The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean - Страница 38

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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.'

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