By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III by Elizabeth Ashworth

shoulder. These were the finest and most expensive cloths she had ever seen and, although they had always been well-dressed at Hornby, she had never had anything to compare with these.
    “You must choose with haste,” urged Lady Stanley. “The seamstresses must begin work at once if your gowns are to be ready.”
     
    On the morning of the coronation, the Stanley household was awake early with servants running up and down the stairs with hot water, basins and freshly laundered linen. The previous evening bathtubs had been filled for everyone to bathe in rose-scented water and, feeling fresh and fragrant, Anne pushed back the linen sheets of the bed and began to dress in her new chemise and the pale green silk kirtle. A girl helped her step into the darker green overgown and fastened the wide belt with gold thread that held up the voluminous folds of the skirts. She slipped her feet into fine stockings, with delicate garters, and then into soft leather shoes that the girl tied with laces around her ankles. Her hair was combed back from her face and fastened up underneath an embroidered hennin before a short veil of the palest cream linen was pinned into place.
    “You look beautiful!” said Izzie, in her own blue gown with dark fur trim. Her fair hair was held back from her face but being younger was allowed to fall loosely down her back and she wore a blue cap that matched her gown.
    Close by, the bells in the wooden tower of St Paul’s church had begun to ring and, where there had been anticipation, a feeling of foreboding settled around Anne as she remembered that the purpose of the day was to place King Henry back on the throne as a puppet king - when the real king and his brother were exiled from their country. Thinking of Richard she glanced at herself in the burnished mirror and thought how joyful she would have been to see herself like this as a bride, about to be married to the man she loved. She watched her expression change to one of sadness and regret that the best time of her life could already be past.
    “Let me see!” said Izzie, pushing her aside to take her place. Anne watched her sister smile at her reflection then meet her own eyes through the mirror. “The Stanley sons and cousins have come,” she said with a touch of apprehension. “By the end of the day we will have met our future husbands.”
    They came down the stairs, clutching their billowing skirts.
    “You look quite beautiful,” whispered Sir William as she laid her hand on his brown velvet sleeve, fashionably slashed to reveal glimpses of a white silk shirt beneath. He escorted her to the Stanley carriage with its covered canopy in the crimson and blue Stanley colours. A moment later Lady Stanley joined them with her two elder sons.
    “Where is Lord Stanley?” asked Anne as they moved off, out onto the street to the half-hearted cheering of the assembled crowd.
    “He has gone with my brother to bring the king from the Tower,” said Lady Stanley. “They will parade him through the streets of London for everyone to see - in defiance of those who rumoured that he no longer lived, or that he had become too mad to attend his own coronation.”
    Anne said nothing but couldn’t help recall the things Uncle James had said about the king. The thought of her uncle made her worry anew about where he was. Had he and Uncle Robert fled as well? And if so what would happen to Hornby Castle?
    They made slow progress through the crush and when they reached the church Anne realised she had to get down and walk through the crowd to the door. She hesitated, hanging back and wishing that she could stay in the carriage.
    “Come!” said Sir William, handing the reins of his horse to a squire. “I will clear a path for you.” And with his switch and his tongue he lashed people right and left so that they stepped back onto one another’s toes to make way for them.
    St Paul’s was a magnificent building. When Anne went inside and saw the light shining