Chapter 5

"Jory de Bohun, Countess of Hereford. It has a nice ring to it, Lynx, and de Bohun's heir will also inherit the post of Constable of England along with his father's earldom. What do you think?"

"I think it an extremely suitable match. As well as Hereford, de Bohun can claim the Earldom of Essex through his mother. I admire Hereford—he is a steadfast man who will stand as a strong father figure to my sister. The contrast between John de Bohun and my irascible father-in-law, Roger Bigod, was quite apparent in the hunt today. Though Sylvia has been wed to me for two years, she still fears her father's authoritarian ways. Jory and young Humphrey de Bohun should deal well together since they are so close in age. Humphrey has just turned nineteen, I understand."

"Aye, your sister does not want to suffer Princess Joanna's fate. She made me promise I would not wed her to an older man."

"At Goodrich Castle in Hereford, Jory would be the undisputed chatelaine, since the earl's wife has been dead these many years and his younger son, Henry, is unwed. My sister would thrive in a household of men and soon become queen of the castle."

"In the hall tonight, we must contrive to seat Jory with the de Bohuns and observe how well they mesh."

"We can try to pin her down, but it won't be an easy task. The minx is as elusive as quicksilver!"

"Jory, I was astonished to see you in the company of Warwick today. Surely you know of his foul reputation?" Joanna stood before the mirror as her friend laced up her purple velvet gown.

"I know nothing of his reputation"—the corners of Jory's mouth went up—"though I am sure you are about to enlighten me."

Joanna's eyes glittered. "What are friends for?" She bent close and whispered, "Warwick's first wife, Isabel, was Gilbert de Clare's youngest sister. Rumor has it that she was poisoned."

Jory caught her breath, and then her eyes met Joanna's. She asked evenly, "If Warwick caused his wife's death, why are he and your husband-to-be such fast friends?"

"Men! Who can explain the bonds that are forged between the rapacious devils? Land, castles, or wealth have always garnered more male loyalty than mere marriage. Why don't you question Gloucester yourself? I believe Gilbert has a soft spot for you."

Jory smiled and changed the subject. If she questioned de Clare, he would immediately inform his friend Warwick. "Will you wear the purple? There is little need to emphasize your royalty again tonight."

"There is every need…tonight and every night. De Clare is so blood proud, I have no intention of allowing my bridegroom to forget I am a Plantagenet princess, especially since tomorrow he will lower my rank to Countess of Gloucester."

I am willing to wager that Guy de Beauchamp is tenfold more blood proud than Gilbert de Clare.

"Come, Jory. I intend to eat and drink myself into oblivion since tonight is my last night of freedom and tomorrow I may die!"

Jory winked. "You will survive, Joanna. I am certain of it."

The princess and her ladies arrived late to the hall as usual, and apart from the bride's place of honor beside Gilbert de Clare, there were few empty seats on the eve of the royal wedding.

Jory felt a compelling urge to search out Guy de Beauchamp, but as her avid gaze traveled about the hall, her brother, Lynx, caught her eye and beckoned her to an empty seat between himself and John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Constable of England.

The Earl of Hereford rose to his feet. "Lady Marjory, it would be such an unexpected pleasure if you would dine with us."

Jory gave him a radiant smile and took the seat. "My lord earl, the pleasure is mine. Did you enjoy the hunt today?"

"My sons and I enjoyed it so much, we plan to acquire some hunting birds and establish a mews when we return to Hereford. Allow me to present my son Humphrey and my younger son, Henry."

Jory smiled at Humphrey, who sat across from his father, and nodded to Henry on his far side. She was quite used to young men's stares as they appraised her. "You have traveled a long way to attend Princess Joanna's wedding."

When Humphrey flushed at the mention of Joanna's name, Jory was amused. Many young lords were infatuated with the royal princess.

"We didn't journey from Hereford, Lady Marjory. We were at our castle of Midhurst in Sussex," the earl explained.

"The de Bohun land is on the other side of the River Rother, just south of my de Warenne land in Surrey," her uncle John remarked. "We are neighbors for part of the year."

Hereford signaled a server to pour Jory some wine. Then he raised his own goblet and proposed a toast. "Lady Marjory, you are the fairest lady at Windsor tonight. If only I were twenty years younger, I warrant I would seek you for my wife."

"How gallant you are, my lord earl. And if I were a mere five years older, I would accept your proposal," Jory said sweetly.

Flattered beyond belief, John de Bohun lost his heart and immediately resolved to contract Marjory de Warenne for his son and heir, Humphrey, at any cost.

It wasn't until Jory was eating her dessert that she felt eyes upon her and knew someone was watching her. She glanced across the hall and saw immediately that it was Warwick. His intense gaze licked over her like a candle flame, thrilling her to the core. She touched her fingers to her lips and then her heart—two gestures she knew he would understand. When she saw him rise from the table and leave the hall, she was in a fever to follow him. She forced herself to remember her manners and sat politely until all the diners were finished. "My lords, I beg you to excuse me. I must attend Princess Joanna. There are many things that I must see to before the wedding tomorrow."

When she arose from the table, all the men stood too. She bade them good night and as Lynx escorted her partway to the dais, she could not suppress her inner excitement. She went up on her toes and impulsively kissed her brother's cheek.

"You made a most favorable impression on the constable tonight, Minx. I was very proud of you."

Jory's thoughts were so completely focused on Warwick, she did not heed her brother's words. Bursting with happiness she squeezed his arm and confided, "Don't be surprised if you receive an offer for me very soon, Lynx."

He grinned down at her. "You conceited little devil…you are convinced you have charmed de Bohun into making an offer, are you?"

"Good heavens no. Guy de Beauchamp is the one I have charmed." As Jory slipped away from Lynx, she did not see the stunned look on her brother's face.

She glanced up at the dais and saw that Joanna was laughing wildly with her brother, Prince Edward. It was quite obvious that the king's son was drunk, and by the look of her, his sister was well on her way to intoxication. The princess didn't seem quite ready to retire in spite of the full day she would have to face on the morrow, so Jory impulsively decided to leave the hall to seek a few stolen minutes with Warwick.

She hurried outside, and her heart sank when she found no trace of Guy de Beauchamp. I waited too long to seek him. I doubt patience is a Warwick virtue. Her eyes probed the torch-lit area, but she saw only guards and a few castle servants. I wonder if he went to the garden? Jory ran lightly through Windsor's Upper Ward, her heart beating a tattoo of hope and wild anticipation.

When she did not see him inside the garden, disappointment engulfed her. Then he stepped from the shadows of the willow tree. "Guy! Guy!" she cried with delight as she picked up her skirts and ran into his arms.

He held her against him possessively for a full minute before he dipped his head to speak to her. "It's too soon to give me your answer, Jory. You promised me you'd think long and hard about it."

"You came to the garden hoping I'd come to you. How can you deny it?" she whispered joyfully.

"I've learned how impulsive you are, chéri. If you had been foolish enough to approach me in the hall, it would have aroused great speculation, so I went outside. Then I realized the garden was the only place that would give us privacy from prying eyes."

"I want you to court me openly, Guy."

"I cannot do that until I get permission from your guardian, John de Warenne, and your brother, Lynx."

Her fingers sought the badge on his velvet doublet. "Not without right…you live according to your Warwick motto."

"I try. I do not always succeed, sweetheart."

"I've thought about it quite long enough. If I thought about it for a lifetime, my answer would be the same. With all my heart, I want to be your wife, Guy de Beauchamp." She tossed her hair about her shoulders. "I've quite made up my mind! Will you offer for me?" Will you offer for me soon? she begged silently.

He placed his fingers beneath her chin, raised her face, and smiled down at her. "So impetuous…so impatient. I will offer for you Jory, my love." He sealed his pledge with a tender kiss.

"I've imbibed more than my fair share of wine tonight. Can't this wait, Lynx?" John de Warenne held on to his chamber door to steady his balance.

"No, it cannot wait. I have learned something most disquieting. We are about to receive an offer for Jory that is abhorrent." He closed the door firmly and led John to a chair before the fire.

The earl's brow furrowed. "You are mistaken. There is nothing abhorrent about the offer we have received from de Bohun. I assure you the constable is an honorable man, and I am certain I can bring him to a more generous settlement on Jory's behalf."

"I'm not concerned about de Bohun's offer," Lynx said shortly.

"Well surely you're not worried about Jory's reaction. You saw how charming she was tonight. I am almost certain she will be amenable to the match."

Lynx de Warenne gathered his patience. "Where Jory is concerned, I have learned never to be certain. The little minx told me tonight we could expect an offer from Guy de Beauchamp."

"Warwick!" John de Warenne sobered immediately.

"It is unthinkable—absolutely out of the question that Jory become the wife of Warwick," Lynx declared.

"I agree wholeheartedly. His reputation with women stinks to high heaven!"

Lynx ran his hand through his tawny mane. "If, or rather when, he comes with his offer, we must be ready. We will have to devise a plausible excuse that will not give offense to the noble earl."

"Absolutely. Under no circumstances must we give offense to such a staunch ally. Christ Almighty, we don't want Warwick for an enemy!"

"Personally, I have always liked de Beauchamp. I've never given a tinker's damn about the dark rumors concerning the death of his wives. What happens in a man's marriage is his own private affair. That is until he proposes to marry my sister. Then it suddenly becomes very much my business."

"It is our duty to protect Jory from a marriage that would prove disastrous to her future happiness. The age difference alone would be insurmountable. Guy de Beauchamp must be at least fifteen years her senior."

"That is not the greatest impediment. Warwick already has a son and heir. Any child he had by Marjory would receive neither his lands, castles, nor his noble title of Earl of Warwick."

"Marjory would never entertain such a match!"

"We must not give her any choice in the matter," Lynx said flatly.

"You think the idea of becoming a countess might tempt her?"

"God, or perhaps the devil alone, knows the working of a female's mind, and my sister is more of an enigma than most women. There are many temptations out there for an eighteen-year-old, and it's our job to save her from those that could destroy her."

"If—when—he comes, we must treat him with utter respect. We must listen to him and let him know that we are fully aware of the great honor he is bestowing upon the de Warennes."

"And high honor it would be if the happiness of my young sister were not at stake. A connection with the greatly esteemed de Beauchamp bloodline would be advantageous for any noble family."

"Warwick Castle is a magnificent fortalice and Flamstead, which came to him through his marriage to Alyce de Toeni, has the richest pastures in Hertfordshire. Most families would grovel for a chance to tie their fortunes with that of de Beauchamp."

"He may approach you first, since you are Jory's guardian."

"If he does, I will make it clear that I must consult you also in the matter as gravely important as your sister's marriage."

"Yes, that will give us a little time. Perhaps we should let him know from the onset that we have another offer for her."

"But when he learns we have chosen Hereford over Warwick, it could cause bad blood between the earls."

"He is bound to learn of it eventually. We must simply be extremely diplomatic about the entire thing. I'll give it careful thought and hope he doesn't approach us tomorrow."

"Aye. I shall sleep on the matter. I've noticed before that weddings are contagious. A royal marriage seems to overcome men's natural aversion to shackling themselves with a wife."

Joanna Plantagenet's wedding day dawned without a cloud in the sky. Though it had taken an inordinate amount of time to adorn the royal princess in the finery designed especially for her nuptials, she stubbornly refused to be hurried.

"I'm sure it will be taken for granted that I shall be late. How the devil would it look if I arrived before the bridegroom? All would assume that I am overeager to be wed. Being late will put that rumor to rest before it starts."

Joanna's black hair fell in shining waves to her waist, and Jory covered it with the gold tissue veil and then fitted on the princess's new diamond and sapphire coronet to hold it in place. When I wed Guy, I shan't care if the entire world knows I am eager to become his wife!

Blanche Bedford returned from the window, breathless with excitement. "There is a huge crowd gathered outside waiting for a glimpse of the bride."

There had been much discussion about how Joanna would get from her royal apartment in Windsor's Upper Ward to the stone chapel in the Lower Ward. Should she be conveyed in a carriage or ride her white horse? Finally, King Edward had declared that his daughter would walk with her attendants so that all who served at Windsor Castle could glimpse the beautiful bride.

Maud Clifford and Eleanor de Leyburn brought Joanna's ermine cloak and held it while the princess slipped her arms through the openings, which were surrounded by black-tipped ermine tails. All four of Joanna's ladies wore identical gowns that were a paler shade of Plantagenet blue than the bridal gown. Jory knew the delicate hue suited her coloring, but did not realize that the wreath of white rosebuds upon her gilt tresses made her look exquisitely innocent and virginal.

Suddenly the queen appeared at the door, pale and breathless. "What on earth is keeping you, Joanna? Your father is pacing about the chapel, working himself into a fine rage. Do you not realize you are showing disrespect to the king and to Gloucester?"

"This is the last day you will have to bear my disrespect, Mother. Tomorrow I shall rule my own household at Clerkenwell. It is the only advantage I perceive in marrying Gilbert de Clare."

Jory blushed for her royal friend's ungracious words.

"Lady Marjory, I leave the matter in your capable hands. Get Joanna to the chapel without further delay," the queen ordered.

When Her Majesty departed, Jory resorted to blatant manipulation. "I believe it is clouding up outside. Perhaps it won't dare rain on such a lovely bride, but the sunshine will make your diamonds and sapphires glitter so brilliantly, you'll dazzle the eyes of those hoping for a glimpse of their royal princess."

"Hurry up, Maud, Blanche…I don't want to get wet. All four of you must carefully carry my train so that it doesn't drag on the ground. Where is that damn page boy with my kneeling cushion?"

A great cheer arose from the crowd as Princess Joanna emerged, and in spite of her studied arrogance, it brought a smile to her lips. Jory, too, beamed with delight when applause broke out as the procession of beautiful noble ladies walked with slow measured steps toward the Horseshoe Cloister that led into the Lower Ward.

There was not room enough for all the invited guests in Windsor's Royal Chapel and a crowd of nobles stood beneath the stone arcading outside the entrance to the chapel. Six little girls of noble birth awaited the bride's arrival in the vestry, and they walked down the aisle before Joanna, strewing rose petals, myrtle, and mint, an ancient custom that verily bestowed love, happiness, and fertility upon the couple.

Focusing her attention on holding up Joanna's train, Jory did not see Warwick, who was standing at the back of the chapel in the last pew. Guy de Beauchamp, however, saw Marjory de Warenne in all her youthful innocence.

When the bride and her attendants reached the front of the chapel, Jory and the other three came to a halt at the altar steps and watched Joanna ascend to stand beside Gilbert de Clare, who was attended by King Edward and Archbishop Winchelsey. Jory bent to whisper instructions to the page boy, who then quickly set the velvet kneeling cushion before the bride. When the Earl of Gloucester went down upon his knees, the regal princess slowly followed suit, and the archbishop made the sign of the cross and began the Solemnization of Matrimony.

Jory did not understand the words of the Latin prayer, and her mind began to wander. Her eyes focused on the candle flames of the tall tapers that adorned the altar and in her imagination Jory replaced Joanna as the bride. As she knelt beside Guy de Beauchamp, he took her small hand in his and squeezed it. Her heart overflowed with joy and happiness.

When King Edward Plantagenet stepped forward to give his daughter in marriage to Gilbert de Clare, Jory's attention came back to the royal ceremony. She smelled the incense and heard the muffled noises of the nobles who packed the pews behind her.

Though she felt a great compulsion to turn around and seek out Warwick, she resisted the temptation and smiled as she imagined she could feel his dark, possessive eyes riveted upon her.

Though not often given to introspection, the sight of Jory gave Warwick pause. Her extreme youth and angelic innocence had a profound impact on the earl that was almost akin to a blow in the solar plexus. What the hellfire am I doing contemplating marriage with a girl of eighteen? Such an act could be deemed the height of arrogance and self-indulgence and rightly so!

As the ceremony advanced and the couple exchanged their vows, Warwick's mind flew back to the vows he had pledged on two separate occasions. His inner voice spoke again, this time more insistently. Neither marriage was successful. Are you sure you are ready to risk committing a third disastrous mistake? The answer came back a resounding yes. He was perfectly willing to take the chance for himself, but he was completely unsure about condemning the exquisitely lovely Lady Marjory to a life of unhappiness. As the beautiful voices of the young choirboys filled the air, Warwick slipped unnoticed from Windsor's chapel.

Guy saddled Caesar, and with Brutus loping before him, he galloped north until he came to the edge of the Chiltern Hills, then turned east, riding through verdant Hertfordshire in deep contemplation. When he became aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was more than halfway to his castle of Flamstead. Warwick suspected that the sanctuary had unwittingly drawn him so that he could make his decision in the peaceful solitude of the lush meadows he used to crossbreed his distinctive and much sought after horses, renowned for their speed and strength.

Guy decided to spend the night at Flamstead, make a firm decision about his future, and return to Windsor on the morrow. He knew what was in his heart, but he needed to come to terms with the cautionary thoughts that filled his head.