They take mass together, make confession, then walk down to the port and their parting, where she must bear the sight of Talbot’s wife dandling a new baby daughter on her knee and all the children farewelling fathers from the quayside. She watches Richard stride across the ship’s deck, laughing with William de la Pole, then looking sail-ward while he quizzes the captain for wind direction and crossing times.

He’s gone already, she thinks. And so must I be.

Before the ropes are cast off she’s walking back to the inn, where her wagons are packed and her horses ready.

From Southampton she goes north. Raby is a quieter place now, with its family out in the world and her father ten years dead. She hasn’t seen her mother in the five years since she went to France, but finds her undiminished. There are many who petition for Joan’s good ladyship, and she is as much about her papers as among her women. They have little time together, but in the warm evenings they walk the garden’s gravel paths, or climb the castle’s walls to watch the swans glide on the encircling water. Then, when the sun dips, they retire to Joan’s chamber to play chess by a low fire. Cecily comes close to winning several times, never quite. It would not be wise.

‘Your game has improved since I saw you last.’ Joan’s long fingers reset the pieces for another match.

‘I play with my husband.’

The slide of a smile. ‘Oh? There, I’m sure, you win.’

‘As often as he does.’

‘And does that make for a happy marriage?’

‘I am content.’

‘Content with your husband? That must be why I never see you.’

‘We’re busy,’ Cecily tells her. ‘Our inheritance didn’t come to us in a tidy bundle.’

‘Did it not?’

Cecily shrugs. ‘Oh, just that it was subject to the usual petty corruptions that come about when a great estate is managed many years by stewards. The work of it has had Richard scouring the country, knocking heads together, laying down the law.’

‘You can’t complain. It’s made Richard one of the richest men in England. And you, one of its greatest ladies.’ Joan’s smile is a true one now, satisfied and smug. ‘I made good marriages for my children. Yours best of all.’