Chapter Twenty
I fawn where I am fled; you slay, that seeks to you;
I can devour no yielding prey; you kill where you subdue.
My kind is to desire the honor of the field;
And you with blood to slake your thirst on such as to you yield.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
Mid-August, 1538
Eight months had passed since Jane died. Her baby was crawling, singing out his praises to those who passed, and admonishing those he detested—namely Cromwell. Smart little prince, he was.
I’d been walking the past ten months in a daze. Missing Jane. Missing Edward. Missing my baby. Missing so many things. Living my life for everyone but myself. Most nights I lay awake staring at the ceiling and wondering what I was going to do with myself. Then a barrage of berating words flitted through my mind as I reminded myself of all we’d become of who I’d become—aunt to the future king.
Edward had been gone a lot. The king was constantly sending him abroad and across the country to follow through with policies of state, quell rebellions and maintain our foreign relations. He’d been named commander for the English fortifications in Calais. He’d become just as much an asset to the king as Suffolk or Norfolk. But with him gone… with Jane gone… I’d grown lonely. Court was not what it used to be. Some months ago, when Sir Francis and Sir Nicholas had left to hunt Reginald Pole, Anthony had stayed behind. We’d hardly spoken beyond civility.
But he’d started to leave me little notes. They had never been signed, but I had still recognized his handwriting. He’d left me poems. Just a few lines, but the words had told me how he was sorry. How pain and jealousy had made him a crazy, vengeful man.
And this morning was no different. My biscuit and tea sat untouched as I unfolded the crisp paper and his words jumped out at me.
The long love that in my heart doth harbor
And in mine heart doth keep his residence,
Into my face presseth with bold pretense,
And there campeth, displaying his banner.
She that me learneth to love and to suffer…
Tears pooled in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. I’d not received a letter from Edward save for when he’d arrived in Calais a month before. I pushed away from the table and held the letter to a candle’s flame, watching his pretty words disappear from sight, though not from memory—for they were forever ingrained there.
The room was suddenly stifling, and I left for the gardens to walk in the shade of the willows, but as I rounded the corridor, Anthony’s tall, lithe figure came into view and my heart sped up, thundering down the stone walls to where he stood. My feet refused to budge as his eyes met mine—longing, deep and raw, resonating. I could hardly move, hardly breathe. Oh, if he’d only just keep going, but he did not. He moved closer, every step he took whisking the breath from my lungs until I was but a quivering shell.
“Anne,” he whispered, searching my face, and likely seeing the longing reflected in my eyes.
His spicy male scent overwhelmed me, drawing me closer. A cursory glance showed no one else in the hall. I had grasped Anthony’s hand, squeezing his fingers, and then I whirled around and headed back to my chambers. I turned just enough to see that Anthony followed. Our eyes connected and he stepped into the shadows of an alcove as I opened my chamber door.
“Leave. You may have the rest of the day to yourselves.” My servants nodded, not finding it unusual as I often dismissed them to find peace.
As the last of them left, I closed the door, then turned around, breath coming fast as I stared at the door and waited. A few moments later Anthony entered. My breath hitched.
“Close the door, lock it,” I said.
Anthony did so without taking his eyes off of me. My heart skipped a beat and I knew a moment of panic. A moment of conscience, where I knew this was undeniably wrong, but I pushed it aside, not caring. My husband had taken his pleasure with countless women. And I’d been mostly good, until now. I’d waited long enough to feel Anthony, to have him hold me. To feel something beyond the darkness I’d fallen into.
We said not a word, our bodies doing the talking as we both rushed toward one another at the same time, mouths clashing in a heated, hungry kiss. ’Twas better than I remember. His mouth a decadent foray into the depths of fantasy and freedom. His hands roved over my back, my ribs, cupping my breasts. I flicked open the buttons of his doublet, yanked up his shirt and splayed my hands on his warm, muscled belly, over his heart, feeling it beat against my fingertips just as erratically as my own.
“Oh, Anne,” Anthony murmured. “My sweet, beautiful, Anne.”
I sigh of pleasure escaped my lips, their thinned, pinched surface opened and relaxed. I was letting go. I was giving in. Just this once.
Anthony’s nimble fingers flicked open every button, hook and tie until I stood nude before him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and stared at me in awe.
“Good God, you’re even more tempting than I’d imagined.” He kicked aside my clothes and wrapped his arms around me, his lips on mine, then my neck, until he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth and ecstasy crashed over me.
“Anthony,” I murmured, pressing my lips hotly to the side of his neck as I worked to remove his clothing.
“I can’t wait. Not this time.”
I nodded, desperate to have him inside me. We tumbled to the solar floor, my naked back pressed to the Turkish rug, and his partially unclothed, hard body over top of me. A moment later he was plunging deep inside me, my body overjoyed.
We were being reckless, and just plain ignorant. Anyone could walk in—Edward himself could! But neither of us cared. Edward was miles away and the door was locked.
I kept my eyes open, watching as his shoulders moved with the rest of him, droplets of sweat beading his muscled flesh. His gaze locked on mine as he pushed inside me again and again. Nibbled at my lips, my breasts. Passion shook me, making my limbs tingle and sing. Every time I opened my mouth to cry out, Anthony hushed me with a deep and carnal kiss, until we were both shaking, and ecstasy was ours.
Both of us had found release, but neither of us were sated. Anthony carried me back to my chamber and laid me out on the bed before savoring every inch of me with his mouth and making love to me all over again, only he took his time, making every minute stretch out.
When we were too limp to do more than lounge on my rustled sheets, I lay in his arms, breathing in his heady scent, limbs still tingling.
My fingers traced a small scar on Anthony’s neck. “What is this from? A battle wound?”
Anthony chuckled. “I have the good and generous King Henry VIII himself to thank for that. We were battling in a tournament with swords, and he had his ire up thinking I may be courting the late Queen Anne Boleyn, prior to their own wedding, when in fact I was not. I do believe it was more of a show for the lady, so she might see his prowess.”
I rolled onto my back, and Anthony followed swirled circles around my navel. When he looked up at me, there was such emotion in his eyes, I felt true fear in my gut, for I felt just as attached as he did.
“I love you, Anne,” he said, pressing his lips to my heart.
“I love you, too,” I whispered. “But ’tis a forbidden love. One we are damned for.”
He grinned. “Pray for me then, Anne, for I am damned.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring this last selfish moment. If only our pasts had been different. Our coming together was bittersweet.
“I can feel you pushing me away,” Anthony said, resting his head on my stomach.
“Not just yet,” I said, knowing that when the clock struck the hour, I would indeed push him from my life.
October 12, 1538 – Prince Edward’s first birthday
Much can happen in a year.
Famines can wipe an entire village off the map. Rulers can change. Religious houses can fall. Children can be born, and war can change the face of the landscape.
Much had happened this past year and yet, so little.
The king still wore black. His once vigor for life and entertainments had dwindled. Court was not the same. But our prince had reached his first birthday!
I’d also gained a new enemy.
Standing in the great hall, holding the little prince for courtiers to gaze on him before he was taken to see his father, Catherine Parr, also known as Lady Latimer, strutted toward me like she was the Queen of England herself, confidence in her every haughty step. I raised my chin, looking down at her as she approached. How I disliked her, and the feeling was entirely mutual.
Her brother William Parr had been knighted around the same time as Tom Seymour, and since then, she’d been prancing like a peacock, waiting for the right time to spread herself wide and proclaim how pretty she was.
“Well, look at this handsome prince,” she cooed, tickling Prince Edward’s chin. The babe was dressed in ivory robes, adorned with jewels and thread of gold and soft kid-skin slippers. She glared up at me as I tugged the prince a little out of her reach.
“Lady Catherine,” I drawled out. “Have you shared your story of triumph with your future king?” I could hardly hide the smirk curving my lips.
She’d been married for two years—to her second husband—and those at court loved to hear her revel in the story of when the traitorous Pilgrimage of Grace rebels held her, her husband and stepchildren hostage. She had become somewhat of a celebrity amongst the courtiers. But I’d grown tired of the story after the first time, let alone the tenth.
Catherine frowned, daggers in her eyes as she prepared for another verbal sparring. “You’d not smirk at me so if—”
“If what?” I said through my teeth, cutting her off.
Despite her being married, Edward’s brother Tom followed her like a little puppy. They whispered in dark corners. No doubt they’d consummated their relationship and Tom had told her all sorts of evils about me. Not to mention that Anthony’s wife was some sort of distant relation to Catherine’s husband. And it’d come to my attention that Anthony’s dear Alice was not a fan of mine, either.
“Never mind,” she said sweetly. “Just something Tom mentioned.”
I laughed, the sound making the little prince laugh too, giving the image he laughed at Catherine with me. “Be warned, Lady Catherine, of the company you keep.”
I whirled from her and took the prince to his father, still seething.
An hour or so later, I drummed my nails upon the trestle table in the great hall as I tried with all my concentration to pay attention to what Beth—now Cromwell, since she’d married the young Gregory—was saying. But for the life of me I could not. Catherine Parr was sitting across the room staring at me. Whenever my eyes caught hers, she sneered.
“Anne, are you even listening?” Beth said, annoyance ringing in her voice.
“Yes, yes, my apologies,” I said, and turned a smile in her direction.
“You look flushed. Are you feeling at all well?”
I stopped drumming my fingers and narrowed my eyes. “Yes, quite in fact.” But I was lying, for even though over two months had passed, I couldn’t get the image of mine and Anthony’s nude forms to vanish from my thoughts. Sweat glistened off our skin, both from the heat and from our passionate lovemaking. The sounds of his gasps, the feel of his fingers pressing into my flesh, his chest rubbing on mine.
Nausea built, and my body threatened to toss up the meager meal I had consumed that morning. I was overwhelmed with shame. I rubbed a hand over my forehead and closed my eyes for a moment. I was so confused. It’d only been the one time four months ago, and yet, thought more of that moment than any of the encounters I’d had with my own husband, and when Anthony and I had been together, I’d not thought of Edward at all, but only the selfish, delicious need that had consumed me.
Oh, Edward! Tears stung the backs of my eyes. I was most certainly going to hell, and if he ever found out… He’d send me there all the sooner.
My way of taking back control. Alas, I am so out of control…
I could not go on like this. Edward had already been made a cuckold once by his first wife, and though I’d dared not do that to him—I had! And now with the power he wielded… A scorned man could do any number of things if his wrath were great enough—the king being a perfect example.
That idiotic interlude was the last time. Absolutely, unequivocally, the last time. Anthony was now a thing of the past to me. I’d been lucky that soon after our encounter, he had gone abroad. I’d not had to see him, for if I did… My stomach burned all the more. I wasn’t sure what I would have done. The intimate moments we’d shared after the bucking of our bodies had subsided… they were more than a fling. The soft-spoken sharing. Confession of love.
Would that I could take every moment back. I’d not had a monthly since… My breasts were tender. My breakfast did not agree with me most mornings. The midwife had confirmed I was with child again.
Edward returned only a sennight after I had bedded Anthony. And we had only made love together one time. Even still, I was not entirely certain who the father of this babe was. For certes, I would rot in hell for allowing such a thing to happen.
My only saving grace was that we both had understood at the time, our making love had been a thing of mercy. Our souls had needed comfort, and only the kind that the bringing of two bodies together could have given. I had run from his charms for years, denied him, kept control, and all it had taken was one painful moment, and I had wilted like a flower near a fire.
“Shall I get you some wine?” Elizabeth said, pinching my arm a little.
“No, thank you. I am tired, ’tis all.”
“Mayhap you should go and rest then?”
“Yes, ’tis exactly so.”
“Do it soon. ’Nan Bassett has requested of me to arrange a meeting between you and her after this meal.”
“’Nan? Whatever for?”
“It appears the king still asks for her, and she has taken a liking to the idea of being queen.”
“Really?” It was hard for me to hide my shock at such an idea. Anne Bassett as queen? The girl was dumber than bricks and poorer than a church mouse. “How in all of heaven did she come up with a harebrained idea like that?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I take it you do not like her plan?”
“Not at all. The plan is to put a Seymour on the throne, not some little helpless whelp of a girl who only wants pretty dresses and to dance and f*ck the days away.”
Elizabeth snorted and choked on her wine. “Have you another in mind?”
“Not yet… But I’ve heard it from Edward’s own lips that the king seeks not a wife as of yet. He still mourns deeply, and with it being the prince’s birthday today, and in just a few days’ time the anniversary of Jane’s death, I am confident we shan’t worry on it for some time. Nevertheless, I have begun a thorough search into your cousins.” I took a sip of wine that Elizabeth had handed me despite my saying I did not want any, let the contents swirl around on my tongue. “Best not take a nap. Send ’Nan to my rooms. Come, too, if you like.”
But I did not make it back to my room to have that talk with Anne Bassett. Instead, a messenger intercepted me in the corridor outside of my chambers.
“My lady,” he said breathlessly. “It is the young lord. You must come quick to Wulfhall.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach, and my legs shook beneath me. Bile rose in my throat.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s got a fever, my lady. His nurses are taking good care of him, and the physician has been called.”
“I shall leave at once.” I turned to open the door, but remembered I had forgotten to ask him if Edward knew. “Wait!”
The messenger turned and bowed. “My lady?”
“Does Lord Hertford know?”
“Indeed, I told him so myself, and he bid me come find you.”
“Did he mention if he would be riding with me?”
“Indeed, no, my lady. I met him in the stables. The king has sent him on an errand.”
Disappointment thick and painful filled my gut. I knew in my heart Edward would rather have gone and seen to his son, but the king’s business could not be ignored.
When I entered my bedchamber, I found he’d left a short note saying they’d word from informants of traitors planning to raise arms against His Majesty. They’d left with haste and all secrecy, meaning he could not have found me in the great hall to inform me in person.
And so I set out that night on my own, to hold my little babe in my arms and, God willing, nurse him back to health.
Please, Lord, my God, do not take my little Eddie from me!