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When, exactly, was Elizabeth of Lancaster’s first marriage dissolved….?

Elizabeth of Lancaster

A source at the National Archives says that John of Gaunt’s daughter Elizabeth was married to the boy, John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, on 24th January 1380. She was about 17, he was about 8. She then “disagreed” with the marriage, because of her husband’s youth and inability to consummate the marriage, and the source says that the marriage was dissolved on 24th February 1383. A very specific date.

The source was The Account Rolls of the Household of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (1340-1399) ([These] were found acting as backing to the Waleys Cartulary [MS. GLY/1139] when this was repaired. They consist of items from various classes of household accounts and were placed haphazardly when employed as backing. Each roll of the cartulary had ten membranes, which were heavily mutilated in their secondary function.):- (4) Mon. 1-31 [July 1381]. Roll A.7. This “Mentions the Countess of Pembroke. Lancaster’s daughter Elizabeth married John, Earl of Pembroke, on 24 Jan. 1380 and the marriage was dissolved on 24 Feb. 1383.”

John Hastings, Third Earl of Pembroke 

However, on 24th September that same year, 1383, she was still terming herself Countess of Pembroke:

Proof of EofL's continuing use of Pembroke title

So, would she still do this even though the marriage had been ended? In other words, would she remain Countess of Pembroke until she remarried? Or, were proceedings to disagree with and dissolve the marriage commenced in the February of 1383, but not finalised until after the September?

There is a LOT of confusion about the ending of Elizabeth of Lancaster’s first marriage, with talk of passionate seduction, pregnancy, and a shotgun wedding to swiftly hitch her to her seducer. This was Sir John Holand, Richard II’s colourful half-brother, the future Earl of Huntingdon and Duke of Exeter; a man to whom Lady Caroline Lamb’s opinion of Lord Byron could be applied, i.e. that he was “mad, bad and dangerous to know”. He was flambuoyant, passionate and capable of cold-blooded killing, but he was also devastatingly charming. This second marriage took place in Plymouth on 24th July 1386. (24th again?)

JH - WordPress

Sir John Holand being led into tournament


It’s always claimed that the annulment of her first marriage had to take place hastily so that she could marry the father of her unborn child. But the dates above suggest she was no longer married to Pembroke when she was seduced by Holand, who was fervently in love with her. And, presumably, she with him.

How did this widespread story of marital infidelity and hasty remarriage come about? Because she was still called the Countess of Pembroke, and assumptions were made that she was still married to Pembroke? Or because the sources I have quoted above are wrong? Should I ignore the dates that contradict the salacious traditional tale of adultery and a “shotgun wedding”?

Being a Ricardian, I am always mistrustful of “traditional” tales….

PS: There is also a very strong suggestion that Sir John Holand was the father of Richard of Conisbrough. father of Richard, 3rd Duke of York…and thus the grandfather of Edward IV and Richard III. Sir John is believed to have had an affair with Richard of Conisbrough’s mother, Isabella, Duchess of York, wife of Edmund of Langley. No one knows for sure, of course, but Edmund of Langley left Richard of Conisbrough out of his will, and it was down to Isabella to do all she could to protect her son. It does indeed smack of Richard of Conisbrough not being York’s offspring. Good Sir John Holand certainly seems to have left his mark on history!

He was reputedly very tall and handsome…might this be why Edward IV was too? Just a thought.




Illustrated by SHW …


Today in 1538-9, Henry Pole Lord Montagu, was beheaded for treason, after the “plot” involving his brother, Reginald, later a Cardinal. It was previously thought that Reginald was a sub-deacon for many years, was only properly ordained in late 1536 and thus could have married at any time before this. However, it is now clear that he had undertaken a clerical career many years earlier, culminating, from an English perspective, as Dean of Exeter (1) for the decade from 1527. This demonstrates that he would have been required to observe celibacy from the outset, which sets a different light on Henry VIII’s reaction to the plot.

As you will have observed from our previous posts, those arrested in November 1538 included: Montagu, Sir Geoffrey Pole (also his brother), Henry Pole the Younger (his teenage son), Sir Edward Neville (uncle of his late wife, Jane) (2), Henry Courtenay Marquis of Exeter (cousin) and Thomas (Exeter’s teenage son, later Earl of Devon). All of these adults, except Sir Geoffrey, were executed in early December or January and only Sir Geoffrey and Thomas Courtenay emerged alive from the Tower. Henry VIII’s proclamation refers to the “plot” involving a marriage to Princess Mary and we can now confidently state that the putative husband was definitely either Henry Pole the Younger or Thomas Courtenay, thereby explaining their arrest.

(1) The ODNB, as cited by the author’s correspondence with Exeter Cathedral.
(2) Also an ancestor of Colonel Richard Neville (Royalist commander) and George Washington, inter alia.

The Scrope and Welles marriages of Edward IV’s daughter….

Ralph, 9th Baron Scrope of Masham, was—through his Greystoke mother—the great-grandson of Joan Beaufort and therefore great-great-grandson of John of Gaunt and Katherine de Roët.

The tombs of Katherine de Roet and her daughter, Joan Beaufort - Lincoln Cathedral

The tombs of Katherine de Roet and her daughter Joan Beaufort in Lincoln Cathedral

This made him the great-great-great-grandson of Edward III. (For the path, follow the purple line in the following chart.) What this blood did not do was give him expectations.


* I apologise for the poor resolution in the above chart. The problem just seems to be with this published version. It can be seen more clearly on my Facebook page, one of the entries for 6th August 2017. Click on the chart in the collage, and it will pop up in a crisper version. See

As the third of four brothers, Ralph could not have expected to inherit the family title, nevertheless, as plain Ralph Scrope, he married a princess. Cicely of York was the daughter of the late Yorkist king, Edward IV, and therefore the niece of Richard III. She was also very beautiful, if Sir Thomas More’s description is anything to go by: Not so fortunate as fair. Some say she was the loveliest of Edward’s daughters.

Cicely, daughter of Edward IV

Cicely, daughter of Edward IV

However, this early Scrope marriage has only recently come to light. Until its unexpected discovery, it was thought that Cicely only married twice, first John Welles and secondly one Thomas Kymbe or Kyme. Now, it seems, she had three husbands.

It was Richard III who arranged this astonishingly advantageous marriage for Ralph. True, Cicely and her siblings had been declared illegitimate at the time, but they were still the acknowledged offspring of one king, and the nieces and nephews of another, and therefore considerable catches.

Richard III

Ralph was not exactly in the forefront of royal blood, but he did have some. His maternal great-grandmother, Elizabeth Ferrers, was the granddaughter of John of Gaunt, and half-sister of Cicely Neville, Duchess of York, who was the mother of Edward IV and Richard III. So Ralph had some very important royal connections indeed, but didn’t have the clout to go with it. He had no title at the time, and wasn’t expected to ever have one. The family seat at Masham was never likely to be his. So he would never be a great landowning noble who might develop designs on the throne. But he was safely Yorkist. Maybe all these were good reasons for Richard to select him for an illegitimate niece.

Whether desired or not, the marriage probably took place in 1484, when Ralph was about 23, and Cicely a mere 15, possibly 16. The only certain thing, apart from the marriage’s existence, is that when Richard was killed at Bosworth and Henry VII usurped the throne, the Scrope match was swiftly set aside, as if Cicely had never been a bride at all. But presumably it had been consummated? We can’t even say that, but by medieval standards she was certainly of age.

Henry VII

Henry VII

The reason for the jettisoning of the Scrope union is another thing that is not known, but the outcome was that Cecily was swiftly married off to Sir John Welles instead. He was not Viscount Welles at the time, that came later. Why did Henry choose John? Well, he was Henry’s half-uncle to start with, and a Lancastrian who had shared exile with him.

Bletsoe Castle - much altered since John Welles's day

Bletsoe Castle, a residence known to John Welles. His mother was born there.

Another reason is probably that Henry, by now married to Cicely’s elder sister, Elizabeth of York, had no desire at all to have his new sister-in-law married to a mere Scrope of no rank or expectation of a title. A Yorkist, to boot. All these things probably had a lot to do with it. Henry’s claim to the throne was by conquest, because his line of descent wasn’t exactly direct. His Yorkist queen—once made legitimate again—had a better title. He had no real blood claim at all, because his mother was a Beaufort, and the Beauforts had been forbidden the throne at the beginning of the century by John of Gaunt’s trueborn son, the first Lancastrian king, Henry IV. Who, as it happens, was another usurper. So the usurper at the end of the century, Henry VII, did all he could to bolster his personal prestige. Therefore, exit poor Ralph Scrope, stage left.

John Welles was about twenty years older than Cicely and had not been married previously, but Henry’s half-uncle or not, he wasn’t royal himself. He was related to royalty, because his mother’s first marriage had been to John Beaufort, 1st Duke of Somerset, who was of course—like Ralph Scrope—descended from John of Gaunt. On the death of the duke, John’s mother married Lionel, 6th Baron Welles, and John was the result. Another piece of bad luck for John was that his father, Lionel, had also been married before, so the family title of Baron Welles and the lands went to the son of his first marriage. John got nothing from either parent.

It was John’s Beaufort half-sister, Margaret, who received the all-important royal blood and a huge fortune in money and lands, albeit through an illegitimate line that had been legitimised. She was perhaps the greatest heiress in the realm, and was snapped up at a very early age by Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond (another half-brother of a king, this time Henry VI). Their only child was to become Henry VII. Something useful for John at last? Yes, as it turns out.

John, Viscount Welles

John, 1st Viscount Welles

Ignoring Henry’s probable haste to be rid of an inconveniently lowly Yorkist brother-in-law-by-marriage, might it have been that John Welles actually loved the beautiful Cicely? Did he ask his half-sister to mediate with her son Henry? Or maybe Henry had some fondness for his half-uncle, and simply wanted to increase John’s importance with a royal wife, and then a title? Henry wasn’t exactly overloaded with blood relatives, so was obliged to keep and placate the few he had. Plus, of course, a royal wife for Uncle John would make Henry himself look better.

Certainly John Welles appears to have looked after and appreciated his highborn bride. His will was very affectionate, and according to one report (Gentleman’s Magazine, Volume 163, p.33. Funeral of John Viscount Welles, 9th February 1498) she was quite distracted on losing him. The word used for her distress is actually “incontinent”, in its meaning of “distraught”. So I have reason to think that whatever her feelings for him at the outset of the marriage, there was warmth at the end. They had two daughters together, both of whom died tragically young.

One thing can be said of Cicely first two husbands: they were cousins. But not royally so, of course. Ralph’s great-grandfather, Stephen Scrope, 2nd Baron Scrope of Masham married Margery de Welles, the sister of John’s great-grandfather, the 5th Baron Welles.  John Welles also had the same Greystoke blood as Ralph, but alas, not from the member who married the granddaughter of John of Gaunt! Poor old John, missed out again. First because he wasn’t from his mother’s Beaufort marriage or his father’s first marriage, and also because he wasn’t from the right Greystoke marriage either. Dag nam it thrice times over!

However, that other Greystoke marriage was of great benefit to Ralph, upon whom it bestowed that royal Beaufort blood. What it did not do was bring him the family title, until he was nearing the end of his life and in a second childless marriage. He was the third of four brothers, who all failed to leave heirs—except for one, who produced a daughter, but she left no children either. So Ralph had to wait to eventually become the 9th Baron Scrope of Masham. His successor, the fourth brother and 10th baron, Geoffrey, also died childless, and on his death in 1517, the title fell into abeyance.

But Cicely did not stop at two husbands. She chose to marry again, and this time she certainly followed her heart. Not royal instructions! A few years after the death of John Welles, she married Thomas Kymbe or Kyme, a Lincolnshire gentleman of Friskney in Lincolnshire. His family home was probably Friskney Hall, the remains of which are shown in the map below.

Site of Friskney Hall - Kymbe residence

As may be imagined, Henry VII went blue in the face. He erupted into a fury, took away all her possessions (presumably to deny her upstart husband her wealth) and banished her. He was beside himself over what she’d done behind his back. His sister-in-law, married to a mere gentleman? It wasn’t to be tolerated!

The scandalous situation was smoothed by none other than Henry’s mother, Margaret Beaufort, who had formed a close friendship with Cicely. Margaret mediated with Henry, and managed to smooth his ruffled feathers. To a certain extent, anyway. He allowed Cicely some of her possessions, but he never again referred to her third husband. To Henry, and therefore the rest of the court, she was Viscountess Welles until the day she died. She did eventually appear at court again, but not often, and I imagine she kept out of Henry’s way.

She and Thomas went to reside in the Isle of Wight, where she eventually died as was laid to rest in old Quarr Abbey (although there is a school of thought that she died at Margaret Beaufort’s residence in Hatfield Old Palace).

Ruins of old Quarr Abbey, Isle of Wight

Ruins of old Quarr Abbey, Isle of Wight

It is thought that she and Thomas had children, a boy and a girl. There seems evidence of this, but all trace of any further descendants has been lost. So it is possible that there are folk around now who can trace their descent from this remarkable royal lady’s third marriage. But not, alas to her first two.

The puzzle of George of Clarence’s Calais wedding….

could be clarence wedding

The only certain thing that can be said of the marriage of George, Duke of Clarence, and Isabel Neville, daughter of the Earl of Warwick, is that it took place in Calais. Oh, and that Isabel’s uncle, the Archbishop of York, performed the ceremony. After that, the picture is a little blurred. Which day? Which church? Who was there? How long did the celebrations last? Was it public…or kept under wraps. Search for definitive information, and you will find differing answers to all these questions.


Those who read this blog will know the circumstances that led to the marriage. Briefly, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick fell out with Edward IV, whom he had helped to the throne, thus earning the nickname of Kingmaker. George, Duke of Clarence, Edward’s brother, also fell out with Edward and deserted him to side with Warwick in Calais. This alliance was cemented by George’s marriage to Warwick’s elder daughter, Isabel. (The younger daughter, Anne, was to eventually marry the youngest of the three royal brothers, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who would, of course, become Richard III.) The object was to invade England, get rid of Edward, and replace him with George, who believed his own claim was better because of a story that Edward was illegitimate.

An account of the wedding by George Amelius Crawshay Sandeman appears in his Calais Under English Rule:-

“In 1469 another magnificent marriage thrilled Calais society, when George, Duke of Clarence, wedded Isabella, the King-maker’s daughter, thus sealing the revolt against Edward IV. This marriage was celebrated by the Archbishop of York in Notre Dame.” (I do not know how much faith to place in this author, because he also states that “…in 1487 Richard III made a grant, dated from Kenilworth, July I, ‘in the way of charity’…” 1487? Neat trick, Richard!)

Notre Dame, Calais

So, now we have the bare bones of the situation in July 1469, when George and Isabel took their vows in the parish church of Calais, Notre Dame/Our Lady (above). Or was it St Nicholas church? St Mary’s? St Peter’s? All four were in Calais, but there generally seems to be a tussle between Notre Dame and St Mary’s when it comes to this wedding. Some even say it wasn’t celebrated in a church at all, but at the castle. There is also disagreement about whether it all took place on 11th or 12th July, but all agree that 1469 was the year.

arms of george neville, archbishop of york

The Archbishop of York was, of course, Warwick’s brother. But who else was present? Warwick himself? His other daughter, Anne? His countess? Certainly the groom’s family would not have been represented. Edward IV strongly opposed the union, which was most certainly proceeding without his consent. But Edward knew about it. So how could it be secret? Maybe the secrecy only involved the time and place, not the fact of the marriage? After all, according to Susan Higginbotham “A papal dispensation was obtained in March 1469, despite Edward IV’s objection to the match”. So I guess everyone knew well beforehand that the marriage was on.

In The World of Richard III by Kristie Dean, she writes “…the ceremony was a well-attended affair with five Knights of the Garter and other lords and ladies present…” Who were these KGs, lord and ladies? She also writes that it was “most likely in St Mary’s Church, because the men [George and Warwick?] wanted it to be as public as possible.” It can’t be secret and public at the same time. places the wedding day on 12th July, but the majority go for the 11th. For instance, the chronicler Wavrin says it all took place on Tuesday, 11th July, but he had left Calais almost a week earlier. Nevertheless he says ‘there were not many people, so the festivities only lasted two days’. Hindsight? Or did he know this beforehand? Oh, and George Amelius Crawshay Sandeman  describes the wedding as “magnificent”! He and Wavrin can’t both be right.

George and Isabel - 1

So, the puzzle remains, as does the statement that all we can really be sure of is that the wedding took place.

Clarence's signature




After the battle of Bosworth, Henry VII married Edward IV’s daughter Elizabeth of York. What happened to Edward’s other daughters? Bridget, the youngest, went to a nunnery. Anne married the younger Thomas Howard (which was the marriage proposed for her by Richard III; Thomas Jr’s father Thomas still desired the marriage for his son and eventually permission was granted by Henry Tudor). Cecily’s current marriage was dissolved, and Tudor married her instead to John Welles, Margaret Beaufort’s half brother, tying her into his own family.

That only left Catherine of York.

Catherine was born in August 1479 at Eltham Palace, one of Edward’s later children. Soon after her birth Edward began to arrange a royal marriage for her to the son of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile; however, he died before the proposal was finalised.

Catherine, then a child of less than four years of age, went into sanctuary with her mother and many of her siblings, as the dramatic events of 1483 unfolded. Later, she emerged with her family in March 1484, when Richard III promised their safety, and proclaimed that Edward’s daughters would be treated as honourable kinswomen and eventually be married to gentlemen of birth, giving to each an estate valued at 200 marks. (He also gave Elizabeth Woodville 700 marks to live on, a little more  than her own son in law, Henry Tudor.)

Catherine remained unmarried during Richard’s short reign, although her sister Cecily was given to Ralph Scrope and  plans were being made for Elizabeth to marry Manuel, Duke of Beja. Under Henry Tudor, it was proposed Catherine would marry into Scottish royalty, taking the Duke of Ross, James Stewart, as her husband. Her mother, Elizabeth Woodville, would at the same time be given in marriage to the Scottish king, James III. However, when King James was killed in battle, his successor never bothered to pursue the prospective  English alliances.

So in 1495, aged around sixteen, Catherine instead married William Courtenay, son of Edward Courtenay. The Courtenay family had always been staunch Lancastrians but had not fared particularly well in the dynastic battles of the Wars of the Roses. Thomas Courtenay was taken in battle at Towton and beheaded at York, while his brother Henry was executed for treason in Salisbury marketplace in 1469. Another brother, John, was slain at Tewkesbury. Hugh Courtenay, from a junior branch of the family,  also was executed after Tewkesbury; it was his son Edward who then became Earl of Devon, and Hugh’s grandson, William, who married Catherine of York. We do not know if the marriage was a happy one, but together William and Catherine had three children.

However, things turned ugly  for the family in 1504. Henry VII found out that Courtenay had been supporting the claims to the throne of Edmund de la Pole, the last Yorkist heir.  William was attainted and thrown into the Tower of London, where he remained throughout the rest of Henry Tudor’s reign.

When Henry finally died, his son, Henry VIII, seemed ready to give his imprisoned uncle a rare second chance.  Henry was said to be very fond of Catherine from early childhood (it is claimed she loved children and played with him when at court) and he considered her his favourite aunt. He released William from the Tower and allowed him to resume his role in society, even carrying one of the swords of state at  Henry’s coronation. A year or so later,  he gave William back his title as Earl of Devon—although unfortunately William died only a month or two later, so never got to enjoy it.

Eager to avoid another arranged marriage, Catherine promptly swore an oath of chastity before the Bishop of London, and then retired to her Devon estates. She lived quietly in Tiverton Castle, and also at the remote Bickleigh castle, with its rare thatched Norman chapel.

Catherine died at Tiverton on November 15 1527, aged 48, and was buried in the parish church of St Peter, which stands by the castle ruins. Her arms are still visible above the door, amongst unusual carvings of sailing ships and monkeys. Unfortunately, the chantry dedicated to the Courtenays, which would probably have contained her tomb, no longer exists. She was perhaps fortunate not to lived have seen the execution of her only surviving son, Henry, in 1538–he was beheaded due to his correspondence with Cardinal Reginald Pole.

Catherine is presumed the last of  Edward IV’s children with Elizabeth Woodville to die, though of course without knowing the actual fate of the ‘princes’, this may not be the case!

Tiverton Castle can be visited on certain days throughout the summer, and Bickleigh Castle is now an attractive hotel. St James church in Tiverton is well worth a visit and open most days.


St James, Tiverton


Bickleigh Castle


Tiverton Castle

Richard and “Incest”- a further rebuttal

The recent suggestion by a well-known academic that Richard committed incest when he married Anne drew to my mind at least three examples at the highest levels of society where people had done something similar without any criticism.

I was confident that there were many other examples at gentry level. However, as I no longer spend my days with my nose in the pedigrees of Lancashire and Cheshire gentry families, I was not able to give chapter and verse.

However, quite by chance I have found just such an example, from Yorkshire.

“Alice de Scriven was succeeded [as Prioress of Kirklees] by Elizabeth de Staynton, daughter of John de Staynton of Woolley and his wife Joan de Wollay, by whom he had four daughters, Isabel, Elizabeth, Joan and Alice. On John de Staynton’s death his widow Joan married Hugh de Toothill near Rastrick, who, with the consent of his wife, caused Isabel and Joan to marry his two sons, and placed Elizabeth and Alice in Kirklees Priory to be brought up as nuns, so that his two sons might enjoy the whole of the Staynton estate at Woolley, which under their father’s will had been left to his daughters in equal shares.’

The period of this transaction is the 14th Century, and the source is The True History of Robin Hood by J.W. Walker, 1973 reprint, page 116. I know nothing of the author, but have no reason to think him a Ricardian, or to suppose that he invented these marriages in order to mount a future defence of Richard III against an accusation which at that time had not been made.




On consanguinity

When comparing the descent of two people who wished to marry each other, it was necessary to investigate their ancestry as far back as their great-great-grandparents. If an ancestor was common to both, they would require a dispensation before marrying.

Now if only every mediaeval Pope had a laptop and access to this simple Consanguinity Test. It is a simple spreadsheet with narrowing cells in each column, much like a sporting knockout format in reverse. For example, the Lumley-Conyers marriage of 1489 required a dispensation and is summarised in the Ricardian 2016 (pp. 113-120 with the diagram on p.118).


A mysterious Early Modern marriage

It happened in Fontainebleau on this day in 1539. The groom was Cibaud de Tivoley, Seigneur de Brenieu, and the bride was described as “Marguerite de la Pole – Suffolk”. Two of the guests were Eleanor of Austria, wife of Francois I, and Gabriel, Marchesse di Saluzzo, both of whom were cousins of Lord Richard de la Pole. It is highly unlikely that Marguerite, who was named after her patroness the Queen of Navarre who was Henri IV’s grandmother and Francois’ sister, asserted her own paternity as her age may testify.

If Marguerite was Lord Richard’s daughter then she must have been born by Christmas 1525 because he was killed ten months earlier at Pavia, where Francois was captured. She could not have been much older than that because the couple had at least six children before his death in 1562 and lived on to 1599. These include Pierre (k. St. Denis 1567) and Claude (k. Ivry 1590), who were casualties of The French Wars of Religion

A “Tudor” marriage and a contemporary journalist who is the bride’s collateral descendant.

Janet Wertman writes here about Emma Stanhope’s marriage to Edward Seymour, the Lord Protector to Edward VI. Seymour was ousted and executed in January 1552 alongside Emma’s brother, Sir Michael Stanhope. As shown in the last series of “Who do you think you are?”, Sir Michael was the ancestor of the BBC Security Correspondent Frank Gardner.


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