The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

XV. June-July 1450

XV

June-July 1450

Tolleshunt D'Arcy, Essex, England

We are but a few days ride from London, so we hear of the happenings there rather quickly, from passers-by, or hastily scribbled letters betwixt My Lord and Lady. The rebellion is all anyone is talking about; indeed, I do nothing but sleep, talk lazily, and worry about my Isabel. I am perfectly aware Jane the nursemaid is competent, but I want my baby to be in my arms all the time. I need to know she is alright; I still fear something will happen to her. Why does she have to be parted from her mother and be raised by strangers?

I scream and sob when she is torn from my arms after her visit to me every day, and sob for the hour afterward. Why do I keep crying? Why is she the only thing that somehow keeps my strength, for all I want to do is close my eyes; sometimes I cannot even make myself sit up in my bed, for I feel so exhausted... The image of my Isabel's little pink face and sapphire eyes... And her tiny fingers, which reach up and curl about my fist... And when no other person is about, I undo her swaddling bands and linen, like I used to do with Florence. She is so small, and I want to care for her forever. I did not believe this to be possible, and I do feel rather guilty for thinking this, but I think I love her so than anyone else. I am just grateful that she was not conceived on my wedding night, for memories of... William... are still clear. (Despite that, the first three months of my marriage so wonderful!)

There is no fire in the grate, yet my lying-in-chamber is hotter than ever before. I so want to see daylight, not some silly tapestries about Lady Godiva, a Saxon woman who rode a horse naked, and even the Camelot ones depicting the Round Table, and of one of Saint George slaying his dragon, are rather bore some to look at now. Most of these were given as wedding presents to Henry and I - some person thought they were very witty to give us the Godiva one. How we laughed with mirth at some of those gifts! Mirrors with such horrendous gilt work they must have been spawned from the devil; a single silver spoon (I do swear when everyone was drunk one of the serfs or villeins stole away with the rest and sold them to pay his tax or rent!) and a piece of jewellery that was seemingly a necklace, brooch and rosary all at once- hopefully meant for myself and not Henry...!

A letter arrives from my mother. I scan through it wearily, at arms length. She is going back to court, for her malady has ceased. Besides, I need to comfort cousin Alice. You may have heard her husband, My Lord of Suffolk, was brutally murdered- she was so lucky to marry a Duke. I am angered so that rumours are being put out to slay his honour and the Queen's- that they were lovers!

I put the letter down, scowling. Not one congratulations of giving birth to my child! She is too busy being jealous of her cousin the Duchess- her cousin who married a traitor, who is implicated with the Queen! My Lady taught me long ago to move in the right circles, and now I do not want to be associated with such people, even if they are my own family. Indeed, I do not want them as family, and consider the Bourchiers to be so. I hope my mother is assaulted by the rebels into London! She is a fool to enter the city at this time, with people begging for food on the streets, as the prices are so high, and the rebel army camped at a place called Blackheath there in London, which sounds ominous enough itself.

The peasants are not returning to their work after Whitsuntide. Indeed, one had the forthrightness to enter the manor, wink cheekily and say he was off to join the fight and depose the 'bastard Margaret the murderer' off her throne, for new rumours have begun that Her Grace is not her father's daughter, and that she secretly killed the King's uncle, good Duke Humphrey!

My Lady had shrugged. "I should have whipped him for speaking treason, but in truth, I sympathise with their cause. Our government is corrupted by those in power at court- there need to be no wicked, money-grabbing favourites, when my brother is owed about thirty eight thousand pounds!" I knew her brother the Duke has served the crown faithfully without reward, and murmured in agreement. I cannot believe prior to this I had not listened to My Lord and Lady and Henry on the happenings at government and understood what was happening in the realm- I must pay more attention. I was brought up to be loyal to my monarch, yet I find King Henry to be a weak king, pulled on strings by his favourites and his flighty-headed young Queen.