‘Yes, I do. And no I wouldn’t.’

‘And in three months you will have your son and heir.’

A smile transformed his face. ‘Or a daughter … I pray she’s not like you!’

And I smiled back. ‘Am I forgiven?’

‘Perhaps …’ And then when I opened my mouth to argue: ‘Yes. I forgive you.’

‘Take my love to Mary.’

He cast aside the brush and enveloped me in his arms in an enthusiastic hug, redolent of horse and smoke. I was forgiven. I returned the embrace, briefly, then pushed him away, brushing my hands down my bodice and skirts.

‘Holy Virgin, Hal. You reek of the stables.’

‘Of course I do. Is the Duke sending you home?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll come to court again.’

‘Perhaps. Will you be here?’

He shook his head, and I could see the exhilaration in him. ‘There are tournaments to be visited, where I can joust. One in Hereford …’

All was right with Henry’s world. If not with mine. We left early next day, Constanza keen to set out with a strong escort and Jonty who was returning to Hertford with me. For once it was a relief to leave court with all its undercurrents and challenges. I had already made my farewells to Philippa. So now, mounted on my mare, engaged in arranging my skirts while awaiting the Pembroke escort to assemble and for Jonty to finish tightening his girth, it seemed uncomfortably as if I was running away. Or being dispatched in disgrace, which was even worse. I raised my head, fixed on presenting a picture of self-composed pride.

‘Will you be ready this side of Compline, Jonty?’ I asked.

‘I doubt it.’

The voice, unmistakeable, smooth, honeyed, lethally attractive, pierced my composure. There he was, moving slowly to stand at my horse’s shoulder, his eyes on my face as if absorbing every thought, every emotion.

Oh, I wished he had not come. To my shame, my discomfiture, I could not return the stare. Yesterday I would have. Before my father’s clever lesson I certainly would have. Today I could not. Instead, with a bright smile, I looked over his head towards Jonty.

‘I fear you are right, Sir John. But perhaps he is ready at last …’

Sir John laughed softly. ‘Where has my sprightly Lady of the Lists vanished to?’

Now I had to look at him. ‘I don’t understand, Sir John.’

‘No? Why can you not look at me?’

‘I am looking at you.’ But I looked away.

‘You are very stern. I read unhappiness in your face. I see you have been warned off by a more powerful voice than that of my mother. I wonder what the Duke has said to you.’

How clever he was at reading court wiles and stratagems. I did not pretend to misunderstand. I had too much pride for that, and gathered it tight about me. Under such provocation my eyes flew to his, and stayed there.

‘Yes. I have been warned.’

‘Did my past dalliance with the lovely Isabella matter so much to you?’

‘It was not your past mistress, sir. It was your present politics.’

‘Ah! But I don’t seek a political alliance with you, Elizabeth.’

His implied meaning shivered over me, but I would not be won round. ‘No, but you do seek one with my father.’

‘How should that be? I am in no need of Lancaster. I am the King’s brother.’

He was almost persuasive, but I knew what I had seen. ‘The court is splitting into factions. I have seen it. I know where your interests lie. I know that Richard intends to send you to Ireland, and you would rather not go.’

He allowed his hand to drop from my bridle, his voice suddenly severe and cold, yet no colder than his eyes.

‘I did not dance with you for politics.’

‘But you did to win Lancaster support, perhaps.’

A flash of anger was there, swift as a dragonfly. And then it was gone. ‘It was not to encourage you to speak favourably of me that I fought for you and carried your guerdon.’

‘But it would undoubtedly have been in your interests to do so, if you impressed the Duke.’

‘I impressed him well enough at St Malo without your help. My skill with sword and lance would stand me in better stead than my ability to charm a woman.’ I could see the sharp displeasure as he took a step back, away from me. ‘I see that severe damage has been done and your mind twisted against me. By the Duke? Of course. I misjudged you, Elizabeth. I thought you had a mind to make your own decisions.’

‘I do.’ I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. This was not a conversation to make available to eavesdroppers. ‘I see Richard with Robert de Vere. I see you clasping hands with my father and brother. I too am of use, as a pawn in your own particular game. Farewell, Sir John. It was a most enjoyable experience. You have extended my education in the value of a woman of my bloodline. And the heady delights of flirtation, of course, which I expect to find efficacious in the future. But not with you, Sir John.’

I gripped my reins, to urge my mare forward, dropping one of my gloves as she tossed her head, instantly furious with my clumsiness in doing so. Sir John retrieved it, brushing the dust from the embroidered gauntlet while I held out my hand imperiously, for fear he thought I had done it with purpose. Which I had not, although once it might have crossed my mind.

‘I was maladroit.’

‘I think I will keep it.’ He did not seem to have much pleasure in the thought.

‘What is the use of a single glove?’

‘None at all. Give me the other.’ He held out his hand.

‘Not I!’

And then the smile had returned, that disarming gleam that swept away all his anger at the same time as it threatened to undermine my irritation with him.

‘Perhaps one day you will. Or I will return this to you. For now I will keep it, in memory of a pleasant interlude. Brief but unforgettable.’

He tucked it into his belt.

‘What is the point of that?’

‘I don’t know yet. But one day I will.’

‘You will forget me as soon as I am out of sight, Sir John.’

‘I will not forget you. Nor will you forget me.’

‘I will try very hard.’

‘I’ll not allow it.’ The gleam had vanished, the temper returned twofold. It was like conversing with the Roman two-faced Janus, lurching from one emotion to another.

‘And how can you prevent it?’

‘Elizabeth, you know as well as I that our thoughts are destined to run in tandem.’

‘No, they are not!’

Hopelessly I kicked my mare to walk towards where Constanza was seated in her litter, yet could not resist looking back, and asking; ‘Was I only a pleasant interlude?’

A show of puerile weakness I instantly regretted. Sir John applauded. I scowled.

‘What is that?’ I demanded, as cross as he, as the slap of palm against palm echoed off the walls.

‘My congratulations. How well schooled you have been by the Duke to see only ill in me.’

‘You misjudge me.’

‘You misjudge me, madam. If you think that I courted you simply to pass the long hours at court, you might as well leave.’

‘How would I know?’

‘How would you not, if your emotions were truly engaged? You were the least compliant woman of my extensive acquaintance. It took me much time and effort to win your regard, and I thought it well spent. I see I wasted my time. Go then!’ He bowed with exaggerated depth, the jaunty feather in his cap sweeping the dust in saturnine mockery. ‘Good day to you, Countess. I wish you well in your chosen life.’

Which made me lift my head in hurt pride, presenting my back to him, furious with his rejection and with my weakness in stepping into the trap. And then behind me I could hear Jonty’s voice raised in some exchange, followed by Sir John’s replying to him, a reply that made Jonty guffaw with laughter. That was my future. Jonty. Not John Holland.

My heart sank along with my spirits.

I would see him again. Of course I would. Of necessity our paths would cross, but I would greet him as an acquaintance. The magic was gone. He would make his way in the world, one way or another, and I would have no part in it other than as a mildly interested member of the court. I had lost him. My floundering heart was sore indeed.

I looked around me at the Westminster scene I was leaving. What was there for me now? My father’s words of disapproval, his sharp lesson in court politics, hammered into me and I knew I must concur. I would do what Philippa would do in my shoes. I would be what she would be. I would go with Constanza and Jonty and transform myself into an exemplary daughter, wife, sister. Until the day when I would fulfil my role and become an exemplary mother to the Pembroke heir.

Meanwhile I would rage against the unfairness of life, that the man who stirred my senses like the ingredients of a stock pot, had his eye set on some far distant goal that did not encompass me. And had reprimanded me for my lack of compliance.

Well, I would not comply.

And then Jonty was there, grinning, at my side.

‘Are we ready?’ he asked, manner disgustingly bright.

‘For the past half hour.’

We rode out together.

‘I like John Holland,’ he said. ‘Do you?’

‘Once I did.’

‘Oh. Have you quarrelled?’

‘No. I don’t quarrel.’ I caught his stare. ‘Well, sometimes.’

‘You’ve lost a glove.’

‘So I have.’

‘I’ll buy you another. It’s the sort of thing a lord gives to his lady.’

‘So it is.’

In the end, against my intentions, I looked back.

He was not there. Of course he was not. He would be gone to plot some other means to place himself at the centre of power. The quick blaze of his anger had surprised me, but did I not have more right to anger than he?



Chapter Five

Was there ever a man who kept his word? I did not think so.