How long she had endured this wretched life, Anne did not know. She lost count of the days. She seemed to sit for hours watching the spit—the task usually given to her. 'It's all she's fit for,' said the cook.
And so the morning began to pass and was like any other until suddenly there was commotion without. She heard a voice which
seemed to her familier but it could not be. She was dreaming. She had fancied she had heard that voice before.
'I demand to see your kitchens. Stand aside.' Then the door was flung open. She stood up, pushed her lank and dirty hair from her face to stare. Then she cried out shrilly: 'Richard!'
He strode across the kitchen. He could not believe this dirty creature was Anne; but it was her voice.
'Anne! Anne! Have I found you at last?'
She ran to him and threw herself against him. He held her tightly, her greasy dress soiling the richness of his jacket.
'Anne . . . Anne ... let me look at you. I have searched and searched. Who would have thought to find you thus. But let us get out of this place as quickly as we can.'
The woman who had brought her here and taken her clothes had come into the kitchen.
'What is happening here?' she demanded while the cook and the maids looked on in astonishment. They had never seen anything like this in their lives—and never would again. The rich and noble-looking man had come for their loony kitchen girl and it was dawning on them that she had been speaking the truth all the time.
'This is the woman who brought me here. She has my clothes,' said Anne.
'You will bring the Lady Anne's clothes.'
'My lord. . . I have commands. . . .'
'I know. From my brother the Duke of Clarence. So I can hardly blame you, though you deserve to be hanged for what you have done. No matter. Let us have the clothes and bring us water in which the Lady can clean herself.'
'My lord ... I dare not. . . .'
'You will obey me with all speed or you will be arrested without delay. Obey me. At once.'
The woman muttering that she had acted on orders hurried away.
Richard held Anne's hands tightly in his own.
'Anne,' he said, 'stop trembling. You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you again.'
'It has been like a nightmare, Richard. I could not understand. They thought I was mad. I began to think so too.'
The woman had returned with the clothes and hot water was brought. Anne was taken away from the kitchens to another part
of the house and the clothes and hot water were put in a small room. Anne went in and Richard said: 'I shall wait here for you and I shall not move until you come out.'
When she emerged with her beauhful hair still hanging limply about her face, but washed and in her own clothes, she looked more like herself although Richard was shocked by her fragile looks.
'Let us get away from this evil house,' he said.
They went out together. He lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her.
'Anne,' he said. 'I am taking you into Sanctuary. There you will stay unhl we can be married. There'll have to be a dispensation first. But never fear. I have found you at last. There is nothing to be afraid of now. That is, of course ... if you will marry me.'
She laid her head against him. 'I am so afraid,' she said, 'that I am going to wake up and find myself in that house. Oh Richard, so often I have dreamed of your coming like this ... I am not dreaming now, am I? I could not bear it if I were. It would be even worse after this.'
'Nay,' he said. 'You are wide awake. Anne, you will take me then?'
'With all my heart,' she said.
'Then the future is ours.'
Anne remained in St Martin's Sanctuary, relieved to have come out of her nightmare, to awake every morning and sometimes be afraid to open her eyes lest she should see that dark room with the servants lying on their pallets on the floor beside her. Sometimes the nauseating smell of fatty foods would seem to be there and she wondered whether it had become part of her until she realized it was only imagination.
She was free now. Richard had freed her. He had visited her in Sanctuary and said that as soon as he could get the King's consent to their marriage and the necessary dispensation from the Pope— for they were cousins—they would marry.
She was waiting for that day. If in the meantime she could free her mind of memory and of evil dreams she could be content, but she knew it would take some hme to wash the grease out of her hair and to cleanse herself of the odours of that fearful kitchen
where the rats frolicked and the cockroaches scuttled across the floor and where she had been taunted as the crazy girl who thought herself a fine lady.
Edward was sympathetic, as Richard had known he would be but at the same time he did nothing to alienate Clarence. Clarence had proved himself a rogue and a criminal. He had submitted Anne to the utmost degradation. He had in any case fought against his own brother—^yet Edward deceived himself into believing that he could be placated. Strife in the family was something Edward could not bear to contemplate—even though it was there. But even though he was eager not to upset Clarence, his sympathy was with Richard.
He showed this by granting Warwick's northern estates to his younger brother as well as lands which had been confiscated from rebels like the Earl of Oxford. Clarence retaliated by insisting that he was Anne's guardian and as such must give his consent before she married.
Edward's answer to this was that the two brothers should take the case before the Council. He thought that Richard's calm statements were certain to win over Clarence's angry harangues.
This however was inconclusive for although Richard put forward his case with a calm precision, George waxed eloquent and declared that Anne's sister Isabel was the one who should be nearest the girl in this dilemma. The Council not wishing to offend either Clarence or Gloucester suspended judgement and the quarrel was no nearer conclusion than it had been before the Council sat.
Christmas came and Richard was at Court while Anne remained in Sanctuary.
It was a dreary festival for Richard. Nor did Edward enjoy it. He hated to see the enmity between his brothers, and as always he felt an inner perturbation when he thought of Clarence's defection and wondered what he would do next.
He had loved his brothers—^both of them. Richard had been such a serious little chap and how could he help favouring one who bestowed that abject adoration on his big and handsome brother? Richard had made him feel like a god and Edward had liked that. But George had been such a bright and amusing littie fellow. Always pushing himself forward, strutting, boasting, lively and handsome.
Families should never quarrel but what could he do to solve
this difference between his brothers? Richard was determined to marry Anne; Clarence was determined that he should not. He was certain that Richard loved Anne but George of course had as intense a passion for Anne's estates.
Edward discussed the matter with Richard.
'George should be punished/ said Richard. 'Consider what he did to Anne. You have no notion how she suffered. To put a girl who has been so tenderly nurtured into such conditions . . . it's criminal. Why should he not be brought to judgement for that?'