Emma Campion - A Triple Knot (16 page)

“You would do this?” Jacob waited for his nod. “If it is truly what you wish, and if the lady agrees, we will stand as witnesses. But, as I told my wife, I have one condition—that you keep this secret until after the campaign to free Lille and Douai. If His Grace should learn of our part in this, he might choose not to honor our agreement, claiming I had betrayed his trust. And he would be right in that.”

“But Albret—”

“Nothing will be agreed before then. Lady Joan is to return to England after Her Grace’s churching. By midsummer, you will be free to write to your mother and brother. There is time.”

His knowledge of the queen’s intentions and the makeup of Thomas’s family set up alarms. “Might I speak with Lady Joan in privacy before dinner?”

“Do you not need more time to consider what this might mean for your future?”

“No.”

“Ah. Perhaps I do not give my wife enough credit. She swore that it was so, on both sides.” Jacob rose. “After dinner, I pray you. My wife wishes that we first break bread together.”

S
HAKEN BY THE EVENTS OF THE MORNING
, J
OAN HAD RETREATED TO
her bedchamber for an hour before emerging to engage with Thea and Cecilia. The room had its own entrance through the courtyard, protected yet discreet, with an anteroom set up as a private parlor. As she rested on the great bed, a plan had insinuated itself into her mind. She and Thomas would pledge their troth, with the Van Arteveldes as their witnesses, and consummate their union in this very bed. This was their chance. The queen was closed away, the king at sea—this was their chance to choose their future. Who was to say that this moment wasn’t God’s gift, that he hadn’t meant them to be together?
If
they had the courage to choose love over all else. This might be their only chance of happiness.

She pricked her courage to broach the subject with Katarina.

“A betrothal!” Katarina’s eyes lit with pleasure. “You have found your courage, my lady. I thought you might. Of course we would stand witness to your vows. But consummation, no, you are too young.”

“Once only. So that I am not a virgin.”

“Oh, my dear—”

“In my dreams that is what he wants, my first blood.”

“I think you will find yourself much comforted by the betrothal, Lady Joan. Leave the other for a later time.”

“If he agrees?”

Katarina would not commit. But how could she prevent it? It was Thomas who must agree. Joan was asking him to risk everything for her.

All through the dinner she watched him, smiling whenever she caught his eye, softly bringing the conversation round to him again and again—his prowess in tournaments, his status among the king’s guards, asking after the health of his mother, Lady Maud, his siblings. In a fine forest-green wool tunic with the king’s new heraldic device of the French fleur-de-lis quartered with the lions of England, a Lincoln-green hat making some order of his dark curls, as wild as hers from the weather, he sat tall and proud at the table, his dimples charming Thea and Cecilia, his exploits impressing their brothers, Phillip and Jan. It was only afterward that she remembered how quiet their hosts had been, neither Jacob nor Katarina saying much, busy casting enigmatic looks toward each other.

It seemed an interminable meal, but at last Dame Katarina rose, inviting her daughters to come with her to take some alms to an elderly neighbor. After they departed, Jacob said that he would send a servant with some hot spiced wine to Joan’s private parlor.

“You would like some quiet conversation, I should think.”

O
NCE THE SERVANT DEPARTED
, T
HOMAS SEEMED AWKWARD WITH
Joan, perched on the edge of the chair across from her as he spoke of the weather, the Van Arteveldes’ hospitality, some of the conversation at dinner. She had never seen him so uncomfortable.

When he rose suddenly, she did as well, snaking her arms round his waist, fearing that he meant to leave. “What is wrong, Thomas?” She pressed her head to his chest and felt his heart beating wildly. He took a deep breath. She looked up, expectantly.

He was gazing down at her with an uncertain smile. “I fear I am about to be the biggest fool in the realm, Joan. At Martinmas you spoke of your love for me. And ever since—I have convinced
myself that you might against all reason agree to marry me. Would you, Joan? Would you have me as your husband?”

Relief brought warmth and giddy laughter. “Yes, oh, yes, I will take you as my husband, Thomas, for I love you above all other men.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Even if Albret did not exist? Would you still take me?”

“Even so.”

He gathered her close, whispering into her hair, “I cannot express how happy I am, my love.”

After a long kiss, he spun her around with a great shout, then carried her over to a bench where they could sit side by side. She lifted his hands and pressed them to her cheeks, then kissed each calloused palm.

“You make it difficult for me to think,” he said, laughing. Those beautiful dimples appeared. “I’ve asked Jacob Van Artevelde if he and his wife would stand as our witnesses, and they have agreed. On one condition. That we keep our betrothal secret even from our families until after the campaign to Lille and Douai. He fears that King Edward would withdraw his support.”

She was a little disappointed by how quickly he moved on to the practical. She’d expected more kissing. But she took a deep breath and considered what he’d said. “The king would not withdraw his support, he has worked too hard to gain theirs.”

“Jacob is firm on this. He says there will be time, that Queen Philippa is sending you back to England after her churching.”

“It is the first I have heard of it.”

“He is certain that nothing could be decided with Albret until the king returns, and by that time you will be in England.”

“This begins to feel like a trap, Thomas.”

“I know, though I cannot fathom what they have to gain. Still, their knowledge of the queen’s plan troubles me, and I will
warn Salisbury. But I mean to use their scheming to our advantage. I’ve thought of nothing but this for so long, and now they have provided this chance.”

“Thomas, you come to this freely, do you not? They have not coerced you?”

She was relieved to see a flash of anger.

“On my honor, Joan, no one decrees where my heart shall go.”

“God be thanked.” She took his hands again, kissing both of them. “Hugh and Helena must also witness. Their word would not carry as much weight, but if Queen Philippa surprises us and we need to reveal our betrothal—”

“Yes, of course.”

“There is one thing to which Katarina would not agree, but she has no power over us. I want not only to pledge, Thomas, but to consummate our vow. Tonight or tomorrow night. Before you depart on your mission. Then no one can come between us. We will be husband and wife.”

“No, Joan, you are too young.”

“I have flowered, Thomas.” She saw that he understood. “Albret may know of this. We must lie together, just once. So no one can deny it. It is important to me, Thomas. It will stop the dreams.”

He studied her face for a long time. “I will lie beside you. Just that, nothing more, unless you invite me.”

It was enough. “On this very eve, my love, we will pledge our troth with Dame Katarina and Master Jacob as our witnesses.” She slipped onto his lap, and with each kiss she felt less sure of her bearings, a sensation that was perversely pleasurable.

A
FTER THOSE FIRST TENDER MOMENTS
,
SHE AND
T
HOMAS WERE
separated when Dame Katarina arrived to see that Joan rested
awhile. Helena poured the two women some wine, and they sat in high-backed chairs by the brazier in the bedchamber. As the unwatered wine relaxed her, Joan sat back, appreciating the beautiful room—the painted walls, the tapestries, the carved chairs, tables, bedstead, the fine linen on the bed—the whole surpassing all but the queen’s own chamber both here and at Windsor.

Katarina interrupted her reverie. “I trust you understand the import of what you and Thomas are about to do, and that my family accepts a grave responsibility in assisting you.”

“I am aware of the solemnity of what we do tonight.”

Katarina took Joan’s hand and looked her in the eye. “Thea and Cecilia must not know of this. You shall pledge here, in this private parlor.”

“I swear.”

Katarina glanced over at Helena. “I am glad you have a lady’s maid you can trust. Is Thomas’s squire as trustworthy?”

“Thomas would not otherwise keep him.”

“I pray that you long have joy in Thomas, and he in you.”

They were quiet a moment. Joan risked a little more wine, feeling it warm her.

A knock on the door, and a servant called out, “The master and Sir Thomas are here.”

Katarina patted Joan’s knee and rose. “Stay a moment. I’ve something to fetch for you.”

With steady hands and a comforting silence, Helena freshened Joan’s hair.

“How beautiful,” Dame Katarina said from the doorway. Draped in her arms was a linen chemise embroidered with butterflies. “If you mean to lie with Thomas tonight, I have a gift for you.” She extended her arms, and Helena lifted the soft garment. “If you choose simply to talk awhile, save this for your wedding night.”

“Thank you for trusting that I know my heart,” said Joan.

“Ah. You have decided.” Katarina kissed Joan’s forehead and held her a moment. “Come now, it is time.”

In the antechamber, Master Jacob bowed and kissed Joan’s hand.

“My lady Joan. It is an honor to witness such a joyous event.”

“
Benedicite
, Master Jacob.” She bowed in turn. “May God bless you and your family for the hospitality and friendship you have shown me.”

At the door stood Thomas, with his squire, Hugh. Seeing the latter’s uncertainty, Joan thanked him for standing witness as well. Helena went to stand beside him.

Thomas stepped forward, upright, proud, his face alight with affection. Smiling at him, Joan suddenly felt light.

“You are sure of this, my love?” he whispered.

“I am, Thomas.” Giving him her hand, she turned with him to face the Van Arteveldes.

Thomas took the ring Hugh held out to him and slipped it on Joan’s finger, a gold ring with a small green stone. “I, Thomas Holland, vow that I will wed you, Joan Plantagenet, before a priest, as soon as I may, and thereby I pledge you my troth.”

Joan repeated the vows in her name.

“It is only a bauble, but I had no time!” Thomas whispered as he drew her into his arms.

She did not care. She felt safe, loved, happy, imagining her father smiling down on them. She did not care to imagine her mother’s reaction.

A quiet toast was shared in the antechamber, and then Katarina led Joan into the bedchamber to change into the delicate garment. Joan was suddenly cold, when just moments before she had felt overheated. Helena combed out her hair as Katarina poured her a cup of brandywine. It made Joan’s eyes tear, but she welcomed the heat it created in her belly. She was terribly aware of her nakedness, barely concealed by the gauzy fabric. She drank more.

“Not too fast!” Dame Katarina cautioned with a laugh. “You do not wish to be drowsy when Thomas comes to you.”

They led her to the bed, and plumped the cushions so that she might sit up. Dame Katarina kissed her on the forehead.

“Good night, sweet Joan. May you and Thomas be happy.”

She and Helena left the chamber. Alone there for the first time, Joan felt as if she had fallen off the edge of the world into a void so vast there was nothing to stop her, no hope of a safe landing. Her stomach ached, her vision blurred, she gasped for breath.

And then Thomas was in the room, silently stripping down to a fine linen shirt, his legs bare. As he slipped into the bed beside her, he must have seen her distress. “Joan, my love, what is wrong?” He drew her close, warming her, breaking the spell.

“Oh, Thomas.” She wept with relief.

He held her, stroking her hair, reassuring her that he would never do anything to hurt her. “We need do nothing but this tonight,” he said. “You are safe with me, Joan.”

“No! No, Thomas, we must do what a husband and wife do. I cannot lose you!”

“You will never lose me. You have my heart forever.”

A kiss, another, and soon Joan lifted off her chemise.

Thomas touched her breasts, her waist. “God help me. Do you know how beautiful you are, my love?”

She blew out the bedside candle and slipped back under the covers, drawing him to her.

A
T DAWN
,
BIRDSONG WOKE
T
HOMAS
,
AND WHAT HE
’
D THOUGHT WAS
a long dream of yearning proved to be impossibly true. Curled up beside him, her pale hair covering his chest, was his beautiful Joan. His wife. God in heaven, his wife! As he lay there, the heat from her young body tantalizing him, he prayed for her happiness, that she would never find cause to regret their union.

“Thomas?” she whispered, opening her eyes, smiling up at him. “Oh, you
are
here. I feared I’d only dreamed it.”

“A good dream? That dispelled your nightmares?”

A sleepy smile. “No nightmares.” She shyly covered herself as she propped herself up on one elbow, and now, in the light from the window, he saw a sadness in her blue eyes.

“I pray I did not hurt you, Joan.”

She touched his cheek. “I love you, Thomas. A little pain does not change that. I am sad because this morning you must go, and I must pretend that nothing happened. I want days with you—weeks, months, years.”

He held her close for a little while, but it was true that he must return to his men, to his duties. “Shall I return tonight?”

“Of course, husband!”

S
HE LAY WATCHING HIM DRESS
,
ADMIRING HIS BODY
,
MUSCLED AND
lean. “You are perfect. My perfect husband.”

“I do not know what I did to deserve you.”