Chapter 262: I Blamed You
"What does that have to do with Bella?" Livia demanded.
"At the time, I blamed you. For disorder." He swallowed. "For France being insulted. For Richard’s treachery. I saw you as a threat to the Crown...I believed removing you from His Majesty’s path would preserve the kingdom."
Lionel closed his eyes briefly. "When we learned the truth about Princess Madeleine, I understood I had been wrong about you. Do not misunderstand me," he said, and some bleak part of him seemed determined to be honest. "I still do not believe you are fit to be queen. And yet...in that moment, before I understood, I took Jane’s warning to Her Grace."
"You did what?"
Tabitha exhaled. "Lord Ashcroft."
"I tried to get her to back down," Lionel said. "Afterwards. I warned her. I—"
Livia struck him. Lionel’s face turned. He stood there, accepting the blow as if it had been overdue. "The king trusted you."
"Yes," Lionel said quietly. "If the king’s mother is to answer for Lady Bella’s death, all you have is me. I shall tell the king when he arrives...because no one else is alive to tell the king the truth."
"What are you saying?" Livia asked.
Lionel remained where he stood, his face hard. "Everyone who could have spoken is dead."
Livia stared at him, waiting for the rest, although some terrible part of her already understood.
"I went to the gaol," Lionel continued. "All the women from Beaumont’s house are dead."
Livia’s hand tightened around the arm of the chair. "Jane?"
"Yes," he said.
Jane had not been a good friend. She had been part of a world Livia had spent every waking moment trying to escape. Yet she had tried, in the end, to speak. She had sent warning. She had chosen the truth too late, perhaps, but not too late to deserve life.
Lionel lowered his eyes. "She tried to do the right thing in the end. Her death is on me."
Livia sank back into the chair as if her bones had failed her. "What have I gotten into?"
Tabitha moved towards her at once. "My lady."
"What sort of life is this, Tabitha?" Livia asked.
"My lady," Tabitha said, her voice careful. "We only have to hold on until His Majesty returns."
"And then what?" Livia demanded. She pressed one trembling hand to her mouth. Bella’s blood still lived somewhere beneath her skin, no matter how many times Tabitha had washed her hands. "She said Theodora did it," she whispered. "She died saying it. And still, she may not pay."
Lionel’s face tightened. "She will pay if I live long enough to speak."
"And if you do not?"
He had not come only because honour demanded it. He had come because he knew Theodora might remove him next. "If I do not...then you know what I did. Mrs Crowe knows. That may not be enough before council, but it is more than Her Grace intended to leave behind."
Livia looked up at Tabitha, and the tears returned. "No one values human life in Whitehall?"
Tabitha wrapped her arms around her. "Shame on you, Lord Ashcroft," she said over Livia’s head. "Shame on you."
Lionel bowed his head. "I know this means nothing at the moment...But I truly am sorry, my lady. Truly."
Livia turned her face slightly against Tabitha’s shoulder. "Tell that to Bella’s family."
Lionel’s throat worked. The man had nothing left to say. All he had now was the long wait for the king’s return. He had served the Crown with his life, but he suspected the Crown would soon demand his head instead. He bowed again and left the room.
Behind him, Livia wept.
*****
Lady Bella Cresswel was laid to rest on her family’s estate beneath a harsh wind. The day had turned grey in the manner of late autumn, when winter had not yet arrived but had already sent its first cold breath ahead as a warning. The trees stood nearly bare, their remaining leaves rattling. Everyone wore black.
Her family stood closest to the grave. Her mother was wrapped in heavy mourning wool, one gloved hand gripping her husband’s arm. The Cresswel girls were gathered together nearby, confused and frightened. The newest baby slept in a nurse’s arms, mercifully ignorant.
Livia stood with Tabitha at a short distance, dressed in black. Lionel remained several paces behind, silent and watchful. Since Bella’s death, his vigilance had changed. It no longer felt like a wall. It felt like penance.
The coffin was lowered slowly. The priest’s words moved through the wind, but Livia heard very little of them. She wondered whether Henry had felt something in France at that exact moment. It was a foolish thought, and yet grief made fools of everyone eventually.
When the prayers ended, the nobles in attendance shifted forward. Then, with all eyes turned towards the grave, the Queen Mother was invited to say a few words.
Her Grace was dressed in mourning black, but grief had clearly not been allowed to interfere with elegance. Her gown was cut from heavy black velvet. The bodice sat stiff and severe, embroidered with black silk thread while the wide sleeves were lined with dark sable. A French hood framed her face, its edge set with small pearls and jet stones. At her throat lay a cross of gold.
For a funeral, she looked magnificent. She stood beside Bella’s open grave with her head held high.
Livia felt Tabitha’s hand close gently around her wrist.
"Lady Bella Cresswel was a good girl," Theodora said. "She was gentle, loyal, and deserving of the affection shown to her by His Majesty. There are few women who may claim to have carried a king’s child, and fewer still who bore such honour with humility. We commend her now to God’s mercy and pray that she finds the peace denied to her in this life. May she rest at last with Thomas FitzRoy in her arms, as mother and son are reunited beyond sorrow."
Bella’s mother made a wounded sound. Her husband caught her before she swayed. Livia’s vision blurred at the edges.
Theodora had no right to say her name. It was unbearable. When the speech ended, the priest lowered his head. The grave workers prepared to cover the coffin, and the nobles began shifting. She turned from the grave and moved towards her carriage, attended by two of her women. She had done what she came to do.
"Your Grace!"
Theodora turned looking genuinely surprised.
Tabitha tightened her grip. "My lady, do not."
Livia tore her arm free.
"My lady," Tabitha warned, but Livia was already moving.
Lionel stepped forward at once. His face lost colour, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. Livia stopped in front of Theodora.
Theodora’s expression settled back into control.
"This is one failure of many to come, Your Grace," Livia said.
Theodora’s eyes hardened. "Mind yourself, girl."
"You will regret the day you decided to end my engagement to the Duke of Kingsmere," she said. "You will regret the day you reached into my life and dragged me into the palace because you believed I was small enough to be used and broken. Every morning you wake, you will remember the enemy you brought into Whitehall with your own hands."
"The rest of your life, Your Grace, you will spend looking over your shoulder. You will wonder which servant hears for me, which lord bows to me, and which woman in your household has finally turned to mine. And you will spend the rest of your life afraid of me...and regretting the moment Lady Bella Cresswel took her final breath."
Theodora stepped closer. "And pray tell, how do you plan to do that?"
"Because I will be queen and I will make sure all of England recognises the woman who almost got the throne."
"Over my dead body," Theodora said.
Livia held her gaze. Grief had altered Livia. Bella’s blood had done what fear could not. It had burned away the part of her still waiting for permission to exist safely in Whitehall. She was not safe. She had never been safe. If death could find Bella in daylight, with Lord Ashcroft close enough to see the blade fall, then safety was just another lie.
Livia’s mouth curved slightly. "So be it, Theodora...So be it."
The Queen Mother’s eyes flashed. It was magnificent. She looked like she would explode. She could not strike. Lionel stood near enough to cut down anyone who moved too quickly. The nobles were watching too closely. Henry’s command hung over her as tightly as a noose: stay away from Livia.
Theodora was forced to swallow rage. Judging by the colour rising in her cheeks, it tasted dreadful.
Livia sank into a curtsy. She gave Her Grace the courtesy due her rank and none of the submission Theodora wanted from it. Then she turned and walked towards her carriage.
Tabitha met her halfway, face pale but proud, and placed a steadying hand at her back.