The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
I don't know if she will lose another in infancy or early childhood, but I do know she will outlive some of her adult children.
Just a French Prince on a horse ? I have to brace myself for the worst everytime I see a child on a horse on this site...
Yes, nothing quite like excitedly opening up your email only to realize they are still talking about someone else's story.
Writing the next chapter and...:
“Lady Catherine didn’t have any babies,” Joan murmured, frowning. “Maybe she didn’t want to take us to her court.”
“What?” asked Richard, not understanding what was going on.
“Of course, she did, you silly,” said Philippa, unwilling to let her sister look so forlorn. “But Lady Fartstings didn’t let her.”
“You said fart!” Joan shrieked, laughing and the two sisters started giggling, placing their hands over their mouth in joy.
“Lady Catherine didn’t have any babies,” Joan murmured, frowning. “Maybe she didn’t want to take us to her court.”
“What?” asked Richard, not understanding what was going on.
“Of course, she did, you silly,” said Philippa, unwilling to let her sister look so forlorn. “But Lady Fartstings didn’t let her.”
“You said fart!” Joan shrieked, laughing and the two sisters started giggling, placing their hands over their mouth in joy.
May 1478.
May 1478. Lambeth Palace, England.
“We thank the Lord for this food, and the hands that have provided it for us,” Richard started in the late evening. He was sitting at the head of the table with Philippa and Joan at his sides, holding his hands with their heads pending down as they prayed. “We thank the Lord for the presence of Philippa and Joan, and their continuous health.” His daughters giggled at that, but when they raised their heads to look at him, and saw the disapproving twist of his mouth, they closed their eyes again. “Amen.”
“Amen,” his girls said and Richard let go of their hands gently, leaning back as the servants began to serve them their food. It was an unusual thing for him to be eating with his children, but this was one of the last days he would be in England. Edward had told him that war with France was all but certain, a revenge for all the slights Louis XI had done to them, and Richard didn’t know how soon they would go.
And Philippa and Joan weren’t all of his children. Teddy and Rick had stayed at Farleigh Hungerford with their governess, too young to stay in London with other caregivers. Richard was even hesitating over letting Philippa and Joan stay with the Queen and their cousins. The Archbishop of Canterbury, at whose residence they were staying in while Richard conducted his business in London, had told him that he would be more than glad to care for them while he was out of the country.
Thomas Bourchier, who was also a Cardinal, was a good friend of Edward and Richard, but he felt as if he was overextending his welcome. The twins were good girls, but they were seven. And active. They had demands, and desires, and ideas. Not for the first time, Richard wondered what he would do if Mary was still alive.
He didn’t love his wife, but he was fond of her. He respected her. She was good with the children. Before her death, Richard spent most of the year at court, or taking care of the north for his brother. He saw his children rarely, when they were well-behaved, clean-faced. Mary knew how to deal with them. She knew what to do when Rick wanted to eat more than he should, when Teddy spent most of his days in his room, brooding. When Philippa stole Joan’s dolls, or when Joan slapped Philippa for no reason other than to annoy her sister.
His mind went back to Henry’s suggestion of remarrying. He didn’t know if that would be a good idea. A new woman in the life of his children might ruin everything, rather than fix it. Richard wasn’t sure about it.
Philippa, who hadn’t realised why her father was so quiet, piped up, “Papa, do you think fairies are real?”
Richard raised his head. “What are you talking about, darling?” he asked.
“Phil and I saw a pretty woman yesterday,” said Joan, smiling. “I think she was a fairy.”
“His Excellency said fairies aren’t real,” Philippa responded with a frown, talking about Cardinal Bouchier. “And that if they were, they would be of the devil.”
“He said that fairies are the angels that were not holy enough for Heaven, but not evil enough for Hell,” Joan added. “But she was so pretty! And nice.”
“But mama said the fair folk are tricksters,” said Philippa and Richard started feeling overwhelmed. “She said they take children to their courts and put their sickly babies in our beds.”
“Lady Catherine didn’t have any babies,” Joan murmured, frowning. “Maybe she didn’t want to take us to her court.”
“What?” asked Richard, not understanding what was going on.
“Of course, she did, you silly,” said Philippa, unwilling to let her sister look so forlorn. “But Lady Fartstings didn’t let her.”
“You said fart!” Joan shrieked, laughing and the two sisters started giggling, placing their hands over their mouths in joy.
“Girls!” Richard said in a harsh tone, trying to win back control over dinner. “Who are you talking about? Who is Lady Catherine?”
Philippa blanched, perhaps realising they had spoken too much, but Joan didn’t seem to notice her father’s expression and continued to talk as she ate, “She is a lady-in-waiting to the Queen. Lady Hastings apologised for her behaviour, but I thought she was nice, and Phil did too!”
“Why would she need to apologise for Lady Catherine’s behaviour?” said Richard, confused.
“Because she asked us to be careful, or we would get hurt,” Joan responded, focused on her food and her sister began to tell her to shut up. “She also said we were just talking, when Lady Hastings came to stop her because she asked Lady Richmond to attend to the… Don’t kick me!”
Richard looked at Philippa, whose face was flushed after she tried to stop her sister, and Joan, finally realising what was going on, closed her mouth.
“Philippa Plantagenet,” he said, careful, “What is she talking about?”
Philippa twisted her lips.
“Philippa,” Richard murmured in as much a stern tone as she could.
“Her name is Catherine Woodville!” she said, caving. “Lady Hastings said she was out of line, but I like her and she is my friend. Joan likes her too. You can’t stop us from being her friend!”
Richard leaned back. “Dear Lord,” he murmured.
It's one heck of an alternate universe if Richard ends up with a Woodville. But I ship it
