The Lady Rochford Saga Part 2: Tourmens de Mariage

by Danielle Marchant

  “I honestly don’t know!” Mary replied. “Yes, I did see the King, but at the same time, I was still William’s wife. It could be either of them.” I was starting to feel a headache coming on. How did she get herself into this situation? I just hope my life does not become as complicated as this. “The Queen hates me doesn’t she?”

  “No,” I replied after a long pause. “She doesn’t hate you. You are the King’s mistress. It’s unfortunately something she has learned to accept, but you are not a threat to her position – she is still the Queen and the King’s wife. I think she would try to help you and make sure that you are well, if anything, but it’s not easy for her.”

  “I know, I can imagine!” Mary replied. “It must be awful for her now that she can’t have children anymore.”

  “Do you still see the King?” I asked.

  Mary frowned, then, looked down. “No,” she then replied sombre. “Ever since I found myself with child, he has distanced himself. I fear that now he has become tired of me!”

  We sat there in silence and I gazed out onto the Thames. It was a normal day with courtiers taking their boats to their town houses and merchants taking their stock on the way to Cheapside. Mary started to smile, then, slightly hid her face. “What is the matter?” I asked, slightly amused.

  “Nothing!” She replied, a bit too loudly than intended. Then, I caught her eyes fixing to something over my shoulder before quickly looking away. I turned around and then, was startled. It was George trying to sneak up on me. “Don’t do that!” I shouted, playfully hitting him, before he pulled me up from my seat into a warm embrace.

  “Are you both conspiring again, my love?” He asked before planting a kiss on my cheek. Mary rolled her eyes.

  “I would walk away and leave you two lovebirds, but you need to be chaperoned!” Mary said teasing. As the months went by while we waited for our wedding, it became harder and harder to spend time with George. As our feelings grew, so did the intensity of our embraces and the many, stolen kisses. It was positively infuriating for Mary to watch, feeling our longing and frustration.

  “I have a surprise for you!” He then said to me.

  “Not here!” Mary said.

  “Don’t be silly, sister! Come, I want to show you something!” He then said, taking my hand and then, looked back and came back for Mary. “Yes, sister, you can come too!” He helped Mary up from her seat. Her bump was already starting to show.

  He took us to the gardens. The grounds were covered in leaves slowly falling from the trees. Hidden between two of the leaves was something small, colourful and sparkling. A great contrast to the autumn, dull colours surrounding it. “Look closer Jane!” George whispered, standing behind me. “It must be a rare flower!” I knelt down to pick it up and gasped. It was a ring. I looked at it closely in my palm. It was a cluster of emeralds, circling a larger emerald at the centre, forming a small, beautiful flower that glinted in the autumn sunlight. He took the ring and placed it on my finger. “Green represents new love. This is a token of my love for you.” Overjoyed, I threw my arms around him and planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

  “That is beautiful! I am very impressed, brother!” Said Mary, gasping. “Can we please go back inside, I’m getting cold now!”

  “That is not all!” George said. “The King has also, just granted me the manor of Grimstone in Norfolk! We don’t have long to wait now my love – we could be married within the next year or so!” This was great news indeed. As we waited for my father and Thomas Boleyn to settle my jointure, for George to receive this from the King was an incredibly generous gesture.

  March 1524, Hever Castle, Kent.

  I cradled the small, fragile newborn in my arms. Her eyes were shut and her tiny fingers gripped my thumb. Mary Boleyn looked down proudly at her little girl, her first-born, who only had arrived about a week ago. “I suppose this makes me an auntie then?” I said to Mary, then, smiled down at the quiet, little bundle.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Mary replied. “You are almost an auntie! Once you are married to George, you will be a full auntie!” We both stared in awe as she made a little yawn and her tiny arms stretched out. How could such a small person draw so much attention and love?

  “She’ll have to be swaddled soon, to make sure her bones grow straight” I said.

  “Oh yes,” Mary replied sighing. “I wish we didn’t have to. I hope it doesn’t hurt her!”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t!” I replied. “It’s for her own good, to help her grow strong, straight bones!”

  Anne entered the room. It had been a while since I had seen her. Since the drama surrounding Henry Percy, Anne had spent much of her time at Hever Castle. “So, whose baby is it?” Anne asked.

  “Oh Anne!” I said.

  “Well, I’m only speculating what everyone else is speculating!” Anne replied. “When you go back to court, they will be scrutinizing Mary very closely, recounting all her movements from the past year, where she was, where she wasn’t. I think it’s a shame that it wasn’t a boy. Imagine, a possible Boleyn-Tudor claimant!”

  “Also, he would have been another illegitimate boy, like Henry Fitzroy!” I said. “The heir to the throne has to be legitimate.”

  Mary sat down quietly, deep in thought. In her mind, she was far away. She then looked up, her eyes glazed over. “To be honest, I don’t know who she belongs to,” she then said. “Yes, she could be the King’s, but at the same time, I was still William’s wife and behaved as such, so she could be William’s.”

  I stared down at the sleeping baby. As the sunlight poured in through the window, it lit up her hair which had a hint of reddish gold, making it shine even more golden.

  In that moment, I instantly knew who the baby’s father was.

  Anne turned to Mary. “So, have you thought of a name yet?” She asked her.

  “Catherine. I will call her Catherine, after the Queen,” Mary replied after a silent pause.

  “The King’s love-child with the Queen’s name!” Anne replied, mocking. “I don’t think the Queen will appreciate your kind gesture!”

  “Quiet Anne!” Mary retorted. “I am still loyal to the Queen and the past few years have probably not been the easiest for her!”

  “Yes, I agree!” I said. “And so am I.” Anne looked at us both with a look of amusement and then, left the room. I handed back the baby to Mary and followed Anne.

  Anne continued walking down the corridor. I followed her as she went through the many wooden panelled rooms and then reached a library. “I’ve spent a lot of time in here, many wet afternoons,” Anne said. There were book cases everywhere stacked with books – languages, particularly French stories and prayer books, classical stories, it looked just like my father’s study where he would spend many hours translating Classical works.

  “You have many French books!” I said.

  “Yes, thanks to the time I had spent in France, I was introduced to many works.” Anne replied. “The prayer books in particular are my favourite. I have a longing to know what the bible really says – there is a great need to translate the word of God into our mother tongues.” I suddenly felt cold and the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I stepped back. This was dangerous talk. The Bible was not meant to be translated. “Don’t worry Jane,” Anne then said, feeling my increasing anxiety. “Actually, both my father and your husband-to-be share my interest!” As I stepped back, I accidently bumped into someone. I quickly turned and realised it was George.

  “What’s the matter Jane?” George asked and then, put his arms around me. “Are you corrupting her, Anne?” He asked laughing.

  A frightening thought crossed my mind, but I was not sure whether to ask them. I am a Catholic. My family were Catholics. This is all too scary for us to digest and is potentially heresy. I turned to George and looked up into his face and then asked slowly, “Are you both…. Lutherans?!”

  George then looked at Anne. After a moment’s silence, they then burst out lau
ghing. “Oh don’t be silly Jane!” Anne then said. “No, we’re definitely not that!”

  “Jane,” George said, turning my face towards his. “We are not Lutherans – we are Evangelical. There is a difference. We are interested in what the Gospel says.” I still felt confused by all this. Sensing this, George then said “Jane, don’t worry! When we marry, it will be a Catholic mass and I will be marrying your Catholic family as normal. Nothing changes. It’s just probably best not to discuss this openly at court with Queen Catherine while you are sat around the fireplace sewing shirts. At the moment, the Queen has bigger fish to fry!”

  November 1524, St. Giles Church, Great Hallingbury.

  The big day had now finally arrived. Today, George and I were finally going to be man and wife. The legal pre-nuptial contract was finalised last month. George and I were not consulted of the arrangements, but father assured me that in return for a fixed amount that he would pay in land, or money to Thomas Boleyn, Thomas would ensure that I would have the rents of particular manors, or a set annual sum, for the rest of my life. Thomas had manors in Norfolk, including Blickling, Rochford, land in Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Kent and a share of the Ormond inheritance in return for a yearly allowance paid to his mother, Margaret, of 200 marks. The jointure was to decide what exactly I was entitled to if ever George died before me. Heaven forbid! I did not want to think such things on a day like this.

  Besides, there was more chance of me dying before him as a result of childbirth.

  My mother was adamant, however, that I should not be dependent on George’s Will – in such circumstances, the best I would expect from that would be my gowns, jewels, a piece of furniture and if I was really lucky, some silver, or gilt plate. This would not be enough to survive. George and I were ensured that this was a very good arrangement. In addition to the King’s recent gift of Grimstone Manor, we were also going to have the manors of Aylesbury and Bierton in Buckinghamshire and other manors in Norfolk, including West Laxham.

  I sat in front of the mirror looking back at my reflection. Staring back at me was just a young girl, only now just approaching twenty years of age. I was now going to be a respectable wife, part of the Boleyn family. I could rise with the family and I could fall with them.

  The door suddenly opened and Alice walked in, followed by maids to help me get ready. Mother could see the nervousness in my face. She signalled to the maids to leave us for just a minute and they left the room obediently. She walked over and cupped my face in her hands. “Jane, there’s nothing to be frightened of. This is your day. I am so proud of you and the young woman that you have become.” She then picked out a small box that was sitting on top of the items of clothing that were going to make up my wedding day outfit. She opened the box to reveal a beautiful, golden brooch set with many clear and sparkling diamonds. “I wore this on my wedding day and so did my own mother, Sybil. Today, I am giving it to you. Diamonds are magical. Worn next to your heart, they will help ease your fears and make you bold.” I picked up the brooch and stared at it in wonderment. Diamonds represented innocence, fortitude and most importantly, constancy.

  Constancy. There it was again, that same theme. What was slowly becoming the fabric to the tapestry of my life.

  I got up and hugged mother. “Thank you, I will wear this with pride and will not let you, or my grandmother down!” Mother called for the maids to come back into the room and the atmosphere was now more relaxed. We all giggled as they helped me into my clothes. I was already in my undergarments of a simple chemise and red stockings. One of the maids, Bess, helped to lace me into my Stays. “So, how tight do you want this?” She asked me. “Or should I say, how tight does George want this?” The maids began to laugh with her. The tighter they were, the more raised the breasts.

  “Don’t lace it too tight, otherwise poor George won’t be able to get her out of them!” Added another maid, Madge. Even my mother gave a slight smile on hearing the maids’ bawdy chat. I was helped into a Farthingale, an item which my own Queen Catherine had brought to England. Then, followed my white, satin Kirtle, which was to contrast my velvet, outer gown and sleeves, which were the colour of deep crimson and trimmed with fur. A jewelled girdle was attached to my waist and mother attached the diamond brooch at the front of my gown, the same brooch worn by my mother and grandmother, Sybil Morgan. Today, I was representing the family as the next in a long line of women.

  Flat, soft slippers were put on my feet and my long, dark blonde hair was left down. A string of pearls was threaded through my hair and then, a wreath of flowers was placed on my head. I took one last look in the mirror. I was now ready. Then, mother turned towards the door and said “And here are your bridesmaids!” In walked my sister Margaret, followed by my sister-in-law Grace. They were also both dressed in deep crimson, with sprigs of rosemary attached to their gowns. They both took one glance at me and a great smile spread across their faces, before running up and hugging me. “Oh sister! Today’s the day!” Margaret said with excitement. Their excitement was contagious and spread across to all of the other ladies in the room. It suddenly hit me. Despite my anxiety and feeling the heavy sense of family duty weighing down on me, I had forgotten that simply today was also the day that I would finally be united with the man I loved. The only man I had ever loved. A wave of happiness washed over me and then, I suddenly asked myself “What did I have to be worried about? I am finally going to marry George!” This was the happy thought that would carry me through the day.

  Mother took my hand and led me out of the house, followed by Margaret and Grace. Father was waiting outside. It was 7:30am and it was still dark. It was cold and the sun had not risen yet. We were all now ready to head towards St. Giles Church for 8am. I stood in front of father. He smiled and his eyes were filled with pride. He slowly walked up and took my hand in his. “My beautiful daughter,” he said with pride. “No man could refuse to marry you!” We both hugged and I basked in his warmth. “Come on! Let’s not keep him waiting!” He said. I was then helped onto my white horse, Isabelle. Margaret and Grace were to ride behind me. Isabelle, the first horse that I had ever rode upon in the rolling, green fields of Great Hallingbury as a young girl and who had watched me grow up, was now going to witness me becoming a young, respectable wife. Like the horses that were to follow her, Isabelle was covered in a bright garland of flowers.

  We were just about to set off, then, suddenly I heard a young boy shout “Halt!” We all turned and it was my brother Henry, on his horse, followed by a group of musicians. “Oh look, it’s your brideman!” Father exclaimed. Grace and I laughed and the musicians began to play a merry tune. They were quite a large group of musicians carrying many instruments, including the guitar, the vihuela, the lute, the gittern, the drums and the hurdy-gurdy. A woman soprano led the group, singing the words. We all then rode off down the road to the Church in a merry procession of flowers, singing and music as the sun started to slowly rise in the sky, almost as if our celebration had woken it up from its slumber.

  Our lively procession arrived at the Church just before 8am. There at the doorway was Thomas Boleyn, with Elizabeth. Father got down from his horse to meet them both, bowing and taking his hat off. Thomas in turn did the same back and Elizabeth curtseyed. Then, they all began to laugh and hug each other merrily as today, both families were being united. Thomas and Elizabeth then went inside to take their places along with George, Anne and Mary. Also, present was Thomas’ brother, James, with his wife Elizabeth Wood. There was also Thomas’ sister, Anne with her husband, Sir John Shelton. The musicians followed them inside, leaving father, Margaret, Grace and myself outside.

  Then, as 8am arrived, the church bells began to ring. It was now time. Father helped me down from Isabelle. “Are you ready daughter?” He asked. I nodded in response and smiled, ignoring the sudden wave of a nervousness that swept over me, my thundering heart and the butterflies in my stomach. Both father and I walked in, followed by Margaret and Grace. We didn’t have far
to walk. As tradition dictated, the service was to be conducted at the Church door, so that everyone could bear witness to this. Everyone was already standing and turned and watched as father lead me into the Church on the short, last stroll from girlhood to married life. We stopped just a few short steps inside.

  Then, I saw him. George was waiting for me, looking so handsome. He wore an outfit matching mine. He wore a doublet and breeches of deep crimson velvet. The doublet neckline was cut low across his chest and the sleeves were slashed to reveal a white, linen shirt underneath trimmed at the neckband with diamonds. Over this, he wore a black, velvet, knee-length gown, crimson woollen stockings, black velvet shoes and a black bonnet with one ostrich feather. His hat also proudly showed off the Boleyn coat of arms which comprised of three bulls.

  Father let go of my hand and I went straight up to George who took both of my hands and looked deep into my eyes. The priest cleared his throat, which then reminded us where we were and to start proceedings. I stood to George’s left because I am a woman and I was made of the rib in the left-side of Adam. Father stood nearby to my left, prepared to give me away at the right moment. The priest then began. “We are all gathered here today to witness the joining of Jane Parker to George Boleyn, a union of two families and a joining of two bodies into one body.” He then turned to George. “George Boleyn, do you take Jane as your wedded wife? Will you love her, honour her, keep her, and guard her, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as both shall live?”

  “I, George”, George replied emphatically, looking directly at me, “Take thee Jane to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health and till death us do part.”

  The priest then turned to me and said “Jane Parker, do you take George as your wedded husband? Will you love him, honour him, keep him, obey and serve him, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as both shall live?” At this point, father stepped forward and in an act of giving me away, placed my hand into George’s, the hand of the man that was now the most important man in my life. I then replied to the priest “I, Jane, take thee George, to be 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.” At the corner of my eye, I swear I could see Anne trying not to giggle at the mention of me being “bonny and buxom in bed”.