The Royal Romances

The Invitation

February 1413

At a merry celebration of a truly forgettable cause, everyone I have and had not met yet gathers at the Palace. There are more meat pies, wine and ale than I have ever seen in the great hall and nearly every single person is on their feet, dancing like there is no tomorrow.

Life has improved much since I sent for my tutor. By some miracle my husband has allowed him to stay and I am deep into my Latin studies which I find captivating. I would probably enjoy tonight more if I sat next to anyone but my husband. Tonight he has decided not to eat and instead only drink ale and some more ale on top of that. He is waving his large arms around, screaming at the top of his lungs about something I do not understand. In a way I envy the liberty he posses in how he can drink and swear during a gathering, amongst strangers, without anyone looking at him strangely. I cannot imagine the shame I would bring on my husband if I behaved in anyway similar to how he is acting. My complete lack off power makes me feel even more powerless. It is like a vicious circle. All I can do now is sit next to my buffon of a husband and smile politely at anyone who looks at me, which luckily are not that many people. Most of them are busy actually enjoying themselves.

After what feels like the tenth cup of ale, foam starts to gather in my husband's beard and I want nothing more than to lock myself in my bedchamber and never let him in again. The mere sight of him makes me want to vomit. Another two ales and more foam down his shirt later, my husband decides that now is the time to be cordial. We greet all the important people whose names I never seem to remember, and yet again, I smile, nod and remain silent since nobody is interested in talking to me. They all want to spend their time conversing with the charming, intoxicated Duke of Suffolk.

"William!" someone calls out from across the room, and then hurries over to shake my husband's hand.

"Harry long time, long time", my husband staggers out.

They appear to be around the same age except for the fact that Harry, whomever he is, looks like he was handsome once upon a time. He is still standing tall while my husband is slouching and Harry does not look like an old drunk, but a man who has taken care of himself. His face is covered in wrinkles but his dark hair is barely grey and he has a firm gaze that makes him look years younger than my husband. The two men keep talking for a few minutes without anything registering with me, except from the fact that this Harry appears to be the Duke of Gloucester, which explains why he would be acquainted with my husband. All of the sudden the Duke's eyes turn to me and he smiles. It looks sincere enough.

"This must be your new wife."

My husband glances at me with a look that tells me that he once again has forgotten that I am standing right next to him.

"Yes, yes, this is the Duchess", he says while his gaze begins to wander, probably in pursuit of more ale.

"It is a true pleasure to meet you, Your Grace", the Duke says after he kisses my hand and laughs. "You are a precious thing aren't you? No need to curtsy dear. This is my son Edmund. I think you are about the same age."

This Edmund person has been standing mute next to his father just like I have been standing silent next to my husband but now he steps forward to be next in line to kiss my hand.

"A pleasure to meet you Duchess."

He is still holding my hand, now getting warm from his touch, and staring into my eyes. He looks like a younger, more handsome version of his father. He has short dark hair, brown eyes that look like they are full of life and so very kind, and a big mouth with narrow lips that now smiles at me.