“How long, Will?” It was the only thing that mattered.

“I can manage a few weeks at least. Cherbourg is well in hand.” He released me to search in one of his saddlebags. “First things first. I have this for you.”

I found I was smiling foolishly. It was good to see him. I did not greatly care what the gift was—a jewel, a pair of gloves, presumably something small enough to be packed into so confined a space. But it was neither. With a flourish, he produced a letter and presented it to me with a courtly bow.

“This is yours, Lady de Windsor. A meager piece of parchment, and much traveled—but of immeasurable value.”

He was somber as I opened the sheet, smoothing out the creases. I glanced up at his stern face, then back down at the directive with its heraldic emblem and red seal.

“They’ve done it, Will!” I gasped. “They’ve done it at last!”

There it was: beyond all my hopes. My banishment formally, officially, legally, revoked. A pardon granted to me for my breaking of Parliament’s command—the crime that I had never committed.

“Did you doubt it?” Windsor asked, his smile like a shaft of sunlight to pierce my heart.

“Yes. Oh, yes. I doubted it,” I replied, light-headed with the joy of it.

“I didn’t,” he responded with the arrogance I had come to accept. “I’m too valuable to antagonize. They knew I could always rescind my decision, leaving them in the lurch to find a new Governor. Now, don’t weep over it!” He took the parchment from me, sliding it into his belt. “It’s far too valuable to be blurred by unnecessary tears! You lost Gaunt’s original letter—we’ll not lose this one.”

I covered my face with my hands, my relief beyond words, and the tears continued to flow. Windsor took my wrists in a gentle grip and drew my hands down.

“Does that give your restless soul some contentment?”

“Some.” I managed a little laugh. “My thanks, Will.”

“And that’s not all.” He paused until he had my attention. “You’ll get your property back, legally acknowledged as yours.”

“All of it?” Now, that I could not believe.

He shook his head. “Not the manors in Edward’s gift. They’ll not do that. But all the lands legally purchased by you and Greseley—they will be restored.”

“That’s enough.…” I could barely utter the words. “It’s wonderful! I’ll have Pallenswick again.…”

“But they are not quite yours.…” He was leading me into the house.

I stopped.

“What?”

“They will be restored to me—as your husband.” His shout of laughter at my shocked expression disturbed the doves roosting on the roof of the stables, sending them up into a white-winged cloud.

“God damn them to hell! I don’t agree with that.…”

“Did I think you would?”

“But I…”

“It’s the best you can get, Alice. You know how the law stands. Your possessions are mine. But I’m a very generous husband.” He was solemn again, holding my hands strongly, palm-to-palm with his, to prevent my possible retaliation. He still read the fire in my eyes. “I make you free of your manors—I won’t interfere in their running. And the income from them is yours to use for yourself and your children.”

“How generous!”

“Exceedingly! Does it not satisfy you, Alice?”

I allowed my thoughts to settle. I had never thought it to be in my heart and mind, in my very soul, to be satisfied. Had I not always been restless, striving for the unreachable, driven to make a life that was safe and secure, for my children, for me? I must accept reality. A woman was dependent on a man, however much she might like to deny it, and if I would choose to be dependent on any man, it would be William de Windsor.

There he stood, the sun silvering his hair at the temples, the courtyard brimful of his presence, the smile that remained a constant companion even in his absence. Who’d have thought that the infamous Windsor would have a haunting smile? But he did for me.

“Well?” he asked. “I could do no more for you than this, ungrateful hussy.”

“I know. And I am very grateful,” I replied. I took his arm and we stepped together inside our home. I smiled. “I am satisfied.”



Anne O’Brien taught history in the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, before deciding to fulfill an ambition to write historical fiction. She now lives in an eighteenth-century timbered cottage with her husband in the Welsh Marches in Herefordshire, a wild remote area that provides much inspiration for people and events in medieval times.