Jean Plaidy Read Online Free Page B

entirely. More news came. Margaret had escaped and had arrived at Berwick with her son: she was well and ready to fight another day.
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    Having seen the magnificent Edward, I wanted to know more of him and his family, and Richard was not averse to telling me about them, which surprised me, he being so reticent about most things. But he was very proud of his family.
    I said, “I thought your brother, the king, was all that you said of him.”
    That pleased him, of course, and put him into a communicative mood.
    â€œI have another brother, too,” he said. “George. He is almost as wonderful as Edward…only just not quite. And I have a sister Margaret. She is a wonderful person.”
    â€œHow lucky to have so many brothers and a sister when I only have Isabel.”
    â€œThere were seven of us,” he said. “Four boys and three girls.”
    â€œSeven! Quite a large family.”
    â€œLarge families are good to have.”
    â€œSometimes there can be too many sons who claim the throne,” I said, remembering my mother’s words.
    He ignored that and went on: “It is those about my own age whom I saw most of. My brother Edmund was with my father when he was killed at Wakefield.” His voice shook a little. I doubted he would ever forget that terrible event. “Then I had two sisters, Anne and Elizabeth. They were sent away to be brought up in some other noble house. Edward and Edmund were at Ludlow. I stayed at Fotheringay with the younger ones George and Margaret. George is three years older than I. My brother made him Duke of Clarence when he made me Duke of Gloucester.”
    â€œTell me about George and Margaret.”
    â€œGeorge is very handsome and everybody loves him.”
    â€œAs tall and handsome as Edward?”
    â€œOh, not quite. Nobody could be. But he is very good-looking and clever.”
    â€œAnd Margaret?”
    â€œShe is three years older than George.”
    â€œAnd beautiful, I suppose.”
    â€œYes, she is very beautiful.”
    â€œBut not as beautiful as Edward.”
    â€œNot quite.”
    I laughed. “It is always ‘not quite.’”
    â€œWell, although they are very handsome, they are…”
    â€œâ€¦not quite as perfect as the king.”
    â€œIf you are going to laugh at my family, I shall not tell you any more about them.”
    â€œI was not laughing. I was only admiring. Please tell me some more.”
    â€œWell, what do you want to know?”
    â€œI want to hear about when you were a very little boy.”
    â€œMy father was always away from home fighting.”
    â€œFathers always are.”
    â€œMy mother was often with him.”
    â€œWhat is your mother like?” I stopped myself from saying, “Beautiful, of course, though not quite so beautiful as Edward.” But I restrained myself. I did not want to anger him. He was rational about most things, though perhaps taking a somewhat morose view of life, he was fanatically devoted to his family and appeared to consider all the members of it far above ordinary mortals.
    â€œMy mother is truly beautiful,” he said. “When she was young she was known as the Rose of Raby. She and my father were devoted to each other and she traveled with him whenever it was possible. She could not be with him in battle, naturally, but often when he was fighting, she would be somewhere near, so that she could see him often.”
    â€œAnd she had all those children?”
    He nodded. “We were all in awe of her…more so than we were of our father. Edward is very like her…in looks, and George perhaps more so. He was Margaret’s favorite. I used to wish that I were. Margaret was very kind to us both but it was clear that she loved George best. He was always doing something that was forbidden and although she used to scold him she would make excuses for him and she always told him