The Spitfire (4 page)

“Ohh, Neddie, yes!” the little girl replied excitedly, and then looked to her mother. “May I, Mama? May I?”

Rowena laughed. “I suppose that Greyfaire can house another hound, Arabella. Aye, if Neddie wishes to give you a puppy, and it is all right with the long, aye, you may have one.”

The two children scampered out of the family solar as their fond mothers looked after them.

The king chuckled. “She has a good head on her, Row, your wee lass. Her father’s daughter, I must assume.”

The queen and Lady Grey laughed, for Rowena Neville had never been a scholar in their shared school days. She could barely read, and wrote her name but legibly, and her sums had always been more wrong than right. In the wifely arts, however, she had excelled. There was not a recipe, household or medicinal, that she could not concoct to perfection. Her soaps were like bathing with pure silk, her conserves and sugared comfits without equal, her embroidery an art form. Her home in the foothills of the Cheviot range had the most exquisite flower garden for miles, but she had no true intellect, and she admitted to it with a cheerful honesty.

“Aye, she is Henry’s child in every respect, Dickon. She reads for pleasure,” Lady Grey said wonderingly, “and when our bailiff took ill and could not keep the accounts, she kept them for her father, even discovering where poor old Rad had made several errors. She speaks French and Latin, for Henry enjoyed teaching her, and she was always quick to learn. If she has any fault, Dickon, it is that she is too outspoken for a girl. You saw how she was with Neddie. She seems to have no fear at all.”

“She will be an interesting woman one day, Row,” the king said, and smiled comfortingly at his wife’s cousin. Sweet Row, but how Henry Grey had stood being wed to her he never knew. You certainly could not speak with her for very long without being bored to death, but his dearest Anne loved her even as he had loved Anne since their childhood.

“Dickon will find Arabella just the right husband, Rowena,” the queen said, and then the two women began to gossip quietly about a mutual acquaintance, leaving the king to his solitary thoughts.

Soon, the king considered, he would have to leave Middleham and attend to the business of his kingdom, which was not a stable kingdom at this moment in time. He had not sought to be king, whatever others might think, and the clergy’s disclosure of his brother’s previous contract of marriage with Lady Eleanor Butler had been as much a surprise to him as to anyone else. He had always intended supporting his nephew named Edward, even as his own son. His late brother had made him the children’s protector in order that he defend the kingdom against Elizabeth Woodville Grey’s greedy and overly ambitious relations, who had, upon his brother’s demise, rushed to take custody of the boy king.

Lord Hastings had gotten word to him, and Richard had intercepted the queen’s party and their royal prize upon the road to London, taking charge of the boy before any harm might be done. The queen’s party, of course, wished to crown young Edward immediately, doing away with the protectorate and appointing themselves regents of the young king. Although he was willing to see his nephew crowned as soon as possible, Richard knew that he must be England’s regent if he was to protect the boy, the nation, and his brother’s dreams.

In the beginning the queen’s party had lost ground because of the very nature of Elizabeth herself. Then came the disclosure regarding Lady Eleanor Butler, and though none could be found to refute the charges, despite the lady in question being deceased now, Richard still did not seek the throne. The throne was offered to him in order that there be no doubt cast upon England’s rulers. He had demurred at first, disliking the position in which he found himself, knowing that there were those who would protest this removal of his beautiful golden brother’s eldest son. In the end he had accepted, for there was no other choice. He had stamped out the protest by immediately executing those who could continue the strife, thereby weakening England, making her vulnerable to France, to Spain, to Scotland. Lord Hastings, who had earlier supported him, was one of his victims, and Richard wept at this ruthless necessity.

Now he was an anointed and crowned king, and his beloved Anne had been crowned queen. Little Neddie was invested as the new Prince of Wales, and Elizabeth Woodville Grey was stirring up trouble in the south from the safety of her sanctuary. His nephews were hidden safely, though not in the Tower, as many supposed. They were far too vulnerable in the Tower. He had arranged that their warders be given drugged wine, and then he personally escorted young Edward and Richard, the younger lad who was his namesake, from their quarters in the Tower and sent them here to Middleham. They were bright children, and they had understood the need for secrecy. They were safe within their own wing of the castle, and carefully shepherded over the next few years until his kingdom was secure, they would be kept hidden from everyone, even his own son, their cousin, who made his residence here.

Another day.
He promised himself one more green and gold September day here at Middleham before he would take up his king’s mantle again. And he must settle the matter of little Arabella Grey, for he had promised Row that he would.
Who
? Who among his people was highborn enough, but not a great name, for Arabella did not merit a great name. Who was without wife? Who was a widower? Who could he trust with Greyfaire Keep? Trust to warn the Middle Marches of the coming Scots. Who would keep faith with him and not pledge his loyalty elsewhere?

Richard remembered a soldier who had fought with his brother and with him in the past. He was a northerner, the king remembered, but he could not remember the man’s name. Waving a servant to his side, Richard sent for Lord Dacre, who wasted no time in bowing himself into the private solar and accepted an offered goblet of wine. The king explained his difficulty. “I cannot,” he said, “for the life of me remember the fellow’s name. Wait! Jasper! ‘Tis his Christian name.
Jasper!
But Jasper what?”

“Sir Jasper Keane, my liege,” replied Lord Dacre.

“Aye, that’s the fellow!” The king grinned, pleased, then a frown crossed his features. “Is he wed, Dacre?”

“He has been widowed several times, my liege, but has no wife at the present time, to my knowledge.”

“Children?”

“Nay, Sire.”

“What’s his age? I would not force an old man upon the girl,” the king said.

“I am not certain, for we are not intimate, my liege, but I would say that Sir Jasper is nearing his thirtieth year.”

“A good age,” the king noted, “and he is a good fighter. What do you think, Dacre? Would he be a good choice to defend Greyfaire Keep, and would he make my wife’s young cousin a good husband? Is he to be trusted?”

“His loyalty is unquestioned, my liege, and I believe he would, indeed, be a good man to place upon the border in England’s interests,” replied Lord Dacre. He did not mention to the king Sir Jasper’s reputation with women, for Richard did not approve of such men. It was the one area in which he had disagreed with his late brother, who adored the ladies. Richard had always been loyal to his Anne, but he was unique in such behavior. England’s interests came before any form of morality, and so Lord Dacre remained silent on this matter.

“Has he lands of his own?” demanded the long. “His birth must be at least equal to my cousin’s.”

“His family has connections, distant however, with my own, and closer ties with the Percys,” Lord Dacre answered. “He has property of his own, but his home, Northby Hall, was recently burned to the ground in a savage, but isolated attack by the Scots. No one was killed, but his cattle, horses, and sheep were all driven off. He’s a good man, my liege, and I imagine such a fine match would cheer him greatly and bind him even closer to your side.”

“A king,” observed Richard, “cannot have too many friends, eh Dacre?”

Lord Dacre laughed politely. “Sir Jasper is here at Middleham, my liege, should you decide to favor him.”

“Is there anyone else, Dacre, to whom I might give this rich plum? The girl won’t be marriageable for at least two years, and will have no formal betrothal lest they do not suit. My queen is firm upon this point, having suffered from personal experience in an unhappy marriage. She would have her cousin’s child happy, and I am inclined to give her this small boon, for Anne asks for very little.”

Lord Dacre thought for a time and then replied, “Nay, Sire, I believe Sir Jasper is eminently suited for both Greyfaire Keep and as little Lady Grey’s husband.”

“Say nothing of this,” the king warned him. “I must think on it further before I make my decision.”

“As my liege commands,” Lord Dacre said, and bowed himself from the king’s presence. He had no sooner left the royal solar than he hurried to find Sir Jasper Keane to tell him of his possible good fortune. “Keep your cock under control,” he warned Sir Jasper, “that the king does not hear of your loose behavior. He will not award you the girl and her lands should he learn of your extreme penchant for female flesh. King Richard III is a moral man.”

“I know of Greyfaire Keep,” Sir Jasper replied. “It is a cozy little castle. Is the heiress rich?”

“There is some small wealth, but were she rich, my friend, I should have had her for my own bastard son,” came the answer. “You will not be uncomfortable, but the king will not have the wedding for a year or two. It pleases his queen that the girl like you. If she does not, there will be no wedding. Be warned.”

In the Great Hall of Middleham Castle that night the king called Sir Jasper Keane to his side and told him that he would match him with his wife’s young cousin, the heiress of Greyfaire Keep, Lady Arabella Grey. Expressing his delight at this honor, Sir Jasper pleased his liege lord, showing no displeasure at the terms to be imposed.

“Shall I be permitted to meet my bride, Sire?” he asked politely.

“I see no reason why not,” the king replied. “I will ask you to escort Lady Rowena and her daughter, Lady Arabella, back to Greyfaire that you may judge the condition of its defenses and make any changes you so desire. This keep is the first warning beacon upon my borders with Scotland, and the safety of Middle Marches depends on Greyfaire Keep remaining in English hands.”

“I will not fail you there, my liege,” Sir Jasper replied with complete sincerity. He was a soldier first, and the challenge presented him was a pleasing one. He did not fear that the little girl would not like him, for he had never met a woman who did not like him. Tall, with bright gold hair and light golden-brown eyes, few females looked past his pleasing features with his oval face, high cheekbones and forehead, straight nose, dimpled chin, and sensuous mouth, to see that those eyes were cold and fathomless. That the sensuous mouth could grow narrow with cruelty. He was as skilled a seducer as he was a soldier, although as a soldier he had never been known to take a foolish chance. A man did not live to enjoy the fruits of his labor by being reckless and foolish in war. Only in passion did a man dare to be reckless.

“Come to the queen’s solar tomorrow morning after the Mass, Sir Jasper,” the king said, “and you will be introduced to your proposed bride and her widowed mother.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Sir Jasper Keane replied.

“And be prepared to leave immediately afterward for Greyfaire Keep,” the king said. “It will take you a week or more traveling with the ladies to reach there. You are not used, I would imagine, to traveling at such a slow pace, but it will give you time to get to know Lady Rowena and her daughter. It is best you leave tomorrow before the autumn rains begin. The ladies will not like traveling in the rain.”

“I shall endeavor to make the trip as easy and as pleasant for the ladies as possible, my liege,” Sir Jasper replied, and he gave the king a warm smile.

In the morning Sir Jasper Keane made it a point to attend early Mass that he might secretly observe his bride-to-be and her mother. They were obviously amongst the women attending the queen, but all he was able to see was the backs of heads and gowns. It was not until the queen departed the chapel with her ladies that Sir Jasper saw the petite girl with the pale hair, the only child, excepting the little prince, amongst the others. This then was his bride, but which of the ladies was his mother-in-law he could not tell. Waiting for a few discreet minutes, he finally made his way to the queen’s solar and was admitted.

Sir Jasper bowed elegantly to Queen Anne and kissed her hand politely. “Madame.”

“You have come that we may introduce you to our beloved cousin, Lady Rowena and her daughter, Arabella, whom the king has chosen as your prospective bride, my lord. Welcome,” the queen said.

“I am honored that you would consider allowing me this connection with your own family, my gracious lady,” Sir Jasper replied.

“What elegance of speech, my lord,” the queen answered him.”Why, you might be a clever courtier instead of the soldier my lord, the king, says you are. I am glad to know that Arabella’s husband will be a man who is able to use pretty words as well as a sharp sword, Sir Jasper, but I imagine you grow impatient to meet your bride. Come forward, dear child, that I may introduce you to Sir Jasper Keane. You, also, Rowena, for I know you will want to meet your son-in-law to be.”

Mother and daughter stepped forward and curtsied politely to Sir Jasper Keane. His bride was quite lovely upon closer inspection, but hair that pale had never really been to his taste. The mother, however, was another matter. The wheaten-colored hair was lovely, and her bosom, rounded where the child’s was flat, was delightfully enticing. He felt a familiar tightening, a stirring of interest in his nether regions, which his handsome face, of course, never betrayed. “I am honored, my lady Arabella, that you would consider me for a husband,” he said smoothly, taking the child’s hand in his and kissing it.

Her heart was pounding furiously, and she felt her cheeks grow pink and warm even as she met his gaze with her own cool green one. He was surely the most handsome man she had ever seen. She had absolutely no idea what she should say and felt extremely foolish as he released her hand.