He nodded and then surprised her further by turning toward the door. “Harry, wait!”
When he faced her again, she was shocked by how ravaged he looked. “What do you intend to do about Richard?”
After coming together as grieving parents, she’d hoped they could come together, too, to repair the tattered father-son bond before it was beyond salvaging. But he looked at her expressionlessly, his eyes as veiled and opaque as John’s. “I have not changed my mind,” he said. “I still think Richard needs to relinquish control of Aquitaine, and I will do all in my power to bring that about.”
The sound of the closing door seemed to echo in the empty chamber, reminding Eleanor of a wretched memory-standing in that chamber at Loches Castle and listening as the key turned in the lock. She sank down upon a coffer, was staring blankly into space when Amaria entered. With a soft cry of alarm, she crossed the floor and knelt at Eleanor’s feet. “My lady? Are you ill?”
“That is not the man I married, Amaria. The man I knew was stubborn, yes, but he was flexible, too, capable of altering his course when need be. And he never let his suspicions get the better of him. Now…now he can neither trust nor compromise, God help us all.”
Amaria was not sure what to say, so she stayed quiet. And as she watched the older woman, she saw Eleanor’s despair drain away, to be replaced by an indomitable resolve. “For a long time, Amaria, I’ve blamed myself for those changes in Harry’s nature. I’d not realized what a deep wound I was inflicting when I chose to rebel, never imagined that it would take so long to heal. Today I saw that it is never going to heal. I am done with feeling guilty, though. No more. If he wants to cherish his grievances instead of his sons, so be it.” She raised her chin, her eyes taking on a hard, green glitter. “But as God is my witness, I will not let him take Aquitaine from Richard.”
In the days that followed, Henry’s court was not a happy place. Constance yearned to be back in Brittany, but she would not leave without Geoffrey and his father seemed set upon keeping his younger sons close for the foreseeable future. When the oppressive atmosphere at Rouen became too much for her, she made a brief pilgrimage to Chartres, proud possessor of the Sancta Camisa, the chemise said to be worn by the Blessed Mary as she gave birth to the Holy Christ Child. There she was welcomed by the bishop, prayed in the great cathedral, made offerings to the Mother of God, and was soon ready to return to Rouen, her spirit nourished and her faith renewed, for the Queen of Heaven had heard her prayers.
Upon her arrival at the ducal castle, she sent a servant to let Geoffrey know of her return and retreated to their bedchamber with her ladies. Juvette and Blanche had assisted her in washing away the grime of the road, and she was wrapped in a new silk robe as they brushed out her hair when Geoffrey burst into the chamber. Swooping her up into his arms, he kissed her exuberantly, then sent Juvette and Blanche away, giggling, when he declared slyly that he could see to all of his wife’s needs. Watching as he barred the door, shutting out the rest of the world, Constance felt a throb of pure and perfect happiness, thinking that she would not want to be anywhere but here, to be anyone but the duchess of this laughing man with tawny hair and shining eyes.
“I have something to tell you,” she said at the same time that he said those very same words, and they looked at each other in surprised amusement.
“My news first,” he insisted, “for I’ve been waiting days to tell you. If I’d not expected you back so soon, I’d have ridden to Chartres myself to fetch you home.”
She smiled at his boyish glee, for she was one of the few who ever saw that side of him. “You first then,” she agreed. “I take it your news is good since you look so pleased with yourself.”
“Yes, it is good news,” he confirmed, before tumbling her backward onto their bed. Reaching for a handful of her hair, he inhaled its fresh, fragrant scent. “I ought to make you guess what it is, but you’d take too long, and I cannot keep it to myself for a moment longer.” Kissing her throat, he propped himself up on an elbow, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her skin. “My lord father, that steadfast soul of consistency, has given us the Honour of Richmond.”
“Geoffrey!” Flinging her arms around his neck, she showered his face with haphazard kisses. “That is truly amazing, downright miraculous!” But then she sat up, her brows slanting into a suspicious frown. “Why?”
Laughing, he pulled her back down beside him again. “That’s my girl. Why, indeed? Naturally he would not tell me why he’d decided to do it now, and he utterly ignored the oddity and the irony of it, that he’d be rewarding a rebel with the very lands he rebelled over! Somehow I doubt that this was a belated birthday present. Here’s another irony for you, darling. We most likely owe a debt of gratitude to Brother Richard.”
“Yes, that makes sense. He is furious with Richard now, so it is to be expected that he’s looking for allies, mayhap even seeing you in a new and appealing light. It is about time,” she said indignantly, and then, “What of Nantes?”
He gave another peal of laughter and kissed her until they both were breathless. “He is continuing to dangle Nantes as bait, whilst still promising that it will be ours at a later date. And you know what, Constance? I think I almost believe him. As long as Richard continues to be his endearing, obstinate self, I’m going to look better and better to Papa.”
Constance had a sudden, dazzling thought. Could Henry become so angry with Richard that he’d consider making Geoffrey his heir? She said nothing, though, not wanting to jinx them by saying it aloud. That was a dream to be held close, not to be shared with anyone yet, not even Geoffrey. He had slipped her robe off her shoulders and she squirmed out of his embrace, knowing that once she was naked, it would be quite a while before she could tell him her secret.
“Wait,” she protested when he tugged at her belt. “You have not heard my news yet.”
“Tell me, then, woman, and quickly, for my attention is beginning to wander.”
“So are your hands,” she chided. Sitting up again, she regarded him with a smile that was confident, serene, and triumphant, all in one. “I am with child, Geoffrey.”
She was not disappointed by his response. He drew a sharp, audible breath, his eyes filling with light, and this time when he kissed her, it was with a tenderness he’d not shown before. Her mother had often told her that there was a special bond between a man and a woman who brought a child together into the world, and as she gave herself up to his lovemaking, her last coherent thought was, Maman was right. As they lay entwined together afterward, they both were sure their future was blessed, and it would never have occurred to them that Henry and Eleanor had once believed that, too.
In December, Henry met the young French king at Gisors. Philippe relinquished his claim to Marguerite’s dowry in exchange for Henry’s promise to pay her two thousand seven hundred Angevin pounds annually for the rest of her life. Gisors and the Norman Vexin were to become Alys’s marriage portion, and it was further agreed that she’d wed whichever of Henry’s sons whom he chose, a not-so-subtle warning to Richard that he was not an only child. In return, Henry finally did homage to the French king for “all his holdings across the water.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
April 1184
Le Mans, Anjou
Geoffrey was not a willing guest at his father’s Easter Court. He’d rather have been back at Rennes with Constance, for he was more excited about the coming birth of their child than he’d expected. Naturally the birth of an heir would elevate his status in Brittany. But he was not dwelling upon the political ramifications; more and more he found himself thinking of matters that were purely personal. He was concerned about Constance’s health, although her pregnancy had been uneventful so far. He spent a lot of time thinking about baby names. And he vowed that he’d be a better father than his own.
A light rain was falling as he crossed the inner bailey of the royal palace. Two of Richard’s knights were loitering by the stables, and they gave him an unfriendly stare as he passed by. It was some consolation to Geoffrey that, as discontented as he was to be here, Richard must be even more miserable. He’d love to know how their father had lured Richard to Le Mans, suspecting that his brother had asked for an insulting pledge of safe conduct. However it had been done, it was an exercise in futility. The tension between the two of them was combustible
