The Uncrowned Queen Read Free Page A

joined the skirt. “Do you think mother and son will agree? It’s her dower land, isn’t it?”
    â€œI don’t know what Meinheer Landers’s mother expects. He’d be more interested in money paid now, of course. But if I can bring them to accept an annuity, she’ll have an income against her expenses now that she lives in his house. That will help them both and we will not have to give so much when we sign the contract. I have plans for that land—it will return the value of an annuity tenfold when it’s used properly. River land is always good soil.”
    Deborah finished dressing her daughter and returned to pummeling the goose-down pillows energetically. She was determined to be positive. Perhaps speaking of the future of the farm would open a way to talk more broadly about other things. “What will you grow there?”
    Anne looked up from tying the ribbons on her stockings. “Crocus. Saffron crocus. I believe it will do very well: good soil, water close by. There’s always a ready market for saffron and the flowers are so pretty. Perhaps we can increase your physic garden too? Comfrey, and the plants that like rich soil. Angelica? That would sell well if we candied it in honey. We can use the knowledge you’ve given me.”
    Anxiety flashed in Deborah’s eyes.
    Anne laughed. “I mean the plant lore. I’ve already talked to the potter in the village. I want him to make me little bottles with stoppers. And little pots. We can make face washes and creams for the ladies of the court here, such as I made for the queen, and sell them.” Briefly she paused, thinking of Elizabeth Wydeville, the queen of England. Her enemy. A flicker of compassion touched her. It would not be easy being queen in England now. Anneshrugged, moving on with an effort, smiling brightly. “Beauty will come from beauty, you’ll see.”
    Deborah nodded as she finished smoothing the coverlet on the bed. Anne made the most unlikely farmer. She’d bought her farmstead last spring, after some months of haggling. The River Zwijn formed one of its boundaries, but the farm buildings and the home orchard had been shamefully neglected. Anne saw the value of the access to Brugge that the river would give her and had walked every chain of the land, carefully noting the deep soil, the dense woods—good foraging for pigs in autumn—and the south-facing meadows. The previous owner, a wealthy peasant, had bought individual strips of this good land long ago from his own impoverished lord and combined them into substantial fields—a forward-thinking departure from usual practice. But age and sickness meant the old man had lost interest and the farm slid into neglect and debt, both of which his son had inherited with the land when his father died. Yet Anne had seen that cows did well on these meadows and where cows were happy, wealth came from the earth. But Deborah knew none of this would have been enough for her foster daughter if the place had not been beautiful also.
    â€œWell, it is a good plan if you can bring Meinheer Landers to accept it on behalf of his mother. Now, there is another matter of which we should speak—”
    A loud crash came from below, followed by a woman screaming, then the terrified howl of a child.
    â€œEdward!”
    Anne ran from the room and down the wooden stairs to the kitchen, where she found her son hiding among the skirts of the cook, Lisotte. He was sobbing but unharmed. It was another matter for the stranger lying on the flagged floor, blood a veil for his face.
    â€œHe came through the door so quickly, with a sword, and there was the boy…” The cook was wavering on her feet from shock. “And I had this, so…”
    Lisotte saw the moment again, all too vividly. She’d been using the long poker to stoke the fire under the three-legged pot when the stranger entered from the dark with a drawn sword. Her