‘You’re to go and see her first, before everyone,’ my husband tells me. I am standing by the window of the castle, looking down into the stable yard. The horses of the Anjou party, a sorry herd of hacks, are being brushed down and watered, and led into their stables.

‘Me? Why me?’

‘Her mother knows your mother, they think that you can be her friend. You made much the same journey that she faces, from a Luxembourg castle to the royalty of England. They want you to meet her ahead of the rest of us so that you can introduce her to her new court.’

‘I don’t know that I’ll be any help,’ I say, turning to follow him.

‘You’ll speak the same language and that will be something,’ he says. ‘She’s even younger than you were when the duke married you. She’s only fifteen. She’ll need a friend at court.’

He takes me to the double doors of the best apartment and steps to one side. The guards swing open the doors and bellow, ‘The Dowager Duchess of Bedford!’ as I go in.

The first thing that strikes me is that she is tiny, like a pretty doll. Her hair is a real bronze, a red-gold, and her eyes are grey-blue. She wears a gown of slate blue and a headdress perched far back on her head to show her exquisitely pretty face and her perfectly pale complexion. Her gown is scattered with embroidered marguerites – the daisies that are her emblem. The pout of her mouth suggests a spoiled child, but as she hears my name she turns quickly, and the brightness of her smile is endearing.

‘Ah! Madame la duchesse!’ she exclaims in French and runs forwards and kisses me as if we are old friends. ‘I am so glad you have come to see me.’

I curtsey. ‘I am glad to meet you, Your Grace.’

‘And this is my mama. I was so happy when they told me you would come with the Earl of Suffolk to fetch me, for I thought you would tell me how I am to behave and everything. For you were married to the duke when you were only a little older than I am now? And fifteen is very young to marry, is it not?’

I smile at this nervous ripple of talk.

‘Hush,’ her mother says. ‘The duchess will think you are a chatterbox.’

‘It is just that there are so many English people come to see me, and I find it so hard to remember names. And their names are so hard to say!’

I laugh. ‘I could not even say the name of my house at first,’ I said. ‘It is a hard language to learn. But I am sure you will learn it. And everyone speaks French, and everyone is eager to meet you and to be your friend. We all want you to be happy.’

Her lower lip quivers, but she speaks bravely enough. ‘Oh, I have started already, and I can say the Earl of Suffolk, and Cardinal Bouffé.’