Richard looked into her anxious, innocent face and realized suddenly what he had been denying. What a fool I am! She is dying, he thought. Sweet Jesu, how much he was going to miss his gentle, principled consort. He could not let her guess his fear, and his frown melted into a smile. “Certes, I am not angry with you or Bess. It was a thoughtful gesture, and I thank you.” He looked across at Bess, wishing she did not so resemble her beautiful mother. “If my niece does not have ideas above her station,” and he winked at her, “I shall be honored to be escorted by two such fair ladies.” Oblivious of his niece’s heightened flush, he lightly kissed Anne on the forehead. When they had donned their masks, he took both women by the hand. “Let us join our guests, my queens. Perhaps this Guinevere,” and he turned to Bess, who blushed again, “will find her Lancelot tonight.”

Anne’s happy laughter quickly turned to coughing. “Silly of me to get so excited,” she apologized, accepting a kerchief from her attendant. “It will pass.”

As the halcyon days of that yuletide season became a poignant memory and the harsh winter of 1485 turned to spring, Anne’s pallor became indistinguishable from her bedsheets. More and more often a crimson spot spoiled their pristine whiteness, telling the physicians that their royal patient was suffering from the same consumptive disease that had taken her sister. The doctors forbade Richard close contact with her as they believed the condition was contagious.

Missing his wife’s presence, Richard spent many of the dark winter evenings in conversation with his four nieces, including a newcomer to his household, Grace, one of Edward’s by-blows. In an extraordinary, and surprising, act of magnanimity for the usually selfish Elizabeth, she had agreed to take in the young woman, who was a little younger than Cecily. It was a promise I made to Edward on his deathbed, she had written to Richard, and with the income I am expected to live on, I must now ask your help in providing for her. Have no fear, she is as quiet as a mouse.

Before Anne had permanently taken to her bed, she had begged Richard to allow Grace to join her older cousins at court. “If I can take in your Katherine, then you can do right by Edward’s Grace. I pray you, do this for me. She will be a companion for young Cecily.” And as Richard could deny his beloved wife nothing at this point, he agreed.