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“Handsome is as handsome does,” Mary said darkly with downright Yorkshire common sense which made Anne laugh again as she held her skirts high and tripped daintily around the chamber as she imagined those grand ladies at Court did.
Anne was very concerned about the contents of the travelling chest she would carry with her to Westminster; over the next few days she watched, wrinkling her brow in doubt as her mother and Mary began to prepare those Court gowns she would need. In the end she thought she would have less need for concern for her mother’s heavy brocades and velvets were cut and restyled for her in those fashions Lady Jarvis had seen on wealthier ladies encountered in Northampton and Leicester.
She doubted the gowns were in the very latest designs but they would not disgrace Anne either in fit or quality and Anne was delighted when dressed in them and caught glimpses of herself in her mother’s travelling Venetian glass mirror. As she had inherited her mother’s dark luxuriant locks the colours suited Anne, with the rich hues of gold brocade, crimson velvet and blue samite bringing out the vivid shade of her eyes.
One gown charmed her most with its subtle draping of the overgown to the back, which Dionysia had told her was the very latest fashion. The new dark blue velvet hood trimmed with seed pearls sat well back from her glossy locks and would complement the other colours.
The day before her departure, as her sense of mingled excitement and apprehension rose, her mother sat alone with her within the solar after sending Mary on some small errand. Margaret Jarvis frowned slightly as she observed her daughter’s flushed countenance. She bit her underlip and wondered how best to broach the matter in hand.
“Anne,” she said at last, “I hope you will not pin too much hopes on future happiness at Court. I have been there and I can tell you it can be very lonely and frightening, even surrounded as one is by a veritable press of people.”
Anne eyed her thoughtfully. “But you were happy there. You loved Queen Anne for you named me after her and—and you met my father and…”
“I did not surrender to my love for your father from the first moment we met,” Lady Jarvis said tartly. “It took some time for me to learn to trust his motives and to love him truly. I do not want you to fall for the first popinjay who offers you flattery.”
“Do you judge me so foolish?” Anne demanded hotly.
“No, but your head is turned by your longing for this venture and I worry about you. You must learn to be decorous in behaviour, to keep your opinions to yourself, to accept without complaint any demand put upon you. I must also ask you to be particularly kind and protective of Lady Philippa, who is considerably younger than you. Doubtless she will feel very lost at Westminster for she was born in Burgundy and, to my knowledge, has never been to England before. Indeed, her English may not be good and it will be for you to be patient with her.”
“Perhaps she will not like me,” Anne considered, “or she may be haughty mannered. She is the daughter of an Earl.”
“Both Lord Wroxeter and his Countess are sensible, considerate people. I shall be very surprised indeed if you find their daughter lacking in either of those qualities yet she is little more than a child and you have been chosen to be her friend for specific reasons. Do not lead her into foolishness, Anne, as I know you are prone to do on occasions.”
Anne regarded her mother gravely and read very real anxiety in her eyes.
“I promise I will behave so as never to disgrace you,” she said quietly.
Margaret Jarvis hesitated and Anne turned to her sharply as if she had thought the homily was over, but, no, her mother had something else upon her mind and Anne waited in suspense for what was to come.
“Your father and I are particularly anxious that you should also behave well while under Master Allard’s care,” Lady Jarvis said with what Anne considered unusual vehemence.
That would be it, she thought sourly. They have already noted my distaste for the idea of his escort.
“I will give him no trouble, though,” she added tartly, “to hear Mary sing his praises, he is capable of dealing with any emergency which arises, a veritable paragon, Master Allard.”
“Your father thinks a great deal of Dickon Allard,” her mother said sharply. “See that you do heed him, for…” She hesitated and Anne pounced on that slight hesitation instantly.
“For?” she questioned. “What were you about to say, Mother?”
Lady Jarvis’s troubled eyes met her daughter’s challenging ones squarely.
“You might as well be told now. We have high hopes that when he has completed his business in London town Richard Allard will offer for your hand.” There, it was out and she compressed her lips as she saw first bewilderment and then pure fury dawn in her daughter’s expression.
“Marry Richard Allard?” she echoed in a high shrill tone. “You cannot mean it, Mother.”
“Why not? Despite the fines imposed after Redmoor the Allard lands are quite extensive and it would be a fair match.”
“But he is far too old for me.”
“Nonsense. Your father was almost that age when we were wed. Richard has reached the age of experience and will know how to deal with a high-strung young woman like yourself.”
“I will never consent to marry him,” Anne said through gritted teeth. “Do you hear me, never.”
Margaret Jarvis looked perplexed, then she gave way to anger.
“You will do as your father wishes, as every girl of your age must do. I cannot for the life of me understand why you are so much against the notion. Some time ago you were complaining that no one would ask for you since you are without dowry and that you wished to settle down soon, marry, have a household of your own and children.
“Richard Allard is an honourable young man. He has not been discourteous to you, at least, not in my hearing. He is tolerably good looking and still young. Neither I nor your father have heard anything to his discredit in the matter of his dealings with women, which is saying a great deal, I can tell you. Many men neglect their wives and some are prone to treat them badly, even beating them. I cannot imagine Richard would treat you so, however you try his patience.”
Slowly Anne articulated, “I will never, not even if I were to fall in love with him, which is grossly unlikely, agree to marry a man whose loyalty to the Crown is in question. I have seen what such sympathies can do,” she said forcefully.
“You have lived with it for fourteen years, worrying constantly in case Father would involve himself in treasonable business and end up in the Tower, or worse, at Tyburn. I am aware that many men who come here do so to discuss treason. I even doubt Master Allard’s motives for travelling to London at this time. I am no fool, Mother. You cannot hope to keep secrets such as these from me now I am of age to understand.
“Even as a young child I was aware of intrigues and anxieties within this house. I will not live like this. Yes, I want to marry and have a family but I want to have a peaceful life, one in which I am not looking over my shoulder every moment in case King Henry’s men should ride into my courtyard intent on arresting my husband.”
For moments Lady Jarvis was struck quite dumb in astonishment. Anne, at almost sixteen, had seemed to her still a child who needed constant protection from the knowledge of the anxieties which continually beset her. She had believed that, between them, she and Guy had managed to keep their children unaware of the fears which shadowed their lives. She gave a great shuddering breath.
“We have no evidence that Richard is keen to work against the King’s Grace,” she said shakily. “You must never breathe such matters. Words like those could injure us as well as his family. You are talking nonsense. He goes to London simply to deal with business for his father, business concerning wool sales, I imagine. Dominick Allard keeps many sheep on his land. I have no fear that you will be endangered by Richard’s presence on your journey.”
“Of course he will embark on nothing treasonable while I am with him,” Anne said pithily, “but, nevertheless, his father’s loyalties are his, and he would never forsake his work for the Plantagenet cause, whatever the needs of his wife and children.”
“Anne…” Her mother took her gently by the shoulders “…I think I understand now your concerns but marriage is never easy. I did not think you were foolish enough to believe the troubadour tales of romantic love and unalloyed happiness which lasts for ever. I ask you to remember that finding you a suitable husband will not be easy for your father. He is doing his best to provide for you.
“You would not wish to be an unwed dependent on Ned when he brings his wife home to Rushton and, in due time, inherits, would you? This time at Court will widen your horizons. It may well make you think that what is offered is all for the best.
“Do not speak to your father of anything I’ve said. It was his wish that we wait to tell you of Master Allard’s offer but I decided it was high time you were kept informed of our plans for you. The next few months will be crucial to your future welfare. I want you to do nothing to jeopardise that.”
Firmly Anne drew away. Tears glimmered in her blue eyes and she curtsied formally and asked permission to leave the solar. Lady Jarvis sighed heavily and took up another French hood she was embroidering with silver thread and seed pearls for her daughter’s travelling chest.
Anne was not aware that she was really crying as she ran across the courtyard towards the stables when Richard Allard’s familiar deep tones demanded that she stop and explain her reason for such obvious signs of distress. Apparently he, too, had been to the stables and was now on his way back to the house. She almost cannoned into him.
“Mistress Anne, whatever can be the matter? You are not hurt?”
His tone was genuinely concerned and she stopped and turned her face from him. How could she explain? She simply could not reveal the source of her distress. Her mother had forbidden her to speak of it. She laughed a trifle shakily.
“Oh, Master Allard, I am so sorry I did not see you for a moment. The sun blinded me. I think—think that I have at last realised that I am leaving home and all those I love for the first time. It is just a little—frightening.”
He had a consoling grasp upon her arm, gentle but calming, and she was grateful for his care of her.
“It is silly,” she chided herself. “I really do want to go but now—” she gave a little gulping gasp “—my departure is so near and I am afraid I will not know how to conduct myself and Lady Philippa might not like me and—and everything could go wrong and I shall be so far from home.”
He shook his head, smilingly. “Even in so short a time I have come to know your worth, Mistress Anne. Of course you will pine for home at first, it will all seem so strange to you, but you will settle after the first nervous hours. I felt just the same and I was much younger and less self-composed than you are. You have been well trained in matters of deportment. The Queen will be delighted with you, I am sure.”
“Yes,” she said, blinking back tears. “Yes, I have been waiting for this opportunity for so long and now it is here I am frightening myself with foolish notions of failure. Thank you, Master Allard, for your encouraging words.”
For the first time she looked full at him and, in the light of her mother’s disclosure, regarded him as a possible suitor.
He was, she thought, after all, ruggedly attractive, if not handsome. He seemed to exude an excess of raw physical power and was just too big to appeal to her, but his features were regular and, what was more important, his expression good humoured and kindly. She saw no trace of cynicism or cruelty about the set of his mouth and the crinkles at the sides of his eyes told her he laughed often.
Had he not been Sir Dominick Allard’s son, could she have come to accept him willingly as a prospective husband? She put the thought firmly aside even when the touch of his strong brown fingers upon her arm sent tingles throughout her trembling body.
What would he be like in the marriage bed? Considerate, gentle, passionate? She thought he might possess all of those qualities and, she considered with a little pang of alarm, he was more than likely adventurous and brave, too much so for his own well-being and the peace of mind of any possible wife.
She moved to free herself, though gently and courteously. “I am keeping you, Master Allard, from whatever you are about to do.”
“Why so formal, Mistress Anne?” he teased. “We shall have opportunity to get to know one another better during the next few days of our journey together.” He shaded his eyes against the glare of the bright, low sun. “It appears the weather should hold good. I hope so. We do not want to be wallowing in mud on the highway.” His lips twitched as he glanced up at her slantingly from beneath his thick brown lashes. “I hope you are not fearful about our journeying together. Once or twice I have thought you are avoiding me.”
“No, no,” she amended hastily. “I—we—have been so busy preparing. I am grateful for your offer of escort. Otherwise my father would have been reluctant to let me go.”
“Then you are not afraid I will disgrace you at Westminster? I remember that when we first met you took me for some servant or wandering chapman. Am I so uncouth? I shall merely deliver you at the palace, you know, not force my attendance upon you afterwards. Only, I want you to be aware of the fact that I shall be nearby—lodging in the Chepe, probably. I will let you know where, in case you should have need of my services, just for the first few weeks.”
She drew a heavy breath. Already he was aware of his responsibilities towards her. Walls around her, cabinning, confining, were drawing in close. She would not allow that to be. What she had said to her mother was an expression of her strongest resolve. She would marry no man whose dubious behaviour would threaten her happiness and tranquillity.
“Thank you again, Master Allard. Of course I am not ashamed of your presence. I was very stupid not to recognise your worth that first day. I was, if you recall, too concerned for my own safety to be aware of much else. We should both retire early tonight so as to make an early and invigorated start in the morning.”
She bobbed a curtsy and turned back towards the hall. She must hasten up to her chamber. It would never do to encounter her father while her thoughts were in chaos.
He bowed and stepped back to allow her passage and she turned towards the hall again, all thought of escape abandoned. At the hall door she turned and found him watching her gravely, a slight frown on his normally good-humoured face. Did he guess that she had been made aware of the likelihood of their betrothal and of her reaction against the idea? Guiltily she turned from him to look straight ahead, conscious of the deep blush that was suffusing her cheeks and throat.
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