Virgin Widow by Anne O'Brien

were my friend.’ He spoke to me as a brother to a younger sister, but still it pleased me. I was rarely admitted to such intimacy.
    ‘I am. Come with me, now. Margery has a salve that will bring out the bruise and give you some ease. She will stitch your jacket too.’
    ‘You should do it for your impertinence.’ Giving the horse a final pat, he gathered up the empty bowl and the unused bandages. ‘What will she say when she sees your hair?’ At last a true smile creased his lean cheeks.
    ‘She will be cross. So will Bessie.’ I sighed at the prospect of further punishment even as I accepted it as a price to pay to restore the closeness between us.I had learned one painful lesson. I must learn to guard my tongue. Richard might appear immune to the spurious gossip spread by adherents to Lancaster to hurt and maim, but he was not, and it would be a heartless friend who opened the wound. Richard Plantagenet had a surprising vulnerability.
    I was not heartless and I would be his friend.

Chapter Three
    M ARRIAGE began to loom interestingly on the Neville front.
    In the following year my father was absent more often than he was present. The household continued to keep its usual efficient order with the Countess at the head of affairs, but she missed him, and as I grew I sensed that something out of the way was afoot. Sometimes it was difficult for her to smile; she rarely laughed. At dinner when she sat in place of honour I could see, when I dragged my thoughts from my own concerns, that she picked at the dishes presented to her. She was pale and I think did not sleep well.
    ‘Where is he? Is my father at Calais?’ I would ask my mother. The Earl was often called upon to be there to oversee the defence of this most important possession on the coast of Europe.
    ‘No. The King has sent him to France again.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘To make an alliance between our two countries.’
    ‘Will it be good for us?’
    ‘Yes. Your father thinks so.’
    ‘Why does he not sign with France, in the King’s name? Then he could come home.’
    My mother’s brow knitted. ‘Because, my inquisitive daughter, King Edward is not in agreement. He would prefer an arrangement with Burgundy, rather than France.’
    ‘Is he arranging my betrothal?’ This was Isabel. At sixteen years Isabel was of an age or more to be wed or at least promised in a betrothal. So far no arrangement had been made, a matter that was not to her liking.
    ‘Yes. I think it is in my lord’s mind.’ A caustic reply for so celebratory an event.
    ‘Will it be a foreign lord? Will I have to live beyond the Channel?’ Isabel was relentless. For a moment, she looked doubtful at leaving home and family so far behind. Then her expression brightened again as if marriage to a foreign prince would please her mightily.
    ‘I’m not certain.’
    ‘Oh. Will Father tell me when he returns?’
    ‘He might—if his plans have progressed so far.’ The Countess’s brief smile held a wisp of dry humour. ‘Don’t worry, Isabel. I am sure it will be a match made in heaven.’
    But in spite of this amusement at Isabel’s dreaming of a handsome knight, there was some issue here. Mymother’s expression became even more strained, a thin line of worry between her brows as she made an excuse of a word with the steward to leave the supper table. Isabel was too intent on her future glory as a bride, but I knew that the Countess was deliberately selective with her opinions. Or perhaps she herself was uncertain of the Earl’s intentions.
    At least she had given me some ammunition.
    ‘I thought you would be much sought after,’ I needled. ‘No one appears to be rushing to our door to claim your hand.’
    ‘I shall be sought after. You’re too young to know anything about it.’
    ‘You’ll soon be too old. Fit only for a convent.’
    ‘I shall marry one of the greatest in the land.’ She was, to my delight, crosser by the minute. ‘Do you think the Earl of Warwick will allow his