Heirs of Ravenscar (9 page)

G
race Rose had been given the task of entertaining Mrs Shaw while her parents and Uncle Ned had some sort of business meeting in the library.

She was glad they had asked her to keep Jane Shaw company because she really liked her. There was something about her that was intriguing and special; also, Grace Rose knew that Jane Shaw liked her in return, and there was a certain ease between them.

That this woman was truly lovely to look at was obvious; that she was charming, kind and extremely intelligent a bonus, Grace Rose thought, impressed by her knowledge of art and sculpture, her willingness to answer questions whenever Grace Rose asked. Jane knew a great deal about certain artists and their work, most especially the French Impressionists and Post-Impressionists, and she was happy to share.

The two of them were seated in the yellow drawing room, chatting generalities. At one moment, Grace Rose couldn't
help thinking that Jane Shaw looked perfect in this perfect room tonight. She was wearing a most elegant and fashionable sapphire-blue velvet dress, and sapphire earrings which exactly echoed the particular blue in some of the fabrics her mother had chosen for the room. She ought to be painted in here, Grace Rose thought, and it should be called
Portrait
in Blue
.

After another brief discussion about a recent art exhibition at a well-known gallery in Chelsea, with Jane doing most of the talking, they fell silent. But it was a compatible silence, not awkward at all; the two of them were comfortable with each other and had been since they had first met some years before.

Looking across at Grace Rose, Jane took the lead again, and murmured, ‘I hear you love your studies, and your uncle told me you are extremely dedicated and disciplined. He thinks that's admirable, and so do I.' Settling back in the French bergère, Jane took a sip of champagne and then smiled warmly at the younger woman.

Grace Rose nodded, her face full of eagerness. ‘I've always loved school, Mrs Shaw, and I'm really happy today because it will soon be possible for me to live at Oxford with a friend of Mother's, and attend courses at the University.'

‘That's wonderful! Congratulations! History is your subject, isn't it?'

‘Yes. At this moment I'm particularly interested in France, and in French kings.'

‘What an extraordinary coincidence. I've always been partial to French history, and although the English are not supposed to like Napoleon Bonaparte, I must confess I've always had a sneaking admiration for him. In many ways he was a genius.'

‘And probably the greatest general the world has ever known,' Grace Rose remarked.

‘Except when he invaded Russia,' Jane pointed out, eyeing her young companion acutely.

‘That's true … but it was mostly the weather that scuttled him,' Grace Rose replied. ‘I was thinking in terms of strategy when I said he was the greatest.'

‘I understand, and many agree with you. But tell me, which particular king intrigues you the most?'

‘To be honest, I'm more taken with the mistresses of kings. You see, that's what I'm studying at the moment.
Mistresses
. I find them fascinating –' Grace Rose broke off, remembering that Jane Shaw was Uncle Ned's mistress. She chastised herself silently for having embarked on such a controversial subject. ‘Oh, dear, I'm so … s-s-sorry,' she stammered, looking chagrined, and then flushed in embarrassment.

Jane couldn't help laughing when she saw the woebegone expression on her face, and reaching out she patted her arm, said very softly, ‘Don't apologize, my dear, I know you know that I am Uncle Ned's mistress.'

‘Yes,' Grace Rose replied, nodding. ‘The whole world knows –' She broke off again, looking even more flustered than ever, and cleared her throat.

‘I'm very sorry, Mrs Shaw, I keep saying the wrong thing. I don't mean to give offence.'

‘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?'

‘Because you decided to give us those documents tonight. It was so unexpected, Ned, out of the blue. I can't help, well … worrying, wondering if things are all right with you.'

He leaned to her and said quietly, ‘I suppose the war and the flu pandemic have affected me a little, in the sense that they've made me realize I'm mortal like everyone else. When one is very young, one thinks that life is endless, that we'll all live forever. But, sadly, that's not true. We're all vulnerable.'

Now Ned flashed her his most brilliant smile. ‘I'm truly not ill, Vicky, dear. I don't intend to keel over for donkey's
years, and I promise you there's only one reason I've given you and Stephen the documents. And that's because you
should
have them in your possession as her parents. That's all there is to it. Also, I've been rather efficient lately, and these last few weeks I've been putting a lot of my other personal business in order.'

Vicky nodded, leaned back in her chair, filled with relief. She gave him a warm and loving smile. ‘You've been so good about her all these years, and good to her. Just as you've been good to everyone you care about.'

‘I just try to do my bit, the best way I can, that's all,' he answered with a light shrug of his broad shoulders, and then he turned to speak to Fenella who had asked him a question about Young Edward and his health.

With the worry about Ned now totally erased from her mind, Vicky relaxed completely, and glanced around the table. She saw that everyone was having a good time, enjoying being together. Fuller had just served the Sole Colbert a few moments before, and there were several comments about how delicious it was, and she was pleased they liked Cook's food.

After a moment, she realized Jane Shaw was trying to get her attention, and she asked, ‘Is everything all right, Jane? You are enjoying the fish, aren't you?'

Jane smiled. ‘It's delicious, and I just wanted to say how special your table looks tonight, Vicky, with all your beautiful china and silver. You know how much I love your little red box, as you call it.'