Everyone thought it was a joke at first. How could it be otherwise – a boy of nineteen and a woman of nearly eighty. The Duchess was distressed but too old and tired to care very much. She doubted the handsome young man would bother her. In any case it was a royal command, and the Duchess had no alternative but to submit.

It was the joke of the day. People talked of it in the shops and the streets.

Some said it was a marriage of the devil. Such an old woman ... such a young man. It was done for the money, the estates, the title. This was often the case but surely never quite so blatantly before.

Jacquetta was beside herself with glee.

‘You know how to manage the King,’ she said to her daughter. ‘Be careful not to lose your place in his affections. Be lenient with his misdemeanours, never criticise or reproach. Accept everything and he will deny you nothing.’

So the marriage of young John Woodville and the ancient Duchess was celebrated.

Warwick said: ‘This is the last insult. I cannot accept this woman and her overbearing family. They are making the throne a laughing-stock. I made a King. I can unmake one.’


The King was in a contented mood when Thomas Fitzgerald, Earl of Desmond returned from Ireland to report on events there.

He liked Desmond. A handsome man of immense charm. As an Irishman he was a good man to govern there. Warwick had chosen him and was pleased with him. Desmond and Warwick were on the best of terms.

A few years earlier when George Duke of Clarence had been made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland – a title for the King’s brother because Clarence was neither of an age nor ability to be able to conduct the affairs of that troublesome island – Desmond had been made Deputy, which meant that, in the circumstances, he was in full command.

Warwick had seen him on his return to England and had confided in him his horror and disgust at the King’s marriage.

‘Not only is this low-born woman on the throne but she is now so enriching her family that we are going to find ourselves governed by Woodvilles if we do not take some action.’

‘What action?’ asked Desmond with a certain alarm.

‘Some action,’ said Warwick mysteriously. ‘Edward is not so firm on the throne as he would appear to think. Do not forget that Henry, the anointed King, languishes in the Tower and across the water is a very bold and ambitious Queen with a son whom she calls the Prince of Wales and reckons to be true heir to the throne. Would you not think that a King who reigns in such circumstances should not be careless ... particularly in his dealings with those who have put him there?’

‘He should rid himself of the lady and her tiresome relations.’

‘So think I,’ said Warwick. ‘And when I consider the humiliation I was forced to suffer to put a crown on that woman’s head, it maddens me so much that I would do myself some harm if I gave way to my anger.’

‘I can understand your feelings,’ said Desmond. ‘I know that while the King was married he allowed you to negotiate with France.’

‘That is the truth,’ said Warwick. ‘The country cannot afford any more of these disastrous marriages. At the moment they are amused by this diabolical match between John Woodville and the old Duchess of Norfolk. But in truth it is no laughing matter.’

Desmond was grieved to see Warwick in such a mood; and what seemed to him most disturbing was that there was a rift between him and the King.

Desmond was devoted to Warwick whom he admired more than any living man; he was well aware of the part the Earl had played in affairs, but at the same time he was fond of the King. This was a very distressing state of affairs and he feared trouble might lie ahead.

When he presented himself to Edward the King was most affable. They discussed affairs in Ireland and Edward congratulated Desmond on what he had done.

‘You must get in some hunting while you are home,’ he said. ‘How was the game in Ireland?’

It was very good, he was assured. But Desmond would greatly enjoy hunting with the King.

When they were riding through the forest, they found themselves apart from the rest of the company. Edward was affable and disarming. He was so friendly that Desmond quite forgot as people often did that he was the King.

Edward mentioned Warwick and asked how Desmond had found him.

‘As ever,’ replied Desmond. ‘Full of vitality ... as clever as he ever was.’

‘I have a notion that he does not like the Queen.’

This was dangerous ground and Desmond should have been prepared for it.

He was silent. He could not say that Warwick had not mentioned this to him for Warwick had made his feelings very clear. He hesitated. Then the King said: ‘And what do you think of the Queen, Desmond?’

‘I think she is remarkably beautiful.’

‘Well, all must think that. What else?’

‘She is clearly virtuous. It is amazing that she who was a widow with two children should look so ... virginal.’

The King laughed.

‘I think I have been wise in my marriage. Do you, Desmond?’

It was difficult to answer. To give the reply the King wanted would have been so false and Desmond was sure that that would have been obvious.

Edward noticed the pause and burst out laughing. ‘Now, Desmond, you can be frank with me. I know you would not be the only one to think my marriage unwise, would you? You do think that, eh Desmond?’

‘My lord, I cannot deny that. It would have been wiser to have chosen a bride who could bring you an alliance which the Queen, beautiful and virtuous as she is, cannot do.’

‘Well, ’tis done now, Desmond. Tis irrevocable.’

‘No, my lord, not so. You could divorce her and make a match which would be more acceptable in the eyes of many of your subjects.’

Edward laughed. ‘That I have no intention of doing, Desmond.’

‘I am sure you have not, my lord. But you asked and I have told you what is in my mind.’

‘My dear fellow, of course I respect your frankness.’

The King was in a mellow mood when he returned to the palace. It had been a good day’s hunting. He went straight to the Queen who received him as always with that quiet pleasure which he found so comforting.

‘You have had a good day’s hunting?’ she asked.

‘I have. With Desmond. He’s a pleasant fellow.’

‘He has done well in Ireland, I hear.’

‘Very well. As Warwick said, it was good to have an Irishman there. They understand their own far better than they do others, and the Irish need a bit of understanding I can tell you.’

‘So you are well pleased with the man.’

‘He is a good honest fellow. I like a man to speak up for himself.’ Edward began to laugh.

‘Something amuses you.’

‘Yes. You’ll like this, Elizabeth. I asked him what he thought of you.’

‘Oh?’ The lids had fallen over her eyes and he could not see the expression in them.

‘He thought you were beautiful and virtuous, he said. So you see he appreciates your looks.’

‘That is good of him.’

‘Not so good. Do you know what he told me? He said that I ought to divorce you and marry someone who could bring good to the country.’

Edward laughed loudly.

She hesitated only for a very short time before she laughed with him.

He was beside her, putting his arms about her. ‘Needless to tell you I have no intention of taking his advice.’

‘I am glad to hear it, my lord.’

She spoke lightly but there was a cold fury in her heart. Edward was amused now but the very idea was dangerous, and men who planted such were menacing her.

While Edward embraced her she was thinking of Desmond.

I will remember you, my lord, she thought.


The Queen was pregnant and the King was overcome with joy.

‘Give me a son,’ he cried, ‘and we will laugh in the faces of all our critics.’ He told her of what his mother had said when she had first heard of the marriage.

Elizabeth laughed with him and showed no surprise or emotion when he mentioned his own offspring. She knew of them of course. They were the children of a certain Elizabeth Lucy: Grace and Catherine. He was very fond of them and visited them now and then, taking an interest in their welfare. The relationship with Elizabeth Lucy had been one of his more enduring. There was no doubt that he had other illegitimate children, but as he had a real affection for the mother of these two he felt more tenderness towards them.

Elizabeth had discussed the matter with Jacquetta and they had come to the conclusion that when she had children of her own she might bring the Lucy girls into the royal nurseries. It would be a gesture to enrapture the King and it would bind him even closer to his tolerant, quietly loving Elizabeth. But not yet, of course. It would be an error of judgement to bring another woman’s children into the nurseries while she herself had none.

But now the great day was approaching. The whole nation was delighted. Edward was popular. Even his wife was not disliked, for anyone coming after Margaret of Anjou would seem a welcome change. Moreover Elizabeth was English and if she was not so highly born as a King’s wife was expected to be, at least she had great beauty and as much – if not more – dignity than a Queen was expected to have.

Jacquetta was constantly beside her daughter and everyone was certain that the child would be a boy.

The King was even speaking of ‘When my son is born ...’ and the physicians had given their opinion that the child was male.

There was one Dr Domynyk who claimed to have prophetic powers. He could tell the sex of a child in its mother’s womb, he said, and he assured the King that the Queen carried a Prince.

So there could be no doubt and all preparations for a Prince proceeded.

Elizabeth’s time came. Calm as ever she retired to her apartments. The King was in an agony of impatience.

Childbearing was no new experience to Elizabeth and her mood was one of exultation for the child she bore would be royal, perhaps a King.

She endured her pains with amazing fortitude and she was rewarded it seemed by an easy birth.

The excitement was intense when the cry of the child was heard. Dr Domynyk could not contain himself. He was determined to be the first to carry the good news to the King that he had a son and to remind him of his prophecy.

Impatiently he tapped on the door which was opened by one of the Queen’s women.

‘I beg you ... I pray you ...’ panted Dr Domynyk, ‘tell me quickly, what has the Queen?’

The woman regarded him through half-closed eyes. ‘Whatever the Queen has within it is surely a fool who stands without.’

Then she shut the door in the doctor’s face.

He could not believe it. A girl! It was impossible! He had prophesied ...

The stars had lied to him; his signs and portents had misled him. And he was bitterly humiliated. He hurried away. He could not face the King.

Edward was disappointed when he heard that the child was a girl, but not for long. He went immediately to Elizabeth’s bedside, and when he saw her so calmly beautiful in spite of her ordeal, with her beautiful hair in two luxuriant plaits over her shoulders, he knelt by the bed and kissed her hands.

‘Don’t fret, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘We’ll have boys yet.’

While it was a disappointment for Elizabeth it was a triumph in a way because it showed the unabating strength of Edward’s enslavement to his cool goddess for within a few hours he was delighting in the child. ‘I wouldn’t change this girl for all the boys in Christendom,’ he declared.

The words of a proud father! Edward had always been fond of children.

The Duchess of York surprised everyone by arriving at Westminster Palace. Proud Cis had kept aloof since the marriage to show her disapproval and her refusal to take second place to that upstart Woodville woman as she called her.

It was a year and nine months since the clandestine marriage and the Duchess felt that she had remained in the shadows long enough.

They could show their contrition by naming the child after her, and she herself would attend the christening of Baby Cecily.

Edward was pleased to see her; he embraced her warmly. She had been foolish, he thought, over the marriage but if she was going to behave reasonably now he was not one to remember that.

‘A beautiful healthy child, dear lady,’ he said. ‘We are delighted with her.’