Romance
Read an excerpt from The Border Lord and The Lady (continued):
"So you're to live in the queen's household," the nun said. "You are a very lucky little girl, Lady Cicely. I have known the queen since she came to England over ten years ago. She is very wise and can be a lot of fun. Her daughters Marguerite and Blanche came with her then. Of course, they're married back into France now but I remember them well. Two of the sisters and I used to take them berry picking. And the Decembers we had with all the feasting from Christmas to Twelfth Night. Queen Joan always invited us to her table then, for we are a small order. How lovely to learn there will be two little girls back at the queen's house again to bring it laughter and joy."
"I believe your words are comforting to my daughter," Robert Bowen said. "She has never before been away from Leighton."
"Oh," the mother superior said, and she stooped down so she might speak face-to-face with Cicely. "You must not be afraid, my daughter. You have come to a good place, and within a few short weeks it will be and will feel like home to you. Do you like animals? The queen's house here is always filled with dogs and cats."
"I have a horse," Cicely said. "My lord father gave her to me before we departed our home. Her name is Gris, because she is gray. I've never had a dog or cat."
"Well, you shall probably find you have several once the queen is in residence," the nun said cheerfully, standing up again. "Come now, my lord, my lady. We are about to celebrate vespers. Will you not join us? And then we'll have supper. I know that Sister Margarethe has made a wonderful vegetable-and-rabbit potage for supper. I have smelled it cooking all afternoon." She reached out and took Cicely's hand. "But first we must go into the chapel and thank our dear Lord and his Mother for your safe arrival."
The convent might be small, but the meal they were served after vespers was every bit as good as that served at the earl's table. The rabbit stew was flavorful, the bread warm and crisp, and there was an egg custard flavored with lavender, served last. The beds given them were clean and fresh, free from bedbugs and fleas. And in the morning their second meal of oat stirabout, with newly baked bread and butter was delicious. The earl thanked the sisters as they departed, pressing a generous donation into the hand of the mother superior.
"I hope we will see you again very soon, Lady Cicely," the nun called after them.
"Do you think the queen will like me, Papa?" Cicely asked as they rode towards the village again, and the queen's residence. "What of the other girl who comes with her? Do you know who she is?"
The earl nodded. "You must not fret, poppet," he told his daughter. "Queen Joan is a good woman, and she cannot help but like you. Everyone likes you."
"My stepmother does not like me," Cicely said softly.
"Luciana does not know you, and she is jealous of the love I bear you, and bore your mother. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not. Queen Joan will like you."
"And the girl? Who is she, Papa?" Cicely asked anxiously.
"Lady Joan Beaufort is the daughter of the late Earl of Somerset, John Beaufort," the earl began. "His father was the Duke of Lancaster, a son of King Edward the Third, called John of Gaunt because he was born to Queen Philippa in Ghent. The duke had three wives, and outlived two. John Beaufort, his brothers Henry and Thomas, and his sister, Joan, were the children of the duke's mistress, and later third wife, Katherine Swynford. The Beauforts were born on the other side of the blanket, as were you, Cicely. But like you they were legitimated. They and their descendants are not permitted to be placed in the line of succession, but they are legitimate. You, my daughter, are, however, in my line of succession. When I die you will receive an inheritance along with your brothers."
"So this other little girl is royal," Cicely said. Her stomach stirred nervously.
"Aye," her father admitted, "she is. But she is still an earl's daughter, as are you."
They were now approaching the queen's residence, which, like the village, was known as Havering-atte-Bower. It was a large dwelling that had been built originally by King William, known as the Conqueror, to serve as a hunting lodge. Over the centuries since it had been added onto, and made into a large, livable home. When they had come yesterday it had been quiet. Now, however, the path to and before the house was filled with carts, and horses, and servants of various rank.
One of the earl's men rode forward, shouting, "Make way for my lord, the Earl of Leighton! Make way!"
Carts were drawn to the road's edge, and grumbling people stepped aside until a narrow path was formed, allowing their party through. The queen's steward met them at the door to the house. Grooms hurried forward to take their horses as they dismounted. Robert Bowen took his daughter by the hand and beckoned Orva to follow them as the steward led them into the house and to the hall.
Cicely's little heart hammered with a mixture of both fear and excitement. She had chosen her new burnt orange velvet gown to wear this day. It had a turned-up collar and long, trailing sleeves. She wore the gold chain with the little jeweled crucifix about her neck, and rings on several of her fingers. Her gold coronet was worn about her head, and beneath it was a delicate lawn veil barely hiding the rich russet of her hair. She knew she looked most elegant, because Orva had told her so. Still, she worried that she would not please the queen. She cast a quick glance about the hall.
Queen Joan stood waiting for the child to be put into her care. Seeing Cicely, she smiled. The little girl was absolutely adorable. Leaning to the right, she murmured to the child by her side, "Now, Joan, here is the companion I promised you."
The earl reached the queen's chair. He bowed low with an elegant flourish that his wife had taught him when she'd learned he was speaking with the queen. He looked then to his daughter, and Cicely curtsied prettily.
"So here you are at last, my lord. And this will be your daughter, Lady Cicely Bowen, will it not?" Queen Joan said.
"It is, madam, and again let me express my gratitude for your generosity and kindness in fostering my child," Robert Bowen replied.
Queen Joan nodded graciously, then asked, "This is Lady Cicely's servant, my lord? Come forward." She gestured to Orva.
Startled to be noticed, Orva stepped forward, and then curtsied politely.
"Your name?"
"Orva, madam," was the reply.
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