‘Mary is …..,’ Anne took a long breath. Should she tell him? She told him everything. She always had, even when they were apart, her letters had been full of gossip and opinions. Mary had told her this was a secret – but she didn’t keep secrets from George. She couldn’t, and she wasn’t about to start now! George looked at her quizzically, waiting for her to finish her answer. ‘Mary is with King Francis.’
Chapter 5 - 1526
nne stood in the middle of her chamber and turned a full circle, taking in the chaos and bustle as the younger maids of honour that the Queen had sent to help scurried to and fro packing Anne’s belongings. They would hold up her things one by one, and Anne would nod or shake her head, depending whether or not she wanted to take it with her when she went home.
Home! Anne thought of France as her home now, she had been here longer than she had been growing up in England. But her father had written to her, informing her that he had arranged a betrothal for her to Sir Piers Butler, heir to a wealthy Irish family. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be betrothed. Anne knew that as the younger daughter of an insignificant knight, she needed to make a good marriage. Her time in France had taught her that power and influence came from a woman’s husband, and without that, women had very little of either.
Anne sat with care on the edge of the window-seat, holding a pile of letters in her hand, tied with a coloured ribbon. She didn’t want these precious letters from George to be lost in the confusion of packing, so she kept them in her hands. The temptation to re-read some of them was overwhelming, and her fingers found the one she sought as if of their own volition. It was well-worn, fragile and tear-stained, and as she read it again, her throat clogged with more tears. Anne mentally shook herself, impatient that, after almost two years this one letter still had the power to upset her so dreadfully.
My love. I write to tell you of my most important news, and I wanted you to hear it from my hand first, before Mary or our Lady Mother writes. I know they don’t write often, but they may write to tell you this; I am to marry. Father has arranged a union between me and Jane Parker, and we will be wed within the month. I have no redress about this, although I have argued with Father, heatedly and at length, that I would prefer another match.
Jane is in service to Queen Katharine, so I know who she is, and I tell you, my dearest, I don’t like what I know. Unlike you, she is neither quick of mind or of humour, and she seems to have no qualities to recommend her, apart from being of good family. Her appearance is acceptable, her voice is not. Nor does she have any high opinion of me; she doesn’t like poetry, hunting, jousting or any of my friends. We shall marry, and try our best to avoid one another, I think. I had hoped for better, although no-one could be so part of my mind than you, my Anne.
My other news is of less significance to me, although I’m sure you will be interested in the fact that the King honours our Uncle Norfolk, firstly by making him Deputy of Ireland and then Admiral of the Fleet, and our sister Mary is currently warming the King’s bed while the Queen is with child. Norfolk and Father consider this an honour, although I do not.
I long for your return, my love, so we can discuss these changes in person, each with the other. Letters no longer seem enough for me to share what lies on my mind. Until I see you. G.
Anne thought back to when she had seen George at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, how very young and excitable she had been. In the end, they had only had one day of excitement, when the jousting had taken place. Queen Claude and Queen Katharine had sat side by side on the dais, with their ladies all around, and they had watched as knight after knight had sparred in the tourney. George had worn Anne’s favour as he jousted, and Harry Percy had also asked to carry her favour with him. King Henry had carried the favour of his Queen but King Francis had taken Mary’s favour instead of his Queen’s. Humiliated, Claude had refused to attend any more of the events scheduled, and none of her ladies had been allowed back either. Anne had only that one day with George, and had worn the memory thin in her mind in all the many months since.
Her sister Mary had been recalled soon after that, when Anne’s father, and more importantly, their Uncle Norfolk, heard about her liaison with the French king. Anne was sure that George would have kept the secret, but other people weren’t as discreet. Mary had been given a position in the Queen’s royal household, and had been married off to William Carey, who took one look at her blue eyes, blonde curls and expansive bosom and didn’t care about her reputation. Mary enjoyed being married, and being part of Queen Katharine’s retinue – from her rare, badly spelled letters Anne couldn’t decide which pleased her more.
Anne brought her mind back to the present and shook her head at the little maid that brought another dress to judge. Anne had decided that she was only taking her finest dresses, her most delicate linens, her most sumptuous robes and her brightest jewellery. Everything else she was giving to the maids who were helping her – they could always make them over to fit, or sell them to have a little money of their own. Her clothes-chests were almost full to bursting as it was, and the only things that Anne wasn’t choosing to give away were her wonderful sleeves. After all, who knew if she would find a dressmaker in Ireland who could make them properly? Anne knew that when she arrived in England everything would change. She would be closely watched and chaperoned by her parents and her frightening uncle Norfolk, and they would send her to Ireland as soon as they could if she made any mistakes. She just hoped that being near George would make up for all the things she would leave behind.
Being near George would make up for anything! His letters still came at least every week, even though he knew she would be home soon, always full of poetry, sketches and tales of court life. Again he told her about Mary, giggling and sneaking about to meet the King, he told her about his own marriage to Jane Parker, who didn’t giggle but often sneaked, he told her about being part of the King’s entourage, keeping him amused and interested day after day, and he told her about the pious Queen, always on her knees praying either for a baby, to keep the baby already in her womb, or for the soul of the child she had just lost. Anne looked forward to being at court, and hoped that Sir Piers Butler would not want the marriage to take place too soon.
In no time at all, Anne had said goodbye to Queen Claude who had been so kind to her and had set sail for England. The wind was favourable and she was soon back on English soil, making her home with her parents at Hever Castle. Uncle Norfolk, who ridiculously insisted on being addressed as ‘Monseigneur’ had arranged a place for Anne in the Queen’s large household and was anxious for her to go to court and take up her duties. Anne was anxious to go to court too. George was there!
***
‘Oh, Cousin, I’m so pleased you will be sharing the chamber with us.’ Madge Shelton couldn’t contain her excitement, and had hardly stopped for breath since Anne’s arrival. ‘Her Majesty is very kind to her ladies, and there are so many of us, we have plenty of free time. I can’t wait to show you round Richmond Palace.’ Anne smiled and calmly carried on unpacking, surprised that one of the lowlier maids in waiting hadn’t been asked to help her. She hung her gowns on the hooks in the armoire in the corner of the room, and found a shelf on which to place her hoods. Madge picked one up immediately and held it near her own head.
‘These are beautiful, Anne. So stylish and, well, French I suppose,’ Madge laughed, ‘I don’t know if the Queen will approve though,’ she continued, putting the hood back with the others ‘She prefers her ladies dress after the Spanish fashions, and everyone wears these’. She indicated her dark gown and the large wired gable hood on her own head, wrinkling her nose at how ugly the hood and sombre colours looked on a young girl.
‘I shall be wearing these,’ Anne declared determinedly. ‘We were expected to look fashionable at the French court, so perhaps these will become popular here.
’ At last all her things were put away and she was ready for Madge to take her down to meet her new mistress. She swallowed hard and lifted her head, refusing to be intimidated by all these new people and their strange behaviour.
Anne walked forward and knelt before Queen Katharine in the Queen’s presence chamber. Katharine was dressed head to toe in black, although her bodice was embroidered with black sequins and her jewellery of black jet glowed. Anne’s father and uncle were there to introduce her, although Anne thought they might equally be there to judge her behaviour, after her years at the profligate French court.
‘Your Majesty, may I present my niece, Lady Anne Boleyn,’ Norfolk boomed at the Queen. Katharine briefly closed her eyes at the volume of his voice. For such a small man, Norfolk certainly made his presence known.
Queen Katharine smiled at Anne and held out her hand. ‘Please rise, Lady Anne. We are happy to have you in our service.’ The Queen still spoke English with a heavy Spanish accent, but her voice was gentle and her eyes were kind.
‘Thank you, your Majesty,’ replied Anne, her eyes still lowered. ‘I shall endeavour to serve you as I served Queen Claude.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Katharine, ‘our friend has written to us, telling us of your loyal service. We hope you will be happy here.’ With that, Katharine rose and stepped off the platform where her chair stood, and turned towards her friend and favourite lady in waiting, Maria de Salinas, Lady Willoughby. ‘Please bring my missal, Maria, I need to pray in the chapel.’ and with that, the Queen left the room.
‘She’s always praying,’ whispered Madge, ‘and she only takes her Spanish crows with her. That’s why we have so much free time.’
Anne watched as Katharine left the room, followed by four other ladies, all dressed in black with large gable hoods and pious expressions on their faces. Anne smiled slightly, thinking that they did indeed look like crows. Suddenly, from the other end of the room, there was a commotion and loud male voices could be heard.
‘It’s the King,’ Madge squeaked excitedly, ‘and all his gentlemen! Now we shall have some fun.’ All the ladies still in the room sank to the ground in low curtseys, and the few men bowed. Henry swept into the room, his best friend Charles Brandon, Lord Suffolk at his side laughing loudly at something Henry had said, and followed by a dozen or more young men, all laughing and chattering.
Henry, tall with a broad chest made even broader with a diamond-encrusted doublet and fur collared cloak, glanced round the room and saw Anne’s father and uncle bowing, with Anne and Madge curtseying beside them.
‘How now, Norfolk,’ Henry too had quite a loud voice. ‘And who have we here?’ He nodded towards Anne, looking very different to the other ladies in waiting, in her colourful French hood and rose-coloured silk gown, with her spectacular sleeves a slightly darker shade of pink.
‘My niece Anne, Your Majesty, newly come home from France into the service of the Queen. Let me present her to you.’ Norfolk snatched at Anne’s hand and roughly jerked her forward towards the King. Anne tried to remain calm and graceful under such treatment, and kept her eyes lowered as the King gazed at her thoughtfully.
‘Another niece eh? You have many nieces, Norfolk,’ laughed Henry, scrutinising Anne carefully, his eyes taking in her stylish attire and his breath starting to quicken. ‘This one is very different to her sister though’. Anne looked at Henry through her lashes, thinking that the King didn’t have any idea how different she and Mary actually were.
Henry nodded to the assembled company. ‘Welcome, Lady Anne,’ he said, then swept onward with his entourage behind him. Anne rose and looked round. Her heart sank because she couldn’t see George anywhere, but just as she started to walk out of the room she felt her hand caught in a warm grasp and she was pulled into a window embrasure. But it wasn’t George.
‘My Lady, I have been waiting for you’. A low male voice whispered in her ear. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I met you in France. I intend to speak to your father as soon as I can and have your betrothal annulled. I want you to be my wife!’ Anne’s eyes lifted in shock at the words, and widened with surprise at the speaker.
She found herself gazing upwards at the hazel eyes and delicate good looks of Harry Percy.
Anne looked aghast at Harry’s words, then, over his shoulder she saw the astonishment in her brother’s face.
Chapter 6 - 1526
nne sat in bewilderment in her chamber, watching her brother pace about the bed, speaking his thoughts aloud.
‘I can’t believe he is thinking of asking Father for you.’ said George, clearly trying to imagine what the consequences would be of Harry’s declaration. ‘He has never breathed a word to me about this plan. I knew he had been impressed when he saw you in France, but so were they all!’
Anne wondered if her brother was more upset that his friend had not taken him into his confidence. She watched as George paced up and down, admiring the figure he made in his high black boots, black doublet slashed with silver and red, with matching sleeves and plain black breeches. His hair was longer than strictly fashionable, but as it curled round the sides of his face, she couldn’t help but think how much it suited him, and what a contrast he made to her own dark looks.
She sighed, and said, ‘But would it please Father more than the Irish alliance? I have heard that the Percys are quite wealthy.’ She knew that status and wealth were important to her father, and even more important to her uncle. Her feelings wouldn’t matter, and it wasn’t as if she was in love with Piers Butler – she had yet to meet the man.
George snorted in laughter. ‘Wealthy? Harry’s father is richer than Croesus! He owns all the land in Northumberland and most of Yorkshire. He is known as Lord of the North.'
Anne gasped. She hadn’t realised that Harry’s family were quite so – influential. ‘So Father and Monseigneur may agree to Harry’s request?’ Anne thought that marriage to Harry Percy might not be so bad, as at least she would be able to stay at court near George, not move to Ireland with a man she didn’t know. Harry was George’s friend and….?
George stopped pacing and knelt before her, clasping her hands in his own. Anne’s heart began to beat a little faster, the scent of sandalwood making her head swim, but she lowered her eyes so George wouldn’t see her mounting blush. He looked at her curiously. She didn’t often hide her expression from him.
‘Anne, look at me’. She raised her eyes to his. ‘It won’t be our father who objects to this match, it will be Harry’s,’ he said gently. ‘Harry is promised to the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and neither her father nor his will give up on that alliance.’ He smiled kindly down on her, ‘If the Butler match doesn’t suit you, I’m sure Father can look elsewhere.’ He squeezed her hands sympathetically.
‘Like he looked elsewhere for you when you objected to Jane Parker?’ she asked tartly. ‘You still had to marry the little sneak, and she’s got a voice that would curdle milk.’ Anne pulled a face at the thought of her sister-in-law’s high-pitched shriek of a voice.
George shrugged. ‘I never expected to love the woman I married,’ he said, ‘Love is not an issue between us. I married to please Father, so I may love to please myself’. He stood up. Anne felt strangely bereft as the warmth of his hands left hers, all thoughts of Harry Percy flying from her mind.
‘Now, we must return to our duties with the King and Queen. I will mention this to no-one, and I suggest you do the same’. Anne nodded in agreement. If this ridiculous plan of Harry’s came to naught, she didn’t want the humiliation of being passed over for someone with better connections. And she didn’t want to become the subject of court gossip so soon after her return from France.
***
Anne’s days settled into a comforting routine as
the weeks passed. She took her turn with the other ladies, singing and reading for the Queen, stitching shirts for the poor while the Queen sewed for the King, and playing cards with the others to pass the time.
‘Anne, you can’t leave that seam like that!’ whispered Mary as they sat in the Queen’s solar.
‘I’m sure the poor won’t care that it’s crooked, Mary. I hate sewing anyway.’ Anne scowled at the stitches, each one bigger than the last.
‘But the Queen likes all the things we sew to look beautiful. She says that, just because they’re poor, they shouldn’t have to have second-rate things from the palace.’ Mary wrinkled her nose in sympathy, but Anne wasn’t sure if her sympathy lay with the poor or with her lack of aptitude for sewing.
‘You were always so good at your sewing, Mary,’ Anne smiled across the despised shirt at her sister. ‘When we were children at Hever, you never minded helping me so I didn’t get a slap. And you always made your dresses over to fit me so beautifully.’
Mary returned Anne’s smile, ‘You would rather have been with George and the language tutor, Anne. You used to help me with my Latin. And my handwriting. And my reading.’ Mary began to laugh. ‘You and George got all the brains of our family, Anne. I got all the practical skills. I can sew, and cook, and run a household.’
‘Then I shall have to make sure I have my household nearby, Mary. You can help run mine too’. Anne sighed down at the shirt in her hand, then began to unpick the seam. The Queen would examine the shirt and Anne didn’t want to look foolish in front of the rest of the ladies.
Mary looked at Anne mischievously, ‘I don’t know if I want to live in Northumberland, Anne.’
The Secret: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (Tudor Chronicles Book 1) Page 3