Heirs of Ravenscar. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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      ‘And you haven’t, I promise. Tell me why you love mistresses so much that you want to study them?’

      Suddenly feeling undeterred, realizing Jane was obviously interested to hear her opinion, she rushed on. ‘Those I’ve been reading about are all extraordinary women. They played such enormous roles in history. Most were influential in politics and government, whilst caring about their kings, and what they did says so much about the times they lived in. We learn from them. Their relationships were usually about power. In most instances, I think.’

      ‘Absolutely!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘And money. And position. As well as social ascendency, and, in another sense, social acceptance and supremacy.’

      ‘I love mistresses, I mean as a subject,’ Grace Rose continued. ‘They’re much more interesting to read about than most of the queens. Frequently, the king cared more for his mistress than his wife.’

      Struck by the girl’s openness, and an unusual honesty that was quite breathtaking, Jane began to chuckle, her expression amused. After a moment, she asked, ‘And which mistress are you concentrating on at the moment, Grace Rose?’

      ‘Diane de Poitiers, the mistress of Henri II of France. She met him when he was a little boy, only twelve. This was just after he had come back to France, after being held in captivity by the Spaniards. He was a hostage, along with his brother, while his father went free. He was depressed and shy at the time, and she befriended him. Actually, she became his protectress, and was very kind to him, a steady influence. She mothered him quite a lot, too. I believe that she made him feel safe and secure. That was important to him, I think.’

      ‘Yes, you’re right, it probably was.’

      ‘Diane seduced him when he was seventeen,’ Grace Rose announced. ‘She was twenty years older than he was, but he never left her. She was his mistress for his entire life. He died before she did, but when he was alive he doted on her, much more than on his queen.’

      ‘Ah yes, the famous Catherine de Medici. A woman scorned at the outset of her marriage. Henri II was too preoccupied with Diane, I do believe, to be bothered with his wife.’

      ‘You seem to know quite a lot about Diane, Mrs Shaw.’

      ‘Yes, I do,’ Jane answered and a small smile flickered at the corners of her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

      Grace Rose felt her own mouth twitch and she began to laugh softly. And Jane Shaw laughed with her. And it was at that moment that these two women bonded forever. The mistress and the illegitimate daughter. Outsiders, in a certain sense, and yet so close to this most dominant man in their lives, closer than most others whom he knew and cared about.

      Grace Rose shifted slightly on the sofa, and remarked, ‘Then you must know that Henri II gave Diane the crown jewels. Just imagine that. And also that most palatial of châteaux, Chenonceaux.’

      ‘I did know that, yes. And I’m also aware that she held her power for almost thirty years. Yet she was wonderfully kind to the king’s whole family, to the queen when she was desperately ill, and Diane virtually brought up the royal children.’

      ‘And those children happened only because Diane persuaded the king to visit his wife’s bed, pointing out that he needed an heir.’

      ‘My goodness, Grace Rose, you’ve done your research well. Diane is your favourite, is she?’

      ‘Yes, but there’s one other mistress whom I admire, and would have liked to have known.’

      ‘And who may I ask is that?’

      ‘Agnès Sorel,’ Grace Rose told her. ‘She was the mistress of Charles VII in 1444. He was so smitten with Agnès that he made her his official mistress. By that I mean he created an actual official position, and for the first time in French history. Maîtresse en titre –’

      ‘And who is the maîtresse en titre?’ Edward asked from the doorway, striding into the room, a look of considerable amusement on his face. Although the two women did not know it, he had been standing there listening to them for several minutes.

      Grace swung her hand, and exclaimed, ‘Oh, goodness! Uncle Ned! I was just explaining to Mrs Shaw that I am currently studying mistresses.’ Once again she instantly became flustered, and hurried on, ‘What I mean is – er – er French mistresses, I mean the mistresses of kings –’

      ‘But only French kings apparently. Are you not interested in English kings and their mistresses?’ He chuckled. ‘Too dull, I suspect, the English, eh?’

      ‘Oh, no, not at all. I know a lot about English kings. There was Charles II and Nell Gwynne, and –’

      ‘Yes, my dear, I know, I was just teasing you.’ He walked over to the sofa, stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders affectionately, whilst looking across at Jane quizzically.

      Jane smiled at him. ‘I was thoroughly enjoying our discussion,’ she murmured with warmth and genuine sincerity. ‘Grace Rose is going to be a marvellous historian, Ned. She has all the right instincts. She’s obviously not afraid of research, and she has a nose for sniffing out the truth, I think. None of us were around to witness events hundreds of years ago, so historians have to weigh the written evidence, go with their instincts.’

      ‘I have always been impressed,’ he murmured, obviously pleased by Jane’s comments. He remained standing where he was, for a moment lost in his thoughts.

      Jane caught her breath; seeing them together like that in such close and intimate proximity was tremendously revealing. There was no doubt whose daughter she was – that red-gold hair and the brilliant blue eyes. And they both had the same pink and cream complexion. Yes, Grace Rose was Ned’s spitting image and the vividness, the vibrancy of their looks was startling.

      I want to make her my friend, Jane thought all of a sudden. And I will be her friend, protective of her if that is necessary. And that way, no matter what happens, I will always have a little bit of Ned.

      Vicky said, from the doorway, ‘Everyone seems to be arriving at once! Come along, Grace Rose, I hear Fenella and Amos in the foyer.’

      ‘Go along,’ Edward said, standing away from Grace Rose. ‘Go and greet your old friends.’

      ‘Oh yes, I will!’ she cried and jumped up.

      Edward watched her go, and then he turned to Jane. He walked over to her, pulled her to her feet, kissed her on the cheek, led her to the fireplace. ‘She takes one’s breath away with her bluntness, I’m afraid. I hope she didn’t say the wrong thing, or embarrass you?’

      ‘Of course not. Frankly, I found her refreshing.’ Jane hesitated, and then murmured in a low voice, ‘I would like to get to know her better, Ned.’

      ‘Then you shall,’ he promised.

      ‘There isn’t anything wrong, is there? I mean you’re not ill are you, Ned?’ Vicky asked sotto voce, looking at him intently.

      He was seated on her right at the circular dinner table, and he glanced at her swiftly. ‘Of course not. I’m in perfect health. Why do you ask?’

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