Destiny's Child Read online

  “Go, child, before we all set to weeping and disgrace ourselves.”

  Margaret never knew how she made her way down the steps and on to the soft green grass of Bletsoe where her retinue waited ready for the journey. Her eyes were misted and her throat ached with tears she would not shed.

  She looked back for a moment at the rugged walls of her home and thought she saw the bright jewel colour of her mother’s dress against a window, but she could not be sure.

  She turned her face away then from all that she loved, and it suddenly seemed as if her childhood had come to an abrupt end before she was fully nine years of age.

  Chapter Two

  The heat was almost unbearable and the noise of hundreds of voices seemed to beat around Margaret with an almost physical force so that she longed to turn and run from the great hall.

  The Duke of Suffolk, however, had no such thoughts, and he made a pathway with ease through the press of ladies in jewel-encrusted dresses and men who all seemed to be wearing a belt of tiny bells that jangled with complete lack of harmony whenever any of them moved.

  Then they were before the throne of King Henry the Sixth and Margaret’s heart fluttered with fear. What if he should fail to speak to her, or wave her from his presence without any interest at all? Her mother would be bitterly disappointed in her daughter and would not hesitate to show it.

  But incredibly, the King in his scarlet and purple robes, was smiling down at her with kindness in his pale watery eyes.

  “You are welcome to our court, Lady Margaret,” he said gently. “Your father, the Duke of Somerset, was our good cousin, and for his sake we will care for and protect you.”

  She looked up at him with awe, aware of his goodness as if he wore it like a mantle of gold around him. Many whispered that he was weak, some even hinted at a taint of madness, but at this, her first encounter with the King of England, Margaret knew only that she trusted him.

  She was drawn aside then by the firm hand of her guardian and as he stepped up to the throne and leaned forward to consult with the King, she found herself almost hidden by the rich velvet skirts of the court ladies.

  It was almost too much for her senses to absorb at once and she wondered if she would ever become used to the smell of heavily spiced foods mingled with the strange perfumes that emanated from the ladies surrounding her.

  At home, her mother only brought out the exquisite family jewels on special occasions, but here it was commonplace to see girdles and collars of the most enormous magnificence flash and sparkle, making the most modestly dressed look like some gorgeous peacock.

  The throng of ladies around Margaret suddenly parted and with a dart of fear she saw the heavy bearded face of the Duke of Suffolk bending over her.

  “There you are, my lady,” he said with unusual joviality. “Isn’t she a little beauty? Come, tell me what you all think of my ward.”

  Margaret felt her colour rise as those nearest turned and regarded her with curious prying eyes. She managed to stand still and return the looks with dignity.

  “A typical arrogant Somerset,” someone whispered, and Margaret turned to look with cool dislike at the lady who immediately turned away.

  The Duke laughed loud and drew Margaret away from the crowded chamber and out into the comparative seclusion of the long corridor.

  “What is it you wish to see me about, my lord?” She pressed her hands together in an effort to stop them trembling.

  The Duke moved closer to her. “You seem a little pale, my child. You are not ill, I trust?”

  His tone held a note of censure, and Margaret was quick to reassure him.

  “I am not ill, my Lord Suffolk, just a little tired from the long journey,” she said with dignity. A smile broke through the anger on the Duke’s face.

  “That’s the spirit! You have to be strong to bear many fine sons if you are to marry into the de la Pole family.”

  He leaned back against the wall, his hand still gripping her arm.

  “If only your father had lived to retain the title, how much more suitable it would have been; but no matter, you have inherited the noble blood and perhaps more important, much of the lands and monies of the Somerset family – enough for me to be content.”

  Margaret tried to draw away, wishing fervently that some other family had aroused the Duke’s interest.

  “May I have your permission to retire to my chamber, my Lord Suffolk?” she said quietly. “I am very tired.”

  He looked down at her and smiled, though there was no warmth in his expression.

  “Yes, you may leave me in just a moment. But first, tell me what you think of court life. Does it please you?”

  He leaned towards her and she could smell a mingling of wine and spice on his breath. He placed his arm against the wall behind her, effectively imprisoning her, and she stood still, a feeling of dread rising within her.

  “You had better grow up a little and become more warmblooded, my lady, otherwise you will get no de la Pole heirs.” The Duke threw back his great head and laughed loudly.

  Margaret searched for something to say so that the Duke would let her go on her way, but her mind was a blank of fear.

  Just at that moment, Elizabeth came along the corridor, her shrewd eyes taking in the situation.

  “My lord,” she said, sweeping into a curtsey. “I beg your pardon, but I promised the Duchess of Somerset that I would care for her daughter and ensure she retires to her bed at a reasonable hour. Shall she come along with me now?”

  With a look of displeasure, the Duke straightened, leaving Margaret free to breathe in the heady sense of relief.

  He ignored Elizabeth, turning his back towards her; then the Duke spoke angrily to Margaret.

  “I will expect you at my chambers in the morning.” He turned away, and brushed past both of them without a backward glance.

  “I wish to go to bed,” Margaret said wearily. “This day has seemed such a long and eventful one, I can hardly take in any more sensations. My head swims with them as it is.”

  “There, my sweet pea,” Elizabeth took her arm consolingly, “the Duke has frightened you. But I’m sure he means no harm. He just doesn’t realise what a child you are.”

  Margaret glanced up at her and her eyes held such a sombre look that Elizabeth felt her heart beat fast with pity.

  “Do not concern yourself. I know that I am a woman now and must learn to take care of myself.” She patted Elizabeth’s hand. “You may not always be near to guard me against the Duke.”

  Elizabeth looked away. It was a sad world when a child must learn such things at so tender an age, but there was a great deal of wisdom in what Margaret said.

  “May the good Lord and all the saints protect you,” she said quietly, and made the sign of the cross above Margaret’s bowed head.

  * * *

  John de la Pole was pleasant company. Margaret liked his quick laugh and the sensitivity in his face. She guessed him to be about the same age as herself, though she felt infinitely older and wiser than him.

  He too seemed to be a little frightened of his father. She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed whenever Suffolk was near. She wondered if perhaps a little of her own fear had communicated itself to him.

  “Would you like to come riding with me this morning?” he asked warmly. “Father promised to take us if the weather was fine.”

  Margaret was at a loss. Riding with John through the crisp sunshine was a tempting prospect, but it was clouded by the thought of the Duke of Suffolk’s presence.

  He caught her hand. “Please say you’ll come, Margaret, otherwise my father will be angry.” He smiled at her disarmingly and she weakened.

  “All right, John, I will come. But promise you’ll stay near me.”

  “That is an easy promise to keep.” John’s boyish innocence touched Margaret and she smiled at him, brushing a speck of dust from his velvet coat.

  “What a pretty scene!” The Duke of Suffolk stood in the doo
rway of the large chamber watching them, a strange smile on his face. “Oh, please do not allow my presence to discomfort you,” he said as Margaret moved away from John. “I think you will make a handsome pair.”

  “Father, Margaret had consented to come riding with us,” John said quickly, and she knew he was aware of her embarrassment.

  “Good!” The Duke nodded in satisfaction. “The more you are seen together, the better, as far as I am concerned.” He clapped his hands so suddenly that Margaret jumped. “Come then, get yourselves dressed and ready. We will ride out before the sun disappears behind the clouds.”

  To Margaret’s relief, the Duke barely glanced at her as they rode along the quiet country tracks. He had eyes for no one but his son John, and Margaret had to admit that the boy rode well.

  Once he spurred his horse forward as if he would gallop ahead, but then he returned to Margaret’s side, his face rosy from the fresh breeze, his eyes sparkling.

  “I almost forgot my promise to you,” he said softly, “but not quite. Am I forgiven?”

  Margaret laughed, enjoying the exhilaration of the ride and pleased with John because he’d returned to her side.

  “Do you wish to be my wife?” John said, with a quick glance at his father’s broad back. “I would take good care of you and love you always.”

  Margaret felt the colour rise to her cheeks. So this was why the Duke had been so eager for her to ride with them, and why he had left them both to their own devices while he rode on ahead.

  “I don’t know, John,” she said firmly. “What would my mother think of a betrothal between us? I should have to consult with her on such an important matter.”

  “Of course, I understand that,” John said cheerfully, “but what of your own feelings? I know you like me.”

  Margaret sighed, perplexed, wondering why all the joy seemed to have gone from the day.

  “I will let you know my answer when I have considered well on the matter.”

  John teased and coaxed her, trying to make her give him at least some hint of her feelings, but Margaret remained adamant, knowing instinctively that such serious affairs were not settled as easily as John seemed to think.

  At last he grew impatient. “Oh, Margaret! You are so silly and slow. Both our parents wish for us to marry, so why must you hesitate?”

  She had no answer and she was relieved when the Duke swung his mount around and headed back towards home.

  * * *

  Margaret was sitting in the dying rays of the sun’s light picking out flowers in blue silk on her tapestry work. She had not seen John for some days and wondered if he were sulking because of her refusal to answer him concerning the marriage proposal.

  The door of the chamber opened suddenly, startling her out of her reverie, and Elizabeth, eyes shining with excitement, hurried into the room.

  “The King spoke to me!” she said, the words tumbling over themselves with excitement. “He asked about you, Margaret. He wishes to see you at a time when it is convenient.” She laughed at Margaret’s startled expression. “Come along. Don’t sit there as if you’ve lost your wits! Let me help you to put on your prettiest dress and your finest jewels.”

  Margaret put down her needle carefully. “You are right, Elizabeth, it would not be right to keep the King waiting.”

  Under the deft, quick hands of Elizabeth, Margaret was soon ready to go before the King. With a calm dignity that made her look older than her years, she walked along the corridors and into the great hall.

  It seemed that most of the Court was gathered there, the ladies fanning themselves against the hot evening air and the musicians playing loudly in order to be heard above the babble of voices.

  Margaret threaded her way with difficulty to the throne where the King sat, head in hands, oblivious to all around him, even his young vivacious queen, who sat tapping her foot in time to the music.

  Margaret dropped into a gracious curtsey as her mother had taught her and Queen Margaret of Anjou nodded pleasantly to her before giving her attention once more to the musicians.

  Henry chanced to look up and seeing Margaret kneeling before him, rose quickly and took her by the hand.

  “Come, child, away from this clamour,” he said, and Margaret, her heart beating fast, followed him into his private chamber.

  Margaret, though used to the grandeur of Bletsoe, had never seen such rich drapes or brilliant tapestries as those that were before her now.

  “Be seated child,” Henry said kindly. “I will not keep you long.”

  Margaret inclined her head. “I am your honest subject, Your Majesty.”

  She thought for a moment that a slight smile hovered around his lips, but then he was talking to her upon a serious matter.

  “I understand the Duke of Suffolk would have you marry his son?” He looked at her steadily, waiting for her answer.

  “That is so, Your Majesty,” Margaret said breathlessly. “John de la Pole asked me only the other day to be his wife.”

  The King appraised her with pale eyes. “And what did you reply, my Lady Margaret?”

  She took a deep breath. “I told him that so serious a proposal had to be carefully thought over, Your Majesty. I told him I would consult my mother.”

  He nodded, well pleased. “I see you are a sensible young lady, so I will tell you my own plans for the daughter of the Duke of Somerset.”

  The King looked away over her head, and for a moment his eyes seemed to look at distant things that others could not see. Then at last he spoke.

  “I wish you to marry my uterine brother, Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond. He is a fine young man, perhaps more than ten years your senior, but that is all to the good.”

  He stopped speaking and rose to his feet, fingering the heavy cross at his waist.

  “I have prayed upon the matter and truly feel that the union would be blessed by God.” He spun round to face her so suddenly that she was unnerved. “What do you think of the idea, Margaret Beaufort? Would you not rather the half-brother of a king than the son of my minister, Suffolk?”

  “I will do what God and my king wills, Your Majesty,” Margaret said, and bowed her head humbly, wondering why the King should do her such an honour. He looked at her almost as if he read her thoughts.

  “You have royal blood in your veins, my dear little lady, descended, as I am, from King Edward.” He paused and brushed his hand over his eyes. “Added to that, there is a goodness about you, an innocence that is not often seen at the court of King Henry the Sixth, I regret to say.”

  He returned to his seat and rested his head against the plump cushions as if unutterably weary. Just then, the Queen swept into the room, her dark eyes bright with curiosity.

  “What is keeping you away from the festivities of the Court, Your Majesty?” she said, and leaned against the King with remarkable lack of respect, touching his forehead lightly with her fingers. “Have you one of your horrid headaches again?” Her voice was deep and heavily accented and she turned her eyes accusingly on Margaret.

  “I would like the Lady Margaret to join in marriage with my brother the Earl of Richmond,” he said gently, laying his head on his young queen’s shoulder. “Do you not think it a good match?”

  The Queen’s dark eyes studied Margaret for a moment. “Yes, she will do well enough.”

  Henry looked at his queen with respect more than love, Margaret decided, but perhaps Margaret of Anjou would be strong enough to help the King make vital decisions, and if only she could provide him with an heir, perhaps he would lose the weary, helpless look that clung to his features.

  “My brother will return to Court within the next few days.” The King looked more cheerful. “I will bring the two of you together and leave it to God to do the rest.”

  The Queen raised her eyebrows. “The good Lord helps those who help themselves, Your Majesty.” And there was a note of disrespect in her voice.

  Henry failed to notice, and smiled down at Margaret. “You will meet
my brother Jasper too, though I don’t think I shall marry him off so easily. He is an excellent soldier, but not much good at soft compliments.”

  The Queen took Henry’s hand in her own. “You have done everything you could do for your half-brothers,” she said kindly, “and for your stepfather, Owen Tudor, too. Your mother would have been proud of you, had she lived.”

  Margaret moved uneasily, feeling that she was eavesdropping on the King’s private conversation and wondering if he had forgotten about her.

  It was as if he read her thoughts again. “I will not forget my promise,” he said gently. “You may withdraw and join in the festivities if you so wish.”

  When Margaret returned to the great hall, she was conscious of the curious stares that came her way and many of the ladies smiled at her with more friendliness than they had previously shown.

  Margaret confided in Elizabeth, who smiled in delight because the King had chosen such an honour for the young Lady Margaret.

  “It is only what you deserve,” she said proudly. “And some of the high and mighty ladies of the Court are beginning to realise that one day you may hold great power in those tiny hands of yours.”

  * * *

  “What did the King talk to you about, child?” The Duke of Suffolk fingered a choice piece of peacock before transferring it lazily to his bearded mouth.

  Margaret stood before him, trembling. “He told me a little about his stepfather, Owen Tudor, my lord. And about his brothers, the Earls of Pembroke and Richmond.”

  “Ah!”

  Suffolk seized her with a greasy hand and Margaret held herself still for fear of revealing how much he repelled her.

  “And was marriage not mentioned?” He looked at her intently and Margaret coloured under his gaze, afraid of him and yet unwilling to speak about a matter the King had regarded as private.

  “Obstinate wench!” The Duke pushed her away from him in disgust. “Go to your room, out of my sight!”