Red and White: A Tale of the Wars of the Roses

by Emily Sarah Holt

"O Annis, hast come back?—hast come back!"

Lord Marnell was up in an instant, his wife warmly embracing her step-daughter, and Dorathie clinging to her as though she had not seen her for a life-time. Agnes returned the greetings as warmly as they were given, and when all the kisses and blessings were over, presented John Combe.

There was a cordial welcome for Queen Marguerite's henchman at Lovell Tower, and he was of course desired to remain there as long as it suited his convenience. Any thing less would have been very rude in the eyes of the fifteenth century. Agnes had a shrewd suspicion that Lovell Tower was the real destination of the guest, and that before he left that place he would find that a little private conversation with Lord Marnell was the thing that suited his convenience. She was not mistaken. Before John Combe had stayed a fortnight at Lovell Tower, Agnes and Dorathie were informed by their mother that they were henceforward to regard that gentleman in the light of a brother-in-law elect. Agnes received with a quiet smile the communication which she had been expecting; Dorathie with ecstatic excitement an idea entirely new to her.

"But"—she suddenly exclaimed, ceasing her transports—"will Frid have to go away, or stay away? Won't she come home?"

"She will come home first, surely," answered her mother, "for she will be wed from hence: afterward, Master Combe hath some desire to dwell in this vicinage, though if it shall be compassed I yet know not."

"Oh, how jolly should that be!" cried Dorathie, "to have Frid but a step off, and run in and out!"

Lady Margery laughed. "A good step, I take it, my little maid. Howbeit, I trust thou mayest have thy wish."

It was on that very evening that Maurice Carew, who had been to York on business, came in with an important piece of news. The Princess of Wales was found. Found, by the man whom she most dreaded, in the guise of a cookmaid, at a "mean house" in the City of London,—dragged out from her seclusion, and placed under the care of her uncle, Archbishop Neville, with permission to hold intercourse with Queen Marguerite,—the only kindness that could be done to that lonely, widowed, orphan girl. Of all the quarrels that had ever taken place between Clarence and Gloucester, the worst ensued upon this point. The royal family went to Shene on the sixteenth of February "to pardon," but little pardon was in the hearts of the brothers, who were quarrelling all the way. The King, with whom Gloucester was always the favourite, tried to persuade Clarence to more amiability: but all the concession that could be wrung from the latter was—

"He may well have my Lady my sister-in-law, but she and my wife shall part no livelihood!"

In other words, Clarence did not care how soon the Princess married, so long as she remained a portionless bride, and the Warwick property was left undivided to his children. To do Gloucester credit—the rather since little credit can be done him—he does not seem to have been anxious about the property at that time. It was Anne herself whom he wanted: and he was astute enough to see that if he once got hold of her, the property could be agitated for at leisure.