The King's Sister. Anne O'Brien

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      Well, I suppose I had expected this.

      ‘Elizabeth.’ My father had looked up from the document under his hand as I entered his private chamber, a room set aside for his exclusive use when he stayed at Westminster. The windows on one side looked out over towards the river, if the occupant could drag his eyes from the glory of the tapestries newly purchased by Richard in a bid to make his palaces the perfect setting for his magnificence as King. On this morning, from the expression on his face, the Duke was oblivious to the scenery and the surrounding grandeur.

      I curtsied.

      ‘My lord. You sent for me.’ I waited until he had placed the pen beside the document with infinite care as if his mind were taken up with something entirely different from its contents. I had every premonition that this would not be a pleasant interview. There was a groove between his flat brows.

      ‘I am gratified that you have enough energy after yesterday’s exertions to present yourself at this early hour,’ he said. ‘I trust you are rested. Or do your feet ache?’

      It might have suggested humour, but obviously not. I had been summoned by the Duke. It would not have crossed my mind to be tardy.

      ‘No, sir,’ I replied warily. His expression was particularly severe, but he rose from his chair where the window allowed what light there was to flood the room, bowed courteously, and came to lead me to a seat by the fireplace. Flames leapt to warm the room but I suddenly found myself shivering with tension and my belly was cold. The Duke’s concern for my comfort was soothing, but my father was well-mannered even when furiously angry, and that is what I saw in the stark lines of his face. Here was to be no easy discussion of the state of the Pembroke inheritance.

      ‘A cup of wine?’ he asked.

      ‘Thank you, sir.’ Taking the cup, I remained wary. ‘You wished to see me.’

      ‘Indeed.’ Unfailingly urbane, yet he looked weary to my critical eye. He was missing Katherine, I thought. It had been a difficult year, with an unmendable rift between them of my father’s making. Yet what choice had he, when Walsingham heaped England’s ills on his shoulders? I regretted Dame Katherine’s absence, and so did he. His temper was short.

      ‘It is my opinion,’ he pronounced, having poured wine for himself and taken the seat opposite me, ‘that you have entertained the court sufficiently with your conduct in the company of John Holland. I think I have rarely seen you so lacking in dignity since you grew out of your childhood. I wish such behaviour to stop.’

      Abruptly I stood, the wine splashing in the cup, unable to sit under such an unexpected attack in so harsh a tone.

      ‘Sit down, Elizabeth.’

      I sank back, my fists clenched around the stem of the cup. Had I expected this? Perhaps I had when the summons had been delivered. But had my behaviour been so very bad? I had laughed and danced, encouraged by John’s charm. Had I abandoned dignity? I did not think so. I had merely thrown myself into the joyous celebration of the day.

      Without doubt, I could find all manner of excuse.

      But had I flirted? Undoubtedly I had. An honest assessment of my behaviour brought a flush to my cheeks as if I had already drunk the wine that had splattered the front panels of my gown. And now my father, witness to it all, would take me to task.

      ‘I do not wish your name to be coupled with that of Holland,’ he said, still pronouncing every word carefully as if I would wilfully misunderstand. ‘You will not allow it. You will remember what you owe to your name. Your behaviour will never be less than unimpeachable.’

      ‘Nor will it, sir.’ I was not a little hurt.

      ‘Don’t be foolish.’ There was no sympathy in my father’s face. ‘After Holland’s close attention to you yesterday, and your willingness to be encouraged in all sorts of extravagance, I doubt there is anyone in this place who is not commenting on it this morning.’

      I felt the flush in my cheeks deepen.

      ‘Which I regret, sir.’ For I did, in the cold light of day. And in all honesty: ‘You are not the first to point out the error of my ways, sir.’

      My father’s straight brows rose in query. ‘Do I understand you have already been taken to task?’

      ‘Henry has expressed his disapproval. He was very forthright.’

      The Duke was lured into a dry smile, which did not fool me for an instant. I was still not forgiven. ‘And do I imagine that you accepted his criticisms?’

      ‘No, I did not,’ I admitted. ‘Henry informed me of Sir John’s affair with Isabella. Which I already knew. I did not need reminding.’

      ‘Did he? I am impressed.’

      ‘Princess Joan also discovered a need to warn me.’

      My father gave a harsh laugh. ‘Did she now? The Princess is always full of surprises and has this family’s welfare securely fixed in her heart. What a shame she was not born a man. Her nose for politics is superb.’ He sobered, bending a forbidding eye on me again so that I shuffled in my chair, sipping the wine to moisten a suddenly dry throat. What penalty would he demand of me? Whatever it was, I would have to accept it.

      ‘You should have listened to Henry,’ the Duke observed. ‘He has a mature head on his shoulders. But I don’t suppose you did. Indeed I’m certain you didn’t since you spent most of yesterday in Holland’s company. And don’t tell me that you were unaware of it, Elizabeth. It could hardly be missed when the Queen of the Lists lavished all her attention on the Champion at the banquet and the subsequent dancing. What were you thinking? I thought you had been raised to know how to conduct yourself, whether at court or in your own home. Your mother would be ashamed of you. And so would Dame Katherine. You do СКАЧАТЬ