Virgin Widow. Anne O'Brien

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      Chapter Three

      MARRIAGE began to loom interestingly on the Neville front.

      In the following year my father was absent more often than he was present. The household continued to keep its usual efficient order with the Countess at the head of affairs, but she missed him, and as I grew I sensed that something out of the way was afoot. Sometimes it was difficult for her to smile; she rarely laughed. At dinner when she sat in place of honour I could see, when I dragged my thoughts from my own concerns, that she picked at the dishes presented to her. She was pale and I think did not sleep well.

      ‘Where is he? Is my father at Calais?’ I would ask my mother. The Earl was often called upon to be there to oversee the defence of this most important possession on the coast of Europe.

      ‘No. The King has sent him to France again.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘To make an alliance between our two countries.’

      ‘Will it be good for us?’

      ‘Yes. Your father thinks so.’

      ‘Why does he not sign with France, in the King’s name? Then he could come home.’

      My mother’s brow knitted. ‘Because, my inquisitive daughter, King Edward is not in agreement. He would prefer an arrangement with Burgundy, rather than France.’

      ‘Is he arranging my betrothal?’ This was Isabel. At sixteen years Isabel was of an age or more to be wed or at least promised in a betrothal. So far no arrangement had been made, a matter that was not to her liking.

      ‘Yes. I think it is in my lord’s mind.’ A caustic reply for so celebratory an event.

      ‘Will it be a foreign lord? Will I have to live beyond the Channel?’ Isabel was relentless. For a moment, she looked doubtful at leaving home and family so far behind. Then her expression brightened again as if marriage to a foreign prince would please her mightily.

      ‘I’m not certain.’

      ‘Oh. Will Father tell me when he returns?’

      ‘He might—if his plans have progressed so far.’ The Countess’s brief smile held a wisp of dry humour. ‘Don’t worry, Isabel. I am sure it will be a match made in heaven.’

      But in spite of this amusement at Isabel’s dreaming of a handsome knight, there was some issue here. My mother’s expression became even more strained, a thin line of worry between her brows as she made an excuse of a word with the steward to leave the supper table. Isabel was too intent on her future glory as a bride, but I knew that the Countess was deliberately selective with her opinions. Or perhaps she herself was uncertain of the Earl’s intentions.

      At least she had given me some ammunition.

      ‘I thought you would be much sought after,’ I needled. ‘No one appears to be rushing to our door to claim your hand.’

      ‘I shall be sought after. You’re too young to know anything about it.’

      ‘You’ll soon be too old. Fit only for a convent.’

      ‘I shall marry one of the greatest in the land.’ She was, to my delight, crosser by the minute. ‘Do you think the Earl of Warwick will allow his heiress to go unmarried? Or to be claimed by a man who lacks importance and authority?’

      No. I did not. I thought as did Isabel that it would be of prime importance for the Earl to secure a bridegroom of comparable standing and wealth to our own. But there was an uncertainty, an unease, about the situation that I could not unravel. If at sixteen years, most heiresses were formally betrothed if not wed, why was it different for Isabel? And what if Isabel did not marry? What would happen to me as a younger daughter? Was I destined for a convent? A Bride of Christ? I shrank from the prospect, enclosing walls, a life of strict obedience and enforced poverty. I swore that was not for me. As for any prospective bridegroom for myself, I could not picture him. At eleven years I did not care greatly, but Isabel did and was decidedly ill tempered as the days and weeks passed with no remedy.

      The Earl returned at the end of the month, but after the briefest of greetings, hardly more than the briefest of smiles for Isabel and myself, a quick exchange СКАЧАТЬ