The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean - Страница 52

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He discussed it with Hastings. 'My sister Margaret, the Duchess of Burgundy, has always favoured George. Heaven knows why. But he was an attractive child when she knew him and you know how people in families have these favourites. She might try to influence Mary into taking him.'

'You will never allow it,' said Hastings.

'My God no. I should like to get him out of the country . . . but not to Burgundy. With this extra claim you can imagine what he would be planning.'

T can indeed,' said Hastings.

While the King was considering this and preparing the refusal he would give to Clarence, Elizabeth mentioned the matter to him.

'A union between England and Burgundy would be an advantage,' she said quietly.

'It would depend, my dear, very much on the bridegroom.'

'So thought 1. Have you . . , ?'

'Selected him? It is hardly for me to do that. Mary 1 believe is a strong-minded young lady and will want some say in the matter.'

'She will marry where it is best for her to do so, I doubt not, and your sister Margaret will have some say in the matter perhaps. 1 believe they are very good friends.' Elizabeth hesitated and looked sharply at the King. He was smiling slightly. He knew what was coming. Dear Elizabeth, she was full of schemes for bettering her family. Who had she in mind now? He could guess. Anthony. For recently, like George, he had lost his wife and was in the market. Trust Elizabeth to try to pull down this very important prize.

He had to admire her. What hope had Earl Rivers of marrying the heiress of Burgundy, but since Elizabeth herself had married the King of England she believed anything was possible.

'It would seem,' he said, taking one of the tendrils of golden hair which hung over her shoulder and twirling it round thoughtfully in his fingers, 'that my Queen has a husband in mind for this fortunate child.'

'I would not presume to suggest . . . .'

'Then whisper to me, my love.'

'Well, Edward, I think that if Anthony were to have the girl it would bring great good to this country.'

'Anthony! Did you know, Elizabeth, that my brother George is after her?'

'You will never allow that.'

'No,' he said. 'Never.'

'Then Anthony?'

He was still smiling at her. He did not answer. To what lengths did her ambition for her family go? Did she really think the greatest heiress of the day would be allowed to marry a mere Earl and one who had inherited his titles because of his sister's relationship with the King?

Yet she looked so appealing. Why not grant his permission? Nothing would come of it in any case. The suggestion would be laughed to scorn in Burgundy and perhaps it would teach Elizabeth not to aim quite so high for her family in future. It was different with herself. She had won her place through her outstanding beauty and her determination never to irritate her husband with criticism of his actions.

'Well,' he said, 'let Anthony try. Nothing will come of it, I assure you. But there is no harm in trying.'

That was it. He would not refuse her. He would please her as always. Let someone else do the unpleasant part, which was of course inevitable.

It was different with Clarence. When he came and asked permission to put forward his suit to the heiress of Burgundy he was met with a blank refusal.

As Edward had expected scorn was poured on Anthony's hopes; but when George realized that Rivers had been allowed to try while he himself had been refused even that, his fury knew no bounds.

He had had enough. The King and the Queen were now his bitter enemies and he would act accordingly.

Sulking he went back to Warwick Castle. He was in deep mourning, he said, for the wife he had loved so well.

He was lonely. He might have been contemplating another marriage if all had gone smoothly with the Burgundy project. Not that that would compensate for the loss of Isabel, but it would take his mind off this miserable lonely state.

Edward had refused him that consolation. And what was more had given it to Anthony Woodville. My lord Rivers! That upstart! Where would he have been if his sister had not attracted the King and had the cunning to refuse him till he married her.

A curse on the Woodvilles. And that sly woman the Queen had tried to pretend she was Isabel's friend by sending her the woman . . . Ankarette somebody. Curse curse curse the Woodvilles and in particular the Queen who was responsible for their rise. Edward was a fool to have married a woman of no standing. They were always the worst when it came to grabbing htles and lands.

He ground his teeth in rage and wished with all his might that he could raise an army and destroy Edward.

How dared the Queen send a woman to serve Isabel! And why had she done it? Why?

Pictures were darting in and out of his fevered mind. That woman . . . sent by the Queen! For what purpose? Why should the Queen send Isabel a woman to serve her?

There was something behind this. The more he thought of it the more excited he became. He revelled in his excitement. It took his mind off the disappointment in the loss of Mary of Burgundy.

The woman had come . . . sent by the Queen . . . and Isabel had died. He did not trust the Queen, so he did not trust any of her women.

He sent for one of his menservants. He said to the man: 'Send the woman Ankarette to me. I would speak to her.'

'My lord/ was the answer, 'she has left us. She went after the Duchess's death. She said she had come to serve her and now she and the child were dead there was no reason why she should stay.'

'Oh she did, did she? I understand. Yes, I think I understand very well. Where has she gone? Has she returned to her mistress the Queen?'

'I think not, my lord. She has a home in Cayford.'

'And where is Cayford?'

'It is in Somerset I believe my lord.'

'Ah, that will do. I will find her.'

The manservant looked astonished but George waved him away. The plan was already there in his mind; and he never paused to consider consequences. He summoned eighty of his guards and told them that they were to go with all speed to a place called Cayford which was in Somerset. There they would find the home of Ankarette Twynhoe, and they were to arrest her and bring her immediately to Warwick Castle where he would be awaiting them.

The Captain of the guard looked somewhat dismayed. It was a well known fact that none had the powers of immediate arrest except the King; and although Clarence was the King's brother that was not the same thing.

'Why do you hesitate?' asked Clarence.

'We are to arrest this woman ... in the name of. . . .'

'You are to arrest this woman. Have I not told you? I command it. I command it . . . .'

When Clarence was in such a mood it was wisest to obey him and the Captain remarked that he would leave at once for Somerset.

When the soldiers arrived Ankarette was at home with her daughter and son-in-law, who were visiting her for she had been long from home nursing the Duchess of Clarence. They were sitting peacefully at dinner when Clarence's guard appeared.

As the Captain came into the dining hall Ankarette rose from the table in astonishment.

'You are under arrest,' she was told.

Her son-in-law had risen with her. 'What means this?' he demanded. 'What right have you to burst in on us thus . . . ?'

'We are ordered to take her to Warwick Castle.'

'For what reason?' cried Ankarette. 'I have just left Warwick.'

'On the charge of poisoning the Duchess of Clarence and her child.'

'This is madness/ said Ankarette.

'You must nevertheless come with me to answer the charge.'

Ankarette's son-in-law laid a hand on her arm. 'You should not go. They have no right. Only the King can arrest a person in this way . . . and these men do not come on the King's orders.'

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