𝐸𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑋𝐼𝑋

~A Third George~

July 1476....

Eleanor managed a smile as she walked into the warm room at Bisham Manor where Isabel Neville, Marchioness of Montague, lay dying. The older woman was propped up on her pillows and held a bright smile on her lips, though her brown eyes were tired and her skin a dull grey; made duller still against the bright bedspread that was laid across her covers.

Her black hair was streaked with strands of silvery grey and arranged into a neat braid that trailed over one shoulder which she gently stroked absentmindedly; her touch a mere memory of the one that had once been there.
"Your grace" she greeted as she noticed her visitor, holding out a hand which Eleanor immediately took, hurrying forward into the room to do so "you had no need to come!"

"Call me Eleanor" she said swiftly, kneeling by the bed "and I had every need of coming, Isabel. I set out from Middleham as soon as I received your letter!" The smile on Isabel's face widened and she nodded gratefully, a remanence of her youthful beauty shining through.

"I know my John would be pleased to see you here, Eleanor" she said softly before a shadow of a pained look crossed over her features, though she forced it away before it could settle.

"John is one of the many reasons I am here" Eleanor said "before he passed he gave me a letter, as you know, that asked I would take your son into my care to protect him from the grasping nobles of this country if he no longer had you and I promised myself that I would"

"And you are here to honour that promise?" Isabel queried, arching an eyebrow.
"I am but that is not the only reason"
"Oh?"

"Yes" Eleanor said, taking a breath "I am here to beg for your forgiveness, Isabel" confusion crossed the Marchioness' features and she squeezed the other woman's hand.
"Forgiveness? Whatever for, dear?"

"For failing your husband" Eleanor replied "John was a good man, one of the best I have known and I should have fought for him. I would have fought for him if I had not been so easily led by others but I know this is no excuse. I failed him as a friend, leading to you and your family's grief at his death and it is for this I beseech you to forgive me, my lady. I can only assure you that I will not fail your son. Richard and I will protect him with our lives and he will be treated as if he were our very own, though I promise I will tell him of you and John each day!"

Isabel smiled and let go of Eleanor's hand, raising her own to gently cup the other woman's cheek while tears filled her eyes.
"I forgive you, child" she said gently "you and Dickon were both so dear to John, I remember your husband as a little boy! I met him before we had our George so he was rather like a son to me"

"And now your George shall be a son to me" Eleanor said, making the older woman smile, a smile that widened as she suddenly saw the boy that lingered by the door. The Duchess turned around, almost gasping as she saw eleven year old George Neville. Just like his father he had black hair that fell to his shoulders in unruly curls, though he had his Mother's eyes, a deep, thoughtful brown that never missed a trick.