It’s a sad lying-in. No one awaits the birth of Henry Holland’s child with enthusiasm. Least of all its mother. ‘I want only to be done with it,’ Anne complains.

Cecily has travelled hard to be there for its coming, riding into Exeter on the skirts of winter’s first snow storm. Her daughter, who has sickened every day of her pregnancy, is pale and, Cecily quickly decides, ill attended. No family to hand, either her own or her husband’s. The sisters Anne loves, being maids still and young, cannot join her in this place of women, nor childless Eleanor Talbot, who has become a friend. Only mothers here. Cecily would have asked Jacquetta to send the gilt-haired Elizabeth, but the girl is heavy with her second child and would be foolish to travel so far in winter. So there are only the household women, who are so far from youth they could lend years to Cecily. They go about their business efficiently enough, but the room’s only warmth comes from its well-stoked fire. Cecily thinks of her own first lying-in, of her sister’s comfortable company and the Virgin’s girdle, gift of Richard’s heart, daily in her sight.

‘What of your husband’s sister? Has she not given her house an heir yet?’

Anne shudders. ‘No. But I wouldn’t have her here even if I could. She’s as sour as her brother and, I hear, so disliked of her husband he will not bed her.’

‘What a family.’

‘You gave me into it.’

That stings. ‘Then I hope you will redeem it. Where is your husband?’

‘Where do you imagine? With the Queen in Kenilworth.’

‘Do you not mean with the King?’

‘If you choose to imagine there’s more profit in his company than hers. My husband is among the men whose support she buys. It doesn’t cost much to buy Henry. A manor here, a small estate. A little patronage. Pat his dog and he’s all yours. Henry Beaufort, now, Henry Percy, his brother Egremont or John Clifford, they’re more expensive.’

‘And with what does she buy them?’

‘With promises, what do you imagine?’

‘Promises of what?’

‘Of revenge against my father.’

Cecily nods. It’s no more than she’s imagined. ‘And your husband tells you this?’

‘He’s not very clever. And his mouth is the biggest thing about him. That’s to my advantage. Yours, too, I suppose.’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’ Anne reminds her of her own mother. If she’d hoped for an affirmation of love between them, here it is. Information she can make use of. Loyalty to her house.

Now she hears her own gift of love knocking at the chamber door. She’s brought Annette with her. Annette, whose powerful prayers brought her safe through so many childbeds, who has been a constant presence in her children’s lives.