The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

IX. Summer 1448

IX

Summer 1448

Great Totham, Essex, England

Glittering golden rays bouncing off the windows into flashes of brilliant white diamond light have replaced the hailstones. Much to my chagrin, I am wearing the blue kirtle again, and its only other purpose serves for reminding me of the vehemence I now hold my Lady Mother in. She, and my father, are beastly! My Lord Father has not shown any acknowledgement to my existence since I came to live with My Lady Isabel. I shall never forgive him for almost breaking my arm, and behaving unfaithfully, even if his spiteful, Cornish witch of a wife deserves it.

Oh, how even my younger self perfectly understood and felt my mother's enmity of her own status, how desperately she had tried to dissociate herself with being Ismania Whalesborough, a Cornish knight's daughter. She had plumped herself up like a peacock with her pride-oh, there were no tales of Cornish sandy shores and sea shells and heathen moors for me.

"My Lady Mother says we are to go out for the day. What should we do?" Henry says. He is hovering in the library doorway, watching me as I try to reach for another book of Camelot legends, right at the top of the shelf.

"Will the others be accompanying us?"

"No, because of this mighty heat, they are all hiding out in the icehouse."

"Even William?" The idea of them all crammed in that miniscule hut fills me with mirth, even if they are considerably cooler than we are.

"No, he is out riding somewhere, or practising jousting. He does not concern me. Let me fetch that book for you, you have been struggling all this while." He strides over to me; he clearly intends for us to also ride, for he is wearing his maroon leather riding boots and hose. My head only comes up to his breast, which is encased in a rather nice-looking pourpoint. He reaches up effortlessly and pulls down the book-it is the right one, out of all of them. He knows me so well.

"This one?" He hands me it, and our fingers brush together. I nod. I can feel the heat radiating off him. I look up. We are so very close. He takes a tiny step back, as I take the book and hold it to my chest. I lower my eyelids and peek at him, my lips pursing together.

"Well, since William's doing it, I think we should take a ride of our own. We will make ours much better than his."

About twenty minutes later Bessie has helped me into an old cotehardie that is more like a surcoat on me, apart from the elbow-length sleeves, my hair plaited in braids. I cannot be bothered in the slightest to wear gloves, even though my hands will blister, although I do don my heeled riding boots, even though they will rub my skin, as I am only wearing thin stockings.

My Lady waves the both of us off and we canter away.

"Where shall we go?" Henry calls to me.

"Perhaps the forest yonder?" Already I can feel the ground beneath Lucifia's hooves is hard as stone like the hot plains in the moors of Spain. Yes, I am perfectly aware of the implication that my mare's name has. When I told My Lady, she chortled with mirth.

"Oh, Elizabeth, you are most outrageous!" Of Course, Henry became all Bishop-like, with the line of his lips as thin as a Bishop's hat is tall.

"You dance with danger, Elizabeth." My eyes light and glint at the memory; I may have reined in some of my free ways, but nothing will stop me from the wild side of life.

"Elizabeth?" Henry, with his angel's face, turns to me, for I have been dreaming. My eyes ignite, as bright as the sun in the Spain I mentioned earlier.