Виктория Холт - The Queen’s Secret

“Did you not realize? It was the way you held him…the way you looked at him…the way he looked at you. It was clear to everyone in the room.”

“What are you saying?”

“My dear…my dearest mistress…how long do you think you are going to keep this a secret?”

“What…a secret?”

“What is going on between you and Owen Tudor.”

I was silent. She placed the hairbrush on the table with an angry gesture. “Secret!” she cried. “After this night it will be a secret no longer.”

“My dear Guillemote, how could I help it if he fell?”

“You could not help his falling. It was afterward. They are whispering about you. Don’t you see how dangerous it is? You are the Queen.”

“It was nothing,” I protested. “It was all over in a few seconds.”

“Long enough for you to have betrayed your feelings…and he, too. It was the way you looked at each other…the way he stayed there …”

“For a second or two?”

“It was too long. The looks were too ardent. And there were all those watchful ones who have already been…speculating. My lady, my lady, I beg you to think what you are doing…of what would happen if it were known to some of your enemies.”

“Guillemote, you are frightening me.”

She suddenly took me into her arms as she used to when I was a child.

“There,” she said in the old manner. “Perhaps they did not notice after all. It is just because I watch over you too much. I care too much …”

“Oh no, Guillemote, do not say that. Go on caring…caring too much.”

She stroked my hair.

“You should give it up, my dearest. It is dangerous. I do not know what would happen if it were found out…in certain quarters. Give it up now…before it is too late.”

“I could not, Guillemote. I have lost my child …”

“He is here…under this very roof.”

“It is not the same. You know they have taken him away from me. Dame Alice and Joan Astley…they are closer to him than I am. They have taken him away from me…no matter what you say. And as he grows older he will be farther from me. I love Owen, Guillemote. I just could not face life without one of them …”

“I know.” She sighed and kissed my cheek. “But you must be more careful. It becomes dangerous…and have you thought that one day they might want to make a match for you?”

“I will not allow it, Guillemote. I married for state reasons once. When I marry again, it will be for love.”

“You are the Queen, remember.”

“Yes, I am the Queen and I will not allow them to arrange my life. I will do as I wish.”

She nodded her head gravely and her eyes were full of fear.

It was soon after that that I made a discovery which, while it filled me with the utmost alarm, both excited and delighted me.

I was pregnant.

Why I should have been so surprised, I cannot imagine. Owen and I had been passionate lovers for some months. We had been living together, oblivious of everything around us. It was only when I had had to go to Court that we had to restrain ourselves.

I felt dazed with the wonder of it. A child—mine and Owen’s. How wonderful it could have been, if only …

As the realization of what this could mean swept over me, I began to tremble. What should I do now? How could I keep this secret? And it would have to be kept secret.

I will not part with this child, I told myself. I will do anything rather.

I had to think. I had to be clever. I was in a difficult situation and I must find a way out of it.

I did not want to say anything to anyone until I was absolutely sure. In the meantime I must begin to plan. What would be the reaction of those about me? But why should they govern my life? I was the Queen. I was the mother of the King and they had taken him away from me. Why should I not have a life of my own…children of my own who were of no interest to the state? It was unreasonable to deny me this. But I knew they would. I wanted to say to them: I will go right away. You can take away my title of queen. I do not want it. I only want to live in peace.

Wild plans came into my mind…plans which I knew it would be impossible to carry out. There was one thing only which I clung to, and that was my determination to keep this child with me…to bring it up as my own.

I was now sure that I was going to have a child.

When I told Owen, his reaction was the same as mine had been—that wonder and delight…and then fear.

“Owen,” I said, “what are we going to do?”

He was silent for a moment, then he said slowly: “There will be trouble.”

“I know. But…what can they do about us?”

“They can separate us to begin with.”

“I will not have it, Owen.”

“My dearest, you will have no say in the matter.”

“No say in the management of my own life!”

“You are the daughter of a king, the widow of a king. It puts you in a dangerous position.”

“Why…why…Henry is dead. They have taken his and my child from me. Why should they take everything else?”

He said: “We need to consider this very carefully.”

“First tell me that we shall not be parted. We must marry, Owen. We owe that to the child.”

He nodded slowly.

“Then,” I said, “I shall care nothing for the rest. We will fight them, Owen.”

“We must decide how.”

For a few moments he held me tightly in his arms. I knew that he was overcome by the wonder of what had happened, as I was. He was visualizing this child we should have…our very own…belonging to us…no pawn of the state, this one. Our child…Owen’s and mine. When I contemplated that, it was difficult to dwell on the problems we faced. But we had to be very careful…for the sake of the child.

“My dear one,” said Owen. “We have to think of this very clearly. We must be very clever. We must look straight at all possibilities…however alarming. We shall need the utmost skill to bring ourselves through this.”

I watched him intently. He was frowning. I could see he was contemplating the problem which loomed ahead of us with deep concentration, knowing full well that it could bring disaster to us both.

“How I wish,” he said, “that you were not the Queen.”

“It is an empty title,” I replied. “It always was. It brought me no power. It only made a prisoner of me. I cannot tell you how often I have wished that I had been born in some humble cottage.”

He laid his hand on my shoulder and smiled gently at me.

“We shall need all our energy…all our ingenuity to bring us through this, Katherine. Let us think of that…and that only. We are going to marry in spite of everything and everyone. We are going to have our child. No one is going to spoil our lives. We must think as best we can how we are going to bring this about.”

“Why should this concern others? They have taken Henry from me. Is that not enough?”

“We must not brood on what has already gone. We have to plan, Katherine…plan logically. You are the Queen…mother of the King. Any children you may have might consider they have a claim to the throne.”

“How could they? They would not be Henry’s. They would be yours and mine.”

“I am thinking of what would enter the minds of some people. We must consider these things, Katherine. This is what makes our position doubly dangerous. If in high places it was thought that a marriage would be right for you, it would be to a prince of their choosing.”

“But I would never agree to that.”

“I am trying to think of how this will seem to them. The fact is that, if you and I married, our children would be legitimate. It would doubtless be our marriage to which they would object most strongly.”

“Nevertheless, we are going to marry, Owen. We must marry. There is the child. And Owen, I will not be separated from you and my child. It is my right to be happy with my family.”

“We will marry,” he said. “Oh Katherine, we have to tread with great care. We have to be very clever. You could not have the child here. It would be known throughout the Court at once.”

“Then what? Let us run away. Let us go to Wales. I should love to see your country, Owen. The mountains …”

“We should never escape them. If we ran away they would say we were really dangerous. No, we cannot run away. We have to find a way of living our lives…in secret.”

“Here…surrounded by all these people?”

“It will have to be somewhere else. One of the small, quiet manor houses. There are several you could use. But it would have to come about naturally. There are some of your household whom you could trust…and mind you, they must be those whom you could trust absolutely.”

“Guillemote …”

“Guillemote, of course.”

“And the Joannas…Agnes, and my confessor Johan Boyers…I could trust him.”

“That is the idea. A small household…and everyone in it your friend.”

“No one knows as yet…not even Guillemote.”

“Tell no one. But what we must do is move as quickly as possible to one of the small manor houses. You could choose which. It should be the most remote.”

“I could not mention this to Humphrey of Gloucester.”

“Indeed not.”

“There is the Bishop of Winchester.”

“He might suspect. He is very perceptive.”

“There is, of course, the Duke of Bedford.”

“By great good luck he is in the country now. Things are going badly in France and he will be here in consultation with the Council. Gloucester has helped to make England’s position very grave indeed. I don’t know whether Bedford would have time to see you. He could hardly refuse, though, if you requested it. Moreover, he would be too preoccupied with affairs in France to worry much about your retirement from Court, I should imagine.”

“I will try to see Bedford.”

“That is the first thing. And in the meantime decide on the manor. Let it be small…remote from Court. We shall not want people continually calling.”

“Oh, Owen, I feel so much better. I did not realize how frightened I was.”

We clung together.

“We will come through this, my dearest,” said Owen. “Put your trust in me…and in God.”

I had always admired John, Duke of Bedford. Henry had been very fond of him. His most reliable brother, he had called him; and although perhaps he had loved Clarence more, he had always known that the elder brother was rash and inclined to envy him, whereas Bedford was the essence of loyalty and had always borne in mind Henry’s superior military skill, seeking to emulate him, certainly, but never giving way to envy.

He had aged considerably since I had last seen him. Keeping France in order was evidently a great strain. He was a brilliant administrator, stern, though just. My brother Charles, who was still called the Dauphin, was beginning to cause disruption in various parts of the country, and Bedford, laboring under the disadvantage of the waning friendship between himself and Burgundy, was hard pressed. Nevertheless he came to see me. He was very gallant and at the same time kindly.

He asked me how I was faring and if I felt a little happier now.

I replied that I felt better than I had expected. He bowed his head, thinking that I referred to the loss of Henry.

“I find it difficult to adjust myself to Court life,” I said.

“So many ceremonies,” he murmured. “And you must attend them without my brother. It brings back many memories, I doubt not, and it does not allow you to forget our loss.”

“How well you understand.”

“It was a great tragedy…the greatest tragedy which could have befallen us all…and you, his Queen, suffered most.”

There was another brief silence, then I said: “I trust, my lord, that you have been comforted.”

“I am fortunate in my marriage.”

Yes, I thought. To the sister of Burgundy. I had seen Anne once or twice, but I could not remember what she looked like. Fortunate indeed he had been to marry Burgundy’s sister. It made the straining link a little harder to break.

“Then I rejoice for you, my lord,” I said. “And I must not encroach on your time. I wanted to ask your advice.”

“I shall do my best to give it,” he replied.

“I was telling you that I find Court life irksome. I want to live more quietly. There are too many memories …”

He nodded.

“I have been thinking that…if I could retire to the country for a while, live the life of a simple country lady …”

“Would that not give you more time for brooding…nursing your sorrows?”