Alexandra was seventeen, and the paperwork for her marriage was written on mourning stationery. The queen arranging it had lost her own husband. Her eldest son was about to gain a wife.
Queen Victoria was twenty-five, riding into the City in a coach drawn by eight cream-coloured horses. London had given her a grand welcome before. This time, she had her husband beside her.
History remembers Margaret Beaufort as a devoted mother, a pious noblewoman, a woman who prayed for her son from a distance and wept when he finally came home. That is the story she wanted told. She was also the most dangerous political mind of the fifteenth century, and the two things are not separate.
She fought for his crown harder than he ever did. He was buried in an unmarked grave. She was ransomed like cargo and sent back to France to die in poverty.