Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set (132 page)

“No reason at all,” I said. I found I was backing from her room, not from the respect that she liked to see, but from a sense that this was all too much for me. I did not want to be with Anne when she was glittery and hard. When she was like this, I longed for the simplicity and gentleness of William and the world where things were as they appeared.

♦   ♦   ♦

I found him where I expected him to be, with our baby on his hip, walking by the river. “I sent the wet nurse for her breakfast,” he said, yielding the baby to me. I put my face to the crown of her head and felt the little pulse gently beating against my cheek. I inhaled the sweet baby smell of her, and closed my eyes with pleasure. William’s hand came down into the small of my back and then he held me close.

I rested for a moment, loving his touch, loving the warmth of my baby against my body, loving the sound of the seagulls and the warmth of the sunshine on my face, and then we walked slowly, side by side, on the tow path alongside the river.

“How is the queen this morning?”

“As if none of it had ever been,” I said. “And there it rests.”

He nodded. “I was thinking just one thing,” he said tentatively. “I don’t mean to give offense but . . .”

“What?”

“What is it that is wrong with her? That she cannot carry a child?”

“She had Elizabeth.”

“Since then?”

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Only what anyone would think, if they knew what I know.”

“And what would anyone think?” I demanded, a little edge to my voice.

“You know what.”

“You tell me.”

He gave a little rueful chuckle. “Not if you are going to glower at me like that, you look like your uncle. I am shaking in my boots.”

That made me laugh and I shook my head. “There! I am not glowering. But go on. What would everyone think? What are you thinking, but trying not to say?”

“They would be saying that she must have some sin on her soul, some dealing with the devil or some witchcraft,” he said flatly. “Don’t rail at me, Mary. It is what you would say yourself. I was just thinking perhaps she could confess, or go on a pilgrimage, or wash her conscience clear. I don’t know, how can I know? I don’t even
want
to know. But she must have done something gravely wrong, mustn’t she?”

I turned on my heel and walked slowly away. William caught me up. “You must wonder . . .”

I shook my head. “Never,” I said determinedly. “I don’t know half of what she did to become queen. I have no idea what she would do to conceive a son. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

We walked in silence for a moment. William glanced at my profile. “If she never gets a son of her own then she’ll keep yours,” he said, knowing where my thoughts would be.

“I know that!” I whispered in quiet grief. I tightened my grip on the baby in my arms.

♦   ♦   ♦

The court was to travel within the week and I would be excused to be with my children as soon as everyone left. In the excitement and chaos of packing and organizing the annual progress, I walked like a tumbler dancing on unbroken eggshells, fearful of doing anything that might turn the queen’s temper against me.

My good luck held, Anne’s temper held. William and I waved good-bye to the royal party as they rode south to the very best that the towns and the great houses of Sussex, Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Dorset could offer. Anne was brilliantly dressed in gold and white, Henry at her side was still a grand king, especially on a big-boned hunter. Anne rode with her mare as close to him as they had always ridden, in those summers only two, three, years ago, when he had been besotted with her and she could see the prize within her grasp.

She could still make him turn to listen to her, she could still make him laugh. She could still lead the court out as if she were a girl riding for pleasure on a summer day. Nobody knew what it cost Anne to ride out and sparkle for the king and wave to the people at the roadside who stared at her with a bitter curiosity but no love. Nobody would ever know.

William and I stood waving until they were out of sight and then we went to find the wet nurse and our baby. As soon as the last of the hundreds of wagons and carts had trundled out of the stable yard and down the West Road we would set off south, to Kent, to Hever, for the summer with my children.

♦   ♦   ♦

I had planned for this moment and prayed for it on my knees every night for a year. Thank God that the gossip of the court
had not reached so far into Kent that my children ever knew what a risk we had run as a family. They had been allowed my letters which had told them that I was married to William and with a baby on the way. They had been told that I had given birth to a girl and that they had a little sister, and the two of them were as excited as I was, longing to see me as I was longing to see them.

They were dawdling on the drawbridge as we rode across the park, I could see Catherine pull Henry to his feet and then they both started to run toward us, Catherine holding her long skirt away from her pounding feet, Henry overtaking her with his stronger stride. I tumbled down from my horse and held out my arms to them both and they flung themselves at me and caught me by the waist and hugged me tight.

They had both grown. I could have wept at how quickly they had grown in my absence. Henry was up to my shoulder, he would have his father’s height and weight. Catherine was all but a young woman, as tall as her brother, and graceful. She had the Boleyn hazel-brown eyes and mischievous smile. I pushed her back from me so that I could see her. Her body was forming the curves of a woman, her eyes when they met mine were those of a woman on the brink of adult life: optimistic, trusting. “Oh Catherine, you are going to be another Boleyn beauty,” I said, and she blushed scarlet and nestled into my embrace.

William got down from his horse and hugged Henry and then turned to Catherine. “I feel I should kiss your hand,” he said.

She laughed and jumped into his embrace. “I was so glad when I was told that you were married,” she said. “Am I to call you Father now?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, as if there had never been any doubt about the matter at all. “Except when you call me sire.”

She giggled. “And the baby?”

I went to the wet nurse on her mule and took the baby from her arms. “Here she is,” I said. “Your new sister.”

Catherine cooed and took her at once. Henry leaned over her shoulder to pull back the fold of the sheet and look into the tiny face. “So small,” he said.

“She’s grown so much,” I said. “When she was born she was tiny.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Henry asked.

I smiled. “Not too much. Not like you. You were a real bawler.”

He grinned at once, a boyish smile. “Was I really?”

“Dreadful.”

“Still does,” Catherine said with the immediate disrespect of an older sister.

“Do not,” he retorted. “Anyway, Mother, and, er, Father, would you come inside? There’s dinner ready for you soon. We didn’t know what time you would be here.”

William turned toward the house and dropped his arm over Henry’s shoulders. “And tell me about your studies,” he invited. “I’m told you’re working with the Cistercian scholars. Are they teaching you Greek as well as Latin?”

Catherine hung back. “Can I carry her in?”

“You can keep her all the day.” I smiled at her. “Her nurse will be glad of the rest.”

“And will she wake up soon?” she asked, peering again into the little bundle.

“Yes,” I reassured her. “And then you shall see her eyes. They are the darkest blue. Very beautiful. And perhaps she’ll smile for you.”

I
RECEIVED ONLY ONE LETTER FROM
A
NNE, IN
the autumn:

Dear Sister,

We are hunting and hawking and the game is good. The king is riding well and has bought a new hunter at a knockdown price. We had the great pleasure of staying with the Seymours at Wulfhall, and Jane was very much in evidence as the daughter of the house. You could break your teeth on her politeness. She walked with the king in the gardens and pointed out the herbs that she uses for cures for the poor, she showed him her needlework and her pet doves. She has fish in the moat which come up to be fed. She likes to supervise the cooking of her father’s dinner herself, believing as she does that it is a woman’s task to be a handmaiden to men. Altogether charming beyond belief. The king mooned around her like a schoolboy. As you can imagine, I was less enchanted, but I smiled withall, knowing that I am carrying the Ace of Trumps—not up my sleeve but in my belly.

Please God that this time all is well. Please God. I am writing to you from Winchester and we go on to Windsor where I expect you to meet me. I shall want you by me for
all my time. The baby should be born next summer and we will all be safe again. Tell no one—not even William. It must be a secret until as late as possible in case of any mishap. Only George knows, and now you. I will not tell the king until I am past my third month. I have good reason this time to think that the baby will be strong. Pray for me.

Anne.

I put my hand in my pocket and felt for my rosary, and told the beads through my fingers, praying, praying with all the passion I had, that this time Anne’s pregnancy would go full term and she would have a boy. I did not think any of us would survive another miscarriage; the secret would creep out, our luck could not survive another disaster, or Anne herself might simply slip over the small step from utterly determined unswerving ambition, into madness.

♦   ♦   ♦

I was watching my maid pack my dresses into my traveling chest for our return to the court at Windsor when Catherine tapped on my door and came into my room.

I smiled and she came and sat beside me, looking down at the buckles on her shoes, clearly struggling to say something.

“What is it?” I asked her. “Tell it, Cat, you look ready to choke on it.”

At once her head came up. “I want to ask you something.”

“Ask it.”

“I know that Henry is to stay with the Cistercians with the other boys until the queen orders him to court.”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth.

“I wondered if I might come to court with you? I am nearly twelve.”

“You’re eleven.”

“That’s nearly twelve. How old were you when you left here?”

I made a little grimace. “I was four. That was something I’d always wanted to spare you. I cried every night until I was five.”

“But I am nearly twelve now.”

I smiled at her insistence. “You’re right. You should come to court. And I’ll be there to watch over you. Anne might find a place for you as one of her maids in waiting, and William can watch for you as well.”

I was thinking of the increasing lechery of the court, of how a new Boleyn girl would be the center of attention, and how my daughter’s delicate prettiness seemed to me so much safer in the countryside than at Henry’s palaces. “I suppose it has to happen,” I said. “But we will need Uncle Howard’s permission. If he says yes, then you can come to court with William and me next week.”

Her face lit up. She clapped her hands. “Shall I have new gowns?”

“I suppose so.”

“And may I have a new horse? I shall have to go hunting, shan’t I?”

I ticked the things off on my fingers. “Four new gowns, a new horse. Anything else?”

“Hoods and a cape. My old one is too small. I’ve outgrown it.”

“Hoods. Cape.”

“That’s all,” she said breathlessly.

“I think we can manage that,” I said. “But you remember, Miss Catherine. The court is not always a good place for a young maid, especially a pretty young maid. I shall expect you to do as you are told and if there are any flirtations or letters passed then you are to tell me. I won’t have you going to court and getting your heart broken.”

“Oh no!” She was dancing round the room like a court jester. “No. I shall do everything you say, you shall just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Besides, I shouldn’t think anyone would even notice me.”

Her skirt swirled around her slim body as her brown hair swung out. I smiled at her. “Oh they’ll notice you,” I said wryly. “They’ll notice you, my daughter.”

I
ENJOYED THE TWELVE DAYS OF
C
HRISTMAS
more than I ever had done before. Anne was with child and glowing with health and confidence, William was at my side, my recognized husband. I had a baby in the cradle and a young beautiful daughter at court. For the Christmas holidays Anne said that I might have her ward Henry at court with us as well. When I sat down to my dinner on twelfth night it was to see my sister on the throne of England and my family around the hall at the best of the tables.

“You look merry,” William said as he took his place opposite me for the dance.

“I am,” I said. “At last it seems that the Boleyns are where they want to be and we can enjoy it.”

He glanced up to where Anne was starting to lead out the ladies in the complicated configuration of the dance. “Is she with child?” he asked very quietly.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “How could you tell?”

“By her eyes,” he said. “And it’s the only time that she can bring herself to be civil to Jane Seymour.”

I giggled at that and looked across the ring of dancers to where Jane, palely virginal in a creamy yellow gown, was waiting, eyes downcast, for her turn to dance. When she stepped forward
into the center of the circle the king watched her as if he would devour her on the spot like a marchpane-iced pudding.

“She is the most angelic woman,” William commented.

“She’s a blanched snake,” I said stoutly. “And you can take that look off your face, because I won’t stand for it.”

“Anne stands for it,” William said provocatively.

“He has no permission, believe me.”

“One day she’ll overreach herself,” William declared. “One day he’ll be tired of tantrums and a woman like Jane Seymour will seem like a pleasant rest.”

I shook my head. “She’d bore him to tears in a sennight,” I said. “He’s the king. He likes the hunt and the joust and entertainment. Only a Howard girl can do all of that. Just look at us.”