The Duke was delighted to inform her that his son Henry, Earl of Derby, had fallen in love with her sister Mary. There was no one he would rather see married to his son. He had therefore given his consent to the marriage, for he could see no reason why the young people should be denied their happiness. Thomas was away but he hoped she would make all speed to his Palace of the Savoy where the marriage was to be celebrated without delay.

She could not believe this. It was impossible. It was a nightmare. She was dreaming!

Mary to be married! The child was not yet eleven years old. How could she marry at such an age! Of course it was Mary's fortune Lancaster wanted. The avaricious scheming rogue!

Mary was too young for marriage. She was going to protest. Oh, why was not Thomas here!

Yet what could Thomas do if he were here? Lancaster was Mary's guardian. Lancaster was the elder brother. It was said that Lancaster was the most powerful man in the country for poor King Richard counted for little. And he had taken advantage of the fact that Mary was away from Pleshy.

*The scheming devil I * she cried.

She was helpless. Unable to leave her bed.

They had planned this. Was Arundel in it? Thomas would never forgive them. There would be murder between those brothers one day.

She should never have let Mary go to Arundel. She should have seen what was coming. She might have known ...

She read the letter again. Henry and Mary in love! She sneered in fury. Henry was in love indeed and so was Lancaster. In love with Mary's fortune.

That was at the root of the matter. It was Mary's money they wanted. It was Mary's money they all wanted.

'Oh Mary, you little fool,' she cried, 'why did you not go into your convent?'

Clenching and unclenching her fists she lay in her bed.

The midwife came in and shook her head. 'My lady, you need rest. You must be calm. It is necessary to your good health.'

She felt limp and exhausted.

She had gained a child—a girl child and lost a fortune.

Mary was bewildered. There was no time to think very much about anything but the approaching wedding. She was in a state of blissful happiness, but the rapidity with which everything was happening could not fail to make her feel somewhat bemused. She had expected betrothal but not this hurried wedding. It was not that she had any doubts about her love for Henry. She wanted to marry him; but she had naturally thought that in view of their ages they would wait for a year at least.

But no, said the Duke of Lancaster. They would have this happy matter settled without delay. Henry wanted it. She wanted it. And the Duke wanted their happiness.

In the circumstances he thought it wise that the ceremony should take place at his Palace of the Savoy. It would be simpler than having it at Cole Harbour which he believed was an uncomfortable draughty place.

Mary confirmed that this was so. 'There is Pleshy,' she suggested.

The Duke said hastily that he thought the Savoy would be more suitable.

*It is one of our homes,' he said, 'and one particularly dear to me. After the ceremony you and Henry can go to Hertford or Leicester or perhaps Kenilworth. I think Henry will want to show you Kenilworth. I believe it to be his favourite of all our castles.'

Mary said she would be pleased to go wherever Henry wished, which made the great Duke take her hand, kiss it and declare that Henry was indeed lucky to have found such a bride.

They were wonderful days. She and Henry rode together through the forest. He told her of how he hoped to stand beside his father and bring glory back to England. He seemed to her so knowledgeable of the world. He was on intimate terms with the King. 'We're cousins,' he said, 'and of an age. Three years ago we recei\'ed the Order of the Garter together. That was when the old King was alive. It was just before he died. He was a sick old man then. I remember him as little else, but people say that when he was young he was goodly to look on. Then he was a faithful husband and a strong King.'

She loved to hear of these matters many of which she had heard discussed at Pleshy but they seemed more colourful and exciting coming from Henry. Or it may have been that as his wife she would have her part to play in them.

He talked of Alice Ferrers, the loose woman of whom the old King had become enamoured. She had bewitched him and robbed him and had even started to do so before Good Queen Philippa died.

*I shall be faithful to you for ever, sweet Mary/ vowed Henry.

She swore that she would be true to him.

They were idyllic days.

But there was one small fear which had started in her mind. She had overheard women talking as women will—and all the talk at Arundel was of the coming marriage.

'Oh 'tis a wonderful marriage. The best for the little Lady Mary. Why young Henry is the cousin of the King and the grandson of great Edward and the son of the great John of Gaunt. How much higher could she go than that... lest it was the King himself?'

'But she is so young. Are they going to put them to bed together ... Two children like that.'

'The Earl of Derby is not so young. He's rising fifteen. I

have known boys of that age give a good account of themselves and I'll swear young Henry is no exception.'

*I was thinking of the Lady Mary/

Talk like that disturbed her; and it was not once that she was aware of these allusions.

Henry noticed that she was disturbed and she told him why.

He was all concern. Yes, there was that side to marriage but she need not fear. He knew what must be done and she could leave it to him. 'You see, because of who I am we have to get children. We want sons.'

1 always w^anted children,' she told him. 'That was one of the reasons why I hesitated about going into the convent.'

^Always remember that I saved you from that.' He laughed at her fears. 'Nay, there is nothing to fear. You will like well what must be done. I promise you that. We'll have lusty sons. How will you like that?'

She would like it very well, she told him. And she wondered why the women had tut-tutted and looked grave.

Whatever she had to do with Henry would be good, she was sure.

They sang together; they played chess; and she was fitted for the most splendid garments she had ever had. It was exhilarating until the messenger came from Pleshy with a letter from Eleanor. It was clearly written in a rage. Eleanor could not understand what had happened to her little sister whom she had always thought to be a saint in the making. How mistaken she had been for it was now disclosed that Mary was deceitful in the extreme. She had pretended to want the religious life, when all the time she was nothing more than a wanton. She had betrothed herself to Henry of Derby without consulting her sister. 'After all we have done for you, Thomas and I,' wrote Eleanor, 'you treat us like this. I am deeply wounded. I beg of you stop this folly and come back to Pleshy. Here we will talk out these matters. We will see what it means. Why do you think John of Lancaster is so eager for this match? If you had been some girl without a fortune do you think Henry of Bolingbroke would have been so eager to marry you ... ?'

Mary paused and thought: Had I been I should never have met him in this way. It was because I was staying at Arundel with my uncle and aunt that I did.

I

*It is clear to me that it is your fortune which makes this marriage into the house of Lancaster so attractive to them,' went on Eleanor's letter.

And, thought Mary, it is my fortune that makes you so eager for me to go into a convent that I may resign my share for you. Oh dear! How I wish I were indeed a penniless girl!

That was foolish. Eleanor was right. John of Gaunt was pleased because of her fortune. It was different with Henry. She was sure he would have loved her whoever she was. But the marriage was welcomed because of the money. She was not so unworldly that she did not know that.