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

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СКАЧАТЬ and pre-eminence as a consequence of that husband being declared traitor. My mother had lived under suspicion because she had set her own hand to some of the treasonous letters.

      But that was all in the past. Since a royal pardon had drained away a portion of her guilt but not all of her bitterness, my mother had dedicated her life to the reinstatement of her family. A laudable objective, but sometimes I found it difficult to experience any emotion but resentment.

      As now.

      ‘That is good. I approve of St. Ursula,’ she said, still seated in the high-backed chair beside the window where the light fell on her unflattering hair-confinement. ‘I hope that you are a credit to the Queen and to your governors. Do you take heed of all your lessons?’

      ‘Yes, madam.’

      ‘Do you observe your daily prayers? Do you attend Mass?’ ‘Yes, madam.’

      Standing now, she approached, to walk in a circle around me, before stopping to lift my chin with her fingers. I was not sure that she believed me, but her reply was complimentary.

      ‘Then you are everything I had hoped for in a daughter.’

      Released, abruptly, I lowered my eyes.

      ‘I hope so, madam.’

      ‘A beautiful girl, well nurtured, without sin.’

      ‘I make confession, madam.’

      I prayed, aware of the weight of Isabella’s powerful reliquary against my breast, that my mother could see no colour of culpability in my cheeks. It seemed, from the faintest of smiles that was bestowed on me, that she could not. But then the smile vanished.

      ‘I trust that your behaviour is decorous and seemly when at court, when you are in the company of the King’s young knights. I do not wish it to come to my attention that you are of a flirtatious disposition, Joan.’

      ‘My deportment is exemplary, madam. Queen Philippa commends me on it as an example to her own daughters.’ My reply was supremely colourless.

      ‘So I have heard.’ The Countess returned to her chair, seating herself in a billow of silk, before pinning me with a direct stare. She breathed in, her nose narrowing as it did when she was displeased. ‘I can rest assured that you have been well chaperoned.’ She considered me, the soft pads of the fingers of her right hand tapping against the Book of Hours that she had picked up and now rested on her lap. ‘It is, I think, time.’

      When I remained silent under her regard, my mother stopped tapping but instead curled her hands around the fierce animals, carved with open mouths and sharp teeth along the arms of her chair.

      ‘A marriage has been arranged for you,’ she announced. ‘Your hand has been sought by the most pre-eminent of families.’

      There it was, declaimed without warning or fanfare, the announcement I had feared, even though I had always known that in the making of alliances, daughters were of inestimable value. Margaret and I would be expected to marry well, but this was the moment I had been dreading. I swallowed soundlessly, gaze still lowered to the hem of her gown, while the Countess took my silence for demure acceptance.

      ‘I see it is no surprise to you.’

      Obviously my dissembling was sufficient, but it was a surprise. Given my young age I had not expected it to be quite yet, accepting that such plans would be postponed for at least another year, perhaps two. And that it would be a lengthy betrothal rather than a marriage. My sister Margaret, older than I by one year, was betrothed to an important Gascon nobleman, Amanieu d’Albret, a man she had yet to meet. There was no talk yet of their actual marriage on the near horizon.

      Oblivious to the thud of my heart beneath the Virgin’s Tears, my mother was continuing. ‘You must have known well what was planned. The King wishes to reward his closest friend, the Earl of Salisbury, sadly still under French restraint and likely to remain there until a ransom is paid. What better way to show royal gratitude for Salisbury’s service to the Crown at home and overseas than for the King to give the hand of his cousin, a Plantagenet princess in her own right, to the Earl’s son.’

      So I was to wed Will Montagu, the boy with the harness. I could think of nothing to say.

      ‘Does it not please you?’ The edge in the Dowager Countess’s voice was emerging as the silence played out.

      What could I say that would not cause an eruption of temper?

      ‘Yes, madam. It pleases me.’

      It was the only possible reply.

      ‘It will be an exceptional alliance. The King and Queen are in full agreement. As for the Salisbury boy, you know him well. You have been raised with him. There will be nothing for you to dislike in the match.’

      ‘No, madam.’ I decided that I must say something else to deflect the flare of impatience. ‘I like William well enough.’

      She nodded. ‘You are much of an age. You will wed, but of course you will continue to live as you do now, until you are both deemed old enough to take on the responsibilities of marriage in the flesh.’

      I kept my face expressionless, my eyes abandoning the hem to focus on the toes of my mother’s shoes, expensively gilded.

      ‘In the absence of the Earl, we will meet with the Countess of Salisbury this afternoon when we will sign the contracts of marriage.’ At last she managed a smile that was more than a bleak movement of her lips. ‘Your father would have approved, Joan. I have carried out this negotiation exactly as he would have wished.’ She looked at me. I could feel those eyes searching my face. Her fingers, relaxed in satisfaction, now clenched. ‘Have you still nothing to say?’

      No, I had not. Nothing to the point. Nothing that would not shake the ground beneath her feet. And beneath mine. My thoughts tumbled over each other, searching to find something appropriate, and failing.

      ‘Thank you, madam.’

      My mother sighed as she deigned to explain further.

      ‘William will be a worthy husband. An alliance with the Earl of Salisbury will be nothing but advantageous for our family. It will be a final mending of our reputation.’

      I was not aware that it was broken beyond repair. Did the Queen not love me as much as she loved her own daughters? But treason could cast a long shadow, and my mother had had her own unfortunate role in it. There was much that needed to be healed. Yes, perhaps my mother did deserve my pity and my compliance.

      ‘Yes, madam.’

      ‘And you will make a good wife.’

      ‘Yes, madam.’

      ‘Tell your women to dress you as befitting a royal audience. I will fetch you when it is time.’

      ‘Yes, madam.’

      ‘Now you may go. Perhaps you can summon some expressions of gratitude and delight at the marriage before I see you again.’

      ‘Yes, madam. I will.’

      At last I got to the door, and outside it, with nausea churning in СКАЧАТЬ