night — before even cockerels called out dawn to the sleeping city.
She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, shivering, feeling sick. Bad dreams had pursued her after Edward’s birth, but she’d thought that time was past.
Perhaps it was the imminence of the marriage — the marriage of Edward’s sister — that was stirring up the emotional mud in her life once more. She still felt guilty about Elisabeth Wydeville — that she’d allowed the king, the man Elisabeth had married, to seduce her. Guilty, yes, but not regretful. If she was honest.
Thoughts of Edward always made Anne’s heart lurch, even now; therefore, how could she go back to sleep? Quickly she pulled the fur coverlet from the bed around her shoulders and slipped out of her warm sheets, over to the window which looked down to the canal.
The winter ice was long gone and the canal was placid in the light of the setting moon. It was the still time of night — the hush before the world woke and stretched. The air felt different and suddenly Anne realised why — she wasn’t cold.
Anne pushed one of the heavy, leaded casements open, and leant out into the soft air as far as she could. Spring! The air smelt of earth and green leaves after rain. The year had turned away from winter at last and summer was truly close.
What would the Lady Margaret be feeling in London now? Was she happy for this marriage?
And when she came to Brugge, would Duke Charles be patient with his new bride? He’d had three previous wives so he must be well experienced with the handling of highly bred young women. The Lady Margaret would also become stepmother to Mary of Burgundy, sole heir of her father, the duke. How would that be, to find yourself a bride and a mother in the same moment?
The sky was lightening in the east now — the air flushed with pink and a pearl-like glimmer deepening to incandescent silver as the sun began to rise. Slowly, colour travelled through the world beneath her window — the bricks of the house turned rose and madder, and the new leaves showed brilliant green with the light behind them. Green and silver! That is what she would wear today, to salute the change of season!
Suddenly Anne was happy, happier than she’d been for months.
There was so much to look forward to, for she’d heard yesterday that the impossible was nearly accomplished — the goods that had been bought for her in Italy would be safely landed at Sluis this morning. Hurriedly she crossed herself at the thought. It was pride to believe something before the reality existed — please let her not be punished for it! But it
was
true — the
Lady Margaret
and another ship that Maxim had found in Venice had been sighted down the coast last evening and messages had been brought to her on horseback. They
would
dock this morning — God willing — ahead of any that the more timid merchants of Brugge had sent once they’d heard Mathew had committed the house of Cuttifer and its resources to Anne’s venture.
Their boldness had made enemies for them, no doubt about it, and Mathew had been very worried indeed. He’d tried his best, so had Lady Margaret, to persuade Anne to accompany them home to London — he was certain Anne’s formal exile from the court could be bribed away — but his ward had refused. For her own good reasons; she wanted to meet Edward again, if meet him she did, on her own terms.
In the end, with many cautions and yet more security added to his house in Brugge, Mathew had been talked around and agreed to let her stay. Secretly he was proud of Anne, proud of her courage and her spirit, as was Lady Margaret. Mathew’s wife had far fewer fears for Anne than her husband did and, in the end, her support and endorsement of the girl’s practical good sense had won Mathew around. He’d agreed to go, just as he’d planned.
Stretching by the window, Anne laughed grimly when she thought of the drama of the months since Mathew’s departure as the English trading
She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, shivering, feeling sick. Bad dreams had pursued her after Edward’s birth, but she’d thought that time was past.
Perhaps it was the imminence of the marriage — the marriage of Edward’s sister — that was stirring up the emotional mud in her life once more. She still felt guilty about Elisabeth Wydeville — that she’d allowed the king, the man Elisabeth had married, to seduce her. Guilty, yes, but not regretful. If she was honest.
Thoughts of Edward always made Anne’s heart lurch, even now; therefore, how could she go back to sleep? Quickly she pulled the fur coverlet from the bed around her shoulders and slipped out of her warm sheets, over to the window which looked down to the canal.
The winter ice was long gone and the canal was placid in the light of the setting moon. It was the still time of night — the hush before the world woke and stretched. The air felt different and suddenly Anne realised why — she wasn’t cold.
Anne pushed one of the heavy, leaded casements open, and leant out into the soft air as far as she could. Spring! The air smelt of earth and green leaves after rain. The year had turned away from winter at last and summer was truly close.
What would the Lady Margaret be feeling in London now? Was she happy for this marriage?
And when she came to Brugge, would Duke Charles be patient with his new bride? He’d had three previous wives so he must be well experienced with the handling of highly bred young women. The Lady Margaret would also become stepmother to Mary of Burgundy, sole heir of her father, the duke. How would that be, to find yourself a bride and a mother in the same moment?
The sky was lightening in the east now — the air flushed with pink and a pearl-like glimmer deepening to incandescent silver as the sun began to rise. Slowly, colour travelled through the world beneath her window — the bricks of the house turned rose and madder, and the new leaves showed brilliant green with the light behind them. Green and silver! That is what she would wear today, to salute the change of season!
Suddenly Anne was happy, happier than she’d been for months.
There was so much to look forward to, for she’d heard yesterday that the impossible was nearly accomplished — the goods that had been bought for her in Italy would be safely landed at Sluis this morning. Hurriedly she crossed herself at the thought. It was pride to believe something before the reality existed — please let her not be punished for it! But it
was
true — the
Lady Margaret
and another ship that Maxim had found in Venice had been sighted down the coast last evening and messages had been brought to her on horseback. They
would
dock this morning — God willing — ahead of any that the more timid merchants of Brugge had sent once they’d heard Mathew had committed the house of Cuttifer and its resources to Anne’s venture.
Their boldness had made enemies for them, no doubt about it, and Mathew had been very worried indeed. He’d tried his best, so had Lady Margaret, to persuade Anne to accompany them home to London — he was certain Anne’s formal exile from the court could be bribed away — but his ward had refused. For her own good reasons; she wanted to meet Edward again, if meet him she did, on her own terms.
In the end, with many cautions and yet more security added to his house in Brugge, Mathew had been talked around and agreed to let her stay. Secretly he was proud of Anne, proud of her courage and her spirit, as was Lady Margaret. Mathew’s wife had far fewer fears for Anne than her husband did and, in the end, her support and endorsement of the girl’s practical good sense had won Mathew around. He’d agreed to go, just as he’d planned.
Stretching by the window, Anne laughed grimly when she thought of the drama of the months since Mathew’s departure as the English trading
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