He derived great satisfaction from his affair with Jane for a number of reasons. In the first place she was beautiful and desirable; and for another, and this gave him special pleasure, Hastings had wanted her right from the time when the King had
first discovered her. Indeed Dorset was not sure whether Hastings had not discovered her first. Edward had come along and jostled poor William out of the way and of course he dared not anger the King over her and Edward would have been furious in the case of Jane though with any other woman he might have been ready to enter into a kind of tournament with his friend.
Not Jane though. There was something special about Jane. Hastings was gnashing his teeth because Dorset had been the one she had gone to on the King's death.
Dear weak Jane, she had found him irresistible, although she was no fool. She knew his faults. She knew him for the cynical, selfish sybarite he was. She would have no faith in his fidelity; he lacked the kindliness of the late King; that desire in Edward never to hurt people's feelings if he could help it and always to seek a way of smoothing over unpleasantness was no part of Dorset's nature. Dorset cared nothing for others; he did not consider them except in their ability to supply his needs. Jane knew this and it was a double triumph therefore that she had come to him. The truth was he was possessed of extraordinary physical attraction. So many women, hating him for what he was, yet found him irresistible; and that Jane, who had basked in the King's affection and returned it undemandingly for all the years they had been together, should now turn to Dorset was a great triumph— particularly when Hastings was standing by ready to give her the same devotion that she had enjoyed so long from Edward.
To be confined in Sanctuary was unbearable. Yet what would happen if he ventured out? He would immediately be imprisoned for Gloucester would regard him as one of the leaders of the Woodville party.
What a wretched state of affairs to have fallen into so suddenly—and all because one king had died and his brother was determined to rule the country.
'A plague on Gloucester!' he cried. But what was the use of words? He had to find a way out of this miserable situation.
He could see only one way of doing it, and that was to escape.
He began to plan. It would be easy enough to slip out of Sanctuary at dark of night, but where would he go then? There were many houses of ill fame in the city and he was known to them. The point was how far could they be trusted? When he was free, son of the Queen, companion of the King, rich, influential, he had been surrounded by friends. It would be different now.
Or would it? He was the sort of man people would be afraid to offend for the fortunes of war and politics changed quickly and he was of a vengeful nature.
He knew of one house where the lady in charge was particularly fond of him. He had great confidence in his power to charm. Should he sound her? No. That would be unwise. What if a message went astray? What if instead of the loving arms of the lady he found Gloucester's men waiting for him? He would find himself in worse state than he was now.
Nevertheless he must attempt it. He would slip out. He would find his way to the tavern and ask to be hidden there until he could get abroad or away to the North. It should not be difficult. It would be some time before his absence was discovered. His mother would make sure of that.
She listened eagerly when he told her of his plans. She was as weary of this confinement as he was and sure that they could rouse men to follow them. After all was she not the King's mother? And if Anthony could be freed and Richard with him they could immediately begin to rouse the country against Gloucester.
Yes, he must go. So one dark night Dorset left Sanctuary. He made his way through the narrow streets over the familiar cobbles, wrapped in an all-concealing cloak so that his idenrity was completely hidden. He knocked; he was let in; he asked for the lady of the house.
She came to him, and when he threw off his cloak she expressed her joy. The old magic had not deserted him. She was as enamoured as ever and clearly flattered that he had come to her.
T need to remain here for a night or two . . . perhaps a week,' he told her. 'Could you hide me?'
Indeed she could and it should be her pleasure.
He kissed her warmly on the lips in his own inimitable way. Old Edward himself could not have done better.
Her response was warm. He knew he could trust her.
Jane Shore was very uneasy. Life had changed so drastically for her within the last weeks that she was quite bewildered. Deeply she regretted the death of the King. Theirs had been a most
satisfying relationship. That he was really fond of her there was no doubt and their liaison had been of such duration that some might have said it was habit. That may have been but it was a very satisfying, comforting habit.
Jane had been faithful to the King even though Dorset had often tempted her to stray. She could not explain to herself the terrible fascination Dorset had for her. It was as though he had laid a spell on her. When he was near her that compelling attraction was so irresistible that she had to succumb to it knowing full well that there was evil in it—evil in him.
When the King was alive he had not dared to be too persistent. He had followed her with his eyes and in them had been that burning desire which against her will had drawn a response from her. She had fought it off successfully while the King lived. It was a different matter when he was dead.
Dorset had then claimed her and made her his slave. Jane was both repelled and utterly fascinated by the man. When he was not present she could tell herself that she must break away from him; but he only had to appear and she was lost.
Jane was not naturally a loose woman. She was not meant to be passed from one man to another. She needed a settled and respectable existence and with the King she had had that.
She had loved Edward. Who could have helped it? He had seemed to her—as he did to many—the most handsome man in the world. Moreover he had such charm of manner and such kindliness radiated from him; he was so powerful, so romantic, every inch a king, a perfect lover; he was all that Jane could ever have asked for.
She often thought of the early days, and how it had all come about. Her hfe had been simple enough in her father's household for he had been a well-to-do Mercer and those early days had been lived in the house in Cheapside where she had been born. Her mother had died and left Jane an only child to her father's care, which had been strict yet affectionate in its way. Thomas Wainstead had been eager to do everything for his daughter even to finding her a worthy husband in the goldsmith William Shore.
Perhaps all would have been well if Jane had not been so outstandingly beautiful that she caught the roving eye of one of the Court gallants who attempted to abduct her. That man had been William Lord Hastings and she had for ever after been wary