Father then gave the ring to the priest. He blessed it and sprinkled it with holy water. The priest then gave it to George. George took my left hand and slid the ring onto the fourth finger. This was because on this finger a vein ran straight to the heart. The priest then continued to say more prayers in Latin. As the priest spoke, my mind wandered back to what Anne and George had told me about wanting to know what was written in the gospel. It’s true, not everyone could understand Latin. However, on the flip-side, I still shivered at the thought of everyone knowing exactly what was being said in their own language, everyone having access to that kind of power. It was dangerous. The possibilities of the common man having that knowledge! It seemed far safer for the Priests to have that knowledge and to guide us all.
We were then taken into the main body of the church, processing along the nave where we were hit by the fragrance of the flowers and incense, taking us up to the altar, then knelt down. The prayers continued, where we prayed for peace, strength, wealth, children and love.
We were then both led into the altar area for the mass, where I stood to George’s right. I quickly turned and saw my father watching, looking on proudly. I smiled back at him before both George and I then lied face down before the altar to be blessed underneath a beautifully embroidered canopy. The canopy was to protect us from the evil that lurked in the shadows. We were now man and wife, for better and for worse. As his wife, by the grace of God, I promised to be faithful, chaste, loving to George, wise, bashful, grave, humble, modest and fertile.
Then, it was done. Both George and I were now man and wife. We both walked back down the nave. I was now a married woman, a Boleyn and proud to be George’s wife. Both families followed us out of the Church. We then both mounted our horses, George on his and I on my dear Isabelle and the musicians started to play again as we made a lively procession back to Great Hallingbury for the Wedding feast. Anne rode up beside me on my left and said “Welcome to the family!”
“Why thank you sister, but I always thought I was part of it, being your brother!” George replied to her from my right side. Anne pretended to throw something back at George, but then stopped and they both burst out laughing.
“Such a relief that His Majesty is not here today!” Anne retorted. “He would easily get confused over which was the new husband and which was the Fool!”
“Sister, I must say, you are very witty today – and this is before having a taste of the bridecup!” George replied. The bridecup was the spiced wine that was to be served at the feast, as part of tradition.
“Just as well, George. Poor Jane here is in need of all the help and advice she can get being married to someone like my brother!” Anne replied. All three of us laughed hard, but tried to keep control of our horses. Then, suddenly a rather quiet a sombre figure appeared and rode next to us. It was Thomas Howard, George’s uncle and who had only just been made the Duke of Norfolk back in May. His presence was like a dark, grey cloud moving in to shadow what was only a moment ago the glorious rays of sunshine from the Boleyn siblings’ laughter. Both Anne and George quietened down and acknowledged their uncle. “It was a very good service” Uncle Thomas commented.
“Yes, I agree Uncle” Anne replied. “Lots of incense and Latin prayers.”
“George, you must be very proud of your new wife. Make sure she gives you a son by next summer.” Thomas said.
“His new wife is here you know,” Anne interrupted. Thomas turned to look at her, giving her one of those chastising looks he always gives her, as if to say “Think yourself lucky you are not my daughter because by now I would have beaten that pride and wit right out of you!”
“Yes, uncle, I am very proud of my new wife,” George quickly said, breaking the awkward silence and turning to smile at me. “I know that I can always rely on your advice uncle on all matters related to marriage.” Anne tried hard to suppress a laugh at the note of sarcasm. Thomas had been married to his second wife, Lady Elizabeth Stafford, for eleven years now and if hearsay from Anne’s Boleyn and Howard relatives was anything to go buy, sadly it was not the happiest marriage, slowly deteriorating with each year. “Where is my aunt, dear uncle?”
“I apologise, Elizabeth could not make it today. She has been feeling unwell,” Thomas replied. “Anyway, I need to talk business with your father. I will see you later at the feast.” Thomas then rode away towards Thomas Boleyn a few meters behind us.
“Ill?” Anne replied, mocking. “Yes, probably ill from the site of her husband!” I tried to hush Anne and both Anne and George began to quietly laugh. “Honestly, I have heard the most terrible rumours of what my aunt has been going through with Uncle Thomas!”
“Well, I promise that I will be a better husband to you Jane than Thomas,” George said, looking at me and then placing a hand on my hand.
“A better husband than Thomas?” Anne replied. “Jane, you did not tell me that you were married to Thomas first! Poor Jane!” We all began to laugh again and continued riding our horses all the way back to Great Hallingbury.
A great feast awaited everyone at Great Hallingbury. There was a great spread of many meats including beef, mutton, rabbits, partridges, wild fowl, capons and pigeons, served on gilt plates. There were also plenty of sweetmeats, marchpane, tarts, puddings, pastries, biscuits, as well as strawberries, grapes, cherries, peaches and figs. Wine from Bordeaux flowed freely into the Venetian glasses, in addition to the bridecup, that was passed around to all the merry guests. This was all then followed by hypocras served with wafers. George and I, along with both of our parents, sat at the high table where the bridecake took pride of place. It was a delicious cake of three-tiers, containing a mix of cinnamon, honey, nutmeg and currants. As the day went on, everyone became increasingly merry and drunk. The musicians continued to play many lively tunes, such as “Le pied de cheval”, better known as the “Horse’s Brawl”. George and I laughed as Anne at one point made even our parents get up and dance.
I then suddenly remembered. I had pushed the thought to the back of my mind all day in order to remain calm and get through the ceremony. Of course, the marriage has to be consummated that night. I then started to feel a chaotic mix in the pit of my stomach of anxiety, fear and excitement. Excitement at the thought of finally being able to express my feelings for George physically without hiding in the gardens, but fear at what this would entail. Anne and Mary had tried to explain things to me before and to be honest, I was starting to find it frightening. What if he hurt, or injured me?
Anne, then came over and collapsed in the seat next to me, followed by Mary. Anne poured out two full glasses of bridecup. “Drink up! These are for courage for tonight! Whatever you do, please don’t faint again. Not like last time. My brother will never let you live it down! Don’t worry Jane. It will be all over very soon. Just grit your teeth, lie back, think of England and get on with it!”
“Thank you Anne,” I replied, unsure.
“You will be fine,” Mary said, smiling and patting me on the arm.
It was soon time. Before I was taken to the bedchamber, however, my brideman Henry, keeping with tradition, had to pull off my garter and fasten it to his hat. Henry looked a little unsteady on his feet. He had had a bit too much of the bridecup, but father stepped in to help him. Once he had fastened it to his hat, he burst out laughing and then, fell asleep in the corner. Stepping over him and ignoring him, my bridesmaids, Margaret and Grace then whisked me off to the candlelit bedchamber to help undress me. They both were very excited as they help to peel off the many layers of my gown. Being slightly more inebriated myself, the excitement was infectious. Even mother and Anne joined in, jokingly trying to get my gown off as quickly as possible. I was left with just my chemise and then turned to the bed. I gasped. It was covered in flowers and ribbons. “Well, don’t just stand there, get in!” Anne said, lightly pushing me on the back, as the others laughed. I climbed into the huge double bed. Its crisp, linen sheets felt cold and new against my skin. I then just sat there
propped up by the pillows. I didn’t have long to wait though. Five minutes later, there was a commotion at the door. In came George being followed by a rowdy bunch of drunk, male guests. There was much laughing and joking about as they all started to rip away his clothes, leaving him with just a linen shirt. He then was cheered on as he climbed into the bed beside me. Then, as was traditional for the bridemen and bridesmaids, Henry was brought into the room after being awoken from his slumber and got hold of my stockings. At the same time, Grace and Margaret got hold on George’s stockings. They had to throw the stockings at us and if George’s stocking landed on my head and vice versa, the person that threw it would marry soon after. “Well, this isn’t going to work!” Henry said laughing. “I am already married to one of the bridesmaids!” So, Henry and Grace gave all of the stockings to Margaret to bombard us to the amusement of everyone in the room. As the laughter died down, mother then gave us both another cup of bridecup and milk. “To keep your strength up,” she told us.
Then, everyone began to calm down as the Priest entered the room. He blessed the bed by throwing holy water over the sheets covered in flowers and ribbons, saying “Lord, protect those who rest in it from the devil, so that they will always think of their maker and be safe.” He then went up close to us and threw holy water on us both saying “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. Go in Peace.” He then left the room and everyone else left behind him. Mother, Grace and Margaret extinguished all of the candles. Margaret was the last to leave carrying the last candle with her. She looked back and smiled at me before closing the door behind her.
And then we were both alone.
I felt frozen to the spot. For a moment we just sat there as if waiting to see who would make the first move. It was crazy – we both had dreamt of this moment for so long, but now the moment had arrived, we were absolutely petrified. The holy, religious ritual and private, giggling audience had certainly killed off any passion too.
After a few minutes, George then got up and lit the candles again. “Why do they have to turn everything into a ceremony?” George asked, laughing nervously. I then began to relax and laughed with him. He came back to his side of the bed, poured out more bridecup for both of us and then, sat back on the pillows.
“I think I will be sick if I have any more of this!” I said.
“Oh Jane, it’s quite weak!” George replied amused. “Remember those days when we were both little and your family used to visit my family at Hever? You were such a fragile creature then! Especially when we played Blind Man’s Bluff with Anne and Mary, do you remember? Anne and I would blindfold you and spin you around in the gardens before running away, so that you wouldn’t catch us. You never got very far!” George started laughing as the memories came back. “Poor thing, you used to become dizzy so easily and fall over!”
I remembered it all well. When I was six years old, wandering around the gardens of Hever in the springtime. The sound of our laughter. The warm sunshine and the fresh breeze caressing the roses and the spread of daffodils. We were all just small, carefree children. “Oh yes! Mary always used to get upset because she kept losing! Anne used to tease her rotten!” I said, laughing. “Even then, Anne was such a conniving little girl! She always made sure that I found you and vice versa!”
We both laughed at the childhood memories and then, calmed down. “Although, it was just as well that she did,” George said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have shared our first kiss!” It then came back to me. The excitement of the moment when George, blindfolded and hot on my heels, chased me down. I struggled to get away, but failed. I screamed in excitement as we both tumbled into a nearby Mulberry bush. Having finally trapped me, he pulled off his blindfold and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on my lips. “I remember back then thinking how pretty you were,” He said, looking into my eyes and one hand caressing my hair. “You were the first girl I ever had feelings for. You were my first love. I loved you then and I still love you now.” He then reached over, pulled me towards him. We began to kiss, almost like recreating our first kiss. This time it was much better though. More passionate and tender. I melted into his embrace as our kisses became more passionate and searching. In one swift movement, he had stripped me of my chemise before throwing off his own clothes. I lied back on the bed and he took me in one forceful movement. I cried out at the sudden sharp pain, but this very soon disappeared, as he continued to mercilessly thrust into me. Flowers, ribbons, wine and candles scattered everywhere as we released two years of frustration, culminating in the most overwhelming feeling of bliss, where there was no distinction between pleasure and pain. Then, after one more final movement, he relaxed and lied down beside me, absolutely spent. We were both breathless and exhilarated. He then fell sleep.
I thought to myself that this was hundreds time better than what Anne and Mary had described to me, before I closed my eyes.
October 1525, Greenwich Palace
For a while afterwards, George and I could not keep our hands off each other. Every night, he would have me more than once, trying to get me with child.
But the child never came.
In the meantime, Bessie Blount’s son, Henry Fitzroy, had been made Duke of Richmond and Somerset back in June at Bridewell Palace. He was only six years old. Uncle Norfolk and Charles Brandon were there.
“Henry Percy was also there,” Mary said slowly to both Anne and I as we sat in the Queen’s Chamber quietly sewing. Anne had finally returned back to court after being exiled due to the Percy affair.
I saw Anne slightly flinch and the mention of Percy’s name, but then shrug it off and smile. “Her Majesty cannot be too pleased by that. A bastard being made a Duke. He’s almost a threat to her own daughter’s position.”
Then, suddenly the King’s arrival was announced. We all got up and curtseyed as he waltzed past up to the Queen and kissed her hand. She curtseyed to him and then he said “Madam, why is it so dull in here? Has someone died?” He looked around at us. “Oh not sewing again!”
“They are your shirts!” Catherine replied. “You like them sewn in this way!”
“Let’s have some music and dancing!” He ordered. He waved to some musicians at the other end of the chamber, who up until now had been slightly dozy, to get up and start playing. He also beckoned some of the ladies to dance. Together, they all danced the pavane. Mary and I stayed seated, but Anne was pretty much the first to appear with four other ladies. We all watched as they showed-off their well-rehearsed moves, no doubt steps that they had learnt since childhood like I had once, ready for occasions like this. Henry and Catherine watched, but I couldn’t help noticing the King’s face – it was almost transfixed on Anne. She was very good with dancing, singing and playing music and she led all of the ladies in their steps. Catherine smiled at her, oblivious to Henry’s expression. Anne smiled back at both of them, making more direct eye contact with Henry, then looking away.
Mary was sitting next to me. Mary was not her usual lively self; any other time, she would have followed Anne to the centre of the room to dance. Lately, I had noticed that she was also being very careful about what she ate and drank. “Mary, is everything ok?”
She turned around and smiled. “Yes, of course. Whatever has made you think otherwise?”
“You’ve just been quite calm and quiet lately. I would have imagined you being at the centre of all the dancing with Anne!” I replied joking.
Mary laughed. “Yes, for the past five months, I have had to slow down, but I’m not ill. It is only for a little while more, for the next four months to be exact,” Mary replied coyly and then smiled. It then dawned on me as I looked down at her stomach, at the bump that was starting to show.
“You’re with child!” I said with surprise. “How did I not see this before? You’ve kept that bump well-hidden!”
“Yes, I just feel so awkward serving the Queen in this condition. I feel bad for her. Here I am, falling pregnan
t twice and yet she has not been so lucky!”
“I’m sure she will not be hard on you in any way. If anything, I think she would be happy and supportive of you furthering the Carey line.” I replied. I then asked her in almost a whisper “This time, is it definitely William’s?”
Mary nodded and replied quietly “Yes, this is definitely William’s child. I have not been in the King’s private chambers since falling pregnant with Catherine. With Catherine though, I am still not so sure. I think there is a strong possibility that her father is the King.”
“How is little Catherine?” I asked.
“She is doing very well, a strong, healthy baby. Today, she is with my mother and grandmother at Hever who are keeping her occupied.”
“Do you hope for a boy, or a girl this time?”
“William of course does want a boy. Girls are just not important to anyone. I personally would love the child whether it is a boy, or a girl. I just want another strong, healthy baby like little Catherine.” Mary replied.
Then, the dance changed to the more energetic galliard. We watched as Henry joined in in the dancing. He danced with each lady in turn, but tended to spend extra time with Anne, laughing with her as he shared with her a few extra steps here, or twirled her a bit too much there. Catherine watched them both with a smile fixed on her face. It didn’t bother her. Anne was just potentially another Bessie Blount, or another like Anne’s own sister. An amusement. A pastime.
The Lady Rochford Saga Part 2: Tourmens de Mariage Page 4