I fear you would not find a welcome here.
If you could tolerate her, it might be best to cut your losses and go south to Kent and beg sister Anne’s charity. Humphrey might be a King’s man but he is the most equable and honest man I know. And of course we must allow Anne some compassion, losing her son so tragically last year when they must have hoped the wounds suffered at St Albans had healed. I suppose that she will always lay the blame for her son’s death at the door of York.
Do keep me informed of your predicament.
I suggest that you say nothing to your eldest daughter Anne, to forestall any sensitive information from reaching her despicable husband’s ears. But you know this, of course, and must eternally regret the marriage that united her with Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter. The Hollands never were trustworthy. I suppose his willingness to support the Lancastrians was not then an issue, and his close relationship with the King as his cousin would have seemed highly desirable when we were all at peace. I know that York dipped well into his coffers to buy that marriage.
Poor Anne, saddled with Exeter as a husband.
But back to your problems.
If you are persuaded to go to Coventry I could arrange to meet with you there for some support, particularly against the Queen. I expect John Beaumont will be more than vocal against you and yours in the parliament.
I will happily thwart him and argue your case of innocence and wifely duty. Which are traits that John has never witnessed in me.
Your loving sister,
Katherine
Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham, to Cecily, Duchess of York
Written from Coventry
Cecily,
Events move on apace. Henry, as we expected, summoned a parliament to meet here in St Mary’s Priory. It had more to do with Queen Marguerite’s desire to stamp her will on the situation than Henry’s muddled plans for the future. Sometimes it is impossible to know what he thinks and hopes for.
The outcome is no surprise. Those with a voice to raise against York and the Nevilles did so, loudly and viciously, with the result that the whole of your family – the Duke of York, the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Warwick and your two young sons, March and Rutland – are all attainted. Their lives are under threat if they ever fall into the hands of Marguerite and her supporters, their lands are confiscated to the use of the crown. If they return, they will die.
In effect you are now homeless, penniless, powerless: wife of a traitor.
The Queen has achieved your legal and financial ruin. You are stripped of everything: estates, honours and dignities.
I know that this will hurt you. You once had a close and loving relationship with the young woman who has since become bellicose and vengeful. Sadly the atmosphere in this parliament has erupted into one of vicious family division. Viscount Beaumont, your brother by law and one-time fervent supporter of York, was one of those most outspoken in the destruction of York and the Nevilles. It is no surprise that parliament is named the Parliament of Devils.
I have no notion whether King Henry agreed with this wholesale condemnation of his cousin of York. Whether he did or not, whether it was Marguerite’s guiding hand, or even the malign influence of Somerset, Henry’s royal seal was put to it.
The immediate anxiety for you is whether you will be attainted, too. If you are branded traitor, what will be the future for your three youngest children? Your household, tenants and retainers also deserve your immediate consideration. They will suffer for their loyalty to the House of York unless you grasp your duty to them.
Get yourself here to Coventry. Put on your finery as Duchess of York, jog the King’s memory of the Love Day parade, and remind him of your royal blood. I’ll do what I can for you, but as you know full well, my loyalties remain with Lancaster. I will not desert my fealty to the King.
You can’t stay in Ludlow behind your walls in the face of this disaster.
Your concerned brother by law,
Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham
Duchess Cecily’s intercession to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Hail Mary, full of Grace, Our Lord is with thee.
Holy Virgin, guide my steps. Give your blessing to my decisions. Soothe my fears.
Keep safe my beloved Richard and my sons. And my brother and nephew.
You are the only source of help in this time of need.
What do I do?
I know it will entail much bending of the knees and a severe attack on my dignity. It is, I suspect, the price I must pay. I must accept the blame showered by the Queen on my bent head. Better that than an axe to my neck.
In gracious thanks for your mercy,
Amen
To Henry, his most noble grace, my Sovereign Lord the King, from his unworthy subject Cecily, Duchess of York
Written from Ludlow Castle
I regret, your grace, the terrible rift that has opened up between our families.
I ask permission to approach you to beg mercy, for myself and all those dear to me who would profess their sworn allegiance.
I call on the Plantagenet blood that binds us together.
Your most loyal subject,
Cecily, Duchess of York
Henry, King of England, to Cecily, Duchess of York
Written from St Mary’s Priory, Coventry
To Cecily, my well-loved cousin,
We will be pleased to welcome you here at our Court in Coventry, small as it is.
I have tender memories of the past, when you and your family were the counsellors to whom I turned, before the sad circumstances that afflict us at present.
I will listen to your plea for mercy and respond as you would hope.
You need not fear for your own safety or that of your young children whom you may bring with you. You will be made welcome and given suitable accommodation.
Henry
Marguerite, Princess of Anjou, Queen of England, to Cecily, Duchess of York
Madam,
My lord Henry and I have spoken of this together. He will be guided by me, whatever the tone of his reply to you.
What is it that you require from us? There can be no mercy for Richard, Duke of York. Nor for Salisbury or Warwick. Their flight is true evidence of their guilt. The same applies to your sons.
Did they not raise arms against us? Will the fair realm of England be forever torn apart by York and his minions?
Do not mention the fiasco of the Love Day in my hearing.
Unless you can deliver the guilty menfolk of your family, and particularly your husband, into our hands I see no value for your journey to Coventry.
Where is Duke Richard? I expect that you will say that you do not know. I find it hard to believe that you have not had word of him. Where are your sons? Unless we deal with them now in their early years, they too will grow to be traitors to the realm.
What a troublesome family you have, Duchess Cecily.
Unless you can bring them to royal justice, you will not be welcome. You will put your own freedom in jeopardy if you come to my lord’s Court at Coventry. If he has offered you safety in your travelling, I would advise you that he is not in a position to guarantee it.
I neither expect nor need a reply to these instructions.
Marguerite, Queen of England
Cecily, Duchess of York, to Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham
Written from Ludlow Castle
Dear Humphrey,
I dare not travel to Coventry.
I confess to you, where I would not speak of it elsewhere, to cowardice. I see no hope from Marguerite who regards me as some species of vermin, warning me against travelling. She has developed a surfeit of Angevin pride of late, although perhaps it was always there, waiting to emerge.