~The Queen in the Tower~

Middleham Castle, North Yorkshire....

She began to count the small things. That is what you had to do if you wanted to live or, at least, survive.

If you waited upon great rays of light to give you hope instead of counting each drop of sun, you'd either fall to madness or wither away.

So Constance smiled each time she received a particular food she liked (a berry tart or slice of beef with a rich sauce), she made sure to sit at the window of her room every day the sun shone and the sky was cornflower blue like Cecily Neville's eyes; clouds nowhere to be seen. She made a note of each good thing, however small, and dedicated herself to her act, just as Richard told her to do.

After all, no one would suspect a peaceful, penitent widow of any treachery, at least not at Middleham where not a soul apart from Richard knew her well enough to believe any different if she behaved consistently in a certain manner.

Life at Middleham was hard but not as hard as it could've been, as hard as she feared it was for her darling daughters and Katherine in the Tower.

She had four gowns now, each simple, each plain. Two in black velvet, one in deep blue velvet, one in black silk. They had no adornments and tight sleeves, not the hanging ones she favoured but it was something new all the same and that was a good thing. Just as in Burgundy, the only jewels she owned were her wedding ring and the onyx rosary her Father had given her a full twenty years ago with its bejewelled crucifix.

Apart from Richard it was her greatest source of comfort. Holding it in her hands, smoothing her fingers over the beads, she felt slim strands of solace and when her dreams were not nightmares, she was often with her Father again, knelt in the chapel at the Château de Moulins, or walking in its vibrant gardens.

They were good dreams.
Safe dreams.

As were her dreams of Edward - the happy ones at least.

Then they became dangerous.

She also had one necklace - a golden cross on a black velvet ribbon given to her by Richard.

It had been Anne's he'd said.

Two ladies from the village had been brought to attend her - Alice and Martha they were called - and they did so with relative competence. They pinned her hair beneath either of the two truncated hennins she had been given with black veils, helped her dress and undress and accompanied her to the chapel and back (the only place she was regularly allowed other than her room) though she was trusted to pray alone or with Richard.

After all there was only one way in and out, they couldn't exactly escape. That was the only time Richard and Constance saw one another - apart from when Richard would use the servants passages to slip into her room and they would speak in hushed voices like naughty children, jumping at every sound.

She spent her days reading, praying or completing intricate works of embroidery on the frame she'd been bequeathed, while plotting in her head.

Alice and Martha were pleasant women, both in their thirties the same as she, with kind smiles and warm eyes of brown and blue respectively, but she did not allow them into her affections. To them, as she did to all, she presented her humble, placated act, perfecting it more and more as the days went by.

Though they could be loyal to Richard, they were being paid by Woodvilles and it would not do to trust them. It would not do to trust anybody - anybody apart from Richard. There was no room for trust. Anyone to think there was was a fool, plain and simple.

Constance was no fool.

She played her role well and by November, none was more convinced by it than Richard Grey, a great triumph - though it was almost too easy to achieve!

He began visiting her in the early days - likely on his Mother's orders - to simply see how she fared and that she was not setting fire to the castle and trying to burn him alive - but the more she used her honeyed words, the more she fawned over his presence, admiration for even the smallest of his accomplishments pouring from her smiling lips, the more he visited. His ego thrived on such things, particularly from women.

And his Mother wasn't here to contradict his thoughts or warn him of her intelligence nor press her to bend the knee to Arthur which meant Constance could easily steer the conversation onto another rout if the bastard's name ever passed his lips!

He only knew what he saw and heard and revelled in it while she played him like a fiddle to her advantage just as Richard did! They made a fine pair of plotters!

And so, the days went by and one morning (as almost every morning) she was by the hearth, the flames roaring, embroidery frame on her lap as she delicately weaved daisies onto cream coloured linen; soft smile on her lips. She always tried to keep it there, it made her look serene - passive.

Alice and Martha sat opposite, darning stockings.

Outside it was snowing, the delicate flakes dusting the hills in pure white and leaving thin sheets of ice across her window.

She heard his footsteps first (she always heard his footsteps) the heavy fall of his boots and unshakable confidence in his gait. She sat up a little straighter, moulding her expression into one of complete concentration on her work, still keeping her smile on her face.

The footsteps of Richard Grey came closer then stopped. A small knock and then the door opened.

"Madam"
Her head shot up in practiced excitement, lips spreading into a bright beam that lit up her eyes.
"Ah! My Lord!" She greeted, eagerly laying aside her work as if it were a burden and his presence a more than welcome relief - standing. She curtsied "You are so good to visit me, it does brighten my days!"

He strode in, returning his smile (though it was rather a self satisfied one as usual) and inclined his head towards her. Alice and Martha rose, curtsying.

As with each of Elizabeth's sons, he looked remarkably like his Mother with striking blue eyes and unblemished, pale skin. His hair was chestnut brown instead of her blonde but still lay against his head in soft curls like hers. He was twenty six but there was still something childlike about him, his face still soft with the baby fat of youth, his hands smooth like a boy's instead of roughened by the sword like a man's.

Like all of his brothers, he'd been pampered by his Mother - forever her special little baby.

He was more pretty than handsome.

"I am happy to do it" He said "To see how you fare and am glad to find you at peace and more contented by the day!"

"Indeed I am, Sir! Come!" She invited warmly, motioning him to Alice's chair and waving them to the window behind "Do sit!" She returned to her seat "Tell me, has any of the winter heather blossomed in the gardens since I last took a turn about it? I cannot express how grateful I am for you allowing me to see the gardens that blessed afternoon, it filled my heart with joy and my mind with peaceful quiet"

It had actually been rather boring with him rambling on about his extensive 'accomplishments' while she listened, trying her best to appear enthralled. Still, it had been nice to feel the air on her skin, to breathe in the cold of the season.

"You are most welcome, my Lady!" Grey replied, puffing out his chest "I find women often take pleasure in pretty things" As if he were a connoisseur of such matters! Constance only smiled in warm appreciation, clasping her hands and giving a light giggle.

"And I am no different!" She said before widening her eyes in feigned remembrance and gesturing to the window "Did you see how the sun shone on the hills this morn? It was quite divine! Our Lord truly is a great and wondrous Father, creating such beauty for us to enjoy upon earth! My only wish is that my daughters could enjoy it with me" She crossed herself, allowing a forlorn look to come across her face as she peered innocently across at him "Do you know if they see the sun, my Lord?"

"I have no doubt of it, Madam!" He instantly replied, reaching out and settling a hand on her arm, she smiled covering it with her own "I dare say they enjoy days upon Tower Green more often than not!" She nodded (though doubted his word more than she doubted the Lord's existence those days), sighing.

"I am sure you are right, my Lord! You are too good to me! Truly, I cannot express my gratitude!"
The smug smile adorning his lips only increased and he stood, Constance following suit.

"Would you allow me to escort you to the chapel? I have found you are often there" Of course he knew that, she thought, he was the one that took her! She smiled; looped her arm through his when he offered it.

"You are very kind, my Lord!"

And so, they left her chamber (Alice and Martha in tow) and took a leisurely stroll through the castle, Constance hanging on each of Grey's words as if there were nothing ever said that was greater. He adored it of course and was only too happy to indulge his love of hearing his own voice.

"My, I would simply love to see you hunt one day! You are such a fine shot!" She praised as he regaled her with his latest tales of hunting - or rather his latest boasts.

"I hope that one day I may take you" He replied and she could see the chapel door ahead "Despite my Mother's condemnations of you, it is clear to me that you are a fine women, my Lady, of good grace and piety!" She smiled, feigning bashfulness as she demurely cast her eyes to the ground, letting her fingers tighten around his arm just a little. He had begun complimenting her in the past weeks she'd noticed.

They arrived outside the chapel door and he stepped elegantly in front of her, taking her hand from his arm and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles "I shall leave you to your prayers, my Lady"

And away he went, the same confident footsteps that signalled his approach, echoing through the corridor.

"Your prayer book, my Lady" Martha said and handed it to her. Nodding in thanks, Constance turned and entered into the chapel, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Richard was waiting as he always was and knelt devoutly before the alter, a position they both kept to ensure no suspicion was aroused should anyone else enter.

She walked down the aisle, the stained glass of the windows casting multicoloured shadows on the floor, and knelt at his side, clasping her hands; bowing her head.

"You escaped"
"You say that every day" She replied, a true smile curving her lips for the first time that morn.
"And every day you manage it"
"As do you!"

He turned his head toward her, grinning.
"I assume it was Grey that brought you here as he's taken to doing so?"
She sighed

"Yes. His company is tiresome but I seem to have him truly wrapped around my finger! He believes every word that passes my lips and if he ever brings up the bastard then I simply divert him with more compliments!"

"Right where we want him!"
"Indeed....Lord I've never met a man who goes on as he does! Edward was certain of his own talents, to be sure, but he did not think he was a God!"

"That's his Mother's doing" Richard said "All of her brood think themselves above mere mortals such as us! That shall be our advantage and their downfall!" Pride goeth before the fall as he would often say and the fall of the Woodvilles would be as quick as their rise; far more brutal.

They were going to kill Richard Grey. One day, by whatever means, they were going to kill him and take the castle and then it would all begin. Perhaps (if things played out just as they had planned) they would take him hostage for a time, use him as a bargaining chip to subdue Elizabeth, but when all was said and done, he would die with the rest of his family.

"He said that one day he wishes to take me hunting"

"Really?" Richard exclaimed thoughtfully, nodding "I shall work to join that excursion, perhaps an ill-aimed arrow could find its way into his eye?"

"That is too obvious" Constance murmured "All know you are an excellent marksman and we will be guarded. He is stupid but not so stupid as to ride into the woods alone with both of us armed! We cannot be rid of him on our own, we need support. The day we kill him must be the day we take the castle and to do that we need power, we need strategy"

"I haven't heard from the Scropes" He replied. The Scropes were amongst Richard's closest allies, residing just five or so miles away at Bolton Castle, a place he'd known well since his youth, but there hadn't been a peep from them since Middleham was taken. He didn't think Bolton had been captured and was adamant that the Scropes would come to their aid as soon as he said the word.

Constance hoped he was right, she knew the Scropes very little.

"If they are as loyal as you say then they will be biding their time just as we are! Likely awaiting your call!"
"The sooner, the better" He said and his hand suddenly took hers, squeezing gently "We shall survive this! I will make sure we do and that your daughters are returned to you and your sons safe and sound! For Edward, the elder and the younger" She smiled, her free hand coming to cover their intertwined ones.

"I trust you with my life, Dickon, with the lives of my children, and I hope you trust me with yours"
"Of course I do!" He replied firmly "I have watched you lead an army and had it proven to me time and again that you are the bravest woman I've ever laid eyes upon!" A chuckle burst from her lips. Oh Dickon, sweet, dependable Dickon. He was so very lovely.

"You flatter me!"
"I tell the truth and we will win, Connie. I will not relent until we do"

She readily believed that! He would fight perhaps even when the last breath left his body if it came to it; claw himself back to earth from heaven to see her and their kin safe. What a treasure he was, she thought, ever loyal and constant. She would make sure he survived along with her, she needed him. He made her feel safe.

Sighing, she released his hand and he released hers, clasping them in pretence of prayer again.
"Have your spies brought word from the South of late?"

"They have!" He replied, a little brighter "The people grow more discontented by the day! The taxes are breaking their backs and the Woodville faction are useless with the gold they grasp! They spend it all on mercenaries and splendour, though that does not come as a surprise, Elizabeth always did possess a certain gaudy taste"

"Rather like a magpie" Constance quipped, eliciting a laugh from Richard that made her smile.
"Too right, Con! Now, should you be returning to your chambers?"
"Chamber" She corrected and shook her head "And no! I believe I should like to indulge in a little more prayer"

Richard hummed, a slight smirk curving his lips.
"Me too. I find it rather soothes the soul"