The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 9

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Isabelle was greatly relieved to receive the letter. She had been wondering what she was going to do about Margaret. With her father gone and herself unable to give much time to the child, she had been anxious. Moreover Margaret must have sorely missed her brothers after having lost her sister some time before.

It was a good plan.

Little Margaret was alarmed when she heard she was to go to five with her paternal grandmother but Theophanie was delighted.

‘It will be like going home again,’ she said. ‘We’ll be in that very nursery where I nursed your father and his brothers and sisters.’

There was no doubt of Theophanie’s pleasure and it made Margaret feel less apprehensive.

YOLANDE

Margaret quickly became absorbed in the life of the castle where her grandmother reigned supreme. The child had become accustomed to feminine dominance. Her mother had been far more important than her father in Nancy; and here of course all the men of the household bowed to the will of her indomitable grandmother.

Yolande, handsome, young for her years – she was in her fifties – was a woman who could command immediate obedience, and for good reason. Under her rule the Duchy of Anjou prospered as well as any state could with the constant threat of invasion. It was true that the French were gradually winning back territory which the English had wrested from them, but the English were still a danger and there must be constant surveillance lest they should come raiding the country.

Yolande had watchers at every point and was constantly on the alert.

She received her little granddaughter with affection restrained by dignity and tempered by a certain sternness. Margaret was to be brought up to become as strong a woman as her grandmother. Yolande had no patience with those ladies who remained ignorant of everything outside the domestic needs of a household and who were merely objects of ornament. Women should be able to rule when the need arose and Yolande was of the opinion that very often they made a better job of it than the men.

At the same time her granddaughter must be brought up to enjoy the arts and to practice them if she had any ability to do so. Secretly she hoped she would not have too much talent, as her father had. Yolande often sighed over Rene. Rene had taken to his artistic instruction with greater enthusiasm than he had to training in outdoor accomplishments. Rene had too many talents in the artistic fields. He could paint like the finest artist; he could write poetry and music to compare with any troubadour. Oh yes, Rene had been talented in many directions, except the one which he most needed to hold his estates together in these troublous times.

So she was very anxious that Rene’s daughter should be brought up in a fitting manner. The best teachers should be provided for her and she could trust faithful old Theophanie to be a good nurse to her.

During her first week at the castle Margaret had two interviews with her grandmother. They were more like audiences and were conducted with a certain amount of ceremony.

During them Yolande stressed the importance of Margaret’s absorbing all she would be taught. She must learn to appreciate fine arts which was what her father would wish. She must at the same time give due attention to her academic studies. She must practise obedience. She must in fact grow up to be worthy of her grandmother.

Five-year-old Margaret, bewildered after being taken from her family, still mourning the loss of her brothers and above all her kind father, tried to understand all that her grandmother endeavoured to impress upon her. She looked upon Yolande —who seemed very, very old to her—as a goddess in her temple, all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, one who must never be offended and always obeyed. Everyone in the household paid the greatest deference to her and Theophanie spoke her name in that special hushed voice which she used when speaking of the Virgin Mary.

Yolande thought it well that the child should understand the true state of affairs, young as she was.

‘Your father is a captive of the Duke of Burgundy,’ she explained, ‘and you are his fourth child. As the Duke of Bar and Marquis of Pont-a-Mousson he would have had little standing in the country even if he were free. He is deeply in debt and there is a ransom to be paid. So you see your position is not a very glorious one.’

Yolande was determined that the child should learn humility. She must not think because she was the granddaughter of Yolande that in herself she was important. She had been taken into the household as an act of charity because her mother was so busily engaged in trying to hold together her father’s impoverished possessions that someone else must take charge of her daughter.

Margaret looked suitably ashamed and Yolande went on: ‘Never forget that you are my granddaughter. We do not know what lies in store for you. It may be that one day you will be called upon to govern as I have been, and as your mother has been. You must be ready for it.’

Margaret said that she would do her best.

Yolande dismissed her and was thoughtful for a while. Poor child, she thought, what hope will there be of a grand marriage for her. Rene will never regain his estates and if he did would he be able to hold them?

If Margaret had not been so young she would have explained to her that she, Yolande, was the Regent of Anjou because her eldest son, Margaret’s uncle Louis, was away in Naples trying to make good his claim to that crown. She was a woman who had much to occupy her for she was also on excellent terms with the King himself who was her son-in-law. She had little time to spare for bringing up a child—and the youngest daughter of a second son at that. Still, she had done right in bringing her here. Isabelle, capable as she was, would be too deeply caught up with holding Rene’s estates and trying to get his ransom together. These were difficult times.

Theophanie was in a state of delight, much as she missed Margaret’s brothers. She often talked of little Yolande and hoped the Vaudemonts were good to her.

‘She will have forgotten about us by now, I doubt not,’ she said to Margaret, fearing and half hoping that she would. Poor little mite, to be torn from her home.

Theophanie hoped they would not be making a match for Margaret...just to settle some of their differences.

‘You’ve let them take the others. Lord,’ she reproached. ‘At least let them leave me this little one.’

The days began to pass slowly at first and then not so slowly as Margaret grew more and more accustomed to living at Saumur.

She began to develop a taste for music and poetry. She read the works of Boccaccio with great delight; her teachers discovered that she had an aptitude for learning; she was becoming pretty and her long lustrous blondish hair with a hint of red in it was her greatest attraction.

She missed her home, most of all her father; but she was remembering him even less with the passing of every day. She liked excitement and was even glad on those days when the castle was in a state of alert because there were English in the neighbourhood. Her grandmother had everything in readiness in case they should be besieged.

One day she was summoned to her grandmother’s presence. These summonses were rare and they must herald some important event, so Margaret went to the meeting in a state of excitement mingled with trepidation.

She curtsied to her grandmother aware that those alert eyes watched every movement and that it would be noted if the curtsey was anything but perfect.

‘Come here, child,’ said Yolande, and when Margaret approached, she took her hand and bade her sit on a stool at her feet.

‘I have bad news,’ she said.

Margaret wanted to cry out for she thought of her father at once, then almost immediately afterwards of her mother and brothers and sister.

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