the present, I will leave you two together. Hilda will stay but she will not listen or interrupt. I am sure you and Cicely have much to talk about.’
I cringed at her lack of subtlety and rather gushing tone, but Hilda gave me a little wink and squeezed my hand before collecting up her needlework and slipping across the solar to a distant corner where a brazier had been set to ward off the chill so far from the fire. As Richard approached me I stood up, smiling a greeting and dropping into a slow curtsy. I daresay I should have modestly lowered my eyes but instead I kept my chin raised, re-affirming our childhood relationship which had always been candid and lively. ‘I did not expect to see you before dinner, my lord,’ I said. ‘You must have a thousand matters to attend to with so great a train about you. I hope they are all adequately housed and fed?’
He bent down, took my hand and raised me to my feet. Our eyes met, green on blue. We were of almost equal height now but for a time as children I had stood taller than him, a situation which I had relished but which I knew had riled him. There was no sign of irritation in his eyes now though; rather he looked captivated by what he saw and I thanked St Cicelia that I had chosen to bundle my mass of russet hair into fine gold filigree netting on a pearl and gold fillet. If my simple blue gown lacked sophistication, at least my headdress supplied some evidence of elegance.
His response to my enquiry held a hint of amusement. ‘My people have no complaints about the Raby hospitality, thank you, but I did not seek your company to discuss their wellbeing, Cicely. We have much more important things to talk about now that we are at last alone.’ His glance swivelled to where Hilda sat, eyes cast down on her embroidery, and his smile widened. ‘Well, almost alone.’
‘Perhaps you remember Hilda?’ I made a gesture in her direction. ‘She has been with me since childhood. She is my closest friend and privy to all my secrets.’
He took my hand and led me to the window where my mother often sat to read. The salon was on the second floor of the eponymous tower my father had built especially for his second wife, with windows that looked over the curtain wall and the wide moat to afford a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. The stone seat of this oriel was comfortably cushioned in bright-blue figured damask and within its deep embrasure we would be out of Hilda’s line of sight.
‘I hope that will not be quite so true after we are married. I believe that man and wife should hold certain matters secret between themselves,’ he said, seating me gallantly before settling down himself at a carefully judged distance. This was my first indication that with Richard everything was carefully judged, that is until he lost his temper, but I was not to discover this important variation just yet.
‘You were young when I left Raby but I remember your skill at horsemanship,’ Richard added unexpectedly. ‘Even at ten years old you would slip away to the stables to tack up your pony and ride out. Cuthbert was invariably with you, of course, but your fusspot of a governess would come scurrying around the outbuildings looking for you. It made us henchmen laugh.’
I shrugged. ‘I tried not to stay within call. I suppose I was an unruly little girl.’
‘Yes, you were.’ Richard shifted about to make himself comfortable on the soft cushions. Afternoon sun shining through the leaded panes bathed us in soft, golden light. ‘But I admired you even then,’ he added – as an afterthought, it seemed.
‘Admired me?’ I echoed. ‘I thought you considered me silly and annoying.’ I had a sudden recall of a particularly disdainful look when I was in trouble following one of my illicit rides.
‘No, I never thought you silly. Annoying perhaps but mostly because you were so confident you would be forgiven whatever you did. And of course you always were.’
I gave a little laugh. Had he known what I was thinking? But what he said was true. I said, ‘I was spoiled; an occupational hazard of being the youngest child in a large family.’
‘I envied you that privilege.’ Richard leaned forward, suddenly earnest. Once again he took my hand in his, clasping it gently. His palm was callused from wielding his sword and I could feel the scratch of the raised skin against mine. ‘I should like us to have a large family, Cicely.’
I felt myself blushing again and berated my lack of self-control. ‘We must be content with whatever God sends I suppose,’ I murmured. I stared down at our joined hands and had a sudden image of how our bodies would be joined after our marriage. It would be so soon after John – but perhaps that was just as well. A shiver ran down my spine but Richard seemed not to notice.
‘I am the last of a line,’ he was saying. ‘The House of York needs sons. I intend to make the white rose flourish and there will be much to pass on to the next generation. Still, as you say, it is in the hands of God.’
He was fiddling with the betrothal ring on my middle finger. ‘I remember when you put that ring on my finger,’ I said. ‘You did not look as if you admired me then. You are greatly changed from the boy that was my father’s ward.’
‘I hardly knew you. You were only eight or nine and I did not want to be betrothed to anyone. But on the contrary, Cicely, it is you who are most changed. You have become beautiful.’
His use of the word unnerved me. Emotion and memories rose like a tide and I could feel the same frisson running up my arm as I had when John had used it, only a few days ago. Was I so gullible, so vulnerable to flattery? I snatched my hand away but managed to hide the action as if assailed by a sudden sneeze, pulling my kerchief from my sleeve pocket.
‘Please forgive me.’ My words were muffled in the kerchief. ‘It is not an ague – just dust I think. Or perhaps I am not used to flattery.’ I managed another little laugh, turning back and tucking the kerchief away again. ‘At least I hope my appearance coincides with what you consider appropriate in a duchess, although I am afraid you find me rather plainly attired today. It is Lent …’
He shook his head. ‘You look just as I hope I may see you many times in the future, in private moments. But I do believe that greater display is needed for public appearances. People love a spectacle and it is important that we give our vassals reason to bend the knee. With you by my side they will have splendour and beauty. And to that end I have something for you which I hope you will wear at our wedding.’
He opened the gilded leather purse he wore on his belt and took out a silk pouch, tied at the neck. I gasped as he tipped it over his palm. Shards of brilliance began to dance around us when the object it contained caught the light from the window. It was a brooch, fashioned to represent the wild English rose from which the York emblem was derived. Five white diamonds set in gold were laid like petals around a large central stone of a much yellower colour, such as I had never seen before. The gems seemed to pulse with life in his hand.
‘I had it made for you by a London goldsmith,’ he said. ‘The middle stone is a yellow diamond and very rare. May I pin it on your gown?’
We both stood up. My gown was fashioned with a central opening at the neck, through which the white linen and lace of my chemise showed. He pinned the brooch to my bodice, just above where the gown was cinched under my bust by a gold-braided girdle. I felt the pressure of his fingers on my breasts and was sure he could sense the nipples pucker. He smiled as if he knew my knees had gone weak and leaned in to kiss my mouth, raising his hand to caress the back of my neck. His lips left a warm, soft imprint on mine.
‘It is the first of many jewels I shall give you, Cicely, for beauty demands beautiful things. I look forward greatly to our wedding on Tuesday but even more to our life together afterwards.’
Due to the season there
