Chapter Fourteen
In tower both strong and high, for his assured truth,
Whereas in tears he spent his breath, alas, the more the ruth (remorse).
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
April 11, 1537
“Come, let us tantalize your taste buds.” I clapped my hands as a signal for the groomsmen to begin serving the first dishes for our party. A dinner party had seemed the appropriate thing to do in light of all the events surrounding court and my most recent return. A chance to be carefree for one evening.
And to take my mind from Anthony.
The candlelight flickered with the sudden movements of our bodies and the wind we created from flowing skirts as we entered the dining room of our chambers at Whitehall. I took my place at one end of the trestle table, Edward opposite me. A diverse gathering sat between us. A test of those at court. Down the left side sat Henry Courtenay, Lord Exeter and Henry Pole, Lord Montague and his lady wife. Lady Montague was a sickly thing. Pale, thin, and her pallor almost gray. Her once-dark hair lacked luster and was streaked with silver, her eyes red-rimmed and yellow.
The right side of our grand table was filled with Lord Exeter’s wife, Gertrude—immaculate as always—the stately looking Ambassador Chapuys and the Lady Mary, dressed in a demure maroon gown with black embroidery, pearls and lace—nearly making my stylish emerald silk gown look inappropriate. Her hair was pulled back so severely, the skin of her face looked stretched at the temples. I imagined beneath her gown a hair shirt scratched her skin. For all her young age, Lady Mary always gave off the impression that she was an old soul. Almost as if her mother, Katharine, sat before me instead of Mary.
I was sad that she and I could no longer be the friends we once had been. Longed for a time when I worried most about what gown to wear and whether or not my mother would disapprove. Lord, it had been so long ago. And now the girl I’d whispered to in the dark stood against Queen Jane’s offspring and I had to draw her in.
The groomsmen filled wine goblets and set out dishes of onion soup—a blend of onions, herbs and almond milk—one I happened to know was a favorite of Mary’s. Loaves of fresh brown bread were thickly sliced and placed in the center of the table.
A full house we had—for even though our party itself was rather small, the space available for us to entertain at our court apartments was much smaller than our manor home. The king and queen had been invited, but Henry had said he wished to enjoy a private dinner with his wife. I suspected Jane had, in fact, told him she wished to dine with him sans their entourage, and that she had great news to tell him.
“So good of you to invite us to dine with you this evening, Lady Anne,” Lady Montague said, just before bursting into a coughing fit. Lord Montague patted her back and forced her to sip her wine. “My apologies.”
I set down my spoon and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “It is a pleasure to have you all here this evening. I was away from court for some time, and Lord Beauchamp and I thought a small dinner with friends a splendid welcome back.”
“Indeed, it is,” Gertrude murmured between bites of soup.
“I must also issue my thanks for such an invitation,” Chapuys chimed in. “It was a most pleasant surprise and diversion from my usual evenings.” He inclined his head to me, Edward and then to Mary. “The company is most diverse and pleasing.”
Lady Mary was quiet, only inclining her head and spooning dainty bites of soup into her mouth. I wanted to see inside her mind and know her thoughts, for certainly she must have many.
“My Lady Exeter, I have not had the pleasure yet of welcoming you back at court as well. I spoke with your husband at length earlier this week,” Chapuys said.
“Thank you, Ambassador. Court is where our lives are, and indeed all of our friends. We are so pleased His Majesty saw fit for us to return. We are forever his most humble, dutiful and loyal servants.”
Chapuys smiled. “Si, I have also found the court of Henry VIII to be a home away from home, filled with good friends and allies.”
“Tell me, Ambassador. What news from Spain?” I asked.
“Ah, my master has written to me just this morning. They are hard at work filtering out heretics, just as His Majesty, King Henry is. Seems that an ocean between our two countries, and the difference in heads of church, cannot stop the profligates from exhorting their beliefs.” Chapuys licked his lips and then attempted to pull some invisible strand of food from his teeth with his tongue.
“Even in the East you will find heretics preaching their gods and virtues. Muslims think Christians are heretics,” Lord Montague added.
Edward, whose attention had been intent on the ambassador, now turned in Montague’s direction. “Yes…” he drawled. “Any word from Reginald Pole of late?”
My mouth dropped open. I hadn’t expected Edward to press poor Henry about his traitorous brother, who still pushed for his claim to the throne. Lady Montague choked on her soup and proceeded to fall into another terrible coughing fit. Henry Pole was so intent on his wife’s coughing, he seemed to forget the question.
Lord Exeter chimed in, “Montague has had no word from his traitorous brother. Although, I daresay, we shall not refer to the man as any sort of relation. How goes it with Sir Nicholas and Sir Francis?”
“They have yet to return. Seems they chase a ghost. They get a tip of Pole’s whereabouts, his preachings, even a pamphlet he published, but the moment they are upon him, he disappears. The devil’s work,” Edward said.
“His Imperial Highness is most interested in the capture of this Pole as well,” Chapuys said, steepling his fingers, elbows on the table. “He states that two ruling monarchs must look after each other when one is endangered by a usurper. He is willing to help in the search if King Henry will agree to a treaty of sorts.”
“A treaty?” Edward asked, his fingers drumming against the gleaming mahogany wood of the table. I was momentarily distracted by his fingers, the way they methodically tapped the wood. Wood that the servants had scrubbed, wiped down with wax and then buffed to a sheen that afternoon. Almost as if he knew how the conversation was going and exactly what he was going to say, only waiting to tick off each and every line of dialogue.
“Si, but I have yet to relay the message to His Majesty, King Henry.”
Edward nodded, knowing as we all did that Chapuys would not relay the message to us before he’d laid it on the king’s ears, only give us a hint. “If it has anything to do with returning to the breast of Rome, you can be certain King Henry will not agree to it.”
Chapuys nodded and glanced at Lady Mary. I narrowed my eyes, trying to understand what was not said between them. Mary gazed in my direction and then returned her glance to her lap.
What was the sneaking ambassador up to? Was he a secret supporter of the rallies against His Majesty, the people trying to rise up and put Mary in his place?
“My lady, the soup was divine,” Mary said, jarring me from my thoughts.
My eyes widened, and I smiled at her. “Thank you. I had heard you preferred it.”
Groomsmen melted from the walls and cleared the soup bowls, and placed on the table platters of roasted venison with carrots, garlic and onions in a cream sauce, capon in green sage sauce, and braised salmon with apricots.
Conversation died for a few moments as our guests filled their plates with the tasty dinner dishes.
Amid the clink and clatter of utensils on dishes, Henry Pole’s voice rose, sounding hurried, like a sinner at confessional. “The pope is aiding Reginald. My mother wrote me last week to say she’d received a letter from him. The pope pays his way, that he might elude the English authorities seeking him.”
“Your mother has heard from him?” I asked, astonished that Lord Montague had not told us before now.
Gertrude and Lord Exeter also looked shocked. Since part of all of them being returned to court was that Lady Salisbury, Pole’s mother, would inform them immediately of any contact. Once again, I thought Lady Montague would choke on her food.
He nodded solemnly. “It appears that my dear brother, how I abhor the word,” he mumbled, “corresponds with Mother regularly. I’ve entreated her more often than I can count not to encourage him thusly, but my sentiments have gone unnoticed. She only laments that she is his mother.”
“This news does not bode well for your mother,” Edward said.
“Certainly not now that she is in the king’s employ with one of his children,” Exeter said.
Montague spread his hands in question. “What am I to do? I fear if I push her too hard she will not tell me what she knows.”
We all mumbled our agreement. “For certes, you cannot allow that to happen. If your sibling happens to relay his whereabouts, that is information most useful to your king. You are obligated to inform him,” I said.
“Aye,” Montague said, stuffing a large piece of venison into his mouth, the grease dribbling onto his chin before he swiped it away.
Somehow I got the feeling that although he agreed on the outside, internally he was not so resolved. We would have to keep our eyes on Montague, because as anyone knew, blood ran thicker than water, and when you had a mother harping in your ear, you were most likely to do her bidding.
“Ambassador, I am confident you will present His Majesty with the offer from your master of an alliance of sorts,” Edward turned the conversation. “But I must also tell you we shall handle the locating of Cardinal Reginald Pole ourselves. It is a decidedly English matter. In fact, upon meeting with the king, we have sent another man to assist in the search, Sir Anthony Browne.” Edward leaned back in his chair, hands still laid on the table, but his countenance challenging nonetheless. But he did not challenge Chapuys. Instead, his gaze was steadily directed on mine.
I raised a brow and kept my face clear of concern, for it so happened I was pleased for Anthony to have been sent on the mission. He would take it as something I might have encouraged Edward to do, and even though I had not, I could not have been more pleased for the handsome, arrogant and entirely insufferable charmer to be an ocean away and believing I had gotten my revenge on his tricks.
“I must say I am surprised. I was not aware that Sir Anthony had the skills needed to aid Sir Francis and Sir Nicholas.”
I could have hugged Gertrude for voicing her opinion, for the thought had also crossed my mind.
Edward smiled indulgently at her. “It is not widely known, but the king has used Sir Anthony on many occasions for more clandestine purposes.”
“Yes, well, we did know he was able to garner information with the ease of slipping a hand into a glove. The man is a genius at his sport,” Lord Exeter said.
“A courtier with more talent than that of stroking…egos is always invaluable,” Chapuys added, to the merriment of the group.
“Lady Mary, you must tell me, how do you find the newly renovated south gardens?” I changed the subject not only to encourage Mary to speak, but because I was entirely exhausted of politics. I had known going into the dinner party that political speech would play a part, but had had high hopes we might all reconvene our friendships as well. Especially with Lady Mary at the table. I wanted her to know she was a friend of ours—if only on the surface. None other than the queen had welcomed Mary with open arms, in an effort to show the king what a virtuous wife she was.
Lady Mary smiled at me, her expression brightening considerably. “I adore them. The blend of white and red roses amongst the greenery is beautiful.”
Conversation turned to the gardens and hunting. Dinner was cleared and replaced with custards, gooseberry tarts, sugared plums and candied almonds. Once everyone was sufficiently filled, we adjourned to our presence chamber.
Musicians arrived shortly, playing lutes and shawms softly in the background. The men gathered in a corner to play their hand at cards, and the ladies sat by the banked hearth, sipping on spiced wine.
Mary fingered the seed pearls on the cuff of her gown. Her dark brown gaze captured mine. Emotion filled their depths—pain the most prevalent. “How is it…being a mother?”
Just from the way she’d said it, the emotion in her voice, the chosen words, the pause in between, I could sense her torment. At one and twenty summers, there were still no prospects for her. Her father was so intent on his own marriages and heirs that he hadn’t paid a lick of attention to Mary’s future, though I suspected he ignored her on purpose as a child of her own would only strengthen her position. She must have wondered if she would ever get married. There were plenty of women at court, myself included, who hadn’t married until later, but it was not generally the case, and especially not for a royal princess. The custom was usual for them to be married early—indeed, most were married before their first bleed.
“Mistress Elizabeth Seymour and Sir Thomas Seymour,” a groom announced.
I was taken aback, my words stolen from my throat and completely forgotten. Beth I was pleased to see. Tom, not so much.
Edward rose to greet our newest guests. He turned and frowned in my direction until I was able to recover my shock and stand to greet them as well.
“Beth, darling, come join the ladies. Tom.” I inclined my head but did not curtsy to him, nor offer my hand. As a woman in a superior position in society, I did not have to do such things. And it was also an obvious cut to my brother-by-marriage.
Edward frowned at me again, but I dismissed him, pulling Beth with me to sit with the other ladies.
From across the room, I could feel the ice of Tom’s stare. I gazed at him from the corner of my eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with him. His anger was barely banked. The other men were jovial at times, serious at others, but all through the game, Tom was the same. Barely a nod or grumble, just staring.
The room felt as if it were growing colder, but I knew it was not actually a drop in temperature, but my growing concern for Tom’s temper that had me chilled. He was not in his right mind. He looked most unstable. No longer able to stand the chilly glare, I stood up.
“Ladies, what say you to an evening walk in the gardens?” I gestured to the window. “You can see the footmen have lit candles along the pathways.”
“Oh, how delightful,” Gertrude exclaimed. “Gentleman, would you like to escort us?”
“Indeed, my lady, we’d be much obliged,” Edward stated. They laid their cards down and began linking arms with the women.
“My lady,” Tom said to me, offering his arm.
I did not want to take his arm, felt that his very touch would freeze me in place forever, but I did anyway.
“I know what your scheme is,” he leaned down to whisper.
“What do you mean by that?” I was truly perplexed. Why should he be so angry?
“You control my brother as if he were a puppet and you the master.”
“That is not true and entirely inappropriate, Tom.”
“All in the eye of the beholder, my lady. I’ve seen you with Anthony. I know about Surrey as well. Who is next, the king?”
I gasped. “Pardon me?” A chill ran down my spine. What was Tom accusing me of?
“Who will you f*ck next? Henry VIII?”
I could no longer stand to hear his mockery and vile words. He spoke them only to make me break. And he won. Rage rushed through me. With a swift turn, I slapped him on his cheek.
“Abominable! How dare you!” I said.
The group in front of us stopped before quite reaching the main door of our apartment and turned to look at the spectacle. My face burned with anger and embarrassment. Why had I let him get the better of me in front of people? I had always been the picture of serenity in front of others, saving my lesser decorum for private moments.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Edward snapped. He stomped toward Tom, chest puffed out.
“Vicious, vile bitch!” Thomas came up close, ignoring Edward, his face only inches away, his words echoing those of Anthony. I could smell the alcohol thick on his breath. The man was deep in his cups, and somehow able to fool everyone into thinking he was sober as a daisy. His lips curled into a snarl, but it was not the fear of him biting me that sent chills racing up and down my spine, but the pure and raw rage sparking from his eyes. A man with such anger, hatred and booze running through his veins was a danger to everyone.
“The last thing this court needs is another Anne,” he hissed.
My gasp was dissolved by the intakes of breath and outraged murmurings of those surrounding me. Just as we never spoke of Catherine Filiol, Edward’s first unfaithful, incestuous wife, no one spoke of Anne Boleyn. But Tom just had, and what was worse, he’d compared me to her.
I was stunned speechless. My throat constricted. I felt like I was choking. Thomas Seymour wanted me dead. Thought me no better than Anne Boleyn, deserving a death stroke to the neck. I stumbled back a step. Vacillated on a reaction. Why had he harbored such anger for me? Once, I had thought his petty foolishness to be the jealousy of a younger brother, wishing for things that weren’t his, and even later thought him upset with me in order to protect his brother from another failed marriage. But this… this went beyond all that to something deeper that I could not understand. Weightier than him simply being angry with me for blackmailing him to keep his mouth shut.
“Brother, you’ve gone too far!” Edward bellowed.
Elizabeth Seymour rushed to my side, her fingers entwining with mine. She whispered words of comfort in my ear, but I could not make out what they were, was barely able to understand that she was indeed speaking. Gertrude, too, came up, caressed my arm tenderly, and offered her strong body as support, but I refused to sag. I stood tall, willed my wobbling knees to straighten.
Tom turned from me to look at Edward. “I only tell the truth, and you know it. The woman schemes for power, prestige, money, position, and she’ll lift her skirts for anyone willing to offer it. Look how she got you—”
Edward cut his brother off with a hard fist to his jaw. The resounding crack echoed in the silent room. Tom stumbled backward, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his lips. Our guests’ mouths, which had already dropped open, hung nearly to their chests. Hands were frozen in horror over their gaping mouths. My eyes widened beyond what was natural. They stung, but I could not blink. Could not, not see what was happening in front of me.
“Do not ever speak of my wife in such a way again, or the next time you shan’t live to see morning.”
My stomach tightened. My heart flipped. Edward had really just threatened his own brother’s life over an insult. For that was all it was, really. Tom was an angry, jealous, drunk little boy—despite his adult age. Right? He could not possibly really want to see me walk across the scaffold, lay down my head and spread my arms for surrender to the ax, could he? And then I knew, fully comprehended as his eyes flicked to mine, disgust and hatred burning holes in my forehead. He did want me dead. His gaze turned back to Edward, and it was evident there as well. He wanted Edward dead, too.
“Throw down the gauntlet only if you can raise your sword, brother.” Tom wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb, an evil smile curling his lips. “One day you won’t stand so tall. One day you’ll have to beg me for favor. One day I will take precedence over you and your wife.” The way he said the latter word sounded like I was offal to be spit on. “You are not the only male Seymour the king has a tender spot for. You shall see Edward, I will trump thee.” He smirked, his laugh rough and scratchy.
“Get out,” Edward growled. “Get out before I have you arrested for suspicion of treason.”
Tom did not say another word. He did not have to. His threats were loud and clear, and he would not want to be arrested either, else he would not have been able to attempt to make good on his promises.
The sound of the door to our chambers slamming shut was coupled with wood splintering and a crash as one of our paintings fell to the floor. Was it a sign of things to come? The world we lived in ripping apart and smashing at our feet?
Edward whirled on me, anger burning in his gaze. “’Twould be best if you retired for the evening, my lady.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the way his lips curled in a snarl bade me to remain silent. He may have protected me, but I would not go unpunished for this spectacle.