Illegitimate Affair , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Caroline Newark

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142 pages

English

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It is 1372. The prince is dying, the king is in his dotage and the vultures are circling the throne. The heir is not to be the powerful duke of Lancaster but five-year-old Richard, half-brother of Alys's husband, Thomas Holand.Alys is the daughter of the earl of Arundel and does not care for her husband. She considers him dull, unambitious and a disappointment in every sense. She yearns for the young man to whom she was once betrothed. But her view of a golden past is shattered when her father dies and she learns of a monstrous deceit.Later when her husband's brother, John, is accused of murder, Alys offers to help despite her instinctive disgust at his wild and unprincipled behaviour. She has been warned of the dangers and thinks she knows how to protect herself but ultimately knows only half the story.From elegant riverside palaces to the wilds of the Yorkshire moors and a shabby upstairs room in a London tavern, An Illegitimate Affair is a tale of infidelity, deception and the true nature of love.

Sujets

Historical fiction

Historical romance

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	30 mai 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781838599454
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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By the same author
The Pearl of France
The Queen’s Spy
The Fair Maid of Kent

Copyright © 2019 Caroline Newark

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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For Richard
Contents
The Family Tree (so far)
List of Main Characters

Prologue
Woking Manor 1374
Kennington Palace 1374
Thomas Holand 1374
London 1374
Berkhamsted 1376
Arundel Castle 1376
Cousin Philippa 1376
Aunt Wake 1376
The Prince 1376
Coldharbour 1376
A Year of Waiting 1376-7
Death of a King 1377
The Uprising 1381
Queen Anne 1382
Clarendon 1384
The Road to York 1385
Wallingford Castle 1385
John Holand 1385
The Affair 1385-6
Devonshire 1386
Epilogue 1397

Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
Coming Soon
About the Author
The Family Tree (so far)
Edward the First, King of England, married in 1299 as his second wife, Marguerite, the daughter of Philip the Third, King of France, and grand-daughter of Saint Louis, and had by her issue among others, Edmund of Woodstock.

Edmund of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, Earl of Arundel married in 1325, Margaret, the daughter of Lord John Wake and widow of John Comyn, by whom he had issue among others, Joan of Kent.

Joan, the “Fair Maid of Kent”, in her own right Countess of Kent, Baroness Woodstock and Baroness Wake, married Sir Thomas Holand, Lord Holand, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, to whom she bore issue Thomas Holand .
List of Main Characters
Alys
daughter of the earl of Arundel
Fitzalan
her eldest brother
Tamkin
her youngest brother
Joan
her sister
Thomas Holand
her husband
John Holand
her brother-in-law
Maud and Johane
her sisters-in-law

The Royal Family
The king
Edward III
The prince of Wales
the king’s eldest son
Lionel (deceased)
the king’s second son
The duke of Lancaster
the king’s third son
The earl of Cambridge
the king’s fourth son
Thomas of Woodstock
the king’s youngest son
The princess
Joan, princess of Wales
Constanza
duchess of Lancaster
Isabel
countess of Cambridge
Richard
the prince’s son
Harry
the duke’s son
Philippa
Lionel’s daughter
Elizabeth
the duke’s daughter

Others
Edmund Mortimer
married to Philippa
Eleanor Clifford
Alys’s cousin
Lady Wake
Alys’s aunt
Alice Perrers
the king’s concubine
Prologue
1344
The cleric approached the stairway with a degree of caution. The entrance was recessed deep within a stone archway and even the most vigilant of men might pass by a hundred times, unaware of its existence. Clutching the candle he’d been given when they’d entered the chapel, he peered upwards into the darkness.
‘He’s expecting you,’ the old man mumbled, begrudging the late hour and the bone-chilling cold.
Treading softly, the cleric climbed the narrow steps, noticing how pale and unworn they were; this was a place seldom visited by anyone. At the top he knocked and, hearing a muffled voice from within, pushed open the heavy door.
The man he’d come to see was sitting hunched over a cup of wine.
‘Sit,’ he growled.
The cleric perched on a stool, his bowels churning, unsure as to the reason for this summons, fearing the outcome would not be to his advantage.
For a while they made desultory conversation: the weather, the roads, the king’s latest successes in Brittany. Then, with an abrupt volte-face, his host turned to the matter of family.
‘I need to be rid of her.’
The cleric shivered. This was not his province. By nature he was a peaceable man and disliked all forms of violent confrontation, especially where women were involved.
‘My lord, I do not think that is possible. She is your wife.’
‘I do not keep you to tell me what is possible but to devise ways of giving me what I want. In this particular instance I want to be a free man, one unencumbered by the fetters of matrimony.’
The man’s voice hadn’t risen beyond its natural pitch and he spoke of ridding himself of a blameless woman who’d lived beneath his roof for what – eighteen years? – as if it was nothing more than the disposal of an unwanted shoe.
‘My lord, my conscience will not permit the shedding of blood.’
‘Then do it otherwise because I tell you this: the lady is an embarrassment to me. I need her gone.’
The cleric thought rapidly, trying to remember what he knew of the indissolubility of the marriage bond. He needed someone with more learning in these matters because insufficient knowledge would surely prove his downfall. At Oxford they’d told him his old teacher had slipped into retirement, eager to begin work on his great chronicle. Not far from the royal castle at Windsor, they’d said. Some small country living. Wraysbury? Yes, that was it – Wraysbury. Posed as a theoretical puzzle, one sufficiently complex to excite his interest, Murimuth might be persuaded to help.
He began tentatively, weighing each word with care, not wanting to promise what could not be delivered. ‘There might be a way, my lord, but it would be difficult. And costly,’ he added.
The man gave a ghost of a smile. ‘I wondered when you churchmen would start talking money. How much?’
‘I do not know, my lord.’
‘Then I suggest you find out.’
The cleric moved figures around in his head but to no avail.
‘Would the king lend support should it prove necessary, my lord?’
The man’s hooded eyes narrowed to two black slits. ‘Why would it be necessary?’
The cleric swallowed and wished himself away and in his bed, anywhere but here in this cold, airless room in the company of a man with murder in mind.
‘I fear this is beyond the scope of the bishops. It would be a matter for the Holy Father.’
‘Clement’s as venal as any man.’
The cleric held his tongue, remembering that this man owned him body if not soul and he sometimes feared the lesser part had been given to God.
‘And the king, my lord?’
The man gave a short laugh. ‘He’s in my debt. He’ll be no trouble.’
The cleric gathered his cloak around him, a sudden need for the half-remembered warmth of another’s closeness.
‘My lord?’
‘Yes?’
‘What of your son?’
The eyes widened a fraction and the man looked his visitor full in the face.
‘I have no son.’
1
Woking Manor 1374
There were some who believed the day ill-omened from the start. They whispered of blood in the sky and a muster of crows circling low above the village churchyard. Being a rational woman, I refused to give credence to this superstitious nonsense although I did admit to a feeling of unease at the raucous cawing of that whirling black mass of feathered creatures.
‘Devil’s warning,’ remarked the steward, crossing himself and muttering darkly of witchcraft.
One of the maids began to whimper.
‘Oh be quiet!’ I said irritably.
I refused to accept these natural occurrences as portents of disaster but if I’d paid more attention to them, or to the earthenware bowl lying shattered on the floor of the dairy, I might have been forewarned. As it was, nothing prepared me for the unwelcome sight of my brother riding into the courtyard. He was accompanied by six men and arrived like the commander of a small invading army, mud and orders flying in all directions, his horse scattering dogs and people and chickens.
My first thought was to bar the door and have the servants say I was away from home. But I quickly d