by Julia Fox
With the figure for Jane’s jointure agreed, Sir Thomas and Morley turned to the vexed question of exactly which lands would be designated for the settlement. The couple were barely twenty; there was no reason to suspect that the transaction would come into full fruition for many years to come, if at all. Barring the constant threat of sudden illness, Jane was more likely to die in childbirth than to outlive her husband. Nevertheless, her father was keen to assure her future. It was decided that she and George would be given the manors of Aylesbury and Bierton in Buckinghamshire and various other manors in Norfolk, including West Laxham. The newlyweds would be allowed to access the proceeds immediately after their nuptials, a common practice. Should George die first, Jane would receive the specified manors or one hundred marks (£66) a year. So far so good, except that the usual annuity for a widow was 10 percent of the original jointure price, which, in Jane’s case, would amount to just over £130 per annum. Lord Morley should have noticed such a blatant discrepancy. Clearly he did not and while Jane would be able to manage on £66, it would not be enough to maintain her in style: Jane needed George alive rather than dead.
What is immediately apparent, of course, is that much of this property was technically Margaret Boleyn’s Ormond inheritance and that Thomas had actually allocated many of the same spoils twice, once to his dependent mother and once to Jane. The final indenture accepted by Thomas and Lord Morley was indeed complex. But it was only complex if the natural order of things was disturbed. Providing George lived to a decent age, he would survive both Margaret, his grandmother, and Thomas, his father. He would then inherit all of the lands and there would be no problem. Should Jane die before her husband, there was no difficulty either, as her jointure died with her and George would be free to marry again. But the seeds for discord were certainly sown. If the unthinkable happened, and George’s life was cut short, then Jane would be free to demand her rights. Thomas would then face a major dilemma. Still, as the ink dried on the contract, all seemed fine. The deal was reasonable for both parties. All minds were now focused on weddings, not funerals.
CHAPTER 5
For Better, for Worse
WITH THE LEGAL NICETIES out of the way, Jane and George awaited their wedding. There is no record of when Jane Parker became Jane Boleyn, but discovering the date on which the jointure was signed, October 4, 1524, helps us pinpoint likely days with more confidence than has previously been possible. A second clue comes from Cardinal Wolsey. He was busily at work preparing changes to Henry’s privy chamber personnel in the autumn months of 1525, which would take effect as the Eltham Ordinances in the following year. The document in which he set out his plans survives and is in his own hand. In it, he wrote that “Young Boleyn” was “to have twenty pounds yearly above the eighty pounds he hath gotten to him and his wife to live thereupon”—only by examining his draft in its original and under ultraviolet light, unavailable to the diligent Victorians who transcribed it in the nineteenth century, can the eighty pounds he mentions be deciphered. Clearly, the marriage took place sometime between the signing of the jointure document and the end of 1525, and Wolsey’s note implies that while it was fairly recent, it had not just happened.
Since the church only allowed marriages to occur at certain fixed times within the religious calendar, and since there is no record of a special license being granted to Lord Morley to ignore these restrictions, the wedding probably took place just before Epiphany in November 1524, or early in 1525; either would fit with Wolsey’s comments. And the absence of a special license, which would have been required had she married outside of her parish, suggests that Jane married George in her local church of St. Giles. Unfortunately, the records of baptisms, marriages, and deaths there do not begin until after Jane was widowed, and while the churchwardens’ accounts do start earlier, in 1526 there is no reference to the marriage or to a special gift to the church from the family.
What we certainly do know is that, for Jane, her wedding day was the most significant of her life no matter what its date or venue. As her giggling maids slipped her chemise over her head and gently pulled on her fine stockings, she knew that everything for which she had been prepared was about to happen: she was to attain the status and respectability of a wife. When she left the confines of the church, she would be a different person. For a new life, she probably had new clothes. Lord Morley could afford to equip his daughter well; she was not of the same class as those women who simply wore their best garments. A mere handful of brides selected white for their weddings. It is true that both Katherine of Aragon and Prince Arthur had been clothed in white satin, and that Mary, the French queen, shone in white cloth of silver when she married a dazzled Louis XII, but this was not the norm. Whether Jane wanted white satin, richly embossed damask, or velvet we cannot know. There is no description left for us. Fabulously expensive cloth of gold or cloth of silver was beyond even her father’s means, so her gown was probably velvet, and in deep crimson, the most fashionable choice of the moment and the color favored by Eleanor of Austria, who became the second wife of Francis I about this time. Once her elaborate sleeves were in place and her full skirts neatly adjusted over her farthingale, Jane’s maids fastened a jeweled girdle around her waist, perhaps eased a family chain or pendant over her head, and then placed soft shoes on her feet. They combed her hair, leaving it unbound and flowing as was the custom, maybe dotted with small pearls or other precious stones and almost certainly wreathed in flowers. All that was left was to drape a furred mantle lined with satin around her shoulders. Looking every inch Lord Morley’s daughter, Jane was ready to leave girlhood behind.
Early that morning, for the solemnization of matrimony was nearly always between 8 a.m. and noon, accompanied by her bridesmaids, who likely had sprigs of rosemary fastened to their dresses and held bright garlands of flowers aloft, Jane went in a happy, lively procession to the church. She was glad to have her bridesmaids with her as she knew that these girls would help confuse the devil who, many maintained superstitiously, lay patiently in wait for vulnerable young brides. There were “bride men” too who playfully guarded her and there was music and song so that all could share in the festivities along the way. Her parents were also there, to perform what was almost their last service for their daughter, for soon she was to be part of a new family and no longer their responsibility.
The young couple met at the door of the church for the ceremony. Like Jane, George was accompanied by his mother and father, and possibly by his sisters, Mary Carey and Anne, and his uncle, Sir James Boleyn, with his wife, Elizabeth. Maybe the jointure trustees were there too. One of them, Sir John Shelton,*3 was intimately connected with the Boleyns, since his wife, Anne, was George’s aunt. Boleyn honor required that George looked splendid. The wedding party was just as eager to see and comment upon his finery as upon Jane’s. Sometimes, as with Katherine and Arthur, a bridegroom wore an outfit that complemented and matched that of his bride and carried flowers similar to hers. However they were dressed, Jane and George made an impressive couple, both young and well connected, with, as it seemed, a glittering life ahead. She stood on his left to remind everyone that woman “was formed out of a rib in the left side of Adam.” Once the guests were ready, joined at a distance by some of Lord Morley’s no doubt respectful tenants, who had come to share in the joy of their betters, together with the lucky few chosen to receive the customary largesse afterward, the priest began the service. Convention demanded that much of it was conducted at the church door: everything was to be properly witnessed.
All were there, the priest explained, “to join together two bodies” into “one body.” Then, once he had enquired “about the dower of the woman,” for no one forgot that this was an economic union as well as a spiritual one, he turned to George. In words that still echo down the centuries, he was asked whether he would take Jane as his “wedded wife” to “love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness…forsaking all others…for as long as ye both s
hall live.” After George’s response, “I will,” was uttered, it was Jane’s turn to agree to the marriage. The same question was put to her except that while George was to “guard” her, she was to “obey” and “serve” him.
Lord Morley stepped forward to give away his daughter, and with her hand in that of George, now the most important man in her life, Jane made her final vows. “I, Jane,” she repeated after the priest, “take thee, George, to my wedded husband to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonny and buxom in bed and at board, till death us do part.” Again, there was a slight difference in the wording of the oaths for she was obliged to be “bonny,” essentially pleasant or comely, and “buxom,” which then meant submissive and obedient.
George now placed the ring on a Bible or an altar plate for a holy blessing. The priest begged God to ensure that its wearer would “abide in thy peace and continue in thy will, and live, and increase, and grow old in thy love.” Once the ring, its round, unending shape representing the eternal nature of their love, had been sprinkled with holy water, George slid it onto the fourth finger of Jane’s left hand, the finger from which it was believed that a vein ran directly to the heart. As he did so, he uttered words that are still familiar to us. “With this ring,” he said, “I thee wed…with my body I thee worship and with all my worldly catell [property] I thee honor.”
After further prayers, the families and honored guests went through the thick wooden door into the main body of the colorful little church, itself fragrant with the heady perfume of flowers and incense. To the sound of familiar psalms sung by the priest and his helpers, Jane and George processed along the nave, passing the gilded alabaster statues of the saints with their shining halos and the small round windows sending in shafts of light. When they reached the altar steps, her bridesmaids carefully arranged Jane’s skirts as she knelt with her husband. The congregation of family and friends prayed for them both, asking God to bring them peace, strength, prosperity, children, and to join them “in the union and love of true affection.” As the prayers faded away, the young couple were led into the presbytery, with Jane standing to George’s right, for the start of the glorious, inspirational nuptial Mass.
The holiest part of the service came when they both prostrated themselves before the altar to pray. Four clerks “in surplices” stepped forward, each supporting the corner of an embroidered canopy, which some believed was there to protect bride and groom from the evil that lurked everywhere. The clerks held it directly over Jane and George while they and their union were reverently blessed. And now it really was almost done. They were man and wife, “for better, for worse.” But again the different demands made of men and of women were emphasized as just before the couple left the church for their wedding feast, Jane was reminded of what was expected of her. With God’s grace and help, she should be “faithful and chaste…amiable to her husband…wise…bashful and grave, reverential and modest…[and] fruitful.” The priest gave no advice to George about his conduct toward Jane.
To the delight of their families, Jane and George left St. Giles as a married couple. The ring on Jane’s finger proved it to the world. All the bargaining, the tense negotiations, and the planning were over. With the business side of the arrangement completed and the church having fulfilled its role, at least for the moment, the Boleyns and the Morleys could relax and enjoy themselves as the wedding feast began. There was eating and drinking, there were tired and harassed servants running to and fro filling plates and pouring wine, there was plenty of ribald joking, there was music and dancing. The bride cake took pride of place on the high table where the most honored of the guests sat. The bride cup, filled with spiced wine, was passed around. The celebrations could all go on for hours.
But they could not go on forever. Marriages needed to be consummated. However, the last thing Jane and George were allowed to do was simply to slip away quietly together and be alone. The great spectator sport of bedding the bride prevented that. The fun began when Jane’s garters were pulled off by the “bride men” and fastened to their hats. Only then was she taken into the candlelit bedchamber to be undressed by her excited bridesmaids, themselves showing a vicarious delight in what was about to happen. Since Lady Morley and the other women guests had crowded into the room when Jane was tucked up among the clean pillows and crisp linen of the huge, flower-and ribbon-strewn bridal bed, there was little room for George at first. Undressed by his friends, he squeezed in next to her, much to the amusement of all who were watching. Both he and Jane knew precisely what to expect next: the laughing bridesmaids collected his stockings while the “bride men” grabbed hers, crouched down at the bottom of the bed and then threw the stockings at the newlyweds. Anyone who managed to hit the young couple on the head, providing Jane was hit by George’s stocking and vice versa, was predicted to marry soon afterward. And still Jane and George were not left to themselves. With a cup of spiced wine and milk to fortify them for the ordeal ahead, they waited for the next arrival: the priest.
It was his duty to bless them yet again and to bless their bedchamber. He began by blessing the bed, asking God to protect “thy servants who rest” in it from “phantasies and illusions of devils” so that they might always think of their maker and be safe. He then blessed both Jane and George themselves as he prayed, “May the hand of the Lord be over you; and may he send his holy angel to guard and tend you all the days of your life.” The missal tells us that the priest “shall sprinkle them with holy water and, dismissing them in peace” should “depart.”
At last. The flickering candle flames were extinguished, “two bodies” could become “one body.” Jane and George were finally husband and wife, for better or for worse.
WOMAN IN THE SHADOWS
CHAPTER 6
Kindness Captures a King
WITH GEORGE’S RING gleaming upon her finger, Jane Boleyn reentered society as a wife. Her role and her status were dramatically altered. Now considered grown up, she was treated accordingly. A respectable matron, she no longer sat among the maidens in church. She even looked different: every morning her maid combed her hair in the accepted style of a married woman before carefully arranging it underneath the cap, or coif, that supported her headdress. And her future lay with the Boleyns, not the Parkers. She stayed in one of their houses, most likely at Rochford in Essex near her own parents at Great Hallingbury, or at Hever or at Blickling, estates she had every reason to believe would one day belong to her husband and over which she would preside as mistress. She did not expect to run any of them yet. A young bride would normally live with her in-laws for a while, to see at firsthand how the household was governed and gradually to acquire the furniture and goods she needed before the couple could set up on their own.
There is no record of exactly what wedding gifts Jane and George received, but we know that their property eventually included a vast quantity of silver. Among this there were six silver dishes, five of which are engraved with the letter I (which doubled for J ) and one with a B, as well as another four, presumably of a different pattern or style, with a B on them. Conceivably, these were given then. And one guest probably had a rather dry sense of humor, for one book that George owned was a fifteenth-century manuscript that we know he acquired about this time and later passed on to his musician friend, Mark Smeaton. It was a copy of a satire on marriage.
Country life was not to last for George and Jane, however. Jane was quickly back amid the surroundings and people she knew so well, although this time she went to court as Mistress Boleyn whose husband was in the privy chamber, for the moment at least. As such, George was required to be available to serve the king on demand. After a whole month at Windsor, Henry spent much of the summer and autumn of 1525 hunting, going to and from palaces and houses in the southeast, rarely staying at any of them for very long. Some were very recently acquired and Henry was quick to make use of them, sizing up the building works he would ord
er to bring them up to his exacting standards. Occasionally, the king was a guest at various monastic houses such as Reading and Dunstable. Sometimes he returned to the more luxurious surroundings of Windsor or Greenwich. Wherever he went, his ministers followed; pressing matters of state business never stopped. Since Henry expected his every comfort to be catered to at any hour, he needed servants and attendants on call at all times. Thus, there were always favorites from his privy chamber close at hand, men like William Carey, Mary Boleyn’s husband, or Henry Norris, a capable and ambitious young courtier whom Henry particularly liked and who was fast becoming a key player around the king. Then, of course, there was George.
The early months of Jane’s marriage were, therefore, far from dull. Visits to the Boleyn residences, as the wife of Thomas’s heir, were interspersed with joining George when it was his turn to be with Henry. She had it all, a young and dashing husband and the security of the Boleyn estates combined with proximity to the king, the source of fortune and advancement for George. Lord Morley could not have chosen better for his daughter. And she was now a member of a family already reaping rewards from their benevolent sovereign.
For she and George were not the only Boleyns at court. Still a respected diplomat with his ever-useful French, in his post as treasurer of the household Thomas was a frequent presence around the king, busily gathering lands, offices, and titles. Already a Knight of the Garter, he was made Viscount Rochford, a title that George would inherit. In fact, the day on which Thomas became Rochford was also highly significant for the king for it was then that his illegitimate son by Elizabeth Blount, Henry Fitzroy, was granted the earldom of Nottingham and then the even higher rank of duke. The title bestowed on the six-year-old, that of Duke of Richmond and Somerset, was portentous, because Henry VII had been Earl of Richmond before his victory over Richard III at Bosworth had elevated him to the throne, and an earlier Duke of Somerset had been a royal bastard who was later made legitimate. The boy’s investiture, at Henry’s palace of Bridewell, was lavish. Dressed as an earl, he was led into the chamber between the Earls of Arundel and Oxford to kneel at his father’s feet. Sir Thomas More read aloud the patent granting the child his earldom. No sooner had he received his new rank, than the boy left the room only to return in the ermine-trimmed robes of a duke, this time escorted by the dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk. Once the additional grant was announced to the assembled company, a gold circlet was placed upon Fitzroy’s head, and a golden rod and other accoutrements of his new rank were handed to him. It is not surprising that Katherine, concerned for the future of her daughter, Mary, was alleged to be dismayed at the investiture; nor is her choice to commission a treatise on the obligations of marriage from Erasmus. Rumors abounded that Henry intended to groom the child for kingship. Henry was said to love Fitzroy, who had inherited his own skill in sports and physical pursuits although not his thirst for knowledge, “like his own soul.” Jane knew everything that happened on that day, either because she was present or from a firsthand account from Thomas. Not only was he there to collect his own honor, he is recorded as one of the witnesses for Fitzroy’s elevation. No doubt, Jane’s sister-in-law, Anne, also received a full account. If so, the time was coming when she would mull it over as she made a decision affecting her own future.