She listened eagerly when he told her of his plans. She was as weary of this confinement as he was and sure that they could rouse men to follow them. After all was she not the King’s mother? And if Anthony could be freed and Richard with him they could immediately begin to rouse the country against Gloucester.

Yes, he must go. So one dark night Dorset left Sanctuary. He made his way through the narrow streets over the familiar cobbles, wrapped in an all-concealing cloak so that his identity was completely hidden. He knocked; he was let in; he asked for the lady of the house.

She came to him, and when he threw off his cloak she expressed her joy. The old magic had not deserted him. She was as enamoured as ever and clearly flattered that he had come to her.

‘I need to remain here for a night or two ... perhaps a week,’ he told her. ‘Could you hide me?’

Indeed she could and it should be her pleasure.

He kissed her warmly on the lips in his own inimitable way. Old Edward himself could not have done better.

Her response was warm. He knew he could trust her.


Jane Shore was very uneasy. Life had changed so drastically for her within the last weeks that she was quite bewildered. Deeply she regretted the death of the King. Theirs had been a most satisfying relationship. That he was really fond of her there was no doubt and their liaison had been of such duration that some might have said it was habit. That may have been but it was a very satisfying, comforting habit.

Jane had been faithful to the King even though Dorset had often tempted her to stray. She could not explain to herself the terrible fascination Dorset had for her. It was as though he had laid a spell on her. When he was near her that compelling attraction was so irresistible that she had to succumb to it knowing full well that there was evil in it – evil in him.

When the King was alive he had not dared to be too persistent. He had followed her with his eyes and in them had been that burning desire which against her will had drawn a response from her. She had fought it off successfully while the King lived. It was a different matter when he was dead.

Dorset had then claimed her and made her his slave. Jane was both repelled and utterly fascinated by the man. When he was not present she could tell herself that she must break away from him; but he only had to appear and she was lost.

Jane was not naturally a loose woman. She was not meant to be passed from one man to another. She needed a settled and respectable existence and with the King she had had that.

She had loved Edward. Who could have helped it? He had seemed to her – as he did to many – the most handsome man in the world. Moreover he had such charm of manner and such kindliness radiated from him; he was so powerful, so romantic, every inch a king, a perfect lover; he was all that Jane could ever have asked for.

She often thought of the early days, and how it had all come about. Her life had been simple enough in her father’s household for he had been a well-to-do mercer and those early days had been lived in the house in Cheapside where she had been born. Her mother had died and left Jane an only child to her father’s care, which had been strict yet affectionate in its way. Thomas Wainstead had been eager to do everything for his daughter even to finding her a worthy husband in the goldsmith William Shore.

Perhaps all would have been well if Jane had not been so outstandingly beautiful that she caught the roving eye of one of the Court gallants who attempted to abduct her. That man had been William Lord Hastings and she had for ever after been wary of him. He was good-looking but a pale shadow of Edward as every other man must be.

He was rich; he had the means to bribe servants and set the stage for abduction; and this might have taken place had not one of the servants – whom he had bribed to help him drug her mistress – not suddenly grown alarmed and warned Jane.

From the beginning marriage with Goldsmith Shore had been a dire mistake. Jane had wanted to be a good wife to him but she was naturally exuberant, full-blooded and romantic; and the goldsmith who was several years older than herself was certainly no hero of romance.

He was a highly respectable man – naturally he would be since her father had chosen him; he served the Court and was even more comfortably placed than the mercer; he was also deeply religious. Jane found him intolerable.

And then ... it was after the King’s return from exile and that must have been some thirteen years ago ... he had come to the goldsmith’s shop ostensibly to look at ornaments but in truth to see Jane of whom Hastings had spoken. Dressed as a merchant he had filled the shop with his magnificent presence and as soon as he saw Jane she had been aware of the glint in his eyes and understood.

It was a short step from then to becoming the King’s mistress. She had never regretted it although she was often sorry for William Shore who in his way had been devoted to her. In those first days she had worried about her father, how he had taken the news, for there was no doubt that she had become notorious.

In the early days she had often wondered what would become of her when the King tired of her. Jane had never sought advantages; she delighted to please the King and although she knew she shared that honour with many others, still she did not care. She loved him. If she could please him that was her pleasure. This selfless attitude of hers, together with her amazing beauty which never ceased to astonish however many times the King beheld it, and her witty tongue which was never used unkindly remained a source of delight to Edward during all the years of their liaison.

For thirteen years they had been lovers. She was part of his life and a part he never wanted to change.

She had had standing at Court and the King had insisted that she accept a fine house which was full of treasures which he had bestowed on her. He did not want to visit her in some hovel, he had said. And so she had lived in some state although she had not asked that this should be so.

Even the Queen had been kind to her. Elizabeth had sent for her and talked to her most gently. Jane knew that the Queen was aware of the life her husband lived. Perhaps she deplored it, but she preferred that he should have a mistress such as Jane, a good unselfish woman, by no means a harlot, than a succession of mistresses who would try to usurp the Queen’s power.

They had liked each other. Although they were so different – Elizabeth eager to take all she could get and Jane asking nothing – they had one great quality in common: each knew how to handle the King.

They both managed admirably and they were the only two women who had kept their hold on his affections. They respected each other and whenever Jane was at Court she could always be sure that the Queen would treat her with respect. Whether she did this because to do otherwise would have angered the King, or whether she had a real respect for her, Jane was not sure. But she admired the Queen and considered her a clever woman and the Queen clearly had the same opinion of Jane.

And now the pleasant world had collapsed. The King had died suddenly, and Jane had lost her kind protector. She had never felt so alone in her life before.

Then Dorset had come.

She had not wanted another lover so soon. She wanted to mourn the one she had lost – incomparable Edward whom she had loved so deeply and so long.

But Dorset would not wait. He had proved to her without doubt that she could not resist him. He was an impulsive impatient lover. He had long wanted Jane and it had been galling to have to stand aside for that old man his stepfather – King though he was.

How different was Dorset from Edward. There was no romantic lovemaking, Dorset cynically demanded and took. He was arrogant in the extreme and he wanted her to know that he was the master. Every time he left her she promised herself that it should be the last but when he came again he was as dominating as ever.

And now he had fled into Sanctuary. What would happen next? She hated to think of the proud Queen and her beautiful children in that cold place. She had met them all, and had particularly loved little Richard the Duke of York. She remembered so well his marriage to Anne Mowbray. What an enchanting little bridegroom he had made and little Anne was such an appealing bride. Alas, the little bridegroom had become a widower very soon, a fact which did not distress him for he did not seem to know anything about it.

The new King she had rarely seen because he was kept at Ludlow; and now he was in the Tower of London awaiting his coronation and there was this conflict between his uncle Gloucester and the Queen and her family.

Jane shivered; she had always kept away from state matters. Perhaps that was another reason why Edward had found it so restful to be with her.

It was some days since she had seen Dorset. She was not unhappy about that. He frightened her and she always despised herself for being the victim of her own senses, so there was a certain relief in being away from him. How different it had been with Edward! How she longed to go back to those cosy days, those intimate sessions with that most charming of lovers!

Her servants came to her and said that there was a man without who had a message for her.

Her heart started to beat uncertainly. From whom? she wondered. And somehow she knew it was from Dorset.

She sent for the man; she took the crumpled paper. Yes, Dorset. He had escaped from Sanctuary. He was in a house not far from the Chepe. She knew of the house. It was one which was frequented by the men of the Court and had a reputation for harbouring high-class prostitutes.

They were good to him there. He wanted her to come to him at once. It was important.

She crumpled the paper in her hand. She did not want to go. Dorset would have to understand that she was not like the women he was meeting in that house. But he was in acute danger. If it were known that he had left Sanctuary the hunt would start. The Protector would not be content until he had caught him and brought him to trial.

At the moment the Queen’s brother, Lord Rivers, and her son, Richard Grey, were held by the Protector. There was no doubt of what Dorset’s fate would be if he were caught.

She pondered a while and then she decided that she must at least see him.

She told the man: ‘I will come at dusk.’

He went away satisfied.


She went swiftly along by the river through to the Chepe until she came to the address Dorset had sent her. She was recognised at once by the lady of the house, who took her through several passages to a room at the back of the house and there was Dorset.

He came towards her and seized her hungrily. She tried to hold him off but it was the same as ever and she felt her resistance slipping away.

‘Jane ... my Jane ...’ cried Dorset exultantly. ‘I knew you would not fail me.’

‘You said you must see me. What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll tell you later. There is time yet. We have the whole night before us.’

‘I must go.’

‘What, through the streets at this hour! Come confess it, Jane, when you agreed to come at dusk you knew you would not leave until morning.’

‘I will not stay.’

He laughed; and she knew she would.

During the night she learned the real reason why he had sent for her. Of course he had delighted in her body, but there were many handsome women on the premises and any would have been delighted to entertain the mighty Marquess of Dorset even though he was in hiding. The general belief was that the King would soon be crowned and then the Protector would go back to the North; the Queen and her family would emerge into prominence again and they would naturally be the ones who would control the King.

‘I shall have to leave here very soon,’ said Dorset. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I am glad you realise it.’

‘Oh yes, Jane, it will be sad to be far away from you, but I have to get away ... to raise an army to come back and show Edward’s little brother that it is not as easy as he thinks.’

‘I doubt he thinks it easy,’ said Jane. ‘Edward talked a great deal about him. He had the highest regard for him. He used to say he trusted him as he did no other.’

‘Please, Jane, do not sing Gloucester’s praises to me. The man is after power like everyone else. He sees himself as ruling the country through his little nephew King.’