Jeanette curtseyed, eyelids lowered. Her contact with the King was of the passing variety. He would speak to her in the hall sometimes, and if he visited the Queen would include her in the ladies and make sociable remarks of small consequence. For himto summon her personally could only mean one thing, and she was not ready to hear it.
De Roet escorted her to the chamber where the King was busy with matters of administration. At the back of the room, his great bed bore a silk coverlet embroidered with the recent blazon quartering the arms of France and England. A few other nobles were attending him, including the earls of Warwick and Salisbury, and the usual scribes, messengers and envoys, among them a couple of Gascon lords.
Brought to Edward’s chair by de Roet, Jeanette sank in a deep curtsey and bowed her head.
King Edward rose, lifted her to her feet, and kissed her cheeks. ‘Cousin,’ he said, ‘come sit by me. Did you enjoy the hunt today?’
‘Yes, sire, very much.’ He settled back in his chair and she perched on a stool at his feet. ‘I loved flying Athena, and what a sight to see your gyrfalcon bring down that crane.’
He beamed with pleasure. ‘Indeed, it is not every day you see such a thing.’ He crossed his long legs, encased in bright scarlet hose. ‘And I noticed that little merlin of yours. You have some skill, cousin.’
‘I have had her since I was a little girl, sire. The Queen gave her to me.’
‘Well, your care for her shows.’ He beckoned a servant to pour wine into two goblets of pale green glass decorated with smaller dots of blue. ‘Now, then,’ he said when they had each taken an obligatory sip, ‘you may be wondering why I have asked to see you, but I think you may have an idea.’
Her throat was so tight she could barely speak. ‘Yes, sire.’
Edward eyed her shrewdly. ‘I have talked to the Queen, and we are both agreed on the matter of settling your future. If I am to have allies, I must secure the bonds of trust and friendship between us and I know you understand that necessity. That iswhy I have requested your presence and given you wine as a lady of the court, and not a child. I do not believe you think of yourself as a child, my dear. You are well grown and ready for marriage.’
Jeanette swallowed, feeling cornered. She had known this was coming, but her stomach still plummeted.
‘I know you may be shocked, but you are the same age as the Queen was when we were wed, and you are just as courageous. I know your father would be proud of you.’
Jeanette took another sip of wine, and almost choked. ‘Who am I to marry, sire?’
Edward glanced towards the two Gascon nobles. ‘The seigneur Armand d’Albret, son of Bernard d’Albret. He is a fine young man of your own age. His father is an ally and keen for the match.’
Jeanette fought to keep the dismay from her expression. Gascony was somewhere she had often heard mentioned in conversation, but it was a distant place, far from the court, with a different culture and language. She might thrive on adventure and new experiences, but she had no desire to be an isolated, powerless bride to a youth she had never met. She would have no friends and little influence beyond that of a marriage contract. She might never see Thomas again – or her brother for that matter.
‘I believe the match will suit you very well indeed,’ Edward continued when she did not reply. ‘We shall pursue the contract once I return and hopefully you shall be wed by the autumn.’ He regarded her expectantly. ‘I shall tell your mother as soon as I return to England.’
Jeanette gulped against the dreadful tightness closing her throat. ‘Sire, I . . . I thank you,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I do not know what to say.’
He raised his brows. ‘I see I have taken you by surprise. I am putting the negotiations in the hands of Sir Oliver Ingham, my steward in Gascony, for the time being, and until matters are settled beyond a doubt we shall not make a public announcement. However, I counsel you to prepare your trousseau, and make ready for your new role.’
Jeanette bowed her head, lost for a reply. She rose to her feet at his gesture. She could see others poised on their toes, ready for their turn to speak with him, and he was already moving on from their interview.
She knew she could not refuse; she was a sparrow tossed in a storm wind, wings over tail. She curtseyed, and took her leave, carrying herself with pride and grace until she was out of the door, but then grabbed her skirts in her fists and started to run despite Paen de Roet’s shout. On and on, through corridors and cloisters, past the startled guards and into the raw January air, until her legs gave out and she buckled to her knees, a terrible stitch in her side. The enormity of what she had tried to outrun caught up with her like a gazehound on a hare, and she sucked breath after breath over her larynx, filled with a visceral revulsion so strong that it made her retch.
De Roet appeared, striding swiftly, and paused to lean against the wall and press his hand to his ribs. ‘Young mistress, we should return to the other ladies,’ he panted, and after a moment stooped to take her arm and draw her to her feet, clucking his tongue. ‘This will not do, indeed it will not. What will the Queen say?’
Jeanette slowly straightened up and swallowed hard, still feeling that she might vomit at any moment, but trying to control herself, trying to think rationally. She would not wed this youth, whoever he was. If there was a way of preventing it, she would find it. Brides had to be suitable after all, and opening a negotiation was not the same as accomplishing the end result.‘Yes,’ she said, and drawing a deep breath, looked into de Roet’s anxious brown eyes. ‘We should return to the Queen. And you are right that this will not do at all.’
By the time Jeanette returned to the women, she was composed, although she could do nothing about her blotchy face, or the soiled patches on her gown where she had fallen to her knees. The women looked at her askance and a few shook their heads in outright disapproval. Philippa dismissed everyone and commanded Jeanette to come and sit at her side.
‘Well then,’ she said. ‘The King has told you the news.’
‘Yes, madam.’ Jeanette folded her hands in her lap.
‘I see it has come as a shock, but it is a good match for you, and no reason to weep. Indeed, I should have thought to see you smiling.’
Jeanette’s chin trembled. She could not have smiled if her life depended on it.
‘You are of an age, and it is your duty, as well as one of the reasons you sailed with us to Flanders,’ Philippa continued. ‘It will be good for you to take responsibility for a husband and household, and you will be forming an alliance to benefit your cousin the King. You have it within you to be a fine consort and mother to strong children who will be a credit to your lineage.’
Jeanette almost shuddered. She didn’t want to become a ‘fine consort’ in the mould they intended for her. What was fine about being sent to Gascony to wed someone she had never seen and be put to work bearing children and organising a household amid strangers? ‘I do not want to leave you,’ she said. ‘The court is my home.’
‘But you are ready to fly this nest and make one of your own,’ Philippa said. ‘Come now, let us have smiles, not tears, and tomorrow we shall begin finding fine cloth and jewels for your trousseau. Won’t that be delightful? This match means a greatdeal to the King, and it is your duty to please him and your family. You would do well to remember it.’
