Jane Seymour, the Haunted Queen

by Alison Weir

  They found the ambassador in the great hall, preparing to depart.

  When Lord Exeter, as spokesman, confronted him, with Lady Exeter chiming in stridently, Chapuys looked abashed.

  “Sirs, the mutual reverences done at the church were at the command of the Emperor—and of the King. His Imperial Majesty wants an alliance with England, and he is prepared to recognize the Lady as queen so long as the Princess Mary is restored to the succession before the bastard Elizabeth. My master is aware that moves are afoot to unseat the Lady, yet he does not wish to waste time, and he fears that the King is lukewarm about the alliance. Indeed, if I had seen in his Grace any enthusiasm for it, I would have offered two hundred candles to that she-devil!”

  “But it did not look good,” Lady Exeter pointed out.

  Chapuys spread his hands self-deprecatingly. “You all know me, how I have fought for the Princess’s rights, and for the true Queen, in her day. I am ashamed to think that you might believe I have betrayed you and the Princess. Indeed, I am resolved never to speak to the Lady again, and I shall tell the Emperor so. What happened this morning left me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and I did not attend the dinner she was hosting. Instead, I dined with Lord Rochford and the chief nobles of the court in the King’s presence chamber. Politeness required such a courtesy.”

  He turned to Jane. “I can see that my ill-considered action has upset you, Mistress Seymour, and I am sorry for it. I am still your friend, and I will do my very best for you.”

  Jane smiled at him, feeling immensely relieved. “You were placed in an impossible situation. I understand how difficult it was for you.”

  She thought she understood too why Henry had forced Chapuys into making that obeisance. He would not lose face with the Emperor. He had made Anne queen in defiance of Charles and the rest of Europe, and he would have Charles’s representative acknowledge her. Yet still there was some doubt nagging at her mind as she returned to the apartment. Anne, and no doubt many others, had seen the gesture as representing her return to favor, for it had been an overt move to win the King’s approval. Would Henry really divorce Anne after securing the Emperor’s recognition of her? It did not seem likely. All Jane had to cling on to was Cromwell’s intimation that Henry meant to marry again.

  * * *

  —

  That evening, Edward walked in with a grave face. “Master Secretary is in trouble,” he told them.

  “No!” Jane cried. “Surely not?”

  He grimaced. “I was there. I saw what happened. The King was in an irritable mood this afternoon. He spoke harshly to Chapuys, and said he was not interested in an alliance with the Emperor against France.”

  “But what of Cromwell?” Jane wanted to know.

  “When the King summoned Cromwell and Lord Chancellor Audley, Chapuys came over to where I was standing, and told me that Cromwell had clearly overreached himself in negotiating the alliance independently of his Grace. The King was sitting with Cromwell and Audley in the window, and we could see that he and Cromwell were angry with each other. I’m sure his Grace was furious with Master Secretary for exceeding his authority; apparently Cromwell agreed to the restoration of the Princess before seeking his approval.”

  “I wouldn’t have liked to be in Cromwell’s shoes,” Nan remarked. “I’ve never seen him look so frightened. I think he was fast realizing that he had badly miscalculated, and that neither the King nor the Emperor would ever agree to each other’s terms. Afterward, he was in despair.”

  This was terrible news to Jane. Cromwell had been her friend, and now he might no longer be able to help her at all. Henry would not lightly forgive such an infringement of his royal privilege, or being made to look a fool. And if Anne was indeed back in favor, as Jane feared, she might well take advantage of the situation and demand Cromwell’s head. She had done as much with Thomas More, and she had made it clear that she would bring Master Secretary down if she could.

  “If Cromwell falls, then the Boleyns will rule all,” she said brokenly.

  “Do not despair, Jane,” Edward soothed. “Chapuys is still in hope of a good outcome. He thinks the King may be bluffing in order to secure greater advantages from the Emperor, and that he has made Cromwell his whipping boy. It is possible that that little charade was staged for Chapuys’s benefit.”

  “I pray he is right,” Jane said.

  * * *

  —

  On Thursday evening, Jane was still fretting as she made ready to visit Margaret Douglas, and was pinching her pale cheeks to give them some color when Edward came in.

  “Something is afoot, and you should know about it,” he said, his expression serious. “Cromwell has just gone down to the country, to his house in Stepney. Ostensibly he is ill, and Chapuys is telling the Emperor that he has taken to his bed from pure sorrow. But there is more to it than that. Cromwell summoned me and Thomas before he left, and told me that he has been secretly meeting with various councillors and all our friends, who are more numerous than we think. He said he knows that the Lady is out for his blood, and fears that she may capitalize on the King’s displeasure. He is determined to preempt her. Jane, you had best sit down.”

  Jane sank on to a stool, wondering what was coming. Edward took another, and leaned forward, regarding her gravely. “Cromwell thinks we have all been naive in thinking that an annulment of the King’s marriage would be sufficient to get rid of the Lady. She is clever and devious, and still has support in the Privy Chamber. He says that more radical action is called for. To that end, he has befriended those who would not normally be his natural allies, for he is no conservative or lover of the old faith. That is the measure of his determination to unseat the Lady!”

  “But we all share a common aim,” Jane observed.

  “Yes, and that aim is to make you queen. Cromwell realizes that bringing that to pass offers him his best chance of survival.”

  “What did he mean, more radical action?”

  “He has received certain reports from France against the Queen that offer a pretext for her removal. He was not specific, but he said that if we were happy to leave it to him, he would see that we achieve our purpose. He’s a lawyer, Jane, and a clever one. We can rely on him. Chapuys is for it; he has already written to ask for the Princess Mary’s approval. He says he is happy to unite with anyone who could help bring the Lady down, for they do a meritorious work that will prove a remedy for her heretical doctrines and practices.”

  Jane was perplexed. “I wish I knew what Cromwell intends. Aside from annulment, what other way is there of getting rid of her? Even if she has done something wrong, that is no pretext for dissolving the marriage.”

  “She could be immured in a nunnery. Then the King could be released from his vows. Or he could divorce her by Act of Parliament. That might well be what Cromwell is aiming at, and he may use these reports to discredit her in the King’s eyes, so that he agrees to it.”

  “She has brought this on herself,” Jane said. “God could never smile on her unlawful marriage.” She could not feel any sympathy for Anne.

  “God send that Cromwell moves quickly,” Edward said grimacing.

  * * *

  —

  Jane’s head was spinning as she made her way to Margaret Douglas’s lodgings later that evening. She had not seen Henry since the dramatic events of Tuesday, so she had no idea of what he was thinking about Anne or Cromwell—or even her own self.

  Margaret welcomed her warmly. In her chamber, a visibly pregnant Lady Worcester and Margery Horsman were waiting. They embraced Jane with much affection and, she detected, a certain deference.

  Margaret invited them to sit and called for wine. Sipping it, Jane was waiting to catch up on news and gossip, but there was a short silence, during which the others looked awkward.

  “Something has happened since we met on Saturday,” Margaret said at
length. “You ought to know about it, Jane.”

  This was the second time something in that vein had been said to her that evening, and Jane was alarmed. What other ominous news was she to hear?

  “It’s about me.” Lady Worcester looked shamefaced. “Foolishly I flirted with two gentlemen in the Queen’s chamber, and my brother saw me and leapt to the wrong conclusions.” Jane knew the Countess’s brother by sight; Sir Anthony Browne was a member of the Privy Chamber, and she had seen him in company with Edward once or twice.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  “He took it upon himself to admonish me. Whereupon I replied that yes, I had behaved lightly, and been wrong to do so, but it was little in comparison with the behavior of the Queen.”

  “The Queen?” Jane echoed.

  “I told him what you must surely know: that she admits some of her court into her chamber at improper hours. And then, God forgive me”—suddenly she was crying—“I repeated something Mark Smeaton had confided to me, and I don’t even know if it’s true.”

  Jane was almost dumbstruck. She knew nothing of Anne’s nocturnal activities. “That musician? What does he know of the Queen’s affairs?”

  “He is in love with her,” Margery enlightened Jane. “I thought you knew. There has been gossip about it since last year’s progress.”

  “I did hear something of it,” Jane said. “It is not reciprocated, of course?”

  “No, she spurned him quite firmly at Winchester, and never acknowledges him now,” Lady Worcester informed her, dabbing at her eyes. “So Mark turned spiteful. He told me—and no doubt others—that the Queen was promiscuous, and that he could tell much more if he pleased.”

  “Is it true?” Jane asked, staggered.

  Lady Worcester swallowed. “I do not know. But I told my brother and my half brother, Sir William FitzWilliam, what he had said. William once served Cardinal Wolsey, and has no love for the Queen, who brought his old master to ruin. Anthony hates her too. He and William urged me, on their allegiance to the King, to go to Master Secretary Cromwell and tell him what Mark had said to me. So I did. And now I wish I had kept my mouth shut. I used to be close to the Queen, but she is hard to love these days. Even so, I would not do her any injury.” She looked deeply distressed.

  Jane was wondering if this had anything to do with the French report that Cromwell had received. It didn’t sound like it. “No one could take what Mark said seriously,” she said, in an attempt to comfort Lady Worcester.

  “But Cromwell has!” Margery burst out. “The Queen’s chamberlain summoned me today and asked if I knew that the Queen was promiscuous. I told him she likes to flirt with the gentlemen, but then we all do, and it is an accepted thing. He asked if she was alone with men in her chamber late at night, and I said only with her brother on occasion; they like to talk privately together. But I assured him that I had never seen her behave improperly. He pressed me again, as if he wanted me to say she had, but I said I had told him all I knew, and that surely he had better things to do than to rake up scandals when there were none!”

  A feeling of dread descended on Jane. Was Cromwell trying to make a case against Anne? If so, Anne could be in very serious trouble indeed. “What would happen to the Queen if Mark’s allegation was true?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lady Worcester said. “The King would surely regard it as a very serious offense.”

  “It might be considered treason,” Margaret said. “The succession could be compromised, even the legitimacy of the Princess.”

  Jane went cold. “Treason?” she repeated.

  “Yes,” Margaret said. “And the penalty, I fear, is burning.”

  “Oh, dear God!” Lady Worcester gasped. “I would I had never said anything!”

  Jane was stunned. Of course, accusing Anne of treason would be the most effective way of getting rid of her. It was utterly abhorrent. She had envisaged a divorce, then obscure retirement, not this horror. She hated all that Anne stood for and wanted to see her unseated, but she would not wish such a fate on her worst enemy. Burning was the most dreadful of deaths.

  “The trouble is, it’s all too credible,” Margaret said. “Many believe her to be a whore; her reputation is poor and she is unpopular. And she does flirt, she is indiscreet. I’ve seen her with Norris. There’s something between them.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” Margery added. “Maybe Mark has too and is jealous. But if she is being unfaithful to the King, how does she manage it? She enjoys little privacy. We’re either sleeping in her chamber or within earshot, even when the King comes to her at night.”

  “Unless, of course, someone among her maids or ladies is helping her,” Lady Worcester suggested, still looking distraught.

  “But who? It would be hard to keep that a secret,” Margery declared.

  “All I pray is that they realize it was just malice on Mark’s part,” Lady Worcester said. But Jane trembled lest there would be much more to it than that. Cromwell had undertaken to get rid of Anne. Was this how he was going to do it? She did not want to be queen by means of Anne’s agony.

  “We must not speak of this to anyone,” Margaret said. “A still tongue…” She looked sorrowfully at Lady Worcester.

  * * *

  —

  As Jane walked back across the silent cobbled courtyard and through the deserted galleries, her mind was churning. Pray God they would see Smeaton’s remark for what it was—unless, it occurred to her, there was substance in it. She paused in her steps. No, it would have been impossible. Anne had been preoccupied with trying to present the King with an heir and keeping his love. She had been almost constantly pregnant or recovering from giving birth, and she certainly could not have had an affair without someone knowing about it. She was never alone!

  Even if it were true, she could not believe that Henry would condemn a woman he had passionately loved to such a terrible death. He would show leniency, she could not doubt it.

  Crowding in upon these disturbing thoughts came guilt. If the worst happened, she would be to a degree responsible, for was it not partly on her account that Anne’s enemies were conspiring to ruin her? Even if she said “Enough!” now, the damage would have been done. All she could do would be to try to ameliorate Anne’s fate. She believed she had sufficient influence with Henry to do that.

  Creeping into the apartment, she undressed in the dark and lay down. She did not sleep.

  * * *

  —

  Three days later, Jane saw Cromwell in the court. She wondered what was in his mind. Still she had not seen Henry, and by now, after everything they had been to each other, it was hard to believe that all was over between them. It was heartrending, but maybe it was for the best. Her grief at the prospect was mingled with relief. She had involved herself in dangerous intrigues. When she had told her brother what she had heard in Margaret’s lodgings, their jubilation had taken her aback and jolted her into a new awareness of how hazardous a place the court was, and how perilous the future of a queen who had failed to bear the King a son.

  Now she was asking herself if she really wanted a crown and all the risks that went with it. Did she want to be anxiously looking for her flowers each month, and dreading the consequences if they appeared? Could she live with the constant threat of failure, in terror that her enemies would pounce? She loved Henry, but did she really want to embrace a future fraught with fear? Better to suffer the pain of losing him now than to endure worse suffering later on.

  She thought with longing of Wulfhall and Mother. She would go home tomorrow. Edward and Thomas would not like it, but they had to accept her decision. And then she ran into Thomas in a gallery. His handsome face was flushed with jubilation. “Great news, Jane!” he cried, giving her a hug. “The King has just presided over the annual chapter of the Order of the Garter. The Boleyns are trounced! There was a vacancy for a
new Garter knight, and the bets were on that Lord Rochford would be chosen, for the Lady had asked that he be preferred, but the King chose Nicholas Carew instead. I bet she is spitting with rage!”

  “The King knows Sir Nicholas for my supporter,” Jane said, somewhat cheered.

  “And this proves that the Lady has not sufficient influence to get the honor for her brother. Chapuys says it means the Boleyns are falling from favor. And good riddance too, I say!”

  “Amen to that,” Jane said, but without conviction. She did not care about the Boleyns falling: it was how they fell that concerned her. She thought she might delay her departure for Wulfhall for a day or so, to see what happened.

  Chapter 22

  1536

  She was overjoyed to see Henry at her door that evening. All her doubts and fears faded at the sight of him. He had come bearing a bunch of love-in-idleness, exquisite white violas that proclaimed his love for her. “They are beautiful,” she exclaimed, burying her face in the soft petals and breathing in the scent.

  “I knew you would not accept a jewel,” he said, regarding her intently, “so it is flowers for England’s fair flower. I am sorry for not coming to see you sooner. I have been much occupied with state affairs.” His face clouded a little. Jane felt the first stirrings of dread.

  She poured some wine, and offered him little cakes she had made using Mother’s recipe and had asked to be baked in the palace ovens.

  “These are good,” Henry complimented her. “I should put you in charge of my kitchens.” But there was little mirth in the remark. He leaned back in his chair. “Oh, Jane, what a day I have had. Anne is raising hell because I gave the Garter to Carew. But I promised King François years ago that I would remember Sir Nicholas, whom he loves, when a Garter vacancy arose, so I was bound to allow his name to go forward.”

  “I’m sure her Grace can understand that,” Jane said.