She had waited in trepidation for something terrible to happen. Nothing did. The country appeared to have settled down; the King was on the throne and he seemed to have profited from recent events. The country had moved into a peaceful stage, and this was confirmed when Henry came to Monmouth once more.
"You see" he told Mary, "your fears were without foundation."
"There might have been serious trouble. You might have been in danger," she retorted.
"Well, you see me here, safe and well. And how fares young Harry of Monmouth?"
She was able to tell him that young Harry was faring well. She had found an excellent nurse in a village woman named Joan Waring. Harry was devoted to her and she to him.
"These village women make good nurses," was his comment; and his joy when he beheld young Harry was obvious. The child had changed from the feeble little scrap of humanity which had filled him with such misgivings a few months earlier.
"Now," he said, "there is no longer the need for you to remain here in Monmouth. "I am going to take you away from here to London and then, Mary, you will not be so far from me. Do you like the idea?"
She did like it very much and preparations were set in motion to leave young Harry's birthplace. They were to go to London for a while and as the Palace of the Savoy had been destroyed by the mob during the Peasants' Revolt they took up residence at Cole Harbour, one of the de Bohun mansions.
It was a cold and draughty house and Joan Waring expressed her fervent disapproval of it. The dirty streets, the noise and all those people were not good for her baby, she declared. What he wanted was some fresh country air.
As little Harry seemed to agree with this verdict it was soon decided that London was not the place to bring up the child and on Henry's suggestion they retired to Kenilworth.
By this time Mary was once more pregnant.
Kenilworth! How beautiful it was with its massive Keep and its strong stone walls. Here Mary felt secure and because Henry stayed with her for a while she was happy.
In due course the time arrived for her child to be born. Perhaps because she felt at peace if only temporarily, because Henry was with her and perhaps because she had already shown that she could bear a son, this confinement passed off with moderate ease and to the delight of both parents another boy was born to them. He was strong and lusty and they called him Thomas.
There was great rejoicing in Kenilworth when news arrived there that John of Gaunt had returned from Castile, and so eager was he to see his grandsons that he was setting out at once for the castle with his mistress Lady Swynford.
Joan Waring was determined to show off her charges at their best at the same time declaring that there was not to be too much excitement for that would not be good for her babies—particularly the Lord Harry who was naughty enough without that. She was more concerned about him than she was about Baby Thomas. Lord Harry was what she called a Pickle and could be relied upon to make some sort of trouble no matter where he was. Moreover his delicacy persisted and she had to keep a special eye on him.
"We must see that he is not allowed to disgrace himself before his grandfather, Joan," said Mary.
When the great man arrived accompanied by his beautiful mistress, he embraced his son and Mary warmly, studying Mary a little anxiously for he had had word of the illness which had almost ended her life at the time of Harry's birth. She looked frail still but her skin glowed with health and her eyes were bright.
"And my grandson?" cried the Duke. "So this is young Harry, eh."
He lifted up the child and the two regarded each other steadily until Harry's attention was caught by the lions and leopards emblazoned on his grandfather's surcoat and he clearly found them more interesting than their owner.
"He looks to me like a young fellow who will have his way" said the Duke.
"My lord, you speak truth there" replied Mary. "He is the despair of his nurse."
"Well, we do not want a boy who is afraid of his shadow, do we. So we'll not complain."
He put down Harry who made no secret of the fact that he relished being released.
The baby was brought to him and he took the child in his arms.
"Thomas is a good baby," said his mother. "He smiles a great deal, cries very little and seems contented with his lot."
"Let us hope he remains so" said the Duke. "You have a fine family, Mary. May God bless you and keep you and them."
She thanked him and left him with Henry while she took Lady Swynford to the room she would share with the Duke and talked to her about the children and household matters.
Lady Swynford, having borne the Duke four children and being the mother of two by her first husband, was knowledgeable and ready to impart this knowledge and advice.
She had a friendly personality and her devotion to the Duke and his to her, made Mary warm towards her. Because she refused to consider there was anything shameful in the relationship based as it was on selfless love, there seemed to be none; and Mary was happy to welcome Lady Swynford with the respect she would have shown to Constanza Duchess of Lancaster and, she was sure, with a good deal more affection.
The two women found undoubted pleasure in each other's company. Mary could talk of her anxieties about Harry's health and his wayward nature and Catherine could imply her own anxiety for her Beaufort family, those three sons and one daughter who were the Duke's and who were illegitimate, for however much their parents loved them the stigma was there and the rest of the world would not pretend it was not.
However, they were philosophical and both happy with their lot.
Catherine could interest herself in the trivia of domesticity as deeply as Mary could. She could admire Mary's handsome popinjay in its beautiful cage and declare that, although many of the fashionable ladies possessed them, she had never seen a finer bird than Mary's. She could laugh at the antics of Mary's dogs and compliment her on the decorated collars of silk in green and white check, which she herself had had made for them. All this she could do as any woman might and yet she had a deep awareness of political matters which she could discuss with a lucidity Mary had discovered in no one else and consequently she could more clearly picture what was happening. Moreover Catherine shared Mary's fears of what their men might be led into; and they felt similarly about the futility of war and any sort of conflict. Thus they found great pleasure in each other's company.
Meanwhile the Duke was in earnest conclave with his son. He knew of course what had happened in his absence, how Henry with the other four Lords Appellant had faced the King and forced the Merciless Parliament on him.
"Dangerous," commented the Duke. "And your Uncle Thomas is not to be trusted."
"Well I know that," replied Henry, "but our action bore fruit."
"Do not underestimate Richard," insisted his father. "He acts foolishly I admit but he has flashes of wisdom. You see he has extricated himself from a very difficult position, accepts the restrictions imposed on him and now that he is not hedged in by his favourites, rules moderately well."
"Yet it was necessary to act as he did."
"That I do not deny. But be wary, Henry. Richard is not likely to forget you five, and he is one who bears grudges. It might well be that he will seek some revenge."
"But he must realize that affairs run more smoothly now. He should be grateful to us."
"Do you think a king, no matter who he was, would ever forget being confronted by five of his subjects who threaten to take his crown if he does not behave as they think fit. Nay, Henry. Walk warily. My advice to you is to stay in the country for a while. Keep out of politics. It is a course I have had to follow from time to time and always did so with advantage."