So that was what she had planned. As long as I was quiet and biddable and my family remained in powerless exile, I would be punished no further. In that moment I wished that I had fled to join Richard in Ireland.
‘I have arranged your travel in one of my own equipages, madam. All that remains is for me to wish you farewell and a safe journey.’
Her expression held the hardness of granite as, at the last, she offered me her hand to salute, whereupon I responded as Court manners demanded. The Queen had deliberately, acrimoniously, thwarted Henry’s infinite mercy. I was aflame with rage, but at least she could not reach the exiles, wherever they might be.
‘Once,’ I said, releasing her cold fingers, ‘we would have found a better spirit of conciliation. We would not have parted on these terms. I was a friend to you when you were in need.’
‘Now I have no need of your friendship. I do not believe it exists. There will be no conciliation, now or ever. Godspeed to Tonbridge Castle, madam.’
From Anne, Duchess of Buckingham, to Cecily, one-time Duchess of York
Written from Tonbridge Castle
Cecily,
It seems, my sister, that I can no longer address you as Duchess. What a humiliation for you, Cis! You have my sympathy. Marguerite is a vengeful woman, brimful of bile. My advice is not to tread further on her delicate toes.
I am informed that you are to be a long-term guest.
I will give you accommodation because I have been commanded to do so. I expect that you will be bringing your children with you. I trust that they will settle in quietly. I would not want them to disturb the running of the household or to have an adverse influence over my grandsons who are both young enough to be swayed by strong or wayward characters. I remember George being a wilful child, reluctant to accept admonishment. There was the incident of a dead chicken, as I recall, and a broken window on your last visit.
There must be no plotting on behalf of your treacherous husband under my roof.
Do not expect a friendly greeting. You should have known better than to support your husband in his stand against our rightful King.
Your aggrieved sister,
Anne
Cecily Neville to Anne, Duchess of Buckingham
From St Mary’s Priory, Coventry
I am coming to you because I have been ordered to do so and for no other reason. I have been given an escort by the Queen in case I am tempted to flee the country.
My children are always well mannered. They will be no burden on you. I recall nothing about a chicken, dead or alive.
I will be with you soon. I am ordered to travel without heraldic achievements. Nothing to denote my connection to the Duke of York or my own Neville forebears. Anonymity, it seems, is to be the order of the day. I am sure that you will work hard to achieve the same within your household. Have you decided how they will address me? Am I to play the role of a poor relation? My new income will certainly match such a role.
You will be relieved at my anonymity so that your Lancastrian neighbours do not associate your visitors with the traitors of York. It would not do for the Duchess of Buckingham to come under suspicion of conspiring with the enemy, would it?
Your sister,
Cecily
Cecily, Duchess of York, to Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk
Written from St Mary’s Priory, Coventry
My dearest daughter,
I write to you with regret. Your connection with your father’s so-called treachery has cost you dear. I am told that your husband John de la Pole has been demoted from Duke to Earl of Suffolk, merely because he is wed to you, even though he has kept clear of the military disturbances of past years. This is not a reproof of his reluctance to declare for York on the battlefield. I know that his heart is with us in our fight to remove the hostile counsellors from Henry’s Court.
You will have to become used to being a Countess rather than a Duchess. It is not too difficult. I am stripped of all titles and must not bemoan the fact.
I will be ensconced in Tonbridge Castle with your Aunt Anne for the foreseeable future. I trust that we will be kept from each other’s throats.
If you could perhaps encourage your husband John to declare for York with fire and sword rather than with mild promises, I would be very grateful. A woman has many skills, in bed and at board. Have I not taught you that, from the days of your childhood? If you are your mother’s daughter, drop wisdom in his ear and get him to do something. I know that he avoids a battle like the plague. Tell him that when York returns to England, and takes his rightful place in government, he will find the opportunity to restore the dukedom to him. There might also be financial remuneration. That might persuade him, if nothing else does! I have never known a man complain so often or so loudly of his poverty as John de la Pole. How do you tolerate it?
Your loving mother,
Cecily
Anne, Duchess of Exeter, to her mother, Cecily, Duchess of York
Written from Dartington, Devon
My dearest mother,
I have heard the news from my husband Exeter who is rejoicing at the defeat of York and Salisbury, and particularly Warwick with whom he enjoys a great enmity. This is in the manner of a warning that Exeter has been granted a commission of array to raise a force to put down my father’s rebellion. He is also smugly delighted to be appointed Constable of your much-loved castle at Fotheringhay.
I can only imagine your fury.
Is there no end to my misery in this marriage? There are some days, when he is at his most disparaging against my family, that I consider the benefit of adding the berries of Atropa Belladonna to his morning bowl of frumenty. They grow profusely in Devon.
I have not yet done so. You would be proud of the depth of patience that I have developed. I despise him, however illustrious his Holland name and forebears.
I pray for you and my father, of course. I am not as self-centred as I might appear.
Your unhappy, but resilient daughter,
Anne
England’s Chronicle, November 1459
Do our readers recall the Love Day, that marvellous celebration of reconciliation, held in London a mere year ago? When all bad blood was put to rest? When the Duke of York and his supporters made reparation for the bloody events at the Battle of St Albans? It was a momentous coup on behalf of King Henry who had visions of a heavenly peace descending on the realm.
It was the procession through the streets to St Paul’s that drew the eye.
King Henry walking alone, urbane and beaming, richly robed and crowned, jewels shining in the sun, led the way.
Behind him – can anyone forget the sight? – two by two, hand in hand, arm in arm, walked the previous foresworn enemies, smiling in complete amity. The most bitter enemies in the land forced to clasp hands in false friendship.
Such pairings! Men who would rather stick a dagger into the other’s ribs.
Somerset and Salisbury.
Exeter and Warwick.
And then, most astonishing of all, the Queen and the Duke of York, stepped formally together, hand in hand, as if in some formal Court dance.
All pomp and glamour. All lies.
Do we readily give credence to the belief that the Duke of York and his Neville allies will accept their banishment, the dread attainder? Do we think that Duchess Cecily will live comfortably without making any attempt to restore her husband to his rightful place in the realm, at King Henry’s side?
We offer you a wager if you are of a mind to take it.