Joan had created something of a scandal recently by admitting that she had secretly married Thomas Holland. That was when plans to marry her to the Earl of Salisbury were progressing too fast; and when it was discovered that she had actually lived with Holland as his wife, nothing could be done but to accept the marriage.
The Black Prince, who was quite clearly attracted by Joan, must have been deeply put out; but Isabella could understand Joan’s impatience with him because although he was clearly fond of her he had made no effort to marry her.
Joan was sly; Joan was clever. Isabella believed that had Edward offered marriage she would have found some means of wriggling out of her union with Holland. Joan might be enamoured of that young man—so much so that she could not resist him—but her eyes would be on the crown which one day the Black Prince should inherit.
So there was too much talk of the Fair Maid of Kent, and not enough attention for the King’s beautiful daughter.
It was a state of affairs which must not be allowed to cootinue.
Isabella had become interested in a young Gascon nobleman. This was Bernard Ezi, whose father—also Bernard—was Lord of Albret and he had come to England when Isabella’s sister Joanna’s marriage was being arranged with Pedro of Castile. His son—Bernard the Younger—had accompanied him.
Young Bernard was very handsome, tall, charming and he and the Princess had become friends. In fact Bernard had fallen in love with Isabella.
Smarting from Louis’s rejection Isabella was very happy to accept his attentions and she decided that here was someone who adored her, in great contrast to Louis of Flanders.
How delighted he would be if she agreed to marry him. Naturally he would not dare aspire so high but led on by her he declared his passion and told her that the greatest joy in his life would be to marry her.
Isabella said she would speak to her father before he did. This was by no means orthodox Court behaviour. Penniless foreigners did not come to Court and ask for the hands of princesses. Isabella snapped her fingers. She could get anything she wanted from her father, she boasted. Did not Bernard know that the King loved her dearly that he could deny her nothing.
Bernard did know this but he thought the King’s indulgence to his daughter would not extend to marriage.
Isabella determined to prove him wrong.
She sought an opportunity to be alone with her father which was not difficult for Edward was growing fonder and fonder of her as he was becoming faintly critical of his wife. It was not that he did not love Philippa, but he did admire women with beautiful figures and Philippa’s was becoming more and more unwieldy every week.
Isabella took his arm and drew him to a window-seat because, she said, she had something very important to tell him.
He was beaming with satisfaction, loving to share confidences with her.
‘Oh my dear father,’ she said, ‘it is so wonderful to have you with me. How unhappy I was when I was in the Tower and you were in France. You wouldn’t let me come with you ...’
‘I was afraid for your safety, my dear,’ explained the King. ‘You did come with me in the end remember, and then you were frightened when the French attacked our ships, were you not?’
She shook her head. ‘You were close. I knew you would win.’
She kissed his cheeks and he smiled fondly.
‘You must have thought it is time for me to marry, my lord. And I fancy you do not urge it because you would hate to lose ine. Confess it.’
‘I confess,’ said Edward.
‘And you would be very pleased if I married someone who need not take me abroad so that we could all live happily in England.’
‘That would be my wish, of course. Ah, if only it were possible.’
‘It is, dear father, it is. And it is the only marriage I will consider. Do you think I should ever allow myself to be separated from you?’
‘It will be a great sadness to me when the day comes ... as I fear it must.’
‘It shall not come,’ she said. ‘I have decided whom I will marry. Now father, dear father of mine, the one I shall love best in the whole of my life—husband or no—I will not be parted from you. That I swear. So it will be no foreign prince for me. It will be a man of such small estate that it matters not whether he go to his own country or stay in mine.’
‘You are a dear sweet child. But alas you must grow up and marry some day.’
‘That day will be soon, my lord. I have chosen Bernard Ezi.’
Edward was too astounded to speak and Isabella rushed on : ‘I must marry him. No other will do. I know he has nothing ... but you will give him estates here ... near Windsor perhaps and I shall not lose you. That is my main concern.’
‘My sweet child, this is impossible.’
‘I have told Bernard that you will give your consent.’
‘Nay, child. It will not do.’
Isabella’s lips were firmly set. ‘Yes, dear father, it will do. It must do. It is what I want.’
‘Isabella, sweet daughter, you are young and this is passing infatuation for this young man. If you wish for a husband, I will find one worthy of you.’
‘Someone who will take me away from you.’ She stood up and stamped her foot. ‘I will not go. I will never go. I shall marry Bernard or ... die.’
‘Now this is nonsense ...’
‘Indeed it is not. Dear father, you must agree to this, you must give your consent or I shall be the most unhappy woman in your kingdom. I must marry Bernard. Oh, dearest father, as you love me, say you will grant me this ...’
He was wavering. He could never bear to disappoint her. He was a very sentimental father particularly where his daughters were concerned and the favourite of all the children was pretty Isabella.
He was thinking rapidly. The dear child is really serious. Well, consider this Bernard Ezi. What will he have? Albret! It is nothing. How could I possibly let my daughter marry a man of so little consequence? And yet I could raise him up. I could give him an earldom ... And I should have her near me ... I could make it so that they lived in England. I should see her often. Their children would be here with me ... my own grandchildren.
She had thrown her arms about him; she was almost suffocating him with her embraces.
‘You are the dearest kindest father in the world,’ she declared.
And she knew that she had won.
The whole Court was astonished to learn that the King had agreed to his daughter’s marriage with the son of a minor nobleman even though he was his father’s heir. Philippa understood perfectly. Her wayward spoilt daughter had once more succeeded in getting what she wanted from her father. Well, if Isabella and Edward were happy that was enough for Philippa.
And Isabella did seem overwhelmed with happiness. She was determined to have the grandest wedding the Court had seen for a long time. She sent for the seamstresses and embroiderers for she had a passion for such decoration. She delighted in one garment especially. A mantle of silk which was edged with ermine and embroidered in silver and gold with birds, trees and animals. There were other gorgeous garments and Isabella insisted on trying everything on and parading before her mother and those sisters and brothers who were with the Court.
She persuaded her father to come to admire her and he sat, his arms folded, looking on with benign pleasure while his daughter walked about before him calling attention to the excellence of the embroidery and fine material of her clothes. People had ceased to marvel at his fond indulgence of this daughter and to be surprised that the great King and warrior should become so involved in feminine fripperies.