A Real Lady

Palace of Westminster, London

December 1412

Already I can feel the change in my bones and it has only been a fortnight since my husband and I were summoned to court. This place is where the devil as well as God himself walks the halls. I am still not used to the strange Palace but the gardens are like their own oasis and have been my refuge countless times already.

When I was married, it was impossible for me to comprehend the importance my husband held or what his station truly meant. All I knew was that my father had made a good match and I did as I was told. But when I one day caught a glimpse of the Royal seal amongst our letters, I quickly found out just how important my husband was.

Of course, I could not speak to him about it. Since I still failed to produce an heir, we did not communicate unless it was absolutely necessary, which often meant merely a few words every other day. Frankly, I was more than happy with our arrangement.

I took solace in my books, my studies, and of course my handmaiden Catherine. It was from her that I got the whole story. According to her, my husband's father served King Charles II as one of his closest advisors and did not leave the King's court until he was dead and buried.

When his son inherited the throne two years ago, he surrounded himself with many new names, to several people's distaste, but also older ones who had been loyal to his father, such as my husband. And then there was the summoning to court and all of the sudden I was asked to pack my belongings and once more leave into a new type of uncertainty.

I had just accepted the fact that my home was now in Suffolk and I was intimidated since I knew next to nothing about the lives of the Lords and Ladies living at court. All I knew were the rumors of fornication, heavy drinking, and extravagant feasts. But before I arrived at the Palace I thought they were all exaggerated. As I quickly was to learn, rumors are always built upon some kind of truth.

As the double doors swing open I feel a peculiar quiver go through my body. All I have to do is remain silent and let my husband speak since it is his audience. I am merely there for decoration, a price to show off.

As he enters the room, I can see that he is not much older than me. Striking features, dark blonde hair that curled by his ears, heavy jewels around his neck, piercing blue eyes staring straight at my husband, and of course the crown on his head branding him the chosen one. The man God has selected to put on the throne of England.

"Your Majesty", we both say as we bow down in front of the King.

"Welcome back old friend."

My husband rises back up and I slowly follow. The King kisses my husband's cheek as if they are in fact, old acquaintances. It appears I know nothing of my husband's life or ambitions. As the King's intense gaze falls on me, I do not know what to expect.

"Your Majesty this is my wife, the Duchess of Suffolk."

It is a long time since I have heard him introduce me publicly and hearing him call me wife sounds odd like it is a word not meant to cross his lips. The King gives me a small nod and turns his head towards my husband who discretely waves me away.

As I am escorted to my new chambers, I can not come to terms with the fact that I have been in the same room as the King of England. The rumors about how handsome he is are not false but I giggle when I realize that he is not as tall as I had pictured him in my vivid imaginations.

Another fortnight has passed at the Palace and my days are nearly the same as they had been at my husband's estate. Except that now, every other night is a fest for an unspecified person or cause. Otherwise, it is a dinner for a hundred people and I am now expected to at least pretend to be interested when other Ladies speak to me about their silk gowns and imported rugs.

I am getting fairly good at daydreaming in conversations and add a few "fascinating" and "I did not know that, tell me more." It appears to keep them happy and more importantly, my dear husband seems to ignore me completely if I look otherwise engaged. But this doesn't stop me from desperately searching for a like-minded person, but these Ladies and I have nothing but our titles in common and most of them are at least ten years my senior.

As the days in loneliness pass, I write to my father as often as possible, urging him to ask my husband's permission to come to visit me at court. When I finally receive the reply it does not contain any details of a future visit but instead bare grave news. Before he has the chance to reach 20, my poor brother has taken a bad fall, hit his head, and never woken up. I can not stop thinking of Margaret and his little girl Mary who I have never even laid eyes on. What will they do without my brother?

His health has been weak for a long time but he has always managed to take care of them. Soon after I receive the letter I decide that it is time to visit my husband. He has his own chambers far from mine so that he can do the King's bidding undisturbed. Neither of us has protested the arrangement. I think even my husband is a bit relieved when he does not have to visit my bed every night and can focus on his new duties, whatever they were.

When I am finally granted an audience with him, I asked his permission to return home and grieve with my family. His voice is cold and he does not look at me.

"Don't be foolish girl, you will stay here of course."

It is the first time I can recall that he is purposefully cruel to me. It takes all my strength to not lose my temper in front of him. I know that my anger is the last thing that can change his mind so instead, I keep my head high and accept his decision with equally cold silence.

After that day our communication consists mainly of sending servants between our chambers and every third or fourth night he crawls into my bed, still oozing of wine and old sweat. I know it is foolish but somehow I am still hoping for him to change his mind.

Yet I remain with my husband who thrives in this backstabbing, conniving and drunken environment. He does the King's bidding, even though I am unsure exactly what he does and too afraid to ask him. He knows all the people who actually matter at court and has no problem fitting right in where he is supposed to be. But I have no rightful place here and everyone knows it. Many of the other Lords and Ladies try to be courteous but I am a nobody, of interest to no one.

Still, there is one side of living at court that fascinates me. The only advantage with being a nobody in the fact that I can observe people without them noticing me. The King often attracts mine, and so many others, attention and he is truly a mesmerizing character. Maybe it is the fact that he is the King but he has grace and behaves in a manner which I envy, more than anything.

In the simple way he moves his arm, you can tell that he is free. He is free to do as he pleases because he is King and the only one he has to answer to is God and himself. I observe his youthful rage and his growing wisdom and always mention him in my prayers. My husband is too busy drinking and bedding others to visit my bed each night but he comes often enough and I keep praying for a child that is never conceived.

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