Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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handsome King and Queen have graced a throne.

So all was well. Peace had come. Edward had vanquished his enemy. Was this the end then of the Wars of the Roses?

They believed so and as they were heartily sick of wars they cheered the man who had brought them peace.

Back to the Palace of the Tower. There to rest after the procession. Margaret and Anne were taken into separate apartments while the King and his company went to the dining-hall to the feast which had been prepared for them.

Richard was on one side of the King, Elizabeth on the other. Edward felt a deep affection for this brother who had never shown anything but loyalty to him; it was wonderful to have someone whom he could trust.

But Richard was sad. The sight of Anne seated beside Margaret in the chariot had touched him deeply. Poor little Anne, who had done nothing but what she had been made to. He could not forget her and memories of childhood days were flooding back to him.

Edward was saying: 'Young Edward is dead. There is only Henry now.'

'And he is a near imbecile,' murmured Hastings.

'A figurehead still!' mused Edward. 'They were rising in the North in his name. There will never be complete peace while that name can be used to give traitors a reason for rising.'

There was a deep silence about the table which lasted for some moments. Edward was staring thoughtfully ahead.

That night Henry the Sixth was murdered in the Wakefield Tower.

So Henry was dead. There were rumours of course for he had died at a most convenient time. His body had lain at St Paul's with the face exposed so that all might see him, and the talk continued that his body had bled as he lay in his shroud. Afterwards he was kept for a while at Black Friars and then taken by barge to Chertsey Abbey to be buried in the lady chapel there.

It may have been, said the people, that his death had been arranged on the King's orders, but even so, it was an end to strife and if it did mean that a few ruthless actions must be performed to bring about peace, then so must it be.

Within a few weeks people ceased to talk about Henry. The war was over. Edward had come to stay.

But Richard could not stop thinking about Anne seated in the chariot with the fierce Margaret of Anjou—not fierce any more. The death of her son had subdued even her revengeful spirit and left her with no energy for anything but to mourn.

He did not know whether Anne considered herself as a wife to Prince Edward, but whether she did or not he was dead and she was free now. Free for what, to remain Edward's prisoner in the Tower? Free to marry perhaps if a husband could be found for her?

Richard went to Edward for he had been making up his mind to speak to his brother from the moment he had seen Anne in the procession.

Edward was always pleased to see his brother, and as Richard entered his private chamber he studied him thoughtfully. How different he was from the flamboyantly handsome figure Edward knew he cut. Richard was of middle stature—perhaps a little lower, his face very serious, with the open looks of an honest man. So far he had not been called upon to dissemble. It would come, Edward guessed. But perhaps it did not to all men. In any case he smiled warmly and asked what troubled his brother that he looked so serious.

T have been wanting to speak to you for some time, Edward. There is a matter which is much on my mind.'

'Well?'

'It's Anne . . . Anne Neville.'

'Ah,' said Edward. 'You have a weakness for the girl. I always knew it.'

'I cannot bear that she should be here ... a prisoner in the Tower.'

'Poor girl! She could not help being Warwick's daughter.'

'I want to marry her, Edward.'

'Yes, I thought so. Well, what are you waiting for?'

A great smile crossed Richard's face making him look so different.

'My dear Dickon,' said Edward, 'Why do you not go ahead? You wanted my blessing eh, good brother that you are! In these matters you should follow my golden example and marry where you will.'

'I intended to,'said Richard.

'Good for you. I like a man to know his own mind. But being you, you asked me first. I say go ahead. Our brother had one girl

and you are to have her sister. And the greatest heiresses in the Kingdom. Warwick was a very rich man! He had a genius for collecting wealth. I know he regretted not having a son largely because of those vast estates he managed to accumulate. Well, your Anne is a wealthy woman, co-heiress to the Warwick estates with her sister Isabel.'

Edward stopped and looked intently at his brother.

Then he said slowly: There may be trouble from George.'

'George . . . why should there be?'

'My dear Dickon, you know George. He married Isabel for her fortune. He believes that now that Anne is in the Tower and was betrothed—some say married—to Henry's son she is our enemy and should forfeit her estates. In which case Isabel will become doubly wealthy with a whole share instead of a half/

'Oh, no.'

'Perhaps not. However, dear brother, go ahead and good luck attend your wooing.'

It was late afternoon of the next day when Richard went to Anne's apartment in the Tower. He had thought what he would say to her. He was remembering that she-had undergone an ordeal and he was certain that she would be shocked. What her feelings had been for Prince Edward he did not know; he had heard that she had become friendly with Margaret of Anjou; she would have witnessed that lady's overwhelming grief . . . perhaps she had shared it. He did not want to hurry her. It may have been that her feelings had changed since they were children. She was not much more than fifteen now. He wanted to proceed with gentleness and tenderness. He would feel his way cautiously, reminding her of long ago days at Middleham, try to awaken those feelings they had obviously felt for each other. He was longing to see her and yet he wanted to be prepared. He felt their first meeting would be very important to them both.

He knew where her apartment was. Both she and Margaret had been given fairly comfortable lodgings; Edward was never vengeful. . . and although Margaret had caused him a great deal of trouble he shrugged his shoulders and thought that just in the nature of things.

When he reached Anne's lodging he was surprised to find it empty.

He called one of the guards.

'Where is the Lady Anne?' he asked.

'My lord,' was the answer, 'she was taken away this morning.'

'Taken away! But who had the right to do that?'

'It was the Duke of Clarence, my lord. He said he was taking her to her sister, and that he would have charge of her in the future.'

Richard was astounded. Why should George suddenly have decided to take Anne away?

However, he would go to his brother's London residence and see Anne there.

As he made his way to the Clarences' house a thought occurred to him. Had his brother guessed what he was planning? How could he have known? Because he was aware that Richard was fond of Anne? Because Anne was now free? Had one of his spies overheard Richard talking to Edward about his intentions? That was possible. George had spies everywhere. George lived dramatically and made drama where it need not exist. George was up to something. Why should he suddenly express an interest in Anne to whom he had been quite indifferent before?

Richard would find out.

He arrived at his brother's house where he was received with great deference by his servants, and he said that he understood the Lady Anne was there and he wished to be conducted to her.

If he would kindly wait for a moment the servants would go and do what was necessary.

It was not Anne who presented herself to him however but George.

George came hurrying in, an affable smile on his handsome face, a little bloated nowadays through too much good living especially excessive drinking, charming in a way, a pale shadow of Edward.

'Richard, dear brother, how good of you to call on me.'

Richard was always direct. 'You look well, George,' he said. 'I have in fact come to see Anne.'

'Ah,' said George looking serious.

'What is wrong? She is here is she not?'

'Y. .yes, she is here. She is in her sister's care.'

'Why?'

'Why, brother. Who else should look after her but her sister? You know what good friends Isabel and Anne always were.'

'Does she need . . . looking after. Is she ill?'

'I fear so. You see, she has suffered a terrible ordeal. She lost her father, and then the Prince. ... It is too much for the poor girl.'

'I wish to speak to her.'

'I'm afraid you cannot do that. She is not well enough to receive visitors.'

'Visitors! I am no ordinary visitor! Anne may want to see me. Please tell her that I am here and that I have come for the very purpose of talking to her.'

George's face hardened. 'No, brother. You cannot see her.'

'I demand to see her.'

'It is no use demanding here, my lord of Gloucester. This is my house. Anne is my ward. I am the one who shall say whom she will receive.'

'What is the matter with you?'

'I am her brother-in-law . . . her nearest relation through Isabel. Isabel and I will look after her. She is in my hands. You have come here to ask her to marry you, have you not?' George was always unable to control his anger and he was angry now. He had meant to be subtle, to ward off Richard but when his brother stood before him and he realized how strong Richard could be in his quiet way, his anger flared up. He had been informed that Richard intended to marry Anne and he thought his motive was the same as his own had been in marrying Isabel: the Warwick fortune.

'Yes,' said Richard steadily, 'I intend to marry Anne if she is agreeable.'

'You intend to marry a fortune, eh? That is what you are after. You think you'll have your share of Warwick's estate.'

'I was thinking of Anne. . . .'

'Oh brother, how noble you are! I know you well. Quiet, serious, loyal always to brother Edward. Well it paid to be so, eh? And now you think you will come along to that poor desolate girl and tell her she must marry you . . . not for her fortune ... oh no, no, but because you were always such good friends at Middleham. But you will not say no to the Warwick estates, will you? My dear brother, Anne has been on the side of the enemies of our brother the King. For that she may well forfeit her estates.'

'You fought with the enemies of the King, George. Will you forfeit your estates? And Anne has never fought. She did what

she was obliged to. You know it and Edward knows it. Now I will see her.'

George was facing him. 'You cannot see her. She is too sick to be seen. Only Isabel is with her.'

'You're lying, George.'

'You are my brother and I do not want to quarrel with you but if you attempt to invade my house against my wishes my guards will stop you on my orders.'

'I have not come here for a brawl.'

'Then go, brother, before you provoke one.'

George's face was scarlet, his slightly bloodshot eyes bulging with rage. Richard knew George. When he was angry he lost control. He would be capable of anything.

The last thing Richard wanted was a quarrel with his brother which in George's present mood could result in the death of one of them. He turned on his heel and walked away.

He would put the matter to Edward and demand to see Anne. He was sure Edward would be on his side. Edward was devoted to him and was always suspicious of George. He knew what Edward's verdict would be and even George would have to consider very carefully before going against the wishes of the King.

Edward listened thoughtfully to what had occurred.

'It is clear what this means,' he said. 'George wants the entire Warwick fortune. He thinks by keeping Anne in his control he will get it through Isabel. Where George is, there is always trouble. Sometimes I wonder where it will lead us in the end. How dare he talk about Anne's fighting against me! He is completely brazen. Consider how he went to Warwick and actually took up arms against me. I don't know why I am so lenient with him. It is because he is my brother, I suppose. He was such a bright little fellow when he was young, and then his little wickednesses seemed amusing. But no longer so. I will let George know that he shall do nothing to impede you.'

'I fear he may be keeping Anne there against her will. If I could see her . . .'

'You shall. I will let George know that Anne is to receive you at his house and you can talk to her and make your plans.'

Richard thanked his brother and Edward immediately sent off a messenger to George to tell him that when Richard called he was to see the Lady Anne and if he, George, prevented this he would have to answer to the King.

Giving George time to receive the King's order Richard rode out to Clarence's house where his brother was waiting for him. George looked complacent and for a moment Richard thought he had decided to accept Edward's decision.

'I have come to see the Lady Anne/ he said. 'I pray you have me conducted to her apartments at once.'

'Alas,' said George holding his hands together and looking piously up at the roof, 'you are too late, Richard. The Lady Anne is no longer here.'

'No longer here? Why . . . she was here. . . .'

'She was but now she is not.'

'Then where is she?'

'I have heard from my brother that I do not hold the wardship of the lady and therefore her whereabouts can be no concern of mine.'

'You lie/

'Indeed not. I assure you she is no longer in this house.'

'I do not believe you.'

'Dear brother, you may search the place. You may question my servants. You must discover for yourself. In fact I wish you to. I cannot have you spreading stories that I have the lady in secret hiding here.'

Richard said: 'I will search your house.'

'Go ahead. Feel welcome to ask anyone in the house to help you/

Richard went to the staircase. He found Isabel in one of the corridors and he wondered if she had been listening to the altercation between himself and George.

'Isabel,' he said and took her hand and kissed it. She looked frightened. He had always liked Isabel although naturally his feelings did not go as deep for her as they did for Anne. 'Where is your sister?'

'I do not know, Richard,' she said. 'She has disappeared. I went to her room to talk to her and she had gone.'

'Gone! But where to?'

'I have no idea. It is as though she left in a hurry. I believe she has runaway.'

'But where could she run to?'

'I thought perhaps to our mother.'

'Your mother is at Beaulieu is she not?'

'Yes, in Sanctuary there on the King's orders.'

Richard nodded. It was a sad state of affairs but the Countess was of course the wife of Warwick who had brought an army against the King. All the Countess's lands had been confiscated. That was probably due to George who naturally wanted the whole of the Warwick inheritance to go to Isabel.

Tsabel, can you assure me that she is not hidden away somewhere in this house?'

T have searched for her and cannot find her. Oh Richard, what do you think has become of her?'

'Do you think she is running away from George?'

'He has not been unkind to her.'

'He tried to keep her a prisoner here and when I called he would not allow me to see her. Did she know that?'

Isabel shook her head. 'Unless George told her. / did not know you had been here.'

'Edward has commanded that nothing be put in the way of my seeing her.'

'But she is gone, Richard.'

'I believe George has sent her away,' said Richard hght-lipped.

'I do not know. He tells me nothing. Oh Richard, Anne would be so pleased if she knew you wanted to see her. She talked of you often. I think she thought you had deserted her after all that happened.'

'My God, Isabel, it was no fault of Anne's! Did she not think I knew that! But I'll find her. I swear I will. Now I am going to search this house . . . every room . . . every nook . . . everywhere. You understand, Isabel, I must satisfy myself that she is not here.'

'I understand, Richard. Go and search. I do not think you will find her. I myself have looked everywhere. I am so worried as to what has become of her.'

Isabel was right. He searched but there was no trace of Anne.

Richard visited the Countess at Beaulieu. He found a very sad woman. She was very anxious for her daughters and the greatest hardship she had to bear was separation from them.

Richard decided he would speak to Edward about her being kept in Sanctuary there. It was of course because of the Warwick estates and George's obsession with them. While the Countess

was here she could claim nothing. Edward knew that George wanted those estates. Somehmes Richard thought Edward was afraid of George. Not exactly afraid. There was very little Edward feared. But Edward had always been one for peace and what he loathed above all else was strife in the family. While he was deeply suspicious of George he did not want to upset him so he turned his back on what was a form of caphvity for the Countess.

Poor woman, what had she done except be heiress to a large estate! Warwick had married her for it and so became the great Earl and the owner of vast possessions and because of these Isabel had been married to George and now Anne was persecuted.

The Countess was frantic when she heard that Anne was missing.

'She did not come here/ she declared. 'How I wish she had!'

'I will find her,' declared Richard.

The Countess seized his hand. 'And when you do, please let me know.'

'You shall be the first to hear, I promise you.'

He was going to search everywhere. He would follow every clue however ridiculous it might seem.

He made enquiries in every noble house, starting with those she would have turned to most naturally.

Was Anne there? Had she sought refuge with them?

But he searched in vain.

Anne herself was bewildered. She could not understand why her brother-in-law had done this to her. She had always been afraid of him, and never understood how Isabel could love him. Oddly enough he loved Isabel. He was gentle with her and always seemed different in her company. Of course they had known each other in their childhood and had been friends, but not as friendly as she and Richard for Richard had been so much at Middleham.

She had hoped that she would see Richard. It would have been wonderful to talk to him, to explain how hurt she had been to have been forced onto the side of his enemies. But there would be no need to explain. Richard would understand.

And now she was afraid she would never see him again

because this terrible thing had happened to her.

George had come to her room and with him were two people whom she had never seen before, a man and a woman.

George had said: 'Anne, you are in danger. These friends of mine will look after you. You must go with them at once. You will take nothing with you . . . there is no time for that. They will give you everything you need.'

She had cried out: 'But I want to know where I am going . . . and why.'

'It is because you are in acute danger and there is no time to waste now. You have to leave with all haste.'

'Where is Isabel?'

'She knows you are going and have to hurry. You can speak to her later.'

The woman came forward and put a cloak round Anne. She was very strong Anne noticed as she took her arm.

'It is all clear,' said George. 'Come this way.'

He led the way through a part of the house which was rarely used, down a short spiral staircase to the courtyard where a carriage was waiting. She was firmly placed in it. The man started up the horses and they were away. It had all happened so quickly that it was only when they were driving through darkened streets that Anne began to feel really afraid.

'I want to know where I am being taken,' she said.

The woman put her finger to her lips. 'Now we must be calm, mustn't we,' she said, speaking, thought Anne, in the tones one would use towards an imbecile.

She looked out of the window. Suppose she ran away? Where would she go? To the King perhaps, to throw herself on his mercy? But he would send her back to George. Isabel would help her but Isabel was George's wife. . . . Then to her mother. Could she find her way to Beaulieu?

The woman had her by the arm and was hustling her into a house. They went up a dark staircase and she was in a room alone with the woman.

'Now take off those fine clothes,' she said. 'You will not need them here.'

'Where am I? I don't understand.'

'Never mind.' The same soothing voice. 'You won't need to. You'll be safe here.'

'Safe . . . from what?'

'From those who seek to harm you.'

'Who?'

'Now then. Take off this beautiful gown. You see you are not going to be the grand lady here.'

'Please leave me alone. Let me go to my mother.'

'No, you are staying here. We are going to care for you.'

Her dress had been removed. She was in her pethcoats. 'Such fine linen,' said the woman. 'Most unsuitable now.'

Everything was removed and the woman slipped a ragged gown over her head.

Anne stared down at it in revulsion. 'What is this? What are you doing?'

'My dear, you are mistaken. You think you're the Lady Anne, do you not? I found you wandering in the streets. I took pity on you. I am going to take you down to my kitchens and there you will be fed for the work you do.'

'Kitchens! You are mad.'

'No, my dear, it is you who are so afflicted. You see you have these ideas. You have heard of the Lady Anne Neville and you have been dreaming of her. You dream that you are that lady. Now what would she be doing in such a gown!'

'But you have just taken my clothes and forced me into this.'

'It is all a dream. Part of the delusion. NeVer mind. We'll look after you here. You should be very grateful to us. We have taken you from the streets out of pity.'

'Stop,' Anne cried. 'What nonsense are you talking? Give me back my clothes and let me go from here.'

'Your clothes . . . my dear sad child . . . those were the clothes I found you in, wandering the streets pretending to be a great lady . . . and I'll say this, you did it very well.'

Anne turned to the door but she was pinioned by the strong arms.

'Careful, child. I do not want to hurt you. Don't provoke me.'

'I want to get out of here. This is all such nonsense. Let me go. Let me go.'

Anne received a stinging blow on the side of her face. She reeled back and stared at the woman in horror.

'There now,' said the woman, 'no harm done. You've just got to behave yourself, that's all. No nonsense, see. I mean to be kind to you. You must let me be. Look at you, all skin and bone and weak as a kitten, I'd say. Never done a hand's turn of real work.

Never mind. You just be quiet and you'll get along all right. But any defiance . . . and you'll be sorry. I'm taking you in . . . doing you a good turn. . . . Now come with me.'

It was a nightmare. She must be dreaming. Who was this woman who had taken her clothes and given her these rags in substitute, and who was saying such mad things to her?

She was led to another room. They went in and shortly afterwards a large woman appeared in a gown which was splashed with grease.

'This is the poor girl I've been telling you to expect/ said the woman who had brought her to this place. 'She is suffering from what they call delusions. Thinks she is some great lady. Lady Anne something. Gives herself airs. She does it rather well, speaks and acts it. Must have been in some grand house sometime. Well, it's turned the poor thing's head. She could get into real trouble wandering the streets saying she's all sorts of people.'

Anne went to the fat woman and took her sleeve. 'I am Lady Anne Neville,' she said. 'Take me back to my family ... to my sister ... to my brother. You will be well rewarded.'

'See,' said the woman, 'she does it very well. That's why it is a httle dangerous. Take her to the kitchen. Don't make her do too much . . . just at first. Have a little pity on her. She'll want showing how to do things. Keep her in the kitchens. She might try to get away. Don't let her do that. I can trust you to look after her.'

The fat woman nodded. 'I'll see to her. I've seen these loonies before. Think they're all sorts of people they do. I'll look after her.'

'Thank you. Cook,' said the woman.

The nightmare continued. She was taken to the kitchens. There were pots and pans everywhere and a great fire was burning.

'Sit down and watch the pots,' said the woman who had been called Cook. 'Come on. Stop dreaming. Have to work to eat you know . . . even if you are a grand lady in your dreams.'

Anne sat on the stool into which she was pushed.

She could not understand why she had been forced into this nightmare.

Richard gave himself up to the search. He could not imagine where she could have been taken. He went to Isabel and talked to her when George was absent but she could offer no clue. She had thought that Anne had run away in which case she would go to their mother. Where else? And if she were not there, she had no idea where she could be.

'I believe George to be concerned in this/ said Richard.

'He has always said that he would look after her and that she and I should be together.'

'We know George. He loves you, but he does want the whole of your father's estates for himself.'

Isabel was silent.

'Therefore I believe my brother has hidden her somewhere. Where, Isabel?'

'I do not know.'

'Isabel,' he caught her hands and held them tightly. 'If you knew you would tell me, would you not?'

She was silent again.

'I beg you, Isabel, for Anne's sake... for my sake. I love Anne. I always have. When we were children I used to think when we grew up we would be married. We talked of it once. You know how I care for her. You will tell, Isabel.'

'Yes, I would of course if I could, but I simply do not know where she is. George tells very little and I swear on my soul that I do not know where she is.'

Poor Isabel. Tom between her husband and her sister. But he was convinced that she did not know.

Somehow the conviction came to him that Anne was in London for the big city would be the best place in which to hide her. She could not have gone to any of Clarence's friends because the news would assuredly leak out as to where she was.

In addition to his noble friends Clarence had an army of hangers-on. People who spied for him and worked for him in many devious ways. Richard knew his brother well. He was one of those men who surrounded himself with drama. He was a bom intriguant. Where intrigue did not exist he created it. He was always working on some twisted project. Edward was right not to trust him. For one thing George always had his eye on the throne. He was resentful against a fate which had not made him the elder brother. Richard knew he had to be watchful of George not only for his own sake but for that of Edward. Edward was

well aware of George's perfidious nature of course, but being Edward he pretended to ignore it, to preserve the peace and a show of amity between them.

Then if Anne were not hidden in one of the noble houses she must be in one of the lesser ones.

He would search every one of them. He would set his own spies to discover who was on the payroll of his brother in however small a way, and if necessary he would take an armed guard to search their houses. He knew that Edward would approve of what he was doing for he understood his feelings for Anne. His had been as strong for Elizabeth. Moreover he might take whatever action he cared to as long as he did not involve the King. In quarrels between his brothers Edward would wish to stand outside. But Richard knew that Edward's support would be for him against George.

He decided to call in the help of a woman he had once known very well indeed for whom he still had a great regard. Katherine had borne him two children during their relationship—a boy John and a girl Katherine. Richard visited her now and then and had always made sure that the children had every advantage. It had never been a grand passion between them, and Katherine had become a true and grateful friend.

Katherine lived modestly in the city of London and would perhaps have knowledge and access to places which were denied him. There could never have been any question of marriage between Katherine and the Duke of Gloucester and he had often talked to her about Anne and explained to her that he would probably marry Anne in due course.

So to Katherine he took his problem and he knew that she would do everything she could to discover if Anne were indeed in London.

It was a forlorn hope for indeed she might have been removed from the city; but Richard was determined to make quite sure that she was not in London before he abandoned the search there.

It was Katherine who discovered that there was talk among the servants.

There was working in one of the houses a strange crazy girl who imagined that she was really a great lady.

She was, so the story went, a poor waif who had been found wandering in the streets and given a home by a magnanimous lady. The girl worked in the kitchens and was practically useless

and it was a wonder she was not driven out into the streets, but in spite of everything the mistress kept her there. She was quite crazy. She had even said that she was the daughter of the great Earl of Warwick.

Richard could hardly contain himself.

'Find out where the house is,' he said. 'Let me know at once and I shall be there.'

One day seemed to merge into another. Anne was bewildered still. Somerimes she wondered whether she had imagined another life, whether she was indeed the crazy waif who believed herself to have been a great lady. But that was rarely. She remembered so much . . . Middleham, Richard, Isabel, her mother and Isabel's husband George who was gracious to her and yet whom she feared.

No, she must cling to sanity. She must try to turn attention from herself. She must try to do these kitchen tasks for which she had no aptitude and which she never knew had to be done until she came here. She must try to be patient and quiet and wait until some way of escape was offered to her.

It was an ordinary morning. She was roused from the pile of rags on the floor which was her bed and in the room which she shared with six others she awoke to a new day.

She endured the usual teasing from the kitchen girls. She never agreed with them that she was mad and although she did not insist that she was the Lady Anne, she never denied it. They laughed at her fancy ways, at her manners of speaking and eating. Some of them even inclined to think that there might be something in her story, but any suggestion that there was would be reported to the mistress and that meant a threat that they might be driven out into the streets for talking such nonsense. 'We can't do with two loonies in one kitchen,' the cook had once said threateningly.