Виктория Холт: The star of Lancaster

"We are hoping for a boy," replied Eleanor.

"Is there news of Thomas?"

"None. You know how difficult it is to get news from France."

"Doubtless the child will be born by the time he returns. A reward for his services to the King."

"He is not likely to get any other."

"Oh come, Richard is grateful to his uncles."

"Not to Thomas."

The Countess laughed lightly. "It is a pleasure to see you so contented with your marriage. And Mary, how is she?"

"She is devoted to the nuns. It was so fortunate that the convent is so close to the castle. It means that we have her with us and she can at the same time indulge in her pleasure to be within the convent."

"It was most convenient that you chose to come to Pleshy," commented the Countess. "It might have been one of your castles or that draughty house that was your father's in the Dowgate Ward of London."

"You mean Cole Harbour. Yes, Pleshy is just the right place for Mary, and I am ready to stay here for that reason. I like to see my little sister contented."

"As she is, I believe."

"Oh very. People are fortunate when they are almost born with the knowledge of what they want in life."

"You mean the convent for Mary. I agree with you. It is very fortunate. I look forward to seeing Mary while I am here."

"Of a certainty you will."

I am determined on it, thought the Countess, for it is the object of my visit.

Later that day she did see Mary.

She thought: The child is truly a beauty. It would be a pity if she were shut away in a convent just because her greedy sister and her avaricious brother-in-law want her share of the de Bohun fortune.

She was very cautious, being eager to give no sign to Eleanor that she was in the slightest degree averse to Mary's future in the convent.

She mentioned more than once the great admiration she had for the Poor Clares and the wonderful work they were doing.

Mary spoke glowingly of them and Eleanor purred like a contented cat.

The Countess said: "Your uncle Richard was saying that he should so like to see you. I told him that I would persuade you to come back to Arundel with me for a short visit. He said: I so long to see my dear nieces."

"I am scarcely in a condition to travel" Eleanor pointed out.

"Alas, that is so" agreed the Countess. "Mary could come though."

Mary cried: "I should so much like that."

Eleanor looked a little taken aback but before she could speak the Countess said firmly: "Then so it shall be. We will set out tomorrow."

Eleanor said: "Mary, you will not wish to leave your studies"

"But Eleanor, it will only be for a short visit. I long to go."

"Then you shall, dear niece," said the Countess quickly. "Later on, when you have the baby, Eleanor, you will come to see your uncle I know."

"Cannot he come here, my lady?"

"He will, of a certainty he will. But he has asked me so particularly to take you both back with me. He did not think that you would be unfit to travel. Men do not understand these things. I must take one of you back. Mary, we must leave early. It is a long journey and I wish for an early start."

Mary was clearly excited at the prospect of the visit and Eleanor could only shrug her shoulders.

It would be but for a few days and their aunt was clearly in favour of Mary's taking the veil. Perhaps she would help to persuade her.

There was no need to worry.

It was exciting riding to Arundel with her aunt. Mary had forgotten how beautiful the Sussex countryside was. She could smell the sea and she remembered that the castle was only a short distance from the coast. The Countess had been talking about the pleasures of Arundel and the new dances and songs of which Mary had some knowledge because none could enjoy social life more than Eleanor and Thomas. There were often visitors at Arundel, explained her aunt. It was a great pleasure when they came with news of what was happening in Court. Not that she was ignorant of that, she was quick to add. Your uncle is in constant attendance on the King.

Mary did notice that, although while they were at Pleshy her aunt had talked a great deal about the Convent of the Poor Clares, stressing the good life led by the nuns, during the journey her conversation had changed considerably; and she seemed to be extolling the pleasures of life outside convent walls.

As the drawbridge was lowered and they rode under the portcullis and into the courtyard, the Countess said: "What joy there is in coming home. I always wonder when I return what will have been happening to the place while I have been away, what visitors we have had or who will be awaiting us. One of the best things in life is coming home."

She looked sideways at Mary on whose face was an expression of understanding and shared excitement.

It will not be the convent life for her! thought the Countess. Lancaster will see to that.

Into the castle went Mary, to the chamber which had been made ready, there to wash off the stains of the journey and to prepare herself to go down to the great hall where the appetizing smells which pervaded the castle proclaimed that food would soon be served.

One of the women of the household arrived to say that on the instructions of my lady she had come to help her dress.

My lady had set out a gown for her as her own would not yet be unpacked.

Mary was astonished at the splendour of the garment. The surcoat was of fine blue silk and delicately embroidered with birds and flowers. Under the surcoat was a less loosely fitting gown in a delicate shade of green; the sleeves of the garment made it in the height of fashion for from the elbow they hung almost to her knees.

Mary was not used to wearing such fine clothes although she had seen Eleanor in them. "You like the colours of your nuns," Eleanor had said; and she had not cared enough to protest.

The serving girl brushed her dark hair and let it fall about her shoulders, saying:

"My lady said not for you the wimple or the dorelet. Your hair is too pretty to be hidden."

Mary felt like a stranger to herself when the Countess came to her chamber to see the effect and to conduct her down to the hall.

It was clear that her aunt was pleased by the transformation.

In the hall was the Earl who bade her welcome to the castle, and with him were his daughters Elizabeth and Joan.

Mary was glad that they were there. The boys were away from home—as was the custom with boys who always seemed to be brought up in someone else's home. But it was pleasant to meet her cousins.

The warmth of her welcome was heartening and she could not help feeling glad to have escaped from Eleanor who would have been highly critical of her and that would have spoilt her pleasure.

Mary was placed at the high table in between the Earl and the Countess and they talked to her about life at Pleshy and naturally the convent of the Poor Clares was mentioned.

"The nuns are the best people possible to give a girl a good education," declared the Countess. "Poor creatures, what sad lives they lead."

"They are not in the least sad, my lady," said Mary hastily. "They serve God through the unfortunate and that brings them great happiness."

The Countess laid her hand on that of her niece. "Indeed they do. I am sorry for them because they will never know the joy of having children. I speak as a mother, dear child. I wonder how many of them ever regret the life they have chosen when they hear children chattering and laughing together."

Mary was silent.

This was a special occasion, whispered her uncle. They were so delighted, he and her aunt, that she had come. He was going to lead her into the dance when they had eaten. What did she think of that? Did she like to dance?

Oh yes, she loved to dance.

And music? Did she enjoy that?