For the next several days, Jeanette was on tenterhooks as the winter cold slowly yielded to glimmers of spring. The evenings were drawing out and suddenly the shadows were not as deep. She spent a great deal of time in prayer, hugging to herself the knowledge that Thomas was going to Avignon to put their case before the Pope.
Katerine, however, grew increasingly bad-tempered; the King was always too busy with his soldiers, advisers or the Queento see her and, from what Jeanette overheard, appeared to be deliberately avoiding her.
One afternoon, ten days after her brief meeting with Thomas, a visitor bearing a satchel arrived at the Salisbury lodging and presented a sheaf of documents to Katerine, who sent for her chaplain and, together with Elizabeth, retired to her chamber. When the women emerged, they were tight-lipped and cast dagger looks at Jeanette. William, who had just returned from battle practice, stood, sweaty and flushed, in his padded under-armour, gazing at his mother and grandmother.
‘What is the matter?’ he asked.
Katerine glowered at Jeanette. ‘This has happened, as I feared.’ She thrust the pieces of parchment into William’s hands. ‘Thomas Holland’s perfidy knows no bounds. None of it is true – it’s a tissue of lies and falsehood.’
William said nothing, but his body stiffened as though he was drawing everything up inside him. He glanced through the documents, some with seals attached.
‘You can read it in detail if you wish,’ Katerine said, ‘but it is of no consequence, for who is going to listen to this fairytale? I shall speak to the King about it and he will stop it in its tracks.’
‘It’s about my marriage, isn’t it?’ Jeanette said. ‘You can do nothing to stop this from reaching the Pope – nothing! The King won’t listen and Thomas is already on his way to Avignon!’ Elation and fear surged through her while the women stared at her like a pair of cornered lionesses.
William seized her arm in a hard grip. ‘Madam, I will speak with you,’ he said, and he dragged her into their bed chamber and shut the door.
Once inside, Jeanette wrenched free of his grip and rubbed her arm, knowing she would have fingerprint bruises later. ‘I have told and told you this day was coming,’ she said. ‘Thomas has the support of the Queen, and whatever your motherbelieves, the King will not stand in his way. He is on the road to Avignon where he will get a fair hearing.’
‘What makes you think the Pope will listen?’ William scoffed. ‘He has more pressing matters to deal with than paltry disputes like this.’
‘Why will he listen?’ She tossed her head. ‘Saint Silver and Saint Gold, to the tune of eighty thousand florins – that is why he will listen! He will listen because Queen Philippa is involving herself in the case. He will listen because it will make him happy to see the King squirm given the arguments they have had in the past. And the King will do nothing because he will cleave to the Queen in this matter. He needs to keep his own marriage vows sweet. He values Thomas as a proven leader of men whereas you are still in wardship. For all those reasons, Avignon will listen!’
‘Do not underestimate my mother and grandmother,’ William said stubbornly. ‘They always get what they want. Your own mother will fight this too.’
‘And you?’ she asked scornfully. ‘Will you fight it as well, or just drift with the tide?’
He shook his head and began unfastening his quilted jerkin. ‘I want nothing to do with it. Let God decide.’
‘Do you believe me? Do you think now that Thomas and I were truly married?’
He shook his head and didn’t answer.
‘You could let me go. You could write to the Pope yourself and say that you agree with Thomas’s claim, and that you wish our marriage dissolved.’
‘I cannot do that,’ he said with weary exasperation. ‘It is more than my life is worth. I took you to wife, truly believing in the sanctity of our marriage, and I am not going to deny it now. I will not stand in the way of the decision is all I will say.’
Jeanette puffed out her cheeks. ‘If you truly wanted to leave this match behind, you would go out there and tell your motherthat you agree to an annulment on the grounds that I was already wed. You know what is morally right yet you dare not do it!’
‘I want nothing more to do with any of it – not from you, not from my mother, not from my grandmother. You damned cackle of women can all hold your tongues!’ He tugged off his pourpoint, almost getting it stuck round his ears, and emerged red-faced, his fair hair sticking up in spikes. ‘Perhaps if you had the grace to see it from my side, you might understand.’
‘Perhaps if you had the courage to stand up to those two out there, I would,’ she snapped. ‘We have both been played false. You have been dubbed a knight, and you have dwelt in the battle camp, and yet they ride over you roughshod as much as they ride over me, as if we are still small children. I will not let them win – will you?’
Without another word, he threw on a clean tunic and stalked from the room, slamming the door. Jeanette sat on the bed, hands clasped tightly together, flesh to bone. Outside she heard the women speak to William and his curt reply followed by the hard banging of the outer door, making the walls vibrate.
Jeanette returned to the main chamber where Katerine and Elizabeth sat muttering together like a pair of witches.
‘You will not succeed,’ Katerine said to her with hostility. ‘I shall go to the King and he shall put an end to it.’
Jeanette shrugged. ‘But it was the King who gave my lord Holland the leave and wherewithal to pursue his case,’ she replied. ‘I do not think you will persuade him to change his mind.’
‘No?’ Katerine’s gaze was glacial. ‘We shall see about that.’
The next day was one of relentless drizzle under low skies, grey as old fleece. Katerine had been gone all morning, and returned in the early afternoon, in a mood as foul as the weather. ‘Packthe baggage,’ she commanded the servants. ‘We are returning to England immediately.’
Elizabeth, who had been dozing by the fire, lumbered to her feet. ‘Not today, surely?’
‘Tomorrow, once the packing is done,’ Katerine said tersely.
