Infamous (30 page)

Ten minutes later, Jory opened the note that Catherine brought to her. A lump came into her throat as she read Warwick's words:

Jory's eyes flooded with tears and she began to sob softly.

Catherine was alarmed. “What is wrong, my lady?”

“Nothing whatever is wrong…My husband seems to love me.”

Jory's bout of sobbing precipitated the onset of labor. Her midsection was gripped by an agonizing contraction that caught her by surprise. The pain was so severe that she cried out and pressed her hands to her rigid belly until the pain let go.

“I'm sorry, Maggie. I won't scream again,” she promised.

“Don't make promises ye can't keep, my lady. I'll go and fetch Mary. Don't be afraid—nothing's going to happen right away.”

“Thank you, Maggie. I know first labors are long and painful.”

A minute after Maggie left, the door burst open and Warwick strode in. Catherine retreated to the bed in a futile attempt to protect Jory from the powerful male force that swept into the chamber.

“It's all right, Catherine.” Jory looked up at the dark face towering above her and glimpsed fear in her husband's eyes before he could mask it. “The pain has gone, Guy. I won't scream again.”

He covered her hand to reassure her. “You can scream Windrush down if it helps you get through this, Jory. Catherine, bring her a nightdress. She needs to get out of these clothes.”

Happy to be given a task, the girl found a white cotton night rail and brought it to the bed.

Guy unfastened Jory's gown and helped her remove it. Then he lifted her shift over her head. Before he pulled the fresh cotton garment down over her shoulders, he gazed at her body as if he were spellbound. Her creamy skin was stretched taught and smooth over her rounded belly and her breasts were full and lush. He was amazed to see that her delicate beauty was enhanced by the changes it had undergone. He was gripped by an overwhelming desire to protect her, and the knowledge that he would not be able to keep her pain at bay filled him with frustration.

Maggie returned with Mary and the pair took the earl's presence in stride. He was the infamous Warwick, whose power was only slightly less than God's in their eyes. If the countess had changed her mind about wanting him at her side, they had no desire to deny her.

Mary asked, “How many pains have you had, my lady?”

“Just one.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than her midsection was gripped by another paroxysm. Jory gasped, and grabbed Guy's hands to keep from screaming.

“Half an hour apart,” Mary estimated. “We've a way to go yet.”

“Let's prepare by putting some extra sheets under her. As they get soiled we can remove them without changing the entire bed and disturbing her.”

The women brought five large sheets and folded them in quarters, making twenty layers. Guy lifted his wife in his arms while they put the sheets on the bed. He held her against his heart and kissed her temple. Jory weighed so little he began to worry that she was too frail to survive the ordeal.

He took Mary aside. “She's so small,” he murmured.

“Small is good, Lord Warwick. Big, fat women have a devil of a time in childbirth.”

Mary urged Maggie and Catherine to go and rest because they might be needed in the night. When they left, Mary sat down before the fire and pulled a ball of lambswool and a crochet hook from her smock and started to make a baby blanket.

Christus! If the woman expects to finish a blanket for the baby, this is going to be the longest day of our lives.

Guy sat down on the bed. “Lean against me and get some rest, love. Close your eyes and try to let my strength flow into you.”

During the next few hours, he was surprised that Jory did drift off to sleep between labor pains. Then he began to worry that it was taking so much out of her, she was becoming exhausted.

When darkness fell, her contractions came closer together and lasted longer. As she'd promised, Jory didn't scream and tried to not even whimper. It tore at Guy's heart. Between bouts of pain, he massaged her feet and her back, determined to distract her. He gave her drinks, but she could not face food so he stopped trying to tempt her. He bathed her hands and face every hour and told her tales about when he was a boy. He talked about breeding horses and she clung to him and listened with fascination.

At dawn, Maggie and Catherine returned, and shortly after Jory's water broke and she went into hard labor. The women immediately removed the wet sheet from beneath her and encouraged her to push.

Catherine found a linen towel in which to wrap the baby when it made its appearance and Guy reluctantly moved back, allowing the two experienced midwives to control the situation.

It took the better part of an hour before the child's head presented itself. To Guy, that hour seemed longer than the previous twelve that Jory had been in labor. Suddenly, she screamed and her baby was delivered.

“Oh, no,” Mary whispered.

Immediately, Guy stepped forward, his face tense. He saw that the baby was blue because the birth cord was wrapped around its neck. His heart was in his mouth as he watched Maggie carefully unwrap the cord, and then Mary bound and cut it.

Guy snatched the linen towel from Catherine and took the child from Maggie's hands. “Take care of Jory.” One swift glance into his wife's eyes revealed the stark fear that gripped her.

“My baby isn't crying!” Her voice was filled with anguish.

“Catherine, get whiskey from the steward. Run!” he ordered.

Guy carried the silent little bundle before the fire and carefully unwrapped it. His heart melted when he saw the tiny female. Though he was desperately worried about Jory, he knew the most beneficial thing he could do for her at this moment was make sure that her baby survived. When a breathless Catherine returned and handed him the whiskey, he poured some into his palm, warmed it at the fire and began to rub it directly on the baby's skin.

Guy began at the tiny rib cage and then turned the baby over and massaged its little back. With gentle fingers he rubbed his daughter's arms and legs, then massaged her tiny buttocks. Suddenly the baby began to choke. He quickly smacked her narrow little back, terrified that she had drawn her last breath. All at once a lump of mucus dislodged from the infant's throat. He wiped it away with the towel and immediately the baby began to wail. Guy felt weak with relief.

When Jory dispelled the afterbirth, Maggie and Mary once more removed the soiled sheet. They could see that though Lady Marjory was exhausted, she was overwhelmed with worry. They bathed her and propped her up against a large pillow.

Guy glanced over at the bed. Jory's face was ghostly pale, her green eyes wide with anxiety. Suddenly the little minx began to scream and Guy whooped with joy.

“Good girl…Daddy's girl!” He carried his little daughter to the bed and his black eyes minutely examined his wife to make sure she had come through the birth with no lasting harm. Jory's eyes were filled with gratitude for what he had done. She smiled tremulously and when she held out her arms, Guy placed the precious baby in them.

Catherine answered a knock on the door. “Lord Warwick, it's your son, Rickard,” she said shyly.

Guy strode to the door and grinned. “You have a sister. Go and find us a cradle.”

He went back to the bed and stood mesmerized as he watched Jory suckle her baby. He knew in that moment that he had never seen a more beautiful or touching picture of love.

By the time the baby had been nourished and had fallen asleep, Rickard and Roger were dragging in a carved wooden cradle.

Guy took the baby from Jory's arms and gently laid it in the cradle. Mary covered the child with the lambswool blanket she had made, and after a few minutes everyone in the chamber quietly departed and left the little family alone.

Guy sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped possessive arms around Jory. Suddenly she began to laugh and it was the prettiest, most carefree sound he had ever heard. He joined in her laughter, unable to contain his exuberance a moment longer.

“We got our wish, Jory. We got a little girl!”

“I
cannot believe how much she has grown in two months.” Guy ruffled the baby's dark curls as her eyes closed and her rosebud mouth stopped sucking.

Jory passed her baby daughter to Guy. “I know you like to hold her, but we have important guests and I must dress for dinner.”

“We've had guests since Christmas. I warrant everyone wants to be entertained by the exquisite Countess of Warwick.”

“You smooth-tongued Frenchman, you know the earls and barons have gathered here because it's central. Call Mary for me.”

As soon as Guy opened the nursery door, Mary hurried in. The midwife, who had delivered the baby in the first week of December, had traveled from Windrush with the Warwicks two weeks later, to be the baby's nursemaid.

The baptism had taken place at Yuletide in Warwick Castle's own chapel and Jory, who had insisted that her daughter's name be beautiful, christened the baby Brianna de Beauchamp.

“I'll be back to feed her before I retire tonight. If I get Catherine to help me dress, it will be faster.”

“I'll help you dress,” Guy offered with a leer.

“Absolutely not. I've had a taste of your helping and we always end up in bed. Control your passion until we retire tonight.”

“That will be at least midnight,” he pointed out.

“I'm worth waiting for, Warwick. Cool your lust.”

Thirty minutes later, Lady Marjory swept into Warwick's Great Hall on the arm of her husband. In scarlet velvet with diamonds blazing at her throat she was the most dazzling chatelaine most of the nobles had ever seen. There was not a male present, whether he be servant, knight, or baron, who did not envy Guy de Beauchamp his beauteous wife.

Mr. Burke's vigilant eye oversaw the pecking order of the seating arrangement he had worked out with the countess. Up on the dais, Thomas of Lancaster, High Steward of England, who had just returned from London, had the place of honor on Warwick's right and his brother Henry Plantagenet, who had ridden from Kenilworth, sat on Jory's left.

All the high-ranking earls sat below the dais, facing their host and hostess and the two royals. Thomas of Lancaster's corpulent father-in-law, the Earl of Lincoln, was flanked by the irascible Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, who had been Jory's father-in-law.

Jory signaled for the wine and ale to be served and at the same time the musicians began to play their lutes and lyres in the minstrels' gallery above the hall. Though her face was serene, Jory inwardly marveled at the important earls who were gathered here before her. Her eyes traveled over Hugh le Despenser, Earl of Winchester, who was on the Royal Council.
He is here because he fears the new king will take his office away from him.
Her glance moved on to the Earl of Pembroke, who had been made head general of the army.
Gaveston has nicknamed him Joseph the Jew because of his large nose.

Baron Mortimer of Chirk had come to protest because his guardianship of the young Mortimers had been taken from him and given to the king's favorite, and even Joanna's husband, the Earl of Gloucester, who was now brother-in-law to the new king, had made the journey to show that he sided with the barons.

Jory smiled at her brother, who had come to support the barons and carried his uncle John, Earl of Surrey's, proxy.
My dearest Jane wanted a daughter, but I know my brother is well pleased that their second child was another son.
Jory lifted her goblet of ale and silently saluted Lynx. Her brother lifted his own goblet and winked at her.
You're winking because you know I love to be the center of attention!

Marjory's mind flew back to the Yuletide celebrations when one by one the nobles began to gather at Warwick Castle.

“King Edward is on a rampage and won't be satisfied until he's swept us all out of office,” the Earl of Winchester complained, “and replaced us with the relatives and friends of Gaveston!”

The Earl of Chester, who had allowed the late king's forces to use his castle to conquer and reconquer Wales, spoke up. “None of our lands and castles will be safe in this new reign. If Gaveston's avaricious eyes fall on a piece of property, Edward hands it to his lover on a silver platter!”

Henry of Lancaster had ridden in from Kenilworth. “Edward has bestowed on Gaveston the Earldom of Cornwall with its vast revenues from the tin mines. It's the last bloody straw! That earldom has always been traditionally reserved for
royals
.”

Lynx de Warenne arrived with more unbelievable news. “When Treasurer Langton objected to Edward lavishing huge sums of money on Gaveston, the king sent him to the Tower. The minute the treasurer was imprisoned, the thirty thousand pounds that had been collected for the new crusade vanished into the Gascon's pockets.”

In January, the new king's uncle, Thomas of Lancaster, rode in from London. The proud-blooded royal was so furious he fell into a Plantagenet rage. “After all the diplomatic maneuverings I made to arrange for the young swine's marriage to Princess Isabella of France, he has put the Great Seal of England into Gaveston's hands while he is gone to Boulogne! I am the rightful Regent of England when the king is absent. He has deliberately and maliciously insulted me. Something must be done!”

“We will hold a consultation and make a decision. Edward's coronation is planned for February 25, three weeks after he returns from France. We must assert our authority before he is crowned king or it will be too late,” Warwick declared grimly.

Lancaster said, “Gaveston calls Lincoln Burstbelly, and you, Warwick, he calls the Mad Hound of Arden.”

“One day, I'll show him just how mad I am!” Warwick vowed.

That night, as Warwick and Jory were readying for bed, she voiced her concern. “Guy, the nobles are laying this burden on you. They secretly hope you will eliminate the king's lover. I know what they think:
What's one more murder to the infamous Warwick?
But I happen to know that you have never committed the foul deed of murder and I won't let you do it. Let them do their own dirty work!”

Guy lifted her in the air and kissed her soundly. “You know all my secrets. I am a romantic fool to share them with you.”

“I love you with all my heart. I couldn't bear it if you were arrested and sentenced to death. Please, Guy, I beg you.”

“No begging allowed.” He pulled her against his heart. “We will lay the law down and have him banished. If the pervert returns anytime during Edward's marriage, then I won't be responsible for my actions, so don't ask it, Jory.”

 

The barons made a plan and decided that Thomas of Lancaster, the highest noble in the land, would go to London and await Edward's return. He must confront his nephew and inform him that all the earls and barons in England were united. They would refuse to attend his coronation unless Gaveston was banished. They were giving him no choice. Without the nobles there could be no coronation.

Marjory's mind came back to the present and she saw that the food had been served.

“Have you no appetite,
chéri
?” Guy squeezed her hand.

She smiled up at him. “My mind was woolgathering.”

He grinned down at her and teased, “That's what comes of owning so many sheep. Gathering wool makes you a wealthy woman.”

Jory's glance fell on Rickard de Beauchamp, who was sitting with Roger and Catherine Mortimer.
She is certainly smitten with Rickard, and though he is polite, he still holds himself aloof from her because of what happened with Gaveston. It will be a long time before he feels at ease with a lady.

When the meal was over, the servers cleared the tables. Jory had arranged no entertainment for tonight because Thomas of Lancaster was going to address the assembled nobles.

The Earl of Warwick got to his feet and held up his hands for silence. “Thomas of Lancaster is here to give us a report on his meeting with Edward, which took place two days ago, when the newlywed king arrived back in London with his bride, Princess Isabella of France.”

The hall fell silent as those assembled were eager to hear if their alliance had borne fruit. Thomas Plantagenet, relishing drama, stood up and waited a full minute before he began to speak.

“First let me say that I awaited Edward at Windsor, where he was to bring his bride, Princess Isabella, to the apartments that have been furbished with every luxury for the future Queen of England.

“The day before Edward arrived, Gaveston's entourage of sycophantic relatives and friends paraded about Windsor Castle as if they owned it. Gaveston was actually wearing some of the crown jewels and conducted himself as if he were the King of England. I was treated with utter disrespect and my Lancastrian retainers were jeered at. I had to restrain them from committing violence on the Gascon interlopers.”

Murmurs of outrage could be heard all over the Great Hall.

“When Edward arrived at Windsor, he summoned me immediately to voice his outrage that few of the nobility were at Dover to greet him. He informed me that his outrage had turned to fury when he arrived at Windsor with his queen and found no throng of earls and barons there to give him a triumphant welcome.

“I informed him in no uncertain terms that his baronage thought poorly of him from every standpoint and unless he changed his ways, we would
never
welcome him. In fact, I told him, the highest nobles in the land stand firmly together, and unless he agreed to banish Gaveston from Court, we would all absent ourselves from the coronation.”

Shouts of
Hear! Hear!
reverberated around the Great Hall.

“When I presented the roll of parchment with all our signatures, Edward was taken seriously aback. He collapsed like a sail without wind when I challenged him and showed him proof that the nobility was solidly allied against Gaveston. Edward then assured me he would arrange matters to our satisfaction. When I flatly told him that wasn't good enough, he signed a pledge.”

A great cheer rose up to the rafters of the castle's Great Hall. The Earl and Countess of Warwick stood and lifted their goblets and everyone joined in to salute Thomas of Lancaster.

After he had enjoyed the adulation for about ten minutes, England's hereditary high steward raised his arms for silence. “When we rid London of the Gascons,
we
must become the king's Court. Edward has no experience and is ill-fitted for the role of king that has been thrust upon him. He will need much advice and guidance in ruling this realm. We are the ruling class; we, the earls and barons, have a wealth of experience we must put to use for the good of the realm.”

Lancaster drained his wine and continued. “It is easy to see why the future Queen of England is called Isabella the Fair. However, she is only thirteen years old, little more than a child. She is like a pretty little doll and will need a Court of English ladies to advise and guide her. I hope I can persuade the elegant Countess of Warwick and other noble ladies to take up residence at Windsor Castle to help this innocent young princess become a worthy Queen of England.”

Warwick glanced at his wife and saw that the idea of joining the Court was not anathema to her. He would certainly have to rid himself of his tendency to jealousy if he was to have any peace of mind.
Everyone adores Jory, always have and always will. It is high time I came to terms with it. I love her just as she is and wouldn't change one beautiful hair on her head.

All those gathered in the Great Hall spent the next two hours discussing the business of the realm, expressing opinions and exchanging ideas. Every man and woman present knew that united they would prevail and divided they would fall. It was in their own best interests to become a closely knit alliance.

The Earl and Countess of Warwick were the last to leave the hall. Both went to the nursery, where they found baby Brianna wide-awake. Guy picked her up and laughed when she wrapped her tiny fingers about his thumb in a grip that refused to let go.

“She's growing very attached to me,” he teased.

“So am I,” Jory said. “Go and turn down our bed while I feed her.” She took the baby from her husband and cradled her against her breast. When Brianna fell asleep, she tucked her into her cradle and offered up a prayer of thanks that she was thriving.

When Jory entered the bedchamber she began to quickly undress.

“Let me do that,” Guy insisted.

“I want to bathe my breasts before I come to bed.”

“I'll do that, too. It will give me untold pleasure.” He sponged her breasts with the warm scented water and gently dried them with the linen towel. Then he took infinite delight in removing her garments. “Every man in the hall tonight envied me. They think me a lucky swine to have such a young beauty for my wife—and they are right. Jory, you have made my life so special, sweetheart.” He picked her up and carried her naked to their bed.

Guy de Beauchamp spent the next hour making love to his wife. He knew his feelings for her were akin to worship, but he didn't care. He had been without her too many years and on their wedding day when he had vowed to love and cherish her, he had meant every word. “I told you that I would devote the rest of my days to making you happy, but in truth, Jory, it is you who makes me happy.” As always happened, Jory became flushed with passion and yielded up everything to him.
I am the luckiest man alive!