The Star of Lancaster by Jean Plaidy Page A

aboutbaby Thomas. Lord Harry was what she called a Pickle and could be relied upon to make some sort of trouble no matter where he was. Moreover his delicacy persisted and she had to keep a special eye on him.
    ‘We must see that he is not allowed to disgrace himself before his grandfather, Joan,’ said Mary.
    When the great man arrived accompanied by his beautiful mistress, he embraced his son and Mary warmly, studying Mary a little anxiously for he had had word of the illness which had almost ended her life at the time of Harry’s birth. She looked frail still but her skin glowed with health and her eyes were bright.
    ‘And my grandson?’ cried the Duke. ‘So this is young Harry, eh.’
    He lifted up the child and the two regarded each other steadily until Harry’s attention was caught by the lions and leopards emblazoned on his grandfather’s surcoat and he clearly found them more interesting than their owner.
    ‘He looks to me like a young fellow who will have his way,’ said the Duke.
    ‘My lord, you speak truth there,’ replied Mary. ‘He is the despair of his nurse.’
    ‘Well, we do not want a boy who is afraid of his shadow, do we. So we’ll not complain.’
    He put down Harry who made no secret of the fact that he relished being released.
    The baby was brought to him and he took the child in his arms.
    ‘Thomas is a good baby,’ said his mother. ‘He smiles a great deal, cries very little and seems contented with his lot.’
    ‘Let us hope he remains so,’ said the Duke. ‘You have a fine family, Mary. May God bless you and keep you and them.’
    She thanked him and left him with Henry while she took Lady Swynford to the room she would share with the Duke and talked to her about the children and household matters.
    Lady Swynford, having borne the Duke four children and being the mother of two by her first husband, was knowledgeable and ready to impart this knowledge and advice.
    She had a friendly personality and her devotion to the Duke and his to her, made Mary warm towards her. Because she refused to consider there was anything shameful in the relationship based as it was on selfless love, there seemed to be none; and Mary was happy to welcome Lady Swynford with the respect she would have shown to Constanza Duchess of Lancaster and, she was sure, with a good deal more affection.
    The two women found undoubted pleasure in each other’s company. Mary could talk of her anxieties about Harry’s health and his wayward nature and Catherine could imply her own anxiety for her Beaufort family, those three sons and one daughter who were the Duke’s and who were illegitimate, for however much their parents loved them the stigma was there and the rest of the world would not pretend it was not.
    However, they were philosophical and both happy with their lot.
    Catherine could interest herself in the trivia of domesticity as deeply as Mary could. She could admire Mary’s handsome popinjay in its beautiful cage and declare that, although many of the fashionable ladies possessed them, she had never seen a finer bird than Mary’s. She could laugh at the antics of Mary’s dogs and compliment her on the decorated collars of silk in green and white check, which she herself had had made for them. All this she could do as any woman might and yet she had a deep awareness of political matters which she coulddiscuss with a lucidity Mary had discovered in no one else and consequently she could more clearly picture what was happening. Moreover Catherine shared Mary’s fears of what their men might be led into; and they felt similarly about the futility of war and any sort of conflict. Thus they found great pleasure in each other’s company.
    Meanwhile the Duke was in earnest conclave with his son. He knew of course what had happened in his absence, how Henry with the other four Lords Appellant had faced the King and forced the Merciless Parliament on him.
    ‘Dangerous,’ commented the Duke. ‘And your uncle