I summoned my rallying tone, the one I used for Bethan when she was in labour. ‘Take heart, my lord; I do not believe she will die. We still have time to calm her distress, feed her up and teach her how to bear a child. It will not be the first time a girl of thirteen has given birth and it will not be the last. But she has obviously been mourning alone for too long. Before you brought her here she must have felt abandoned and terrified. Does she have no family of her own to support her?’

‘She has a large family but they are scattered all over England. Her mother, Lady Welles, is apparently unwell and unable to travel and her sister Edith is about to give birth to her own first child. At court we only heard of my brother’s capture a month ago, then a ransom was raised and we expected him to be released imminently. News of his death came as a terrible shock. Margaret needs someone practical and kind like you to befriend her, Jane. You were the first person I thought of …’ He leaned forward beseechingly. ‘Just tell me what you need and I will provide it.’

* * *

Slowly Lady Margaret regained her appetite and recovered some of the energy and vitality I remembered having at her age, although of course I had not been pregnant nor had to contemplate the fearsome prospect of giving birth. I believed it was this fear that drew her so frequently to the castle chapel. She heard Mass every morning and only missed a second Mass in the evening if she was feeling particularly tired. Her faith seemed to sustain her and she derived great solace from ordering her days according to the Church calendar. When she was not in the chapel she read books or sewed tiny chemises and embroidered a beautiful baptism gown and coif for the baby in fine silk thread. Her needlework was immaculate and she designed her own patterns. Jasper was right; she was a gifted girl but she was also a proud one. I was not used to being treated like a servant and frequently I found being in her company like treading on hot coals.

‘You should come to Mass with me, Jane,’ she said one morning as I helped her into her fur-lined boots in order to cross the Inner Court to the chapel. ‘You neglect your duty to God.’