Jean Plaidy by To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII, Elizabeth of York

was sorry for her sister. She was fond of her family. They had been a very loving community. Deep in her heart she was worried about her mother. She fervently wished that people would live in peace with each other and not do things which were a source of irritation to others. She had to hide her anxieties about her mother … and now here was Cecilia. She did not know how the King would deal with the matter. She was afraid to anger him—although she had never seen him in anger. She remembered the violent rages of her father. They had not happened often and they were soon over, but he did have more than a touch of what was called the old Plantagenet temper. Henry had none of that. He was always calm, cold almost. She often felt that he considered carefully everything he said before he uttered it.
    How he would feel about Cecilia she was not sure. She had had a notion that he was not anxious for her to marry. He had never mentioned a husband for her since their own marriage; and she had noticed that there was never any special place for Cecilia at functions.
    Cecilia was now looking at her anxiously. She could see that she would have to take this matter to the King and it would be better for him to hear quietly through her than through any other source for it would not be easy to keep such a matter secret for long.
    She said: “I will tell him, Cecilia.”
    Cecilia had taken her hand and was looking at her earnestly.
    “And you will explain that we love each other … that John wanted to ask the King but I would not have that. It was I who thought that if we were married first it would be too late to stop us.”
    “I will tell him that, Cecilia. I will try to explain.”
    “Thank you, sister.”
    Cecilia kissed the Queen on the forehead.
    She said: “It is almost as though we were little again. You and I were always good friends, Elizabeth. Do you remember … how we thought the others were such babies?” Elizabeth nodded. “And now you are Queen. It is strange but we always thought that Edward …”
    Elizabeth flinched. It was foolish to bring up their young brothers at this time. Perhaps at any time. Nobody wanted to think of them now. Their disappearance must remain a mystery. To try to solve it might bring forth some evidence which certain people might find embarrassing.
    Cecilia went on: “I know the King will listen to you. I am sure he must love you dearly.”
    “He does,” said Elizabeth firmly. At another time Cecilia might have said that he loved the alliance they had been able to make between the two houses, but not now. This was not the time.

     
    It seemed only in the bedchamber that the Queen could be alone with the King.
    Elizabeth’s women had departed. She was in her long white nightgown, her golden hair in two long plaits giving her a childish look. Soon the King would come in and she was preparing what she would say to him.
    When he came there was that somewhat forced smile on his pale face. He was always gentle and kind; it seemed to her that he was grateful for his good fortune in becoming King but was always on the alert lest someone should take the crown from him. He was fond of her. She had in certain moments of self-revelation wondered how fond, or whether his fondness was for what she stood for, not for her person.
    She had asked for nothing for herself. She did not want jewels or extravagant pageants. Moreover she knew that Henry would never have given them. He had explained to her that the exchequer was in an unhealthy state. Her father had been extravagant but because of the pension he had had for some years from the King of France he had made the country prosperous. But that pension had stopped before his death. Uneasy times had followed his death; the perpetual unrest culminating in the Battle of Bosworth had impoverished the country. He was determined to crush extravagance, and she would not dream of asking for unnecessary luxuries.
    But she would have liked to ask for her mother to