She had clung to him and he had told her what a blessing she had always been to him.
How she wished he would come back. It would be terrible if anything should happen to him on the Continent. Then Edward would be King … a little boy of four. Oh how stupid people were to set such store by the sex of a king’s heirs.
Even when her father went away he did not appoint his daughter as regent of England. She could imagine the protests there would have been if that had been suggested. The task went to her cousin Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, son of her grandfather’s brother Richard. She was fond of Cousin Edmund who had ever been mindful of her importance and never treated her with anything but the utmost respect.
Joanna was often rather mischievous in her attitude towards her elder sister, so that Eleanor wished she had not been so frank. Joanna liked to inspire confidences and then tease people about them. Joanna was not in the least like herself or Margaret.
As she had said to Margaret, ‘It has something to do with being born in a different part of the world.’ It was something people would never forget. Even now she was often called Joanna of Acre.
Joanna was extravagant. She was constantly overspending the allowance Egis de Audenarde gave her. This man had been appointed by their father as their pursekeeper and had had instructions as to how much was to be given them to spend on their needs; and Joanna could be very short-tempered with him when he admonished her for being more extravagant than the means at his disposal would allow.
It was no use trying to remonstrate with Joanna. She did not grow less self-willed as she grew older.
How different was Margaret, sweet Margaret who was always so subdued by her lively sister. Eleanor had noticed that when they were at the altar in Westminster paying their respects to the shrine of Edward the Confessor they had all presented their offerings, but Margaret had slipped in an extra two shillings.
She had done it unobtrusively and when Eleanor had mentioned it to her had coloured in embarrassment and murmured that their grandfather had had a special love for the Confessor and she had really been thinking of dear Grandfather when she did it.
‘You never knew him,’ Joanna had said sharply, for she would never have thought of giving extra – rather of holding back a little to be spent on something for her own adornment. ‘He died three years before you were born.’
‘But our grandmother has made him live for us,’ Margaret pointed out.
‘Oh, people always become saints when they die. I doubt even the old Confessor was such a saint as he is made out to be.’ Joanna could be quite irreverent. It was fortunate that she was not the one chosen to go into a convent. Joanna warmed to the subject. ‘I should think he was a very uncomfortable old man.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He never consummated his marriage you know. He was too pure. I should not like a husband like that.’
‘What do you know of husbands?’ demanded Eleanor.
‘As much as you do, sister, since neither of us have had one yet. Of course you are getting so old that you may never have one.’
Margaret said, ‘Well you know how frightened we were when we thought they were going to send her to Aragon.’
Eleanor changed the subject and said that she was going through her wardrobe to decide what she would need for their forthcoming pilgrimage.
‘I wish we could stay at Court,’ said Joanna. ‘I am so weary of visiting shrines.’
‘It is the wish of the King and Queen and our grandmother that we do this,’ Eleanor reminded her sister.
‘I could almost wish I were Mary,’ retorted Joanna. ‘No, no,’ she cried, crossing her fingers. ‘I did not mean that. Poor Mary. What a shame to force her into a convent!’
‘She went of her free will,’ Margaret reminded her.
‘Free will. What does a baby know of convents? How can you renounce the world when you don’t know what the world has to offer? They would never have made me enter a convent, I do assure you.’
‘There is no need to assure us, Joanna,’ replied Eleanor. ‘We believe it.’
Then they were all laughing and Joanna was telling them what festivities she would have at her wedding. There should be a masque – how she adored masques! There should be playacting and tournaments.
‘But you cannot have a wedding without a bridegroom,’ said Margaret. ‘And yours is dead.’
‘Drowned, poor Hartman! We willed it to happen, did we not, Eleanor?’
‘What nonsense!’ said Eleanor. ‘Now I am sending for Perrot and I am going to tell him what must be done with these garments. So many of my robes need mending.’
‘We need new ones,’ complained Joanna.
Nevertheless Eleanor sent for Perrot the tailor, and she discussed with him how her garments could be repaired while some had gone too far to be renovated and she would need new ones.
Perrot was eager to repair as much as possible for he had been warned by Egis de Audenarde that the Lady Joanna was spending more money than he was authorised to supply.
He examined the surtunics and the girdles which held them in at the waist and the mantles which were trimmed with fur and so long as to sweep the ground. He counted up how many silver buttons would be needed and how many gold.
He rather diffidently suggested that the Lady Joanna’s mantle should be repaired and perhaps he could find a little more fur to replace that where it was worn.
‘I’ll not have a patched-up mantle,’ cried Joanna. ‘It will show and people will say that the King’s daughters dress like paupers.’
‘I assure you, my lady, that when repaired, this mantle will be very fine indeed.’
‘Fine in your eyes it may be, but not in mine. I will have a new one for I will not allow the people to see me in what you will make of that.’
‘My lady, I fear the funds will not allow me to purchase a new mantle.’
‘You will not patch that one.’
‘But, Joanna,’ said Eleanor, ‘if Perrot does not, what will you do for a mantle?’
‘I shall have a new one.’
‘But you have just heard …’
Then Joanna flew into one of her rages. ‘I will not be governed by Perrot the tailor,’ she cried.
‘I do not seek to govern you, my lady. Only to tell you that the money allotted will not run to it.’
‘How I hate this vulgar talk of money! It is because the King is away that you think you can govern us, Master Perrot.’
Poor Perrot was so distressed he was almost in tears.
‘Perrot,’ cried Joanna, ‘I have finished with you. I shall not discuss any further what I shall have and what I shall not have. I will have what I will.’
With that she turned and flounced out of the room, leaving poor Perrot quite bewildered and distressed.
Eleanor comforted him. ‘The Princess Joanna will understand in time that you cannot spend money which is not there. Please do not fret, Master Perrot. I shall tell my father that this has come about through no fault of yours. Now shall we see what I need for my garments and I promise you I shall not attempt to ask for more than my allowance.’
Perrot thanked God for the calm justice of the Princess Eleanor and the gentle kindness of Margaret. He knew of course from other servants that the Princess Joanna was a trial.
When Perrot had gone Eleanor said to Margaret, ‘Don’t fret about it. Forget it. You know Joanna. She will recover from her temper sooner or later. Then she will attempt to make up to Perrot for her unfairness.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Margaret. ‘Poor Perrot is most upset.’
Joanna recovered from her rage but she did not send for Perrot. She was determined to have what she wanted, so she sent for merchants and bought extravagantly. She was more richly clad than any of her sisters and refused to wear a garment that Perrot had mended. When Eleanor pointed out that she was accumulating debts which would have to be paid she said, ‘Yes, I will speak to the King when he returns.’ She smiled mischievously at Eleanor. ‘He will be so delighted to return to his family that he will forgive us anything.’