26 Manor of Bisham, Berkshire, January 1348

26

Manor of Bisham, Berkshire, January 1348

Bitter January rain hurled against the shutters, and Jeanette took the poker and thrust at the logs in the hearth until small flames licked out along their length. She thought about setting fire to the room, and imagined those flames crawling across the floor and up the hangings. How long before the entire room was ablaze? Nosewyse whined at her. Distracted, she glanced at him, and the thought receded even if it did not go away.

The chamber was comfortable enough, appointed with cushions and hangings, but it was still a prison where she was held under strict supervision. Elizabeth had departed in November on family business. Jeanette had managed to discover from snippets of servants' gossip that it involved a visit to Avignon to give evidence to the papal court. No one had told her anything. William found excuses to be elsewhere when he could, and Katerine was generally absent on business within the earldom, and when at Bisham she avoided Jeanette's company. Since the antipathy was mutual, they rarely engaged with each other.

At Christmas the court had returned from Calais, and Katerine had attended, leaving Jeanette here under virtual house arrest with only guards and servants for company, the monks of the priory, and William's entombed father. To all intents she was cut off from life outside the manor. She was not even allowed to go riding or hunt with Frederick. The most she was permitted to do was to walk Nosewyse around the manor precincts under close supervision. Katerine had dismissed Hawise who had gone to Thorpe to serve the Holland family while her husband John was occupied in Thomas's retinue. Katerine's own maids served Jeanette now, and there was no love lost.

Hearing a shout, Jeanette went to the window and opened the shutters. Through light sleet, she saw riders clattering into the muddy yard, escorting a cart, and her heart sank as her gaze fell on William, and then, stepping heavily to the ground with assistance from two knights, the lady Elizabeth, swathed in her heavy winter cloak, followed by Katerine, also bundled up against the cold. A man accompanied them, wearing a clerical bonnet, his servant leading a pack horse laden with satchels and bundles.

Jeanette pulled back from the window feeling sick. Well, the witches had returned in force, one from court and one from Avignon, but since William was here too, she might be able to discover what was happening. She had no intention of going down to greet them. William would come to see her soon enough. She sat down before the fire to wait, Nosewyse at her feet, and pretended to read a book of Arthurian tales lent to her by the Queen.

The day darkened and she heard the noise and bustle of the cart being unhitched and the baggage unpacked. And eventually, footsteps on the outer stairs from the courtyard. The door opened and William entered, accompanied by a servant bearing a loaf of bread and an earthenware pot on a tray.

The man set down the food, and Jeanette thanked him with a warm smile. She had spent time cultivating the servants. Being considerate to them was good manners and given time would reap benefits in other ways.

Nosewyse ran to William and greeted him with a furiously wagging tail, demanding attention. William obliged with a swift tussle and ear-rub. Jeanette observed his actions. She would never be reconciled to their false union, but the fact that he enjoyed interacting with the little dog and that Nosewyse reciprocated had gradually softened her a little towards him. Dogs always knew. If Elizabeth entered her chamber, Nosewyse would bare his teeth and growl.

‘I saw you return,' she said. ‘And your mother and grandmother.'

He nodded. ‘They are eating in the hall. The journey has been tiring, but they will speak with you tomorrow.'

‘I will not be troubled if they do not; I have not missed either of them, and I doubt they have missed me,' Jeanette replied. ‘But I am hungry.' Going to the pot, she raised the lid, and an appetising smell of beef and barley wafted up, making her mouth water.

William gave her a dubious look and dismissed her maid. He had broadened out in the last year, and grown again. She understood why people considered her ungrateful and mad not to be attracted to him. He was well liked among his peers at court and had excellent future prospects. But he was nothing to her, and his weakness when facing his mother and grandmother had only consolidated that. Though nowadays she often felt more compassion for him than contempt, she could not muster more than that.

They sat to dine, both so hungry that they said little while they ate, passing morsels of sopped bread to Nosewyse. But once their appetites had dulled, Jeanette leaned a little towards him. ‘What news then of the world beyond? I swear I might as well be living on an island in the middle of a lake surrounded by mist for all I know and hear – or am allowed to hear. The servants tell me their tales, but they are all of their families and their cows, and marketplace gossip – but what of the court?'

William wiped his lips on a napkin. ‘You hear nothing because there is nothing you need to know.'

She stared at him until he looked away. ‘Is there not? And what of what I want to know? Will you answer me that? And who is that cleric in your entourage?'

He folded his arms as if caging the knowledge inside himself.

‘I will find out,' she said. ‘The servants will speak to other servants. Why all the secrecy? What do you think I can do to influence anything – or do I have a great and fearful reputation?'

‘You certainly have one for trouble,' he said wryly. ‘Even when you are not present, you cause it.'

‘Perhaps if I was treated justly, matters would improve.'

He sighed and reached for his goblet. ‘You make much ado. My grandmother has been to Avignon to speak with our attorney and with Cardinal Adhemar who is hearing our case.'

‘Has there been a verdict?' She didn't tell him she already knew about Elizabeth going to Avignon.

‘Not yet. The Cardinal wanted to hear our deposition and my grandmother obliged by providing them with information – in the same wise that the Hollands provided theirs when they visited last year. There is more evidence to gather and the witnesses to the first marriage have been summoned to Avignon to be interrogated. There will be no result for some time yet.'

Jeanette felt as if stones had been dropped into her stomach. She was already at the limit of her waiting.

‘What are you not telling me?'

He did not answer, and Jeanette banged her fist on the table in frustration, making the dishes and goblets leap. A startled Nosewyse began to bark.

‘It is my marriage that is under investigation!' she shouted. ‘Why have I no say in the matter? Why should your grandmother go to Avignon and not me? Am I not a participant and a witness?' She curled her lip. ‘Though then I suppose the truth would have to be known.'

‘But you are to be allowed to give evidence,' William said, opening his hands. ‘It is only that the court has not arrived at that place yet. I have engaged two lawyers to represent our interests – one for me, one for you – and a clerk representing yours is here to take your deposition. He will speak to you on the morrow.'

He had answered without meeting her gaze and she knew he was sliding past her with the truth. All these endless months she had been literally kept in the dark, and she was not about to be shown the light now.

‘I know what you are about,' Jeanette said with contempt. ‘You and your family are going to try and bury me here for ever.'

He snorted. ‘That is not true, and anyway, the key to your freedom lies in your own hands. You know what you have to do.'

‘Hah, such a key would just be the door to another prison. You will not succeed, because God sees and knows everything.'

Rising, he dusted crumbs from his tunic. ‘I might not succeed,' he replied, ‘but my mother and yours are just as determined as you, and more powerful.'

‘Yes, but one day they will grow feeble, even if they are not now. You will be given your full inheritance rather than being a ward. If this marriage is judged valid – God forbid – then I shall be the Countess, and I swear they will wish that they had failed to succeed, for I shall remember everything they have done to me, and my memory is long. Perhaps I shall become like them – is that really what you want? What a terrible pattern to weave.'

He moved away from the table and went to the door. ‘They will not let you go, and while I am still a ward of court I cannot stop them even if I wanted to. If you say that your supposed marriage to Thomas Holland was a foolish whim and you agree to drop the case, our lives would change for the better, but since you won't . . .' He left the end of the sentence hanging on a shrug and departed, closing the door.

Jeanette picked up Nosewyse and, kissing the top of his head, realised that whatever had happened before, perhaps her battle was just beginning.

In the morning, Lady Elizabeth came to her room. The miles of travel had dropped some flesh from her body, but her jowls remained as pendulous as a bloodhound's. One of the new-fashioned frilled wimples framed the folds of her face and did little by way of enhancement. Her dark woollen gown was embellished with silver buttons down the front, each one sitting on a roll of flesh resembling ridge and furrow plough lines.

‘I suppose my grandson told you where I have been,' she said as she plumped herself down before the fire and ignored Nosewyse, who was baring his teeth at her.

‘Yes, madam. I know you have been at the papal court.'

‘It seems from my discussions there that your marriage to my grandson will be proven without a doubt, and your claim to be wed to Thomas Holland dismissed as arrant nonsense. The King has vouchsafed moneys to William to fight the case, so he is not at a disadvantage. If I were you, I would yield now rather than let the matter drag on to no purpose.'

Jeanette's stomach sank, but almost immediately she rallied. Lady Elizabeth was bound to say such things, whatever the truth of the matter. Stranded here at Bisham, knowing nothing, she could be fed any tale and not know its veracity.

‘Well, I am not you, and I hope never to become like you. I trust in God,' Jeanette replied. ‘Until the case is heard and the decision made, we cannot know.'

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. ‘My girl, you will live and learn. We have engaged an attorney for you, and his clerk will speak with you concerning your representation in Avignon. You will come to the hall now and give him your deposition.'

‘Gladly,' Jeanette said.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow, but made no comment.

In the hall, the clerk belonging to Jeanette's appointed attorney, Master Nicholas Heath, was waiting for her at a trestle table. Jeanette sat down opposite him, and he acknowledged her with a dip of his head, but glanced towards Elizabeth and Katerine, taking his direction from them. Katerine gestured for him to continue and he opened out a wax writing tablet and took up his stylus. He had watery grey eyes, and he averted them from her.

Having cleared his throat, he began questioning her about the circumstances of her first marriage, but his note-taking was scanty, and he delivered his enquiries in a drab monotone, giving her the distinct impression he had little interest in what she had to say. His lips were thin, his breath stale.

‘The marriage was valid, made before witnesses, and it was consummated, not once but many times – I will swear this on oath,' she summarised firmly.

A flush crept up his neck, and again he looked to the other women. ‘I think I have all that my master requires,' he said, closing the tablet, and rose to leave.

Jeanette knew, feeling sick, that he was answering not to her but to the Salisbury family, and merely paying lip service to justice. There would be no fair hearing from this.

Elizabeth accompanied him to the door, and she heard the old woman saying that every word was a lie. ‘There was blood on the sheets after the wedding night,' she said. ‘I saw it with my own eyes and the laundry maid will attest to washing that sheet. You will find my son accords with the matter. Unfortunately, the girl has a weak mind and a tendency to muddle her facts. Make sure that your master knows this.'

‘That is not true!' Jeanette shouted, leaping to her feet. ‘You know it is not! You are the one who is lying! If she was telling the truth, do you think Thomas Holland would go all the way to Avignon to prove his case?'

Katerine said curtly, ‘Master Heath's representative has finished his task. He has sufficient information to make his report – do you not, sir?'

The clerk dipped his head to her. ‘Yes indeed, madam, I think everything is clear,' he replied, and hurried out of the door, followed by Elizabeth.

Katerine gestured to two attendants. ‘Return my daughter-in-law to her chamber, I fear she is unwell.'

Jeanette drew herself up, and stood tall – taller than Katerine. ‘You know my word is true – you have always known. Unlike you, I bear no false witness.' She shrugged off the attendants as they reached for her and stalked away from them back to her chamber.

Having seen the looks exchanged between Master Heath's clerk and the two women, she knew they were damning her with falsehood. He would no more represent her than a fox could be trusted to keep a henhouse safe. She slumped on her bed, and began to cry.

Nosewyse came to her and pawed her skirts, and she scooped him into her arms and cuddled him, comforted, but desolate. She could imagine growing frozen and cold with despair until she became a tomb effigy – an unpainted one, devoid of all colour, naught but stiff folds on a slab.