The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

I. 1442 *EDITED*

I

1442

Scales Hall, Norfolk, England

"Bessie, what ails my Lady Mother?" I ask my maid, looking up at her frowning countenance. My Lady Mother's sobs travel down the stairs; she sounds like she is being racked at the Tower of London. Of course, she would never be suspected of treason; my family has always been loyal to the crown, and the current king, Henry VI, is no different.

My Lady Mother's sudden scream jolts me back to the present, where I am standing at the window of my bedchamber, looking down at the moat.        

"Thomas!" she wails. My eyes flutter open wider; this is both the name of my Lord Father and his heir, my older brother.                              

"Bessie, I must go to her at once!" I cry, the wilful, passionate child I am. Before she can stop me, I have gathered up my skirts and rushed to my Lady Mother's bedchamber.   

I walk in on her in a most dishevelled state, rocking backwards and forwards on her chair, clutching her rosary beads. She looks up, her maids with her, tears running down a face blanched snow white. She has no headdress atop her hair, not even slippers on her shaking feet. She is just in her smock, and I have never seen her in such a state, not even after her many miscarriages. I begin to tremble.

"Lady Mother?" I whisper, as a silence befalls the room. The maids look at each other. My Lady Mother puts a quivering hand to her mouth.                   

"Would you like us to leave, My Lady?" Agnes says, and my Lady Mother nods. They curtsey and scurry out, and I am left alone with this shivering wreck, who beckons me to her. I step forward slowly, feeling as if I am walking towards my Doomsday.                 

"Oh Elizabeth, my dear child," she says in a hoarse voice. I clutch a balled fist to my heart, suddenly feeling a stab of fear.

"I have some distressing news to depart on you. Your brother Thomas-" she gulps, face creasing up, "He has gone to Heaven. He died in his sleep last night." I blink, staring at her like a block of ice, icicles forming in my eyes.

She shakes me rather violently, eyes wide. "You do understand what this means?""Yes, Lady Mother, but what I do not understand is why my brother would not go to purgatory. He is always wicked to me- he tries to push me in the fishponds and chases me in the dovecote."

My Lady Mother lets out a scream of mirth, nostrils flaring, rising from her seat. "You insolent child!" Her strike comes, and the maids rush in as I fall to the floor weeping, cheek burning, gasping, holding my hand to my face. They rush to attend her and seat her back in the chair.

"Oh goodness, oh goodness, this headstrong girl is our only heir! Oh, I should not have struck her. I must say a Hail Mary and pray God to forgive me in my moment of anger." She pauses to let out another strangled sob. "Has a messenger been sent to tell my Lord Husband? He's in Rouen, at the baptism of Richard, Duke of York's new son, standing as godfather. And I'm sure Sir Richard Wydeville's wife Jacquetta had her daughter Elizabeth in mind for Thomas' hand in marriage."

"Elizabeth?" I look up, still sniffling, and still very angry that she has hit me, when I had done nothing wrong, and made my cheek hurt very much."Not you, little Elizabeth Wydeville," she snaps, as Kateren hands a cup of ale to her.

"Elizabeth Wydeville," I repeat, "Elizabeth Wydeville." Then I blink, because suddenly it hits me that my brother, however wicked I think he may be, is dead, he is dead, and I am the heir, my Lord Father's only heir, unless my Lady Mother conceives again. I start weeping once again, but that name sticks in my head. Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville...