By Phyllis Limbacher Tildes
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Extra info for Baby Face
It's Alice who, soon afterwards, thought of the spring sun-worshipping theme, and the title of Lady of the Sun, and accepted the role for herself, graciously, when Edward offered it; of course she did. She doesn't care, especially, about the title. Titles, in her view, are an encumbrance; they make you too visible; every jealous nobody can take a pot-shot at you. Alice runs the royal households everywhere from Windsor to Sheen to Havering-atte-Bower, controlling the lives and purses of hundreds of servants.
My Tom's little wife,' she said. Then, to Kate's shock, she leaned forward and pinched Kate's cheek. 'A right little beauty he got himself and all,' she added with a sudden, toothy grin. Kate stepped back, touching her cheek. That jocular pinch had been quite hard. She didn't know if she liked the growing brightness in the woman's voice. ' 'Cousin,' the woman offered. Nothing more. She glanced behind Kate, behind the cottage, behind the open-sided barn where the tiles were drying, to the kiln.
I had Princess Joan's dress copied, didn't I? And I did it so you'd notice, didn't I? The Princess never showed herself at a public court dinner at Christmas; she only attended family occasions. So no one outside the royal family will have seen it. And Edward's eyes are failing; he never notices the colour of robes any more. It's a joke for the two of us to share. We're supposed to draw closer, and wink, and enjoy ourselves watching each other enjoying ourselves poking a bit of fun at the Princess, and then you're supposed to think: Why, Alice Perrers, you and I, we're kindred spirits.
Baby Face by Phyllis Limbacher Tildes