It was about three weeks after Henry had left that Jacqueline of Bavaria arrived and the peace of Windsor was broken; one cannot say that it was shattered exactly, but it was ruffled.
Jacqueline was a disturbing person; moreover, she was filled with resentment against life.
I remembered her slightly from the old days when I had seen her once or twice, for she had been my sister-in-law, having been married briefly to my brother Jean.
She had gone back to her birthplace, Bavaria, when Jean had died, for she was the daughter of the Count of Hainault, Holland and Zealand and Margaret of Burgundy, sister of Jean the Fearless, the murdered Duke.
When her father died, she had inherited all his lands and had married the Duke of Brabant, who was her cousin and also a cousin of Philip, Duke of Burgundy. However, her uncle, at one time Bishop of Liège and known as John the Pitiless, had usurped her possessions, having tricked her second husband, the weak Duke of Brabant, into signing them away.
As a result she was in exile and had been given refuge in England, where she was treated with great respect. This might have been partly due to her connection with me, for I suppose the Queen’s former sister-in-law could not have been denied a haven.
I said to Guillemote: “We must be patient with her. We must let her talk of her wrongs. It helps her. She has suffered so much. Imagine being an exile…and robbed of one’s inheritance. She is just about three months older than I.”
“She looks years older,” said Guillemote.
“She certainly looks experienced,” added Joanna Courcy.
“One would expect her to be after having had two husbands,” said Agnes.
“I remember her…just a little,” I told them. “She came to France when she was married to my brother Jean. He was Dauphin for a while.”
“She reckoned she would be Queen of France,” said Guillemote.
“Well, she might have been…had he lived. But he died, as my brother Louis had before him.”
“Two Dauphins…to die,” said Joanna Belknap. “How very sad…and strange.”
There was silence. I knew what they were thinking. I had thought it myself many times. It was suspicious…and my mother had liked neither of them. But did she like my brother Charles any more? For a few moments I was back in that unhappy past; my mother exerting her power over us all; my father shut away in darkness. Michelle was happy, I believed, with Burgundy, but how did it feel to live with the fact that her brother had been in the plot which had resulted in the death of her husband’s father? Marie was the only one who had found peace, in her convent. Charles…poor little baby brother…had lost his throne and was now trying to regain it. The Duke of Clarence had died because of that.
But I had escaped. I was the fortunate one. Here I was, happy at Windsor…awaiting the greatest event of my life. I must forget the past. I was beginning to. It was only now and then, on occasions like this, that it was brought back vividly to me.
Jacqueline was often in my company. I supposed she thought that, in view of the family connection between us, I should have her with me. She talked on and on about her grievances and I would feign to listen sympathetically while my thoughts were elsewhere. Would the child be a girl after all? I wondered. A little girl would be delightful, but of course it must be a boy. Henry wanted a boy. The country wanted a boy. The bells would peal out and everything that had gone before would be worthwhile because of this child.
Jacqueline was saying: “Of course, what they all wanted was Hainault, Holland, Zealand and Friesland. They were mine. That is why they were so eager to have me.”
I looked at her. She was quite comely; but there was something mildly repellant about her. It is due to what she has suffered, I told myself.
“They were ambitious for me,” she went on. “Both my mother and my father. It was a great blow to my father that I was not a boy. How highly men rate their own sex.”
I agreed. “It is because men lead other men into battle,” I said. “People always want war…or conquests. I do not think they like it overmuch when it goes against them. But for war, Henry would be here now. We had to marry to make a harmonious union between our two countries. But for war my father could have remained King and Charles would have followed him peacefully. But they had to make war, and what men would want a woman to lead them? When you come to think of it, what woman would want to lead them? That is why they always want boys.”
“If Jean had lived …”
“What if Jean had lived? Do you think Jean would have been able to stand out against Henry? Jean, less than any, wanted the crown.”
“They would not let me remain a widow for long,” she was saying.
“And you were not happy with your second marriage?” I asked perfunctorily, because I knew the answer already.
“How dared they marry me to such a weakling!”
“Well, he is your own cousin and therefore cousin to Philip of Burgundy.”
“He is a fool. He allowed my wicked uncle to rob us of our estates.”
“Money! Power! It seems there is always conflict where they exist. Oh, Jacqueline, do you not wish sometimes that we had not been born into families such as ours?”
She looked at me in astonishment. “No! No!” she cried. “I would not have it otherwise. We are the ruling class. We have the power.”
“Until we lose it. Look what has happened to you! What has happened to my family!”
“That was war. And all is well with you now. You have made your way to the winning side. All would have been well with me if they had not forced me into marriage with Brabant…and if my wicked uncle had not seen how he could cheat the fool and rob me of my rights.”
I knew so well by now the story of Jacqueline’s second marriage to the Duke of Brabant who had foolishly allowed himself to be tricked by her scheming uncle, who had made a treaty with the Duke that all the property left by his late brother to his daughter should pass to him.
“Brabant should have fought for my rights,” she cried in anguish. “Our marriage will be annulled. Yes, I shall be free of the fool. But look at me! What have I now? I…who was once the greatest heiress in Europe?”
I sympathized. We did what we could to help her, but her continual ranting about her wrongs wearied us.
“One day,” she said, “there will be someone who will help me regain what was stolen from me.”
“I hope so, Jacqueline,” I replied.
I did indeed. Then she would go back to her own country and leave us in peace.
Meanwhile I continued to plan for the baby.
The time was passing…July, August, September.
I watched the leaves turning to bronze. Time was passing and Henry showed no sign of coming home.
I thought, a little resentfully, that he should have been here for the birth of our child.
I left Windsor and went to Westminster. October came.
I said to Guillemote: “I long to be at Windsor.”
She replied: “Well, you could go there and return to Westminster for the birth. There is time.”
So we went to Windsor.
Jacqueline stayed at Westminster. She had been given a comfortable pension by the state which had mollified her a little. I was glad of that.
I wanted to spend my time peacefully waiting…in the company of my dear Guillemote and my faithful ladies.
November had come.
Guillemote said: “If the child is not to be born at Windsor, we should begin to think of leaving. You will not want to travel in a week or so.”
“Guillemote,” I replied, “I do not want to travel now.”
“I thought the King expressly said that the child must not be born at Windsor.”