"No one understands a daughter like her own mother," she announced.
She took charge of the invalid. She had a bed brought into the room which she would occupy. She would be with Mary day and night. She made possets and special broths for her daughter which under the stern eye of her mother Mary dared not refuse.
She felt a great sense of security which she had missed in the days of Pleshy. To be here with Henry and her mother made her very happy and she began to grow away from her sorrow at the loss of the baby.
"You have your whole life before you," said her mother. There was one matter which she had not discussed with Mary yet, but she intended to when she considered the time ripe.
She blamed herself for not being firm enough in the first place. When she became a widow she should have refused to allow her younger daughter to be taken out of her care.
The King had given the wardship to John of Gaunt as a consolation prize for something else, and she had been obliged to let her daughter go because of the royal command. Her husband, Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex, had been one of the richest men in the country and so had a vast fortune to leave, and it was that fortune which had led to this situation when Mary might have lost her life.
She was now putting her foot down firmly and taking matters into her own hands.
She broached the subject to Henry first.
"Henry," she said, "I am going to talk to you very seriously. I am deeply concerned about Mary"
He looked alarmed. "I thought she was getting better."
"She is. But you know, do you not, that she has come near to losing her life."
"I know she has been very ill."
"The plain fact is that she is too young to bear children. Her body is not vet fully formed. She needs another two years at least in which to grow up."
Henry looked shamefaced and the Countess went on hurriedly: "I do not blame you. It is the fault of those who put you together at such an early age."
Henry flushed hotly. His father was a hero in his eyes.
"Oh, men do not always understand these matters," said the Countess hastily, realizing that if she were to have her own way in this matter she must not antagonize John of Gaunt.
She believed she knew how to handle this, but she would have to be tactful; and she knew that John of Gaunt's great desire had been to get the marriage celebrated and Mary's fortune secure. That had been done and he would be prepared to postpone the begetting of children for a few years.
"What do you want me to do?" asked Henry.
"There must be no marital relations between you for at least two years. You must see the reason for this. There must not be any more children ... yet."
"Have you told Mary?"
"I will explain to her. She will understand. In fact I am sure she does not want to endure again what she has so recently come through. What I am going to suggest is that I take Mary back with me. I shall look after her and you will know that she is safe in her mother's care. You will be welcome at my castle whenever you wish to come on the understanding that there is to be no lovemaking until she is of a suitable age."
Henry was ready to swear to agree to these terms. He had been very very anxious about Marv and had felt a terrible sense of guilt. But now she was well again and he could see that they must wait a few years before they lived together. Yes, he could do nothing but agree.
The Countess was triumphant. John of Gaunt was absent in Scotland on the King's business so he could raise no objections. Eleanor and her husband were no longer interested now that her share of the de Bohun fortune was lost to them.
She had only to tell Mary and as soon as the girl was well enough to travel they would leave.
Mary listened attentively to her mother.
"My dearest child," said the Countess, "I was very sad when you left me to go to your sister. It was no wish of mine, you know."
"I do know," said Mary fervently.
"It is so wrong when a child is taken from her rightful place just because she happens to have a fortune. Oh that fortune I I could wish that your father had been a much poorer man. Your sister coveted it... and so did her husband. They would have had you in a convent for the sake of it."
"I was fortunate to meet Henry," put in Mary. "He does not care for my fortune."
The Countess was silent. Did he not? She would be surprised if this were so. In any case there was one who cared deeply and that was Henry's father, John of Gaunt.
Thank God he was in Scotland and could not interfere. And would the King? He had given the wardship to his uncle John. No, she had nothing to fear from Richard. He was only a boy. If need be she would see him and explain; she was sure she could touch his pity for a mother who was concerned about her child.
"My dear," went on the Countess, "you know very well that you have been very ill. There was a day when your life was despaired of. The fact, daughter, is that you are too young as yet to bear children. Henry agrees with me that you must wait for a year or so."
"Wait ... what do you mean?"
"You and Henry will be as betrothed ... There will be no more marital relations between you."
"I must ask Henry ..."
"I have already spoken to Henry. He sees the point. He agrees with me."
She looked relieved. Then she said in alarm: "Do you mean I shall not see Henry?"
"Of course you will see Henry. He will come to Leicester to visit us. He will stay and you will sing your songs and play your guitar together. You'll pit your wits at chess. It is simply that you will be as betrothed ... as though the actual ceremony of marriage has not yet taken place."
She was silent. And her mother burst out: "You shall not be submitted to that pain again. You are too young to bear children as yet. Your body is not ready for it. All I ask is for you to wait for a year ... for two years perhaps. In fact I am going to insist."
"As long as Henry agrees ... and I shall see him."
"But of course you shall. Dear child, understand all I ever want is what is best for you."
So it was arranged and when Mary was well enough, the Countess left Kenilworth with her daughter.
THE LORD HARRY
For more than three years Mary lived with her mother during which time Henry visited her whenever it was possible for him to do so. Her mother explained to her that when one married a man who was of such high rank one must be prepared for him to have many duties outside his domestic life to claim him.
Mary was resigned. She eagerly learned how to manage a large household; she spent long hours in the still room; she studied the various herbs and spices and how to garnish dishes with them; she could brew ale to perfection; her mother allowed her to instruct the servants on those occasions when important visitors were expected and the Countess insisted that they all realized that in spite of her youth, Mary was the Countess of Hereford and wife of the son of the great John of Gaunt. Nor was she allowed to neglect the finer pursuits. She must learn the latest songs and dances which were fashionable at Court and she played the guitar and sang to guests. The finest materials were sent to the castle for her to choose which she preferred and the Countess insisted that she pay special attention to her appearance.
Those were the waiting years and Mary knew now without a doubt how wrong it would have been had she allowed herself to be forced into the convent. Henry had saved her from that and she would always be grateful to him. She was intended to be what he would make her: a wife and a mother.
Providing a happy well managed home for her husband and children was her true mission in life and during those waiting years she longed for the time when she would be old enough to go to Henry.