The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XXV: September-October 1459

Chapter XXV: September- October 1459 

Ludlow Castle, Shropshire, England 

As Cecily, Duchess of York peers over at me from her place at the foot of my bed, despite her years, I can see why she is called 'Proud Cis' and was known as the 'Rose of Raby'. Of course, I have been much in her presence before, but the candlelight illuminates her features for all to see; her full, pursed rosebud lips, refined cheekbones, fresh complexion, high forehead, winged eyebrows, a long, elegant nose, and wide eyes full of knowledge. She bears herself as if she were a Queen already- indeed, she may become one after recent events. Even she cannot deny her and her husband the Duke's designs for the throne now, by her upright stance and commanding presence, swathed in emerald silk and appearing most formidable; indeed, I am presently incurring her displeasure. She wears upon her head a heavily padded turban headdress with bejewelled horns in an elongated heart-shape, coiling upwards and above, with a train snaking down about her neck, adorned with feathers and beads. She places her hands on her hips, resting them on a sash with the Neville and York arms quartered, cinched about her tiny waist, showing off an array of ruby and sapphire rings on her long fingers.

She frowns down at me, laying with tendrils of hair plastered to my glistening cheeks as Bessie wipes sweat from my brow.

"You were foolish to come here." I nod, unable to speak, for my throat feels as though it were burning.

She sighs. "I am gladdened and assured of you making a full recovery." I smile weakly at the doctor's report. She frowns again. "Pray, I wish it speedily. It is dangerous for you to be here." I nod; she casts me a dark look, and sweeps out of the chamber, Bessie hastening to make a clumsy obeisance. Gone is any familiarity we once might have breached when I stayed at Ludlow last year. I sigh- I am anxious too to recover, for the battle is headed our way.

I come to presently be here at Ludlow Castle languishing in one of the bedchambers, as I have become greatly afflicted with the most awful illness. I fear it is some sort of message from Our Lord sending me to eternal damnation, for when I visited Henry's burial place nigh over a month ago as I did intend to, I was cast down with the strangest pain. It was so strong I fell to my knees, it was wracking my chest, I felt as though my head were swelling. I thought mayhap I were dying, as I lay there writhing and sobbing as it coursed through me. My vision was becoming hazy, as blood beat in my ears. My surroundings were spinning, I felt as though I were about to vomit.

The last thing I heard was Bessie's cries before I awoke yestermorning, after a month in a complete delirium and unconscious state, for I recall nothing. Bessie had run for help at the castle, and although apparently tight-lipped, the Duchess had called some men to carry me in, and has cared for me, paying for her own doctor to attend to me. Bessie feared I would die, and still does as I lay here feverishly. Was I close to the arms of God, and joining Henry? I do not want to die! How ill can I have been, to be in such a state that I have been almost gone to the world for over a month- am I as mad as King Henry, when he went into his great sleep? And why was I struck at Henry's grave- was it guilt, conscience, a calling of some sort?

I reach out for the wine beside the bed but slump back, my head still throbbing. Bessie leans forward and passes the chalice to me, holding it to my lips, and I sip a little, but it tastes raw to me. The liquid burns in my throat and I shudder, for it is most dry seeming. My body is all afire still- is there still the possibility of death for me? I feel for my rosary beads with my sticky palms, praying for guidance.

"Elizabeth," Bessie says gently. I take in her face, which is of good need of a wash, her flyaway hair, unkempt clothes, the lines on her thinned face. I feel so awful that she should have to care for me all this time. I shall see her pay by annum is greatly increased. I was forevermore seeking a motherly figure as a child- not appreciating what indeed was before me, my Bessie.