The Shadow Queen: The Sunday Times bestselling book – a must read for Summer 2018. Anne O'Brien

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      ‘I am impressed, Joan.’ My mother was becoming as complacent as Countess Catherine. ‘You have grown into this Montagu marriage. I commend you.’

      ‘Yes, madam.’

      We were pacing side by side behind the Queen on our way to early Mass, as was our wont.

      ‘It is all for the best.’

      ‘Indeed it is, madam.’

      Her eyes narrowed, as if she could not quite trust my compliance, before adding: ‘Reluctantly, I am given cause to admire Holland too.’ She inclined her head in the general direction of where he was standing in the little group of knights beside the King, who was awaiting the Queen. ‘He has the good sense to realise that to speak out now will harm no one but himself.’

      And me, of course. It would do my reputation no good at all.

      We did not speak of such things.

      Meanwhile Thomas returned to his position as one of the household knights, with aplomb and royal approval. But he had not forgotten. And he did speak of such things.

      ‘I will win you back,’ he said in an short aside as we emerged from Mass, our sins duly assuaged for another day, the households of King and Queen mingling. I was not forbidden to speak with him; that would have caught too much attention. Instead we became skilled at seizing strange opportunities.

      ‘How can you win me back?’ I handed him my missal to carry, under pretence of inspecting a damaged link in my girdle. ‘How can we untie this legal knot? It is pulled so tight that it can never be picked loose.’

      ‘I’ve never retreated from a battlefield. I’ll not retreat now, with right on my side.’

      ‘This is no battlefield,’ I returned. ‘This is a fully fledged rout. We are all defeated.’

      ‘No rout. No defeat. I see my way ahead.’

      Before I could ask him what it might be, I became aware of my mother bearing down on us. Thomas might be undaunted, but I was fast becoming resigned to my fate, for I could think of no ploy to escape one marriage and leap into another. In the last moments of privacy I looked up to find him watching me so that I could not look away. Indeed nor did I wish to. In those few brief seconds the intensity of longing was a shocking thing, filling all the spaces in my heart caused by Thomas’s absence. It took every effort of my willpower not to stretch out my hand to touch him, even the lightest of pressures on his sleeve. Which would have been irresponsible, damaging to the myth that we were all intent on believing. Oh, Thomas! Unsettled by the sheer power of my reaction to him, I snatched back my missal and walked away, keeping my fears and my longings to myself. Until the next time…

      It was like a sore tooth, a constant annoyance. A permanent worrying that could not be put right by a simple tincture of poppy.

      ***

      ‘I will never give up hope for us, Joan.’ Standing together by some slight of foot, we both looked across at the elegant procession of dancers in the Queen’s new dancing chamber as if it took all our attention.

      ‘I think that I might have.’ What good in not being honest? As I slid a glance, I saw him frown. ‘Unless you are prepared to abduct me.’ In a moment of true despair, I sank into levity.

      Thomas remained afloat in practicality. ‘And what would that achieve?’

      ‘Everything, if you want me as you wife.’

      Was I serious? Elopement was not for me. I was merely irritated with my inability to see a way through the overgrown thicket of our dilemma.

      ‘I could abduct you, of course.’ Thomas was brutally blunt. ‘But I’ll not condemn myself to skulking around Europe, looking for a handout, with you living in a tent on the tournament field, complaining about the food, the cold and the stains on your best silk – your only silk – gown.’

      He knew me remarkably, if unflatteringly, well.

      ‘That’s not complimentary.’

      ‘It’s not intended to be. I know what will make you happy. Tournament life is not one of them.’

      ‘And you are not motivated by your own ambitions?’

      ‘Of course I am. You know I am. I will fight for King Edward, for England. To run off with you would sabotage that plan.’

      ‘And your ambition is more important to you than I am.’

      ‘At this moment, it is a matter of debate in my mind, Joan. I have not known you so argumentative before.’

      ‘I have never before been faced with the quandary of two husbands at one and the same time!’

      As fast as a sparrowhawk’s descent on an unsuspecting sparrow, anger flared between us, fortunately masked by a lively carol being played on pipes, crumhorns and drums, accompanied by an energetic group of heavy-footed dancers.

      ‘I did not expect to return to England to find my wife cosily in bed with the Montagu family.’

      ‘Only with one of them. I did not expect you to return at all! And as far as I know you have a wench in every camp between here and the Holy Land.’

      ‘And why not? When I cannot trust my wife in England to remain loyal. Does he pleasure you well in bed? Better than I?’

      ‘As well as the camp followers give you ease at the end of a long day.’

      ‘I have always suspected you of a strong streak of frivolity.’

      ‘I have never been frivolous in my life! And you know full well I do not share Will’s bed.’

      A heated argument that we abandoned when, the drums and pipes falling silent, heads were turned in our direction.

      Did we kiss? We did not.

      Was I dragged into a fervent embrace? Never.

      Where was the passion, the emotion that had driven me into Thomas’s arms?

      In winter hibernation.

      Until I had had enough. And so had Thomas.

      ***

      ‘If we don’t abscond,’ he said, as we waited on a cold December morn for the hunt to assemble, ‘then we must do it legally.’

      I thought about this as one of my women tucked my skirts securely between leg and saddle. And when she had completed the task and moved aside: ‘A court case. Is that what you think?’

      ‘Why not?’

      I knew why not. ‘There’s no point in appealing to the English courts. They’ll do what Edward tells them. You’ll get no justice there.’

      ‘True.’ Still standing, fidgeting with his gloves, Thomas signalled for his page to tighten the girth since Edward had arrived, then mounted, pulling his horse level with mine. ‘There is СКАЧАТЬ