The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

X. Autumn 1448

X

Autumn 1448

Newcelles, Hertfordshire & Great Totham, Essex, England

I am at my father's manor in Newcelles. Sometimes he is referred to as Baron or Lord Scales of Newcelles, after an heiress of Newcelles married into our family generations beforehand. They are all deceased now, so I care not one jot.

I am anxiously folding and plaiting my fingers together repetitively. They are to tell me of my marriage, I know so; why else would I be summoned here out of My Lady's care but for three days? Why could they not just visit me at Great Totham, or let My Lady tell me?

Why do I have to stand before them, sweating not because of my fur-lined gown, but because of the secret I hold from my mother; the fear my father will hurt me, and the fear that my mother's words will cut into me- a deer struck by a hunter's arrow, and falling to the ground, bleeding.

I hover before them, in the solar. My mother wears a heart-shaped headdress squashed severely on her head, and an ageing, most out of fashion bliaut, which reveals how thin she has become, for it not hangs loosely on her.

Having not seen my father in seemingly so long, he appears to have improved his attire, and thus must have found favour at a court, I hear, deep in rivalry. Not a surcoat or tabard for the soldier he was in his youth, but fine court clothes consisting of a short pourpoint embroidered all over with golden and sapphire swirls.

"Elizabeth," he clears his throat. I make an obeisance to them.

"Pull that dress up, Elizabeth. Has Lady Bourchier not taught you anything about modesty? Or are you as wanton as you were that Christmas I reproved you?" I see my father's eyes flicker, as I get up stiffly, gulping. Not that Christmas... Well, as long as John's cousins (for I presume I will be marrying a Howard) are as handsome, then naught will be wrong, and I do not care about how wanton this thought may seem.

"Ismania, we have more pressing matters to talk about. It is fashionable to have a v-shaped neckline. Queen Margaret wears it, and Elizabeth will have all of the gowns in her trousseau shaped thus." I blink. My mother purses her lips. After my brother died, they would never stop bickering, but matters between them have reached the point of extremity now.

"As you must have surmised, Elizabeth, we have arranged your marriage." I feel my heart twist- what if they are old enough to be grandfather? Does not love me? Is not handsome? Someone I detest? Oh, how can I be parted from Henry now, just after I have realised I love him? I take in a deep breath, and brace myself.

"As soon as the papal dispensation arrives from Rome, you shall be married to your distant kinsman, who you will be pleased to know is Henry Bourchier."

"What?" I burst out, jaw agape, eyes practically bursting out of my head. Did I just hear that correctly? I am to marry my Henry, my Henry Bourchier, and not some other youth of the same name? Perhaps my father is merely jesting with me?

"Pray, may I ask how Henry is my kinsman?" I say, mouth dry, belly swirling, itching with a fever of excitement. I am to marry Henry! We are to be wed! Everything seems to spin, my eyes widening. Is this real? I am to marry him?

"Yes, you are both descendants of the first King Edward; your grandmother is his direct descendant."

"Father, you are related to nobility? I am related to a King? We are related to the monarchy?" My eyes sparkle; how could I not have known of this before? I am very special, then! He nods.

"Yes, Elizabeth, you must pay more attention. You will sorely test young Henry's patience," my mother sighs, then shoots my Lord Father an affronted gaze, "I have connections with the Chaucers."