The Royal Romances

The Life of a Lady

Palace of Westminster, London
December 1412

Already I can feel the change in my bones and it has only been a fortnight since my husband and I were summoned to court. This place is where the devil as well as God himself walks the halls. I am still not used to the strange Palace but the gardens are like its own oasis and have been my refuge countless times already.

When I was married, it was impossible for me to comprehend the importance my husband held or what his station truly meant. All I knew was that my father had made a good match and I did as I was told. But when I one day catch a glimpse of the Royal seal amongst our letters, I quickly find out just how important my husband is. Of course I can not speak to him about it. Since I have not done my duty, and failed to give the Duke a son, we do not communicate unless it is absolutely necessary. This often means merely a few words every other day. Frankly I am more than happy with our arrangement. I take solace in my books, my studies and of course my handmaiden Catherine. It is from her that I finally get the whole story of my husband's true importance in the world.

According to her, my husband's father served King Charles II as one of his closest advisors and did not leave the King's court until His Majesty was dead and buried. When the current King inherited the throne two years ago, he surrounded himself with many new unknown names, to several people's distaste, but also older names who had been loyal to his father. My husband belonged in the second category. And then we received our summoning to court and all of the sudden, I was asked to pack my belongings and once more leave the life I had built and adapt to a new type of uncertainty. I had just gotten used to a completely new life and accepted the fact that my home was now in Suffolk. Facing something as daunting as the English court was intimidating since I knew next to nothing about the lives of the Lords and Ladies living in this bubble. All I knew were the rumours of depraved fornication, heavy drinking and extravagant dinners. But before I arrived at the Palace I thought these rumours were all exaggerated. As I quickly was to learn, rumours are always built upon some meassure of truth.

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As the double doors swing open, I feel a peculiar quiver go through my body. All I am required to do is remain silent and let my husband speak since it is technically only his audience. I am merely by his side for decoration. A price he is obliged to show off. As he enters the room, I can see that he is not much older than me. Perhaps two or three years my senior, but not more than that. His young age does not make him any less captivating. I can tell that for me, it has the complete opposite effect. The fact that he is so young makes me even more impressed by the strength his entire being is radiating. He has striking and memorable features, dark blonde hair that curls by his ears, heavy jewels around his neck, piercing blue eyes that are staring straight at my husband, and of course the crown on his head branding him as the chosen one. The man God has selected to put on the throne of England.

"Your Majesty", we both say as we bow down in front of the King.

"Welcome back old friend."

My husband rises back up and I slowly follow. The King kisses my husband's cheek as if they are in fact old acquaintances. It appears I know nothing of my husband's life or ambitions. It scares me a little. The influence he has, all that power. What will he use it for? I try to shake the dark thoughts since I have to make myself neutral but still inviting and pleasant. A delicate balance. As the King's intense gaze suddenly falls on me, I do not know what to do or what to expect. All I can do is wait, since I can not utter a single word if I am not spoken to first.

"Your Majesty this is my wife", the Duke finally says. "This is the Duchess of Suffolk."

It is a long time since I have heard him introduce me publicly and hearing him call me his wife sounds odd. Like it is a word not meant to cross his lips. Too loving and tender for him. The King gives me a small nod of approval and almost immediately turns his head back towards my husband, who discretely waves me away. It must be time for business, conversations I will never be a part of. As I am escorted to my new chambers, I can not come to terms with the fact that I have been in the same room as the King of England. The rumours about how handsome he is are not false. Truly, I think he is even more breathtaking than people say. However, when I am back in my room I giggle when I realise that he is not as tall as I had pictured him in my vivid imagination.

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Another fortnight has passed at the Palace and my days are nearly the same as they were at my husband's estate. Except that now, every other night is a celebration for an unspecified person or cause. Otherwise it is a small dinner for at least a hundred people and I am now expected to at least pretend to be interested when other ladies speak to me about their silk gowns and imported rugs. I am getting fairly good at daydreaming in conversations and add a few "fascinating" and "I did not know that, tell me more." It appears to keep them happy and more importantly, my dear husband seems to ignore me completely if I look otherwise engaged. This doesn't stop me desperately searching for a like minded person, but these ladies and I have nothing but our titles in common and most of them are at least ten years my senior. Trying to talk to them about anything of substance is pointless. I would have better luck getting an interesting response if I was speaking to a brick wall. Surrounded by all these people, I still feel completely alone, even though the company is a welcomed distraction.

As the days in loneliness pass, I write to my father as often as possible, urging him to ask for my husband's permission for him, or anyone else in my family, to come visit me at court. When I finally receive the reply it does not contain any details of a future visit but instead bare grave news. Before he has the chance to reach 20, my poor brother has taken a bad fall, hit his head and never woken up. I cannot stop thinking of Margaret and his little girl Mary who I have never even laid eyes on. What will they do without my brother? His health has been weak for a long time but he has always managed to take care of them. The news leaves me numb and I don't know how to grieve someone I feel like I barely remember anymore.

Soon after I receive the letter, I decide that it is time to visit my husband. He has his own chambers far from mine so that he can do the King's bidding undisturbed. Neither of us has protested the arrangement. I think even my husband is a bit relieved when he does not have to visit my bed every night and can focus on his new duties, whatever they are. When I am finally granted an audience with him, I ask his permission to return home and grieve with my family. His voice is cold and he doesn't look at me.

"Don't be foolish girl, you will stay here of course."

It is the first time I can recall that he is purposefully cruel to me. It takes all my strength not to lose my temper in front of him. I know that my anger is the last thing that can change his mind, so instead I keep my head high and accept his decision with an equally cold silence.

After that day our communication consists mainly of sending servants between our chambers and every third or fourth night he crawls into my bed, still oozing of wine and old sweat. I know it is foolish but somehow I am still hoping for him to change his mind. But my hopes are in vain and day by day, I remain with my husband who thrives in this backstabbing, conniving and drunken environment. He does the King's bidding, even though I am unsure exactly what he does, and too afraid to ask him. He knows all the people who actually matter at court and has no problem fitting right in where he is supposed to be. But I have no rightful place here and everyone knows it. Many of the other lords and ladies try to be courteous but I am a nobody, of interest to no one.

Still there is one side of living at court that fascinates me. The only advantage of being a nobody is the fact that I can observe people without them noticing me. The King often attracts the attention of many people at court, including mine. He is truly a mesmerising character. Maybe it is the fact that he is the chosen one, but he has a grace and behaves in a manner which I envie, more than anything. In the simple way he moves his arm, you can tell that he is free. He is free to do as he pleases because he is King and the only one he has to answer to is God and himself. I observe his youthful rage and his growing wisdom and always mention him in my prayers. My husband is too busy drinking and bedding others to visit my bed regularly but he comes often enough and I keep praying for a child that is never conceived.

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Hey people! So happy you continued to read my story ☺️

So what do you think about this introduction to life at court?

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