Chapter 285: I Am Being Your Father
"She is not Diana anymore. She is Livia Valenti. She is under the king’s protection. She is loved by the king. You cannot keep calling her by the name you invented because it allows you to believe she still belongs to the life you built around her." Geoffrey yelled.
"Would you stop being Lord Chancellor and be my father?" Richard demanded.
"I am being your father," Geoffrey said. "I am being the father who refuses to watch his son hang himself. I have condoned your excesses for years. I have forgiven more than I should have because you are my son and because, God help me, I have admired the courage. But with this, I draw the line."
At last, Geoffrey turned towards the house.
"This conversation is finished." He walked inside.
His father’s words did not weaken the resolve forming within him. If anything, they hardened it. Richard understood then that he might have to stand alone.
Henry had to be taken down.
Richard drew in a breath and followed his father into the house. Geoffrey had already sat heavily in his chair, the day settling over him. Richard stood opposite him. "How is everything in Whitehall?"
"Are you asking for your secret mission, or do you genuinely want to know?"
"I genuinely want to know."
"No, you do not. Only one person in Whitehall interests you."
Richard did not deny it. "Yes."
Geoffrey opened his eyes and looked at him. "She is none of your business." He leaned back in his chair, feeling a headache coming on.
"So," Richard said, "about that marriage list."
"I did my due diligence," Geoffrey said carefully. "I chose ladies you might like. I even chose ladies who have some of the same qualities as Livia." He sighed. "Hell, if I could have found her twin, I would have placed her at the top of the list and thanked heaven."
"Just pick the one at the top of your list and make the plans."
Geoffrey blinked. "Pardon?"
"Pick the first lady. Arrange the introduction. Speak to her family. Do whatever the proper forms require."
"You wish me to choose your wife? Without meeting her?"
"Yes."
"The lady at the top of my list is suitable," Geoffrey said. "She comes from a respectable family. Her father has influence. She is educated. She also has a sizeable dowry."
"I do not care. I do not need to know anything else."
"Right. Now," Geoffrey said, rubbing two fingers against his brow, "can we have a conversation that sounds nothing like treason? How was your time in France?"
Richard finally took a seat across from his father.
*****
Tabitha was worried. Oddly enough, she was less worried about Livia now than she was about the king.
Livia, at least, had the physician. She lay still, yes, and far too pale, but her breathing had steadied. Every rise and fall of her chest was a small mercy.
Henry, on the other hand, looked like a man surrounded by ghosts. He sat in a chair facing the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, eyes fixed on Livia. His clothes had been changed. His face was drawn. His gaze was hollow.
Depressed was too small a word. Henry looked as though he had finally seen every ghost in Whitehall.
Tabitha stood near the table where the physician’s instructions had been arranged. A small vial to be administered if Livia’s breathing changed. A bitter herbal mixture to be prepared later. Stephen had left nothing to chance.
"Your Majesty," Tabitha said gently, "shall I brew you some calming tea? My recipe."
"Mrs Crowe, you already force-fed me breakfast."
"It will lend you some energy, my lord," she said.
"I have all the energy I need for what must be done."
"I will have the tea ready for when you return," she said.
Henry finally glanced at her. "Thank you."
A knock came at the chamber door.
One of the guards announced, "Lord Ashcroft, Your Majesty."
Henry straightened. Lord Ashcroft stepped in.
"We are ready, my lord," Lionel said.
Henry rose at once, as though those were the exact words his body had been waiting for. He stepped closer to the bed before leaving, leaned down, touched Livia’s fingers, and rested his gaze on her face.
Then he turned to Tabitha.
"If she wakes at any point, send for me," he said.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Tabitha said.
Henry held Livia’s hand for one last moment. Her fingers lay quiet in his. He released her carefully.
Then he turned and strode out. Lionel fell into step beside him.
"Is my mother there?" Henry asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lionel replied.
"Good."
They crossed from Whitehall towards the place of execution under heavy guard. The scaffold had been prepared.
A small gathering waited there. Lord Langford stood. Theodora stood beside him. She looked at Henry as he mounted the platform.
It was the first execution of his reign. The headsman waited near the block.
Theodora looked from the block to Henry. "Who has been sentenced?"
Henry turned to her and smiled. It was a smile made of ruin. "The one who harmed the one I love...Examples must be made." He gave a small nod.
Lionel lifted his hand. The inner gate opened. Madeleine was brought forward. The Princess of France came to the scaffold in a plain dark gown, her hair covered, her wrists bound before her.
Theodora went pale. "Have you gone mad?" she gasped. This is the Princess of France. This will bring war."
"Your grandson was murdered under your nose," Henry said. "You cared so little. You did not even care enough to mourn him properly."
Her face tightened. "The matter was investigated. Thomas died of natural causes." She turned sharply to Geoffrey. "Lord Langford, you carried out the inquiry."
"At the time," Geoffrey said, "we had no confession and no direct witness willing to speak."
Theodora’s eyes narrowed. "And now?"
"Now we do."
Madeleine’s head lifted. Henry looked at her then, and the coldness in him seemed to settle even deeper.
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