‘As well as you have done yours, mother,’ Jeanette answered, adding yet another row of stones in the wall between them.
The guests undressed the newlyweds to their undergarments of chemise and shirt, and placed them side by side in the great bed together. The Bishop intoned a blessing with a sprinkling of holy water, and then everyone departed, the priest the last to leave, closing the door behind him – although Jeanette knew someone would be listening outside with an ear flattened against the wood.
She looked at William Montagu with distaste even though he was handsome and well made. ‘You shall not touch me,’ she warned. Flinging herself from the bed, she went to stand in a corner of the room with her back against the wall.
He gazed at her in astonishment, then rose and came straight after her. ‘You are my wife now. You have to do as I say, and if you defy me, I have the right to beat you.’ He raised a clenched fist to emphasise his point.
‘Oh, such bravery.’ She curled her lip. ‘Do you truly think that will work? If you beat me, I will fight back, and how will that look when you emerge tomorrow morning covered in bites and scratches? How do you think others will respond when they see my bruises? Some might smile and say it is what I deserve, but remember, I am the King’s cousin. My father was a prince, and my grandfather a king.’
His gaze flickered. ‘But you have sworn in church to obey me and do your duty, and do it you will, because it is God’s holy law and you are required to pay the debt.’
Nausea roiled in her belly. He was still a boy, even if he stood on the cusp of manhood. Was he even capable? She cast a quick look in the direction of his groin, but there was nothing to see. With a shrug, she flounced past him to the flagon and cups set out on the trestle. She poured wine and drank it down like a soldier about to go into battle, and then again, before going to lie on the bed. Putting her knees up, she opened her legs. ‘Well then,’ she said with weary scorn, ‘let us have it over and done with – if you must.’
He eyed her like a startled hare, and his face flushed scarlet. But then he rallied to her challenge. He too poured himself a drink and gulped it down, and then leaped on her, crushing her flat, and dragging up her chemise. ‘You will not taunt me!’ His voice broke with an adolescent crackle.
‘I am not taunting you; I am doing my duty as you have said I must. I am not stopping you!’
He fumbled between his own legs and she felt heat against her thigh and realised he was indeed capable and erect, and suddenly she wished she had not challenged him. He pushed at her and she gave a strangled yelp, for his jab was sore, but then he gasped and she felt him spill against her thigh, too overwrought to follow through. After a moment he rolled off her, his chest heaving, and turned his back. Jeanette sat up and with a grimace wiped herself on her chemise. She said nothing to taunt him further but he turned to look at her, his face filled with fury and shame.
‘Don’t you dare say a word of this outside this room, or you will be sorry.’
Jeanette shrugged. ‘Why would I? You have done your duty, and I have done mine. It is no one else’s business. Neither of us need say anything at all.’
He glowered at her and got back into bed and turned his back. She heard him sniff and wondered if he was crying. She got into bed too and lay on the edge, with the cold, sticky patch clamming her chemise.
She remembered lying with Thomas. The melting, glorious feelings and the moments of intimacy when they could not get enough of each other and were one creature, limbs entwined, fitting together, sword and sheath. Even in anger there had been a full and burning passion with both of them committed full tilt. Tears prickled her eyes and she bit her lip and despaired to think that this might be how it was for the rest of her life.
In the morning the women came to take the sheet to wash it, and Lady Katerine contrived to smear some blood-stains over the linen from a phial concealed in her hand, and then disposed of, as proof of the consummation. Jeanette’s contempt for Katerine and her mother increased. William distanced himself from the women and made a swift exit, complicit with Jeanette in mutual antipathy. He had no desire to bed with her and face further humiliation, and she equally had no desire to bed with him.
Two days later, he departed with Prince Edward and Jeanette’s brother, John, for Edward’s household at Berkeley. For her part, Jeanette remained at Langley for Queen Philippa’s lying in, as did Katerine and Katerine’s mother-in-law, Elizabeth de Montfort, a stout, overbearing woman who had come to dwell in the Salisbury household to help educate – and manage – the new bride.
As Jeanette’s mother prepared to return to her estates at Donington, Jeanette asked her pointedly for her casket of jewels now that she was a wife in her own right.
Margaret fastened her cloak and turned towards the waiting cart. ‘When you have proven yourself a responsible wife, you may have them,’ she said.
‘But they are mine!’
‘And you shall have them – when you show me you are worthy.’
Jeanette pressed her lips together. There was no point in protesting since her mother did not have them with her, but she knew the time would never be right. Her uncle Thomas kissed her cheek and she bore it stoically, but as far as she was concerned, he had colluded in this betrayal and that particular bridge was burned too.
A few weeks after Jeanette’s marriage, John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey came to Langley, bringing with him his young mistress, Isabel Holland. Thomas had often mentioned his sister with affection and had explained to Jeanette the circumstances of her relationship with de Warenne.
A pang of loss and longing tore through Jeanette as she watched Isabel curtsey to the Queen, for the young woman so resembled her brother, with the same dark eyes and hair. Isabel was graceful like Thomas as she rose from her curtsey, and Philippa gestured for Jeanette to bring Isabel a drink.
‘We were so sorry to learn of your brother’s death,’ Philippa said. ‘He was a promising knight of the household and a good companion. We deeply mourn his loss.’
Isabel blinked in surprise. ‘Madam, I do not know where you heard such news, but Thomas is certainly not dead. He was wounded in the face, and has lost the sight of an eye, but Otto wrote to say he is making a good recovery.’
Jeanette gasped, and the world spun. Someone took her arm and helped her to a bench. Someone else hurried to burnfeathers under her nose in case her womb had gone wandering around her body.
‘Jeanette is a new bride,’ Katerine said with gentle concern as Jeanette coughed and spluttered. ‘It would be best if she went to lie down for a while.’ Her words held a certain intimation for those who might want to jump to conclusions given the recent marriage and wedding night.
‘Of course,’ Philippa said, also looking concerned.
Isabel Holland gazed at Jeanette with narrowed eyes and set lips.
Jeanette batted away the woman holding the bunch of singed feathers. ‘Let me be, I am all right!’ she said crossly, but Katerine would hear none of it, and hurried her from the room.
