By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III by Elizabeth Ashworth Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Ashworth
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his throne, his head lolling to one side and a trail of saliva running from the corner of his mouth down his chin. Izzie joined in the dancing, quickly learning the steps from a succession of attentive admirers whilst Anne stood by and watched and politely refused all invitations to join in.
“Do you not like to dance?” asked Sir William, coming to stand beside her and bending to whisper in her ear. His beard touched her cheek and she resisted the urge to push him away.
“I am tired,” she said, “and my legs ache.”
“Then let me find you a seat,” he said, leading her towards a bench at the edge of the room. Anne sat down, her toe tapping to the rhythm of the music despite herself and she wished that she could enjoy the day as much as Izzie, who seemed to be finding delight in each turn and clap of the carole.
Sir William sat down beside her, his legs spread wide and his knee touching hers, following it even when she moved her leg away.
“How delightful you look in your new gown. You will make a wife that a man will be pleased to have on his arm – and in his bed,” he remarked as his hand closed over hers for a moment then brushed across her thigh. He had been drinking heavily and his breath smelled sour as he bent towards her and kissed her cheek. Anne tried to move from his grasp but she was trapped by the dancers who were skipping past in a never-ending chain. “I have asked my brother to consider me when choosing a husband for you, Anne,” he told her, his hand now squeezing her leg just above the knee. “I think that you will enjoy having me as a husband as much as I will enjoy having you to wife.”
Anne could think of nothing worse than having to endure his attentions in the bedchamber and knowing what would be expected of her made it even harder. She tried to move away but he edged ever nearer and it was with a feeling of relief that she looked up to see Lord Stanley standing before them, even if his stare of displeasure betrayed his belief that she was content to allow Sir William to touch her in such an inappropriate manner.
“It is time for my wards to leave,” he said in a level voice that did not quite disguise his anger.
Outside the night was cold and Anne shivered as she looked up at the clear, star-filled sky. Lady Stanley looked tired and tense, but Izzie glowed with energy and seemed not to notice that Anne remained silent as they travelled back along the quiet streets. “I wish I could stay in London forever,” she enthused and Anne formed the opinion that her sister had drunk far more wine than was seemly for a young lady.
The next morning as Anne watched Izzie groan and hold her head because of the pain and the sick feeling in her stomach, a servant came up with a message that Lord Stanley wanted them.
As Anne went down the stairs she guessed what the interview would be about. Lord Stanley was not a man to take chances and she knew that her marriage was the only way he could secure the ownership of Hornby Castle.
The family was gathered in the solar that overlooked the river. Lord Stanley was warming himself with his back to the fire and Lady Stanley sat near him on her high-backed wooden chair, her hands folded on her lap. Neither looked as if they had been up late the previous night and Anne was aware that by comparison she looked tired and drawn. She had lain awake until dawn, crying and praying that she might be delivered from this fate, and the mirror in the bedchamber had reflected a white-faced girl with down-turned lips and dark circles under her reddened eyes.
“I hope you slept well?” said Lord Stanley. “I have something important to say,” he went on without waiting for any answer to his query. “As you know it is my honour to be your guardian. And although the appointment was made by the Yorkist, Edward, our present true king, Henry, God bless him,” and he paused to make the sign of the cross before continuing, “King Henry has agreed that my
“Do you not like to dance?” asked Sir William, coming to stand beside her and bending to whisper in her ear. His beard touched her cheek and she resisted the urge to push him away.
“I am tired,” she said, “and my legs ache.”
“Then let me find you a seat,” he said, leading her towards a bench at the edge of the room. Anne sat down, her toe tapping to the rhythm of the music despite herself and she wished that she could enjoy the day as much as Izzie, who seemed to be finding delight in each turn and clap of the carole.
Sir William sat down beside her, his legs spread wide and his knee touching hers, following it even when she moved her leg away.
“How delightful you look in your new gown. You will make a wife that a man will be pleased to have on his arm – and in his bed,” he remarked as his hand closed over hers for a moment then brushed across her thigh. He had been drinking heavily and his breath smelled sour as he bent towards her and kissed her cheek. Anne tried to move from his grasp but she was trapped by the dancers who were skipping past in a never-ending chain. “I have asked my brother to consider me when choosing a husband for you, Anne,” he told her, his hand now squeezing her leg just above the knee. “I think that you will enjoy having me as a husband as much as I will enjoy having you to wife.”
Anne could think of nothing worse than having to endure his attentions in the bedchamber and knowing what would be expected of her made it even harder. She tried to move away but he edged ever nearer and it was with a feeling of relief that she looked up to see Lord Stanley standing before them, even if his stare of displeasure betrayed his belief that she was content to allow Sir William to touch her in such an inappropriate manner.
“It is time for my wards to leave,” he said in a level voice that did not quite disguise his anger.
Outside the night was cold and Anne shivered as she looked up at the clear, star-filled sky. Lady Stanley looked tired and tense, but Izzie glowed with energy and seemed not to notice that Anne remained silent as they travelled back along the quiet streets. “I wish I could stay in London forever,” she enthused and Anne formed the opinion that her sister had drunk far more wine than was seemly for a young lady.
The next morning as Anne watched Izzie groan and hold her head because of the pain and the sick feeling in her stomach, a servant came up with a message that Lord Stanley wanted them.
As Anne went down the stairs she guessed what the interview would be about. Lord Stanley was not a man to take chances and she knew that her marriage was the only way he could secure the ownership of Hornby Castle.
The family was gathered in the solar that overlooked the river. Lord Stanley was warming himself with his back to the fire and Lady Stanley sat near him on her high-backed wooden chair, her hands folded on her lap. Neither looked as if they had been up late the previous night and Anne was aware that by comparison she looked tired and drawn. She had lain awake until dawn, crying and praying that she might be delivered from this fate, and the mirror in the bedchamber had reflected a white-faced girl with down-turned lips and dark circles under her reddened eyes.
“I hope you slept well?” said Lord Stanley. “I have something important to say,” he went on without waiting for any answer to his query. “As you know it is my honour to be your guardian. And although the appointment was made by the Yorkist, Edward, our present true king, Henry, God bless him,” and he paused to make the sign of the cross before continuing, “King Henry has agreed that my
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