The White Duchess - The White Queen

Cardiff Castle, Cardiff, Mid Glamorgan, Wales, Winter 1457 - 1458

More than a year passes, and the standoff drags on. 

It is between Lancaster and York. 

Between the south of England and the north of England. 

Between the Midlands and the Welsh marches. 

Most importantly, the standoff is between the Duke of York and Margaret of Anjou. 

Both gather men. Both spread vile rumors about one another. Both threaten each other with the charge of treason. But neither one is brave enough nor has enough support within the country to do anything about it. They simply sit in their separate camps, York in the south of England and Margaret in the Midlands, as they rattle their swords, throw insults back-and-forth, and damage each other's reputations beyond repair. It is more like a couple of jealous women fighting than a Civil War tearing the country apart. It is a war of words and a war of who can pound their chest harder.

In the meantime for the rest of us who are caught in this war between York and Lancaster, life goes on. Cecily Neville gave birth to a daughter in June while Edward and I stayed at Middleham. They name the baby girl Ursula after the blessed martyr and she is a beautiful child. Shortly after Christmas 1456, I find that I am with child again, and the very next August I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Her birth is not as nearly as hard as Lizzie's but it lasts for over a day and everybody is relieved when she is born healthy. We name her Mary, after the Blessed Mother, as I am sure she was watching over me that day.

But still, there are problems Edward and I must attend to. Margaret of Anjou, spurred by her hatred of me and her lifelong love of the Duke of Somerset, who despised me when he was still alive, begins to take my property as if it is some feeding trough for her to feast on. Jacquetta writes to me in November to tell me that she and her husband have set up camp at Rochester Castle, my residence for a short time when I resided there in the spring of 1453. I am astounded. She apologizes to me over and over again in the letter saying that Margaret is simply too spiteful to think straight and that this was the easiest way that she could hurt me without actually physically causing me harm. But the damage is done. My husband, his uncle, and his father take it as more of an insult as I do, and promise revenge though we all know we can do nothing.

More disturbing news comes as the country descends further and further into anarchy. A French pirate, Pierre de Brézé, takes advantage of the unrest to raid the coasts of southern England. In the city of Sandwich, he makes a makeshift tennis court with his crew and plays at the city center, a grave insult to the people living there. I can hardly believe the nerve of this Frenchman and I write to my great grandfather in Burgundy pleading with him to intercede on the citizen's behalf with the king of France, the master of this shameless pirate. He writes back to me and says that he is doing what he can, but that the king of France, bitter about his country's takeover and determined to win back all the glory that he feels was lost during the English occupation, is eager to do very little.

However, as life goes on happy things happen too. My dear Claire, my friend who has been by my side since I was a child and has helped me through many different tribulations in my life, finally found a man to marry. I am elated when she comes to me, her smile a mile wide and tells me that she is in love. 

The lucky man? Sir John Neville, the third son of the Earl of Salisbury and a knight in the Order of the Garter. He is tall and handsome and three years older than Claire. He comes to me himself and says that as her closest friend and nearest thing to a family member that she has on these isles, he wants my permission to marry her. He barely finishes his sentence before I excitedly agree. 

As part of the arrangement that I made with her parents to allow her to come to England, I pay for her dowry myself, and I make sure that I spare no expense. I pile heaps of jewelry and gowns on her and 6,000 marks; a small fortune. I also gift her Chillingham Castle, one of my many states up north as well as a London townhouse, if we are ever invited back to court so she can use it.