Written by user Jane_Bishop

He is one year older than me. I have never met him yet today we are to be tied in soul before God, and because I am a girl I am not allowed to choose my husband but must instead be sold off like a pretty dress. My mother has continuously been hammering the importance of this marriage to my family and this country into my head for the last six months. After King Henry and his son, Edward, my family- the Beauforts- are the heirs to the House of Lancaster, the greatest family in this realm; my fiancé, Edward, is the heir to the House of York, the second-greatest family in England. The Houses of Lancaster and York have once before taken up arms against each other, and this marriage is to spare England of any further squabbles. However, I am sure that York will find a way around our contract and treaty.

My father has been dead for many years and so it is my step-father, Lionel de Welles, who holds my hand and leads me up the aisle to give me away. Mother is sitting in the front row of the small chapel, next to Lady Cecily, Edward's mother. Too soon, my hand is placed in Edward's and my step-father leaves my side to sit next to Richard Duke of York, my new father-in-law.

As the priest says his words, Edward turns his head and looks at me from the corner of his eyes, smiling a little. I keep my gaze fixed on the crucifix statue on the altar, for now I believe my only friend to look out for me is God.

Edward slides the ring onto the third finger of my right hand and we are announced married. The only way I could ever get out of this now is if either of us drop dead. Why did I have to be married to this son of York? His sister, Anne, is already tied to another great Lancastrian family, the Duke of Exeter's. I see how successful that marriage has been at preventing war, so why is there this hope that Edward and I shall be any happier together or our union any more useful?

I do not know who is happier about this marriage: my mother or Edward's father. They both laugh, joke, and chat with everyone! I remain silent for the entire day and do not once glance over to my new husband, who I do not hear say much either. Nobody bothers to talk to me, even though this is my wedding, and I am satisfied enough with that. These celebrations are too frivolous for a ceremony performed before God! Is everything and everyone nowadays obsessed with and ruled by vanity?!

My only respite is the chapel where this union took place. There is no cushion at the altar to make my kneeling in prayer any more comfortable but it is no trouble, for I have had saints' knees since I was twelve. I clasp my hands together and whisper, under my breath, of course, 'pater noster, qui est in caelis, sanctificter nomen tuum...' I do not know how long I am down on my knees, but they begin to ache somewhere during my recital of the third decade. After I pray the rosary, I recite prayers for Our Lady, the Blessèd Virgin Mary, and ask for her to watch over me in my marriage. As is compulsory, I conclude with: 'in nomini Patri, et Filii, et Spiriti Sancti, Amen,' and cross myself. Then I stand up and rub my slightly-rough knees and turn around to return to to the hall of celebration.

However, I do not leave the chapel. I stand still, frozen on the spot in front of the altar. 'How long have you been here?' I ask softly, remembering that we are in a place of God.

Edward chuckles once. 'Long enough to know that you can recite the Lord's prayer, the entire rosary and five prayers to the Virgin Mary in perfect Latin,' he replies so properly and politely it sounds as if he has rehearsed and learned it by heart. 'So about twenty five minutes.'

'That is not long for me,' I murmur, completely forgetting my original question. 'Perhaps I spoke too quickly.'

'Did you forget to repent your sins?' he suggests. He must be mocking me, but his tone and expression is so serious that I am not entirely sure...

I narrow my eyes. 'No. I will do that tonight.'

'Still,' he continues, 'I doubt a pious young girl like you has any sins to repent.'

'We are all sinners in the eyes of the Lord,' I remind him.

We stand staring at each other in brief silence when I remember the original purpose of our conversation. 'So why are you here?' I ask. 'Evidently not to pray,' I say accusingly.

He rolls his eyes and walks towards me, his hands behind his back, and I have to fight the urge to flinch back. Then he drops down to one knee.

'What are you doing?' I stammer in shock.

He draws forwards and presents me with a necklace. 'A wedding gift for you. I was well-informed of your piety when we were betrothed and thought that this would be perfect. I had it commissioned especially.'

Still reduced to silence, I take the silver chain in my fingers and clasp the pendant. It is a small, silver crucifix. 'Thank you,' I mumble.

He rises and slides his hand up my arm, to my elbow. 'Shall we rejoin the festivities?'

Is he trying to be amiable and gallant? Is he trying to flirt with me? God forbid, for I cannot and will not succumb to lust, even for my husband.

The dreaded night comes too quickly. I say my prayers deliberately slowly, trying to stall the inevitable with every word. However, I cannot put it off forever and, as Mother has always told me, it would be best to get it over and done with. Perhaps if I cannot please him this night he will leave me alone for all the others. God willing.

He is already there, standing in front of the bed in his trousers and a thin white shirt. I curtsy shortly to him and he bows. The room empties of my ladies and his attendants and, as the door closes, we are left completely alone. I nod once and walk towards him, leaving a comfortable two-foot gap between us when I stop. He chuckles and steps forwards, closing it. I gulp.

'Do you want to do this?' he asks.

I push my eyebrows together. That was not what I was anticipating. 'My mother said that you would know what to do,' I mutter.

'Yes, but do you want to do it?' he persists.

'It is our duty, isn't it?' I ask, utterly confused.

'Only if you want to.'

'Pardon?'

He sighs lethargically. 'If you don't want me to, I will not touch you. At all.'

'Really?' I question.

He nods as if I am stupid.

'Oh,' I mumble sheepishly, now more embarrassed than anything else. 'But what about children? Is it not expected that I will give you sons so that our line may continue?'

He mutters something unintelligible and walks around the bed before he sits down on it, his hands resting lightly on the sheets. 'We are both young, and there is plenty of time for us to come to a conclusion. Perhaps you will change your mind in the coming months or years.'

'And if I don't?'

He twists his body around and reclines on the bed, his hands now moving behind his head. 'Then I will leave it to my three brothers to provide the House of York with heirs. I'm sure between the four of us we will manage to produce something,' he says with a wink. 'Besides,' he crosses his ankles, 'if our marriage is never consummated, we could annul our marriage on the grounds that you will not allow me to fulfill my desire of having children. That would suit you, wouldn't it, Margaret?' He raises one eyebrow. 'You could go off to live in a nunnery and maybe even become a saint.'

I shrug my shoulders, making no comment on my sole desire. 'Like you say, I may change my mind. Eventually.' I don't believe it but I say it anyway, for his benefit.

'Yes, but it's good to be prepared.' Then he takes his hands from behind his head and rolls over onto his side. 'Goodnight.'

Did that really just happen? Edward gave me a choice about consummating our marriage... Why? Why did he not just assume that I would be willing to do my duty as his wife? I thank God that he did not and left me to myself- untouched and intact; I would never want to be held against my will (a silly observation because who would?). Perhaps he was simply being decent to me.

Upon our betrothal, I vowed that I would hate him for the entirety of our marriage. Yet now, after this, can I? After he asked me for consent... no, I can still hate him, and I will. This was probably just common courtesy and I should have expected it, even from a York boy. Besides, he is of York and I am of Lancaster, so our hatred was set in stone long before our marriage: there is no avoiding it.

*

I open my eyes and yawn as I try once again to piece together the events of last night, for I still cannot quite believe it.

Neither can my mother.

'What do you mean you never consummated your marriage?!' she demands.

'Exactly that, Lady Mother!' I exclaim. 'He asked me if I wanted to and I said no, so he said that he would not touch me until I wanted him to.'

She groans. 'I know you, Margaret, and I don't think that you will ever consent to him. You are supposed to do your duty and provide Edward with heirs!' she snaps.

'Not if I don't want to,' I protest.

'Not all duties are pleasant,' she retorts, 'but they are called duties because they must be fulfilled whether you like it or not. Do you think that every woman is as lucky as you have been and is listened to when she rejects her advancing husband?'

I shiver. 'Then that is rape.'

'It's not that simple,' Mother says defensively.

I tilt my head to one side and glare at her.

'Just do your duty to this house and your family,' she grumbles as she pushes past me.

No, I will not. Besides, Edward would know that something was wrong if I changed my mind so quickly and would refuse my "wish"... wouldn't he?

I don't try him. I just walk into our chamber, climb into bed, remembering to keep my head down, and mutter, 'Goodnight.'

'You have not worn my gift yet,' he remarks innocently. Will he ever respond as I expect him to? 'Why not?'

I wince. The necklace is hidden away in a drawer in my mother's bedchamber so that I never have to be reminded of it or its donor. 'It is so dear to me,' I lie smoothly, 'that I want to save it for the most important and special occasions.'

He chortles to himself.

'What is it?' I ask sharply.

'I was wrong,' he chirps. 'It seems you do have sins to be forgiven for after all.'

I bury my head in the pillows and turn away from his gaze, which I know is fixed on me. I pull the sheets to my chin so that he cannot see me blush. Yes, our marriage is destined to lie in hatred, now I am certain.