Royal Mistress by Anne Easter Smith

front door, and she smiled shyly. Caught off guard, William smiled back.
    “Mistress Shore, may I escort you in for dinner,” he said, formally. Then he added quietly, “It pleases me that I have taken you to wife, Jane. I trust you, too, are content.”
    William had recited his vows with as much feeling as he might have discussed the weather, but Jane had been glad that he did look at her when he said them, and she took heart that he meant to keep them. He had put a fine band of gold upon her finger, intricately ornamented with carved roses, and had put his lips on hers to seal the bargain with good grace, she thought.
    “Quite content, William,” she answered him, hoping that this unusual unbending might lead to an easier union as husband and wife than there had been in their courtship. She went into the house happier than when she had left it an hour earlier and sought out Sophie and her Jehan, who had been invited to share the feast. Jehan openly ogled her, infuriating Jane, and she managed to steal Sophie away from him by saying she needed her friend’s help up in her chamber. Unperturbed, Jehan went in search of food.
    Despite her pregnancy, Sophie was able to negotiate the narrow staircase to the top floor and followed Jane into the wide loft bedchamber.
    “What now?” Jane asked in desperation, turning and grasping Sophie’s hands. She could feel the calluses on the silkwoman’s thumb and index finger, and Jane was glad she was a weaver and not a spinner.
    “Oh, Jane,” Sophie said, amused, her plain face lightened by a smile. “You vill vait in bed for Villiam to come to you and if you can, make certain you blow out all the candles.” Jane was used to Sophie’s endearing use of a v for a w in her speech. It was the only vestige left of her Flemish parents’ heavily accented English. “ ’Tis not so bad in the dark.”
    Jane was not comforted by this, and she pulled off the chaplet, its blossoms wilting, and flung it on her dower chest. “But will heknow what to do? Why, he only kissed me for the first time at the church door.” Sophie picked up the chaplet and, uncomfortable with idle fingers, began to rework the garland. Jane watched her friend as she imagined her in bed with Jehan. It cannot only be a duty, she concluded, there must be something more to it or poets would not write about it nor singers sing their ballads. Once, when she had felt a youth’s hardness pressing through her skirts, a surge of desire had enveloped her that had made her moan. She also knew from a young age that touching herself in her private place would send pleasurable waves through her whole body. Perhaps her friend had obeyed the church teachings about such activity and Sophie did not know.
    She propped herself up on her elbow. “I suppose I cannot refuse to take him to my bed, can I?” she groused. And then she smiled. “Forgive me, Sophie, but I keep wondering how someone as tall as William will manage with someone as small as me.”
    Sophie laughed. “Take courage, Jane. It means you need only look at his feeble chest and you do not need to look him in the eye.”
    That amused Jane all the more, and the two friends fell into each other’s arms laughing.

THREE

C OLEMAN S TREET , L ATE S UMMER AND A UTUMN 1475
    N othing could have prepared Jane for what happened on her wedding night. Try as he might, and Jane was kind and gentle with him, William Shore was unable to fulfill his duty to her as a husband on that occasion nor in the weeks that followed. Even more puzzling to the new bride was his nonchalance about his impotence. At first she was quiet and understanding as he fumbled with her breasts and tried to become aroused. After many failed attempts, she had taken matters into her own hands and attempted to seduce him, using her natural instincts to try, in vain, to bring him to climax. She was astonished at her own talent, having had no teacher, and she found herself so ready to be taken—even by