‘And I will do nothing to damage that. Have I not said so? How would I do anything to harm my son’s position as King?’

‘You must remain untouched, inviolable.’

‘I know, I know. A sacred vessel. Untouched until the day I am sewn into my shroud.’ Against my will, my voice broke.

‘Listen to me, Katherine.’ Gloucester exhaled loudly, rolling out a new argument with fulsome confidence. ‘Have you not thought of how this marriage would be seen? By the curious and the prurient? Our saintly Queen suddenly wed to a new husband, younger than she, whose social status is inferior to that of her own? The whole of Christendom will say that you took the first man you set your eyes on to your bed simply to satisfy your physical lust.’

‘Lust?’

‘It would prejudice your honour and your judgement,’ he pressed on. ‘It would defile your reputation. It would undermine the sanctity of the Crown itself.’

I was struck dumb by the enormity of this judgement.

‘His social status is not so inferior,’ Bishop Henry murmured, picking one comment out of the many. His voice seemed to come from a great distance. ‘Edmund is not some peasant discovered by Katherine in the palace gutter. He has, after all, the same royal blood in his veins as you, my dear Humphrey.’

‘I’ll not argue against it,’ Gloucester snarled, swinging round to face Bishop Henry, face livid with rage returned. ‘That’s the point, isn’t it? Your nephew has too much royal blood. And I’ll not allow a Beaufort marriage with the Queen Dowager.’

And there it was, Gloucester’s determination to stand in the way of any Beaufort aggrandisement. No Beaufort would be allowed to rise to power clinging to my silk damask skirts. Gloucester turned back to me, now giving no thought to his words, or to the degree of offence he would give to his uncle the bishop.

‘What role do you intend to give him, your new husband? Regent? Protector of the Realm? To replace me? Is that where the pair of you have set your sights? Oh, I’m sure Beaufort has. He would like nothing better than to lord it over the kingdom in your son’s name.’

‘Gloucester—’ But Bishop Henry’s intervention fell on stony ground.

‘Your marriage to Beaufort could destroy all we have achieved to preserve a kingdom with a minority rule. Do you not see how vulnerable we are with a King not yet five years old? We must do all that we can to preserve the strength of my brother Henry’s legacy, to strengthen the people’s respect and loyalty to the child king. Nothing must be allowed to undermine the God-given sanctity of kingship. And your selfish behaviour threatens to undermine all we have done. A liaison with a man known for little but low buffoonery and high ambition! Is this the man you would choose to stand beside you, as stepfather to your son? It is an entirely inappropriate match.’ He came to a halt, his breathing ragged.

And I, smarting from every criticism he had made of my character, my judgement and of the man I loved, summoned up a smile. Falsely demure, I asked, ‘An inappropriate marriage? If we are to speak of inappropriate marriages and relationships, my lord…’

And I let my gentle-sounding words hang in the still air, conscious of Bishop Henry stiffening in awe at my side.

‘How dare you!’ Gloucester blustered.

‘I think, my lord, that there is an English saying: about the relative blackness of pots and kettles. Am I not correct?’

Storm clouds raced across his face. The bigamous union between Gloucester and Jacqueline of Hainault had provided a short-lived attraction. And while he had set in motion an annulment, he had taken Eleanor Cobham to his bed, lady in waiting to the rejected Jacqueline. Oh, it was well known, but perhaps not tactful to mention here. I did so with a frisson of triumph as Gloucester’s narrow features became rigid with rage.

‘Your marriage has been far more inappropriate than any I might contemplate, Humphrey. Neither Edmund Beaufort nor I would engage in a bigamous relationship. Neither, I swear, would Edmund consider taking one of my damsels to his bed.’

Gloucester was beyond mere fury. ‘You will not discuss my private affairs,’ he snapped through closed teeth.

‘Yet you are free to shred mine to pieces.’ How bold I was.

‘You will not wed Edmund Beaufort.’

‘I don’t accept that. You cannot prevent us.’

‘Can I not? We’ll see about that.’

And, scooping up gloves and sword, Gloucester stalked out, his brow blacker than ever. I heard his voice harsh, intemperate, echoing through the antechamber as he summoned his servants and horses. I pitied his retinue on the journey back to London.

‘I suppose there is little purpose in my trying to make amends and asking Lord Humphrey to dine with us,’ I remarked to Bishop Henry, who still lingered, thoughtfully, at my side.

His regard was quizzical. ‘That was not wise, Katherine. What did you hope to achieve? Antagonising the man, however satisfying, as I know from my own experience, will not help your cause.’

But I shrugged, unregretful. ‘It was eminently satisfying. I enjoyed the expression on his face. Nothing I say will win him round, so I have destroyed nothing that could be made to work in my favour.’

But Bishop Henry frowned. ‘Be discreet. Compromising behaviour will bring you to the public eye, and who’s to know the result.’ Surprising me, he seized my hand. ‘I beg of you, Katherine. It’s not too late. Draw back from this.’

But I tugged my hand free. So he was not my friend either.

‘I have no intention of flaunting my love in public as if it were some deplorable scandal. It is not. I have brought no ill repute to my son or the English Crown.’ I eyed him. ‘Have you spoken with your nephew yet?’

‘No.’ Head bent in thought, as if he would see the answer in the extravagantly floriferous tiles beneath his episcopal boots, the bishop was already making his way to the door, although I doubted it was to catch up with Gloucester. ‘I’ll try and get to him before Gloucester does, and beat some sense into him.’

‘Sense? Do you think to persuade him to withdraw?’ All the energy that had driven me into defiance against Gloucester began to fade in the face of this new opposition. It hurt that Bishop Henry should stand against me too. ‘So you agree with Gloucester,’ I said sadly. ‘You would advise me against it.’

‘I don’t know.’ At the door he paused, with troubled eyes. ‘All I know is that Gloucester will stop at nothing to destroy the rise of the Beaufort star in the Heavens.’ His smile was dry and brittle. ‘It is my wish, of course, to see our star rise. And until I see my way to it, my advice to you, my dear Katherine, is that you remain…’ he hovered over the word ‘… circumspect.’

A word that could mean anything or nothing.

‘And unwed,’ I added despondently.

He shrugged. ‘Don’t give up hope, my dear.’

Alice, silent throughout, walked at last to stand beside me as the bishop departed and placed her hand on my arm, which now trembled. ‘Madam Joanna did warn you, my lady.’

‘So she did. And Warwick, in his way.’

What would Edmund say in the wake of this denunciation?

CHAPTER TEN

I fretted, shaking with anxieties, and with fears that built like a thundercloud. Not knowing where Edmund was, I wasted no time in struggling with a pen but sent a courier to Westminster with a verbal message. I must see him.

The days passed, with no word forthcoming from Gloucester or either of the Beauforts. My courier returned empty handed with no news other than Edmund was not at Westminster. All I could do was wait, and worry, the final clash in my verbal bout with Gloucester resounding in my mind.

You cannot prevent us.

Can I not? We’ll see about that.

And so we would. Caught up in the vicious battle with Bishop Henry for power over the Royal Council, Gloucester was set on bringing the Beauforts down. That much I now saw. Perhaps it had not been politic of me to challenge him with his own salacious dabblings in marriage, but it was a wound too late to remedy. I prayed that the desirable Mistress Cobham, commoner though she might be, would sweeten her lover’s temper.

‘I’ll go to Westminster myself,’ I announced, when I could bear the silence no longer, when my feet had all but worn a path to the high vantage point of the Winchester Tower. Madam Joanna had left Windsor for her favoured residence of Havering-atte-Bower even before Gloucester’s arrival, so there was no solace to be had from her calm view of the world.

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Alice replied gruffly, when I expressed my intention. ‘Keep a low profile and it might all be swept onto the midden.’ And, with luck, Edmund Beaufort too. I could read her unspoken thoughts but refused to respond. But we both knew it would not happen. The conflict between Gloucester and Bishop Henry had gone far beyond tolerance sealed with a handshake, reaching a climax when Beaufort troops had refused Gloucester access to the Tower of London. The outrage of the royal duke knew no bounds.

‘A pity you could not see your way to be enamoured with a man without name or ambition,’ Alice remarked caustically. ‘If you had, the Council might just leave you alone to be happy.’

I knew that to be a falsehood too. ‘If I had demanded to wed a man without consequence, the Council would object that he was not sufficiently well connected,’ I remarked tartly, weary of it all. ‘Marriage to a commoner would damage my integrity as Queen Dowager. They will not allow me to wed a nobody.’ I frowned. ‘Besides, it’s Edmund I love.’

Alice opened her mouth to reply, then shut it.

‘I do,’ I insisted. ‘I love him and he loves me.’

‘As your ladyship says.’

‘I know what you are thinking. Madam Joanna thinks the same,’ I interrupted the unspoken slight on our love. ‘Edmund’s regard for me is genuine. I am convinced of it. He would not ask me to marry him if he did not love me.’

Alice’s lips tightened, as they did when she reprimanded Young Henry for some lack of courtesy. ‘You might ask yourself, my lady, what he would gain from such a union.’

I strode from the room. No one wished me well in this. How could they not see Edmund’s love for me? How could they not appreciate the array of his gifts, of his skills, as bright as jewels, that he tumbled at my feet for my delectation?

I needed to see him. I needed to be reassured.

To my delight, Edmund returned to Windsor before I could sink into a bad humour. My heart lifted and I sprang to my feet, opening my arms to him as he lifted his to enclose me in their warmth. My lips rose to meet his in urgent welcome. For a little while we simply stood and savoured the closeness.

‘Now, there’s a welcome that no man could resist!’ he remarked as he surveyed me at last, his hands caressing my shoulders.

‘I have missed you.’

‘And I you, so I am come. But what’s this?’ His gaze travelled over my face. ‘You look as if you have been beset,’ he observed, running a finger over my brow. ‘What’s happened to make you frown? Nothing must be allowed to distress my love.’

‘Gloucester has been here. And your uncle,’ I said.

‘I know,’ he growled. ‘You don’t need to tell me about it. I’ve had an earful from Gloucester already.’ He strode away from me to pour two cups of ale. He presented one to me then downed his own in one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘The great lord was brutal in his choice of words.’

‘He says we cannot wed. He says they will stop us.’

‘And he has a whole fistful of arguments why we cannot,’ Edmund agreed. ‘Chief amongst them the one he didn’t see fit to list on his power-grabbing fingers, but the one that everyone sees, signalling like a beacon on a hilltop. That Gloucester would abandon his claim to the throne before he’d acknowledge any more power for the Beauforts. Except that he wouldn’t do that, would he? How he wishes the crown was his!’

He glowered, the expression marring features that were made for laughter. ‘He’ll not let me near the Young King, certainly not as your husband, for fear I lead him into the worst habits. Or try to influence his decisions to benefit the Beauforts as he grows.’

‘Edmund—’ I tried to draw his attention.

‘Let me think,’ he interrupted. ‘I can’t quite see my way around this.’

Edmund frowned into the middle distance, thoughts busy, tossing the empty cup in his hand. Fingering the little brooch pinned to the inner fold of my bodice, his introspection brought me close to despair. I had seen Edmund as my strength. Pray God that he and his uncle would be a match for Gloucester.