Chapter 28
Blanche's birthday was the following week and we had three huge days of festivities to celebrate.
The pageant was first and little Katherine, who had learnt her lines perfectly, hailed her aunt as being as fair as "that gracious Duchess, Blanche of Lancaster" and handed her a finely braided belt of silver leather studded with tiny Lancaster red chips of rubies. As Blanche exclaimed with delight over the gift, I leaned towards her.
"Blanche?"
"Yes?"
"You're sixteen tomorrow. You know what that means."
"I have to prepare for France."
"Yes. And you can't sail for France under the Tudor Rose. You need an emblem of your own, sweetheart. Have you thought of what you'd like it to be?"
"Yes," Blanche turned towards me, already nodding, "In fact, I've even taken the liberty of sketching it out. May I show you?"
"Not now," I whispered. "Tomorrow. Before the joust, all right?"
Blanche nodded again, turning her attention back to the players. I waved for them to go on and the two of us lost ourselves in the mirth of the jesters' antics.
The following morning, I slipped out of my own rooms and down to Blanche's apartments early, far earlier than anyone might have expected. Jess and Nora were already waiting in my antechamber and fell into step behind me as we ran through the palace corridors to the doors of her rooms. As we reached them, I turned to the twins.
"Wait in the antechamber for a minute. I'll just check she's up."
They nodded and fell back as I crossed the room and flung wide the door to Blanche's private bedchamber, leaving both doors open so that the twins could see me as I did so.
Luckily, Blanche was already up and dressed; as excited about her birthday as she'd been as a little girl of six and not a young woman of sixteen. Waving away the courtesies, I kissed her.
"Happy Birthday, sister."
"Thank you."
"I can't give you my gifts now; it has to be a formal presentation before the Court, but I brought some other people with me who'd like to give you theirs."
Smiling, I half-turned towards the door that I had come through and beckoned the twins forward.
"Nora! Jessie!" Blanche sprang up, embracing our younger sisters before they had a chance to curtsy to her. "How are you?"
"Well, thank you, Blanche. How are you?"
"Not bad, not bad. I hear you're both to be Baronesses and Countesses before the year is out. Lady Sudeley and Lady Northumberland, am I right?"
"Yes. But why are we discussing that when it's your day? Your sixteenth?" Nora asked, surprising Blanche with her confidence. The latter glanced at me. I shrugged.
"They've grown up. What more can I say?"
Sinking into a seat, Blanche gave a faint nod and then laughed.
"Very well, Nora. What do you want to talk about?"
"First, we're going to give you your gifts, Jess and I, and then you're going to show us what device you've chosen. Then all three of us will help you change and the four of us will go down to the Hall for the formal presentation of your gifts," Nora said decidedly, a hint of arrogance present in her young voice.
Jess nudged her. "Nora! Blanche is a Princess, a Queen! You can't dictate to her!"
"Not today, she's not. For today, she's our sister, or at the very least, she is for now," Nora retorted and Blanche laughed again, the sound merry and joyful.
"Very well, my Lady Sudeley. I'll do as you say."
"Good," Nora beamed, for an instant seeming like her old childhood self again. She reached out for a wicker basket that stood in the corner of the room.
Pulling it close to her and kneeling beside it, she gathered up a squirming armful of fur and presented it to our sister with a smile. "Happy Birthday."
"A puppy! Oh Nora, you are a darling!"
"He's not just any puppy. He's the finest puppy John could find in Warwickshire. He's a St John Water dog. He'll remind you of us and of England when you've gone to France," Nora explained, earning herself a spontaneous one-armed hug from Blanche.
"He's beautiful, Nora. I shall call him George, after our patron saint," Blanche promised, rubbing the wriggling puppy's head one more time before setting him free to roam over the floor as she turned to our other sister.
"And you, Lady Northumberland? What do you wish to gift me on my birthday?"
"Nothing so fine as Nora's puppy, I'm afraid," Jess chuckled, warming to Blanche's free and easy use of her future title.
"That doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll still like it. After all, you're my sister just as much as Bessie and Nora are. No one knows me better than you three do."
Standing to one side, I felt a smile begin to spread over my face as I watched Blanche interacting with our youngest sister. Jess had always been most like Blanche. Even though I had been the one to favour her over Nora when they were little, Blanche was still the one she responded to best.
"Happy Birthday," she murmured, passing Blanche a carefully folded piece of fabric, which when Blanche shook it out, turned out to be a lovely damask underskirt embroidered with tiny roses.
"Did you do this yourself, Jessie?" Blanche questioned, startled despite herself at the fineness of the stitches. Jess nodded.
"Good God! It's gorgeous! Honestly, darling. Thank you. Thank you so much!"
Blanche laid the underskirt aside and crushed Jess to her in a warmly grateful hug.
"I'm glad you like it," Jess smiled, drinking in the praise before flushing and diverting the attention away from her and back on to the birthday girl herself by asking, "So what emblem were you thinking of?"
"Ah yes. Come here." Rising, Blanche led us over to the table, where several drawings, one almost full size, lay waiting.
Bending over me, I pulled one towards me.
It was of a dove; a crowned dove flying up from a bed of roses and fleur-de-lys. Beneath it were the words, "Son Bonheur est le mien."
"His happiness is my happiness," I whispered. Nodding, Blanche came to stand at my shoulder.
"I want the dove to be silver, but I can't decide what colour the background should be."
"Let me see," Nora demanded. Taking it from me, she ran her fingertips over the drawing, wondering aloud.
"The roses will be red, won't they? And the fleur-de-lys white?"
"Yes. They're traditionally gold, but I wanted the Tudor colours."
"Then what about making the background dark blue or purple? It would show everything else off."
"Yes. Yes. I like the way you think, Nora. Purple, I think. Or indigo. Indigo," Blanche agreed and I nodded, beckoning Anne Stanhope over as she slipped into the room.
"You heard what she said, Mistress Stanhope?"
"Yes, Madam."
"Then take the drawing to the seamstresses and see to it that they transfer it to a banner as soon as possible. And make sure the motto's in gold."
"Of course," Mistress Stanhope curtsied, picked up the full-size drawing and was gone. Meanwhile, Nora, Jess and I transformed ourselves into Blanche's handmaidens, dressing her in her new underskirt and an over-gown of fine rose-coloured watered silk; weaving strings of rose pearls into her gorgeous golden hair, before I took her hand and led her from the room, smiling in approval at the vision of beauty that we had created.
"Their Majesties Queen Elizabeth and Queen Blanche!"
Side by side, my sister and I swept down the Hall towards the dais, acknowledging the respect that we were being paid by my courtiers as we passed them.
As soon as we had greeted my husband and taken our seats, my herald stepped forward, "Queen Blanche, a gift from Her Majesty."
Blanche nodded, beckoning for the heavy volume to be placed in her arms. Opening it to the title page, she read first the dedication and then the title, "The Book of the Duchess", which, because it was not only the English version, but also a translation, was repeated in all three of the other languages, French, Latin and Italian. When, opening it to the French translation, she recognised my handwriting, her sapphire eyes gleamed.
"Thank you, Bessie."
"You're welcome, Blanche," I replied, before settling back in my throne to watch my younger sister receive her gifts from the courtiers.
Once the presentation was over, I nodded to her and the two of us led the Court outside to the Tiltyard to watch the joust that was being held in her honour.
As was traditional, Blanche opened the joust, and then the two of us, surrounded by our ladies, settled back to watch. The first few rounds weren't that interesting, but before long, the older men were coming out to take their turn. As soon as the announcement, "His Grace the Lord of England challenges the Earl of Ormonde!" was over, Edward rode up to the stands and held out his lance to me.
"My Lady Queen."
"My Lord of England."
It was all that needed to pass between us. I handed him my pale golden handkerchief and he tucked it into his breastplate as I tied the accompanying ribbon around his lance, before he inclined his head to me and saluting as he rode away.
A moment later, George Boleyn was before us, looking past me to my sister. "Queen Blanche, might I have the honour?"
"Certainly, Lord Ormonde," my sister replied, rising to stand beside me and bestow her favour upon her chosen champion.
If I hadn't known better, I might have thought that a hint of a blush came to Blanche's cheeks as their skin touched; that George sought her eyes with a particularly tender expression on his face as he saluted her. Since I did know better, however; since I knew that Blanche was already betrothed, I ignored it.
I even ignored the fact that she slipped away before the end of the joust. It wasn't until the champions came out, preparing to ride their lap of honour, that I realised she wasn't at my side.
Signing to Edward to keep things running smoothly, I hurried from the Royal Box in search of my sister. I could have sent a maid, but suddenly, I wanted to get away from the eager eyes of the crowd myself.
Hearing voices not far away, I followed them, completely unprepared for what was awaiting me around the corner of the stands.
Blanche stood in George Boleyn's arms, her head tilted back against his chest. Her voice was low, but, as I approached them from behind, I heard her say "I can't do this anymore, George. I can't go on pretending that I'm happy to be marrying the King of France when I'm not. I can't."
"Yes, you can, Blanche. I know you can. You're half-Howard and a Princess. If anyone can do it, you can. I know you can."
George's voice was gentle and he played with her hair soothingly, just like I always did. Just like Edward did with me.
"But…"
"No buts, darling. It's not for much longer. Just long enough. Please. Give Elizabeth these days, at least. Let her fete you as the Queen of France for just a little longer. If she thinks you're happy to do what she wants, she might give you a little longer in England. She might postpone your departure."
"Do you think so, George?"
"I don't think. I know. She might be Queen, but she's your sister too. And she adores you. She'd do anything for you."
"Promise?" Blanche's tone quavered. She was pleading, desperate for reassurance. George bent his head and I didn't have to be able to see them properly to know that he was kissing her.
"I promise. Now go. You need to be back in the Royal Box and I should have mounted up for the lap of honour ages ago."
Pushing away from him, my sister nodded, hurrying past me without a backwards glance as I ducked breathlessly back behind the stands.
Unable to believe what I had just heard, I followed her back to the Royal Box.
"I don't see what you're worrying about."
"Don't you see what this means? She clearly doesn't want to marry King Henri. I dread to think what she'll do if we don't force her into the marriage quickly," I blurted as I ran a hand through my hair tiredly, exasperated beyond words by Edward's seeming indifference.
"I don't see why one kiss with George Boleyn is such a problem. Has Blanche actually said that she won't marry King Henri?"
"No, but she clearly wants extra time here. And you should have seen the way George was treating her, Edward. I'm worried, I really am. We need this alliance and unless we do something…"
"Elizabeth, stop." Edward took my hand and rested his other hand on my cheek. "Think for a minute. Blanche hasn't refused to honour her betrothal yet. I don't think she will, either. She's a Princess; she knows her duty. What does one summer flirtation mean? She's sixteen years old."
"I was sixteen when I married you," I retorted.
"Yes, but the circumstances were different. You had a country to get under control. And you were far more mature for your age than she is. Let her be, Elizabeth. Nothing's going to come of this."
"You don't know Blanche the way I know her. She can be so determined. Once she sets her heart on something…"
"I know her better than you think. I know she knows her duty, both to you and to England. So what if she wants another six months here? Or even a year? King Henri's waited three years, he can wait another. Now stop worrying."
As I made to protest, Edward stopped my mouth with a heated kiss.
"What are you doing?" I chuckled.
"Getting you a Prince," he whispered throatily, pulling me close.
Instantly, I melted into his arms and let him sweep me away on the crest of his desire.
A week later, the formal ceremony that we'd all been waiting for took place. Blanche, resplendent in a gown of pale blue Venetian silk, knelt to me and paid me homage for her lands in Ireland.
I accepted her homage and confirmed that her revenues from them would continue to be paid to her even after her marriage, for they made up the central part of her dowry.
Throughout the ceremony, I kept a close eye on Blanche, trying to read her body language. However, though her eyes flashed briefly when I mentioned her upcoming marriage and her dowry, she kept herself under control, never once hinting at her inner turmoil. And when I said, "Lady Blanche of Ireland, I grant you permission to use your new device when you go to take up the reins of your new Kingdom," and she rose to stand before me, her new banner unfurling on the wall behind her, she actually smiled as though she meant it.
If I hadn't known better, she might have fooled me. I might have relaxed.
As it was, however, I merely went through the motions of the ceremony and played along with her whilst I waited for the next time we were going to have a discussion over her marriage. As it happened, that was the very next day.
"Elizabeth? Bessie? Can I have a word?"
"Of course, sister."
Smiling, I turned towards her, only to be alarmed when she practically threw herself at my feet.
"Elizabeth. Please, I'm begging you. Don't make me leave for France. Not yet. I'm not ready."
"How can you not be ready? You've known this was coming for years."
"I'm just not. I swear I'll do it; I'll marry him, I promise. But not yet. Let me stay for Christmas. Let me see the twins married before I go. Please."
"They were your ladies first, I suppose," I sighed, glancing away from her. Knowing she had me, Blanche pressed forward.
"Exactly. And you promised me you'd never make me do anything I didn't want to do. You promised, Bessie. So let me stay. Just another year. Just until I'm seventeen. Please."
All of a sudden, I realised that I was unwilling to fight her on this anymore. I sighed again.
"All right, Blanche, all right. I'll write to King Henri. I'll get you another year if I possibly can. But once you're seventeen, you have to go, all right? Seventeen is the latest I can let you get away with. Understand?"
"Yes. Thank you, Bessie!"
Blanche kissed me, suddenly radiant with happiness. As she practically skipped from the room, I watched her go, hoping I wasn't making a huge mistake in following Edward's advice and letting her stay with us for another twelve months.