The King's Mistress by Emma Campion

mother.”
    “No one wishes to speak of my mother, and yet she is at the center of everything that is happening to me. Even the Lady Isabella perceives that. I am sent from my own home because of Mother’s response to our betrothal. Do you think this has been as nothing to me?”
    “It is your parents who should explain.”
    “And if they will not? It colors everything for me, Janyn. I yearn to be happy, but I fear that there is some hidden threat to our joy.”
    He took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair, a gesture of discomfort that I had not witnessed in him before. Perhaps my seeming unkindness was in truth a way to evoke a response from him.
    “I had thought to speak of this after we were wed.” He’d sat back down on the bed, his hands limp on his thighs, head lowered. “I was selfish. Fearful lest you choose your mother over me.”
    I thought I would be a great fool to do so. But I said nothing. I needed to hear what he had to say.
    “Your mother is an unhappy woman, Alice, and she blames others, never herself, for her unhappiness. She expected your father to lift her out of her darksome moods, and when he did not, she began to resent him. She punished him by telling him that another husband would have been able to save her.”
    “Yes, she could speak in such wise to my father. And being the good man that he is, he would suffer it without complaint to others.”
    “He is a good man and a kind friend,” said Janyn, “but Dame Margery does not see beyond her own hunger. She does not see that she has been blessed with a loving husband and a good life. She has instead poisoned her life. She has taunted your father by favoring his friends in ways meant to embarrass him and inflict pain.”
    “And you were one of those men?” I guessed it by the sting of his words, the pain in his voice.
    “To my great discomfort, yes.”
    “I overheard my grandparents say she is jealous of me. Did she love you?”
    “Perhaps she told herself that she loved me, but she knows nothing of my heart or soul, Alice. I think it far more likely that she envies you the life she imagines you leading in my household, more exciting than hers, more gowns, more jewels.”
    I could not argue with his depiction of my mother, but sensed him holding his breath, hoping he’d said enough to satisfy me.
    “That is why you avoided our home?”
    He grasped my hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Yes. Margery desired me, Alice, and she assumed that I desired her.”
    “Did you ever love her, Janyn?”
    To his credit and my immense relief he did not rush to respond, but looked inward, remembering. He slowly, sadly shook his head.
    “She is a beautiful woman, and she knows how to give a man her full attention so that his heart warms to her. I have no doubt that I made a fool of myself praising her when I first beheld her. But it took little time for me to understand that she has nothing to give—she sucks the life from all who love her, and hoards that love, giving nothing in return. I thank God that I was never such a fool as to fall in love with her.” He looked into my eyes. “You need have nothing more to do with her, my love. No one would expect you to do so after her unnatural behavior toward you.” He reached out and pulled me close, holding me in what felt to me a fiercely protective embrace. “I pray that you believe me.”
    It explained all the secrets my parents had kept from me regarding our betrothal. “Now that I know why they behaved so, I am no longer afraid.”
    “Do you regret pledging yourself to me, Alice?”
    “No. You need never doubt me.”
    He held me close for a moment, and I felt his heart pounding. When he released me I stepped back and took a deep breath.
    “Will I meet the dowager queen?” I asked.
    Janyn seemed relieved by the shift in subject. “You shall, and very soon. She will be on progress to London shortly after we are wed, and as she is most eager to meet you she will pause for the night