(In June 1468, Margaret of York spends her last few days in England at an abbey near London where her brother, King Edward IV, fetes her farewell with sport and feasting before she leaves for her marriage to Charles the Bold in Burgundy.)

      Cecily joined the festivities on the final day, watching as George and Richard competed at archery, wrestling and swordplay. George never revealed the promised wager, because Richard was the winner in every instance except wrestling. Even at the hunt, Richard's skill with his falcon had won the praise of all who rode that day – most of all from Edward, turning George inwards and worrying Margaret more. Why does Ned not see the chasm opening between them, she thought woefully. He is not stupid, and yet, his life of hedonistic adventure with wine, food and women must addle his wits, she concluded. What will happen when I am not here? She sent a prayer to St. Joseph to be a father to her family and guide them through these dangerous times. All royal men came into the world knowing that by their very rank they courted an early death, Cecily had told her. “Be thankful you were born a woman, Margaret,” she said while still in mourning for her husband.

      Richard unexpectedly bested George in the sword fight, and Margaret watched her favorite brother walk away without acknowledging Richard's win, and once again her heart went out to him. He can't win – even against Dickon, she thought sadly. Poor George.

      * * * * *

Cecily had pleaded tiredness and begged to be excused from the journey into Kent, so Margaret's first farewell was to her mother, who had taught her everything. Cecily was standing in front of her – still tall and regal, her blue eyes shining with pride at her daughter. “Go with a mother's blessing, my child. You are from a proud house, Margaret. Never forget your ancestry and teach your children well. Your father would have been so pleased with you; he always thought you would go far.” And, as always when Cecily talked of her husband, the love in her eyes never failed to inspire Margaret.

      “Mother . . .” she hesitated but then plunged on, knowing this might be her last chance of intimacy with Cecily. “I do not remember father very well now. Am I a bad child? I only remember the feeling of warmth and safety. But I cannot see his eyes or hear his voice. Only sometimes I have the terrible nightmare, but there is no face on that hideous skull.” She paused, certain Cecily would stop this sudden flow of feeling. But Cecily's eyes tenderly told her to continue. “I am afraid that by going so far away, I will also forget your face—and Ned's, and George's . . .” She broke down and wept. “More than this,” she sobbed, “I fear I shall never see any of you again.”

      And then Cecily's protective arms were round her, making her feel like a little girl again, and they clung to each other for several minutes. “There, there,” the mother soothed her child. “God will give you strength to bear whatever fate has in store. Have faith, Margaret.”

      Her mother's love and strength gave Margaret the confidence to stop crying and compose herself. She inhaled her mother's familiar scent of lavender and oranges, as if trying to forever imprint it on her memory. Cecily gently untangled Margaret's fingers from her gown, and softly kissed her on the forehead. “There, 'tis done. Remember, you are to be a duchess—and mother to young Mary. You cannot behave thus with her. You must be her model, just as I was yours.” Nodding, Margaret wiped her eyes and nose.

     “Do your duty by me and write often,” Cecily said, becoming the stoic noblewoman once more. “Beatrice will be with you, and I shall hear about you from her, I have no doubt. And before long, I shall hear that you are to be a mother. God and his saints keep you safe. Farewell, Margaret.”

     She put out her hand stiffly for her daughter to kiss, and Margaret sank into a deep curtsey as she touched her mother's fingers to her lips, the familiar formality buoying her.  Then with Fortunata and Astolat in tow, she held her head high without a backward glance and left her mother alone in the room.