The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

XI. Winter 1448

XI

Winter 1448

Great Totham, Essex, England

I check behind me to ensure Florence's nursemaid has left the room, and quickly undo all her swaddling bands and linen. I do this every time Jane entrusts Florence to my care, for I think it is so cruel that babes have to be constrained so. I am sure it will not do her much harm at all- her limbs will not grow crooked!

I draw a chair up to her cradle, and gaze down at her rosy face. She lets out a gurgle, and I let out a sigh.

"I know you cannot comprehend what I am going to say, Florence, but if you could, I believe you would give me advice as good as your lady mothers'." I would talk to My Lady, but discussing my love for her own son is a rather difficult matter. I know Florence is Henry's sister, but she does not understand. Alas, everything has been rather confusing, and I wish I were an infant like her.

"Florence, I am now confused what love is. Humphrey says his spitefulness towards me was to cover up his true feelings. I too have been contemptuous to him- does this mean I love him? How can he have behaved so horribly to someone he holds dear? I will certainly not marry him!" I pause.

"You see, Henry has asked your lord father if I could marry Humphrey instead, as he loves me, and then he could enter the church as he wishes. My Lord refused, saying all the contracts are signed, and he does not have a say in it. I believe I love Henry, but for now I am confused what love is, and he must detest me a lot to beg your father to reconsider. I know becoming a bishop, or even an archbishop, is his desire, and I feel bad about ruining someone else's dreams, but I want to marry him!"

"What should I do, Florence? If he runs away or becomes a monk, should I marry Humphrey? What matters most- myself loving my husband, or him loving me, when I do not? Why can my husband and I both not love each other? Why does Henry not love me; what have I done wrong?" I let out a sigh, out of breath, after my raving. I am mad, talking to a baby! I would talk to Bessie, but I feel it is best not to talk of love, after our fight before.

Indeed, when we dine for breakfast, dinner and supper, Humphrey, Henry and I try not to catch one another's eyes, or directly address each other. It is strange for Henry and me, when we are supposed to be marrying, and Humphrey loves me. 'Twill be even more difficult if we do get married, but hopefully his feelings will dissipate. But what if they never do, and Henry never loves me? I let out a whimper, head hurting.

"Are you alright?"

"Henry!" I cry, whipping round. I stare at him. My throat becomes rather dry. I have known Henry for quite some time, yet matters seem strained between us, and our relationship seems to have changed.

"I was told I would find you here." He walks into the room. "I see you are playing with my little sister. I guess you like children?" I nod, startled.

He hesitates, and then takes a deep breath. "Elizabeth, I am grievously sorry if you have taken offence by my asking not to be married to you. I do not dislike you, I care for you a lot (my heart misses a beat at this) even if I frown upon your... wild ways. I would love to enter the church, but I must do my duty, and marry you, it was just hard for me to adjust to the idea of marriage and commitment." He gabbles, and then holds his breath, going quite red. I blink, a lump forming in my throat.

"That is, if you are not going to mind marrying a clumsy, tongue-tied, scholar rather than knightly, gallant, William or-" He breaks off, watching me hurriedly wrap Florence in her swaddling.

"Come," I say, when I am finished, tugging at the ink-spattered sleeve of his tabard. I drag him to my bedchamber as he stutters and protests, asking where I am taking him. Meanwhile, my thoughts are whirling. Everything has changed so quickly, I am not too sure how to react to Henry's sudden statement. We are going to be married accordingly, and he does not mind marrying me?

"I cannot come in here! Elizabeth, whatever do you mean by this?" He blushes, when I reach my bedchamber. I roll my eyes, pushing open the door. He honestly thinks I am that wanton!

"Well, go in!" I nudge him forward, and he looks back at me warily. He takes a few small steps, and stares around him. I bite my lip. He is surveying my bedchamber, or what can be seen of it, that is not hidden under all the headdresses, for headdresses are to be seen everywhere.

"These are all my Lady Mother's old headdresses," he says, frowning. There are very old bull-like headdresses, there are some with material stretching out of them it looks like one has donned a pair of curtains on the side of one's head, and some are very erect, high, and towering. My Lady has finally inclined herself to the latest Turkish-influenced heart-shaped turbans. These are all perched on my bed, winking with gold eyes and laughing at the unfashionable wimples and gorgets on the floor, puffing out their patterned chests and padded rolls and cauls.

I take in a deep breath. "Yes, these are all your Lady Mothers'. Since married women are labelled whores (Henry coughs at this) if they do not cover their head, I asked to practise wearing headdresses so I can be prepared for when I become a wife." I swallow, looking at him, "for when I become your wife." Henry's cherub face enlightens with a little smile, and his cheeks become rather pink.

"I-I-"

"Henry, do not ruin the moment with your blustering," I say with mock severity. 'Tis strange, for I am a girl, and younger than him, yet I am always found to be bossing him around.

"Sorry," he mumbles, with a little sheepish smile, looking about him, and obviously feeling rather cumbersome, for he is much taller and broader than I am now. We stand in silence for a while, my mind racing. Is everything going to be quite alright now? Does Henry love me? He did not say he loved me, but cared for me very much so. I do not know how to act around him now; our friendship has been taken away, and replaced with a different understanding between us. I feel as though we are strangers, and have so since I got back from Newcelles. How do we change from companions to husband and wife? What do we say to one another?

Suddenly, his hand reaches out and takes mine. I widen my eyes. He draws my arm closer to him quickly. He looks up at me. He kisses my hand. It is a touch as soft as a feather, yet enough to make both our persons become very hot. I blink. He drops my hand and steps back hurriedly, looking from the floor to me. He has become rather red.

"If you can practise wearing headdresses before you become my wife, I must practise... kissing... before I become your husband." He kissed me! Oh, how I love his chivalrous ways, of not talking of whoring as William used to, the way he sometimes stammers and blushes when talking of intimate matters, all his fumbling. He must have been very courageous to kiss me! I shall never wash my hand again! He plans to kiss me when I am married- oh, how ever so romantic and taken straight from a troubadour's tale! All my breath is gone from me. What happens now?

I smile up at him, eyes sparkling, and he smiles back.