burned down on Joanna’s head as she arrived in the courtyard of the Queen’s residence in Bordeaux. Alienor had travelled from her regency in England, bringing Edward so that he could go forward to his marriage in Castile. After greeting Henry, there had been a grand entrance parade, and together the royal family had presented gifts of gold cloths to the three great churches in the city.
Last time Joanna had visited Bordeaux she had been a child, a chamber damsel of minor prospects. Now, she returned as the lady of great estates, married to the King’s brother, and the mother of three children.
She had glimpsed William several times amid the ceremonial throng, but the formality meant they had yet to speak. He looked different. Lean and hard, his skin deeply tanned from time spent under a hotter sun than England’s. Watching him, her stomach fluttered with desire, mingled with a little fear, for it was like gazing at a stranger, and it might be like embracing one too.
Joli, her groom, helped her to dismount and she smoothed her gown.
‘Joanna?’
Drawing a short breath, she faced him, holding herself so stiffly that it had the opposite effect and she began to tremble. He pulled her against him and relief surged through her, for instead of standing alone she had a partner, and he was real, solid flesh and blood not just a scribe’s salt-stained letter. Her knees almost buckled, but she rallied and straightened again.
‘What’s wrong?’ He looked at her in concern.
