Chapter Twenty-Three
And as a falcon free, that soareth in the air,
Which never fed on hand nor lure; nor for no stale doth care;
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
April 17, 1540
“The bastard was made Earl of Sussex today!” Edward stormed into our presence chamber.
“Who?”
“Cromwell, the leach!”
Now I was interested, not to mention extremely irritated. “What? How is this possible. The king hates him.”
“You know how Henry is. Keep thy friends close and thy enemies closer.”
I popped the last flower into the vase and put it on the sideboard, unable to finish the design. “But what of Anne of Cleves?”
“The king has still not consummated his marriage to her, at least ’tis what they are both reporting. He has tried. He has lain with her naked. However, he confesses he cannot form an erection with her.”
“Anne of Cleves says he only kisses her mouth, her breasts, touches her there, but has not yet done the actual deed.” I crossed my arms over my chest, tapped my foot, my mind already scheming how to set things to rights.
“Huh,” he grunted and flopped into a chair, waving over a footman to give him wine. “I found out something today which shall help in his downfall. Anne of Cleves was previously betrothed to another. Said betrothal was never officially broken. We now have a cause, besides the non-consummation, to formally annul the marriage.”
“Perfect. He’s still completely infatuated with Katheryn Howard as well. But when he is not looking at her, I still catch his eyes on Anne Bassett. He still desires her, perhaps not for marriage, yet… The girl has asked me several times now to arrange a marriage for her. Her mother is beside herself, she claims. But I say posh! We still need ’Nan.”
“You are right, my lady wife. Right now she is the only stock we hold—besides the prince—and we need to keep her clean and clear of a husband, at least until the king no longer desires her.”
“Although…” I tapped my chin, deep in thought. “The king often wants what he cannot have. What if we started talking of negotiations?”
“Clever woman! We shall talk only, nothing will come of it, but it will satisfy the girl and her mother. The king will naysay it, of course, or perhaps set a date much further into the future.”
“I shall go and find the perfect groom.” Which, of course, meant someone King Henry would never want her to marry.
June 10, 1540
All of our careful plans had fallen into place.
Cromwell had been arrested and the king had disregarded each potential groom brought forth for Anne Bassett.
Edward paced the room in his excitement, even bit his knuckles. “Suffolk, myself and the king’s guards stormed into Cromwell’s house in London, where he sat penning letters and drinking ale, nipping at biscuits. His sons were there—Gregory, of course, stared at me with hatred, which I suppose will trickle down to my sister, but I shall make it right for her!”
I stood up from the chair I had been sitting at working on my embroidery, something I did more and more for peace and quiet. I poured a cup of wine for myself and offered one to Edward, which he grasped as he continued to pace, sloshing drops over the side onto my new Turkish rug. I frowned and glared at him, but he didn’t notice, so embroiled in his retelling was he.
“‘What’s this about?’ Cromwell shouted, fighting as the guards gripped his arms and yanked him up from the table. They brought Suffolk the letters to look over, and I myself was able to walk straight up to his face and say, ‘You, Cromwell, are hereby stripped of your title, and stripped of the Privy Seal. You are no longer to refer to yourself as the king’s secretary. I hereby place you under arrest for treason, in the name of King Henry VIII.’” Edward took a large gulp of his wine, yet spilling more on my rug. “You should have seen the way his eyes bulged from their sockets. He sputtered and denied it, of course, but even as he did, Suffolk nodded to me and stuffed the letters away for safekeeping.”
“And what of the seal, shall you carry it?”
“No,” he said bitterly. “You recall Anthony Browne?” He eyed me warily.
My heart lurched. How could I have forgotten him? So much time had passed since… I gritted my teeth. I would never admit how much I missed him.
“Browne’s stepbrother, Fitzwilliam—Earl of Southampton—shall carry the seal.”
“A poor choice.” And indeed it was, but at least the seal would be kept within our own faction, and not by someone who associated themselves with the Howards. My mind wandered at the reminder of my lover. Where was Anthony? What was he doing? Did he miss me?
“For us, yes, but I’ve fought with the man before, served with him in Calais. He’s a good soldier, a good politician.”
“Maybe in France, but here in London?”
Edward set down his goblet and turned to me, suspicious eyes on me. “Well, there is nothing we can do about it! I am surprised you were not privy to the information beforehand. Do you not correspond with Sir Anthony?”
I swallowed. Edward had only ever hinted at my relationship with Anthony being friendlier than he’d have liked. I had had nothing to do with Anthony since the time I had mistakenly taken him to bed, and possibly conceived a child for it. A child who had eerily changed from my likeness to his with each passing day, for that matter.
“I have not spoken to him in quite some time, Edward.”
“No?” Something flashed in Edward’s eyes. Disbelief? Mistrust? Maybe hope?
“No.”
Then anger flared in Edward’s darkened eyes. “Do you deny you f*cked him?” The words were barely audible.
There had only been a number of times I had ever seen Edward so angry. My eyes widened. I took a step back. I’d never truly feared him. He was a man of honor, but with the crazed look in his eye, I was no longer confident. What could I say?
And now I had to lie. Had to make him believe my betrayal was not true. “Never.” As the word slipped from my mouth it tasted as bitter as Edward probably felt—as bitter as I’d felt every time I watched him saunter off with another woman. But I could never tell him the truth.
Edward blanched as his gaze roved over me for the span of several minutes. Each tick of the clock was like a bell tolling my execution. He’d call the guards and have me arrested for adultery. Toss me in the Tower and preside over my trial himself. Declare me guilty. Watch my head roll.
“I believe you.” His voice was strained. He turned around and walked toward the large window in our room. The one I liked to sit at and watch storms in the night.
My relief was so acute my knees threatened to buckle. He believed me? Did he truly, or did he only want to? What had caused him to ask? He must have seen that Beau looked nothing like himself. Most likely, he saw the other man every time he laid eyes on the child.
Then he spoke, his voice cracking slightly. “Do you care that your baby is well? That he reached his first birthday last month with nary a sniffle? He is vibrant with dark, curling hair.” Hair that at birth was golden as a daisy.
“I’ve heard.” I turned away from Edward, hoping he would just go away. I could not have this conversation. Could not think about my boy. Every time I did, Eddie came to mind and then my heart broke all over again. And every time I looked at him and saw Anthony, I felt sick to my stomach. Had Edward guessed that? Was that why he questioned me now? I took a goblet full of wine and downed it, wishing to be as drunk as Edward.
“Yet you send for him not, nor deign to visit?”
“I cannot,” I murmured, and sat down, my wine close, to continue with my embroidery. If I ignored Edward, he’d leave me alone. At least, I prayed he would.
He was not going to leave. Edward came to stand in front of me, one hand on his hip, the other pushing my embroidery aside. “You must.”
Tears pooled in my eyes. “I cannot, Edward. Not yet.”
Edward threw his hands up in the air, exasperation clear in his countenance. “You lost one boy, Anne. Yet, you gained another. God saw to it to give you back your boy, and you shun His generosity.”
“I shun pain,” I bit out. Shame filled me, for I knew what was right, but I could not do it. I was too selfish.
“Do you remember little Eddie calling out your name? He knew you. He died. Now you have another Eddie, one you call Beau. Does he call you Mama?”
Tears pricked my eyes, and I clamped my jaw shut. How cruel of him to even ask. He knew the answer. Beau did not know me, would not pull my face from memory. He hadn’t seen me since he was only a few months old. No matter that I had his portrait sent to me every few months since then. I could not speak. I just stared back at my husband, my voice blank. If I tried to tell him how I felt, my voice might not work.
“I have to go,” Edward said, his look of contempt now joined by disgust.
I took a deep sigh. “Where are you going?”
“North.”
With that, he walked to the door, opened it and then slammed it behind him. Not so much as a goodbye. He did not even bother to grab his things. Was he really going north? I had long since given up trying to get him to remain faithful to me, and my heart was a block of ice that never seemed to melt. I did not really care where he was going. I walked to the window and looked out. Suddenly, I was overcome with emotion. I did not want to have a heart of ice. I wanted to love and be loved.
I crumpled to the floor and cried. The first time I’d cried in more than a year, since the loss of little Eddie. I cried until the sun fell below the horizon. I cried until there were no more tears left and my face hurt.
I turned away my sister-by-marriage, Beth, when she presented herself, and instead crawled into bed to sleep until the morrow.
For the first time in nearly two years, I longed for Anthony’s loving arms around me. But not only Anthony, I longed for the surety and comfort of Edward’s embrace. The one he’d given me when we’d first married, and the first year to follow. I craved to hold my babies in my arms, to rock them and sing sweet lullabies.
But what’s more, I realized, I had longing. I was beginning to feel again. And with such a realization came one question: Did I give credence to my longing, or build a steel cage around my ice-filled heart?
June 24, 1540
We sat in the queen’s chambers, sewing shirts for the poor. Mary was next to the queen, and I on her other side. I had not seen nor heard from Edward. He was still angry at me. But I had found out he’d worked on business and not some other woman’s body. And I had yet to give into any of the desires I’d allowed myself to explore.
The quiet solitude of the chamber was suddenly broken by loud banging on the door. The king’s guards entered the room, followed by the king himself.
Anne of Cleves dropped her shirt, winced as she stuck herself with the needle, and then quickly stood, her head bowed to Henry.
“Anne of Cleves, do you deny that our marriage has never been consummated?”
Her head shot up, as did all of ours. My gut clenched tight.
“No, Majesty.” Anne’s voice was barely a whisper. The ladies around her stiffened, as did she. I swallowed hard, having known this was coming. Was this what Edward had been doing?
“Will you quietly leave this court and swear to God that we have never been married?”
“But…” Anne’s lips parted, her eyes wide and filled with fear. I could see her eyes moving, and she gazed at each of his guards and then back at the king. Mary gripped my fingers.
“Say it, woman!” the king bellowed. His fist slammed down on a nearby table, upsetting a vase, which spilled flowers, water and all onto the waxed wooden floor.
Anne of Cleves did not even blanch. “I will swear it.”
“Louder,” the king demanded.
“I swear it!”
A guard handed the king a document that he unrolled and placed on the table where the vase had been. “Sign this document.”
“What does it say?” Anne stepped closer to the table and leaned down to read what was written. I itched to move forward with her to see its contents.
I allowed a brief glimmer of hope to inch its way inside my chest. Could he truly just set her aside? Let her go?
The king’s countenance changed suddenly to doting husband. He pressed his hand to the small of her back, leaned into her, smiled. “It is the document which shall annul our marriage, sweetheart, for we have never consummated our union , and you were already legally betrothed to another.” Syrupy sweet was his voice, but his words were full of threat. He pressed a quill into her hand. “Come now, rid us both of this farce.”
Tears pooled in the queen’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, presumably to keep them at bay. “But I do not want to marry another,” she choked out. Then the tears did spill, and she raised her hands quickly to wipe them away. “I do not want to return to my brother!”
My mouth fell open. Did she wish to die? To raise her voice to the king? She was becoming hysterical. He’d offered her life! I wanted to shout, Take it! Take life!
A chance that three wives before her and countless courtiers had not had. Sweat trickled down my spine, pooling at the base. My throat itched to scream. I couldn’t watch another person die.
With the pad of his thumb, Henry swiped away a tear she’d missed. “If you do this,” he said solicitously, “you shall never have to marry again. From this day forth, call yourself my sister, and I shall set you up a nice and pretty in a castle all your own, with more money than you could know what to do with.”
I wasn’t the only one whose mouth fell open. Who was this man that stood before us? For certes he was not the angry, volatile man we knew. Was it possible he actually cared for this uncultured woman—for he was not the only one. Her sweetness had captured us all.
“You will?”
The ladies all sucked in their breath, myself included, mostly shocked we would not have to accompany our queen to the Tower. Would not have to cover her hair or place her in a coffin and mourn her alone.
“I swear it,” he said. “We are friends you and I.”
A smile curled the queen’s lips—one I had never seen before. Was it possible this was her true smile? She looked so… happy.
Henry smiled back and pushed the document closer to her. “Sign it, sister.”
“Thank you, Majesty!” She scribbled her name on the document and, then shockingly, hugged the king.
He squeezed her back, twirled her around to the shock of everyone in the room.
It was the oddest display I had ever seen. And I’d been at court a long time, where just about anything was bound to happen.
Despite the jovial atmosphere—and abundance of relief—Henry was only paving the way for a new queen. And who would that be? My heart skipped a beat and I grew faint, for it was almost certainly going to be Katheryn Howard.
July 9, 1540
Today was my birthday—I was thirty years old.
Today also marked the day of Anne of Cleves and Henry VIII’s official annulment. They were no longer married. Anne of Cleves was now styled the king’s beloved sister, given Richmond Palace and Hever Castle, a generous stipend and invited to attend court quite often.
But what’s most special about this day—she was alive! There was never any talk of her death. Never any talk of conjuring up suspicions.
She had written me a letter. I’d already read it three times, but I should read it again. I’d never received a letter quite like it. The words had moved me beyond measure.
My dearest confidante—Lady Hertford,
I cannot begin to thank you enough for your friendship and kindness which has meant the very world to me. You have given me my life, and for such I shall be forever grateful to you. You realize that, do not you? You are like my godmother, a guardian angel. For it was when we sat at court, and I so sad and lonely, you gripped my hand, and said to have no fear, only to do as I was asked. I have done that, and now I shall live a great life, with much happiness. But the point is, I shall live, and I owe my good fortune all to you. You are a brilliant woman, and one whom most see as vicious and mean-tempered, but not I. I have never seen such, Anne. I have only ever seen the Angel Anne. My friend.
With much friendship and love,
Anne – Beloved Sister of Henry VIII
No one had ever thanked me personally for how I had affected their life. I had never saved anyone’s life, either, and while I did not literally save her, I had had much influence on it.
Another chip of ice broke off of my heart, melting its way down my chest. Perhaps this beginning of the thirty-first year of my life would be a good one.
I looked up from the letter as the door to my chamber opened slowly, and Edward walked inside.
“Edward.” His name hung on my lips in the silence that stretched out for moments.
He looked wretched. Deep purple marred beneath his eyes. More silver laced in his hair, lines deeply etched around his eyes and mouth. He walked forward and knelt at my feet. He looked up at me imploringly, gripped my hands in his, kissed my fingertips. “I am sorry, Anne. I know how much you loved Eddie. I loved him, too. I was so mad the day he died, I cut the children I had with Catherine out of my will… not that I believe they are mine to begin with.”
My heart warmed at his confession and the sincerity in his voice. “You never told me.”
“I did not want you to judge me.”
“I have never judged you, Edward.”
“Let us fight no more. I’ve suffered miserably while away.”
“We shan’t.” I tilted his head up and kissed him lightly on the lips. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and I kissed those away, too. His hands came up to cup my face, his tongue swiping over my lips.
Our kiss deepened, fingers groped, until finally Edward lifted me in the air and took me to my bedchamber, where we made love for nigh on the rest of the day. The longing I had had ever since his departure slowly melted away. I felt love. I felt the strength of his arms around me.
My heart melted a little bit more.
July 28, 1540
An execution just after sunrise and a wedding before the noon meal.
How like the Tudors.
Cromwell was dead, yet we all celebrated King Henry’s marriage to the teenage bubblehead of a girl at Oatlands Palace. I would have much rather celebrated the death of a man I despised and what his death represented. For we had nothing to celebrate with a Howard on the throne—save for, God willing, our prince would still be king.
Katheryn Howard was annoying. There was no other way to put it. My eyes could not remain focused for want of rolling into the back of my head whenever she was near, or within earshot. She laughed constantly, and so much so I was reminded of an insane person… cackling was how it sounded. Did she learn it from a jester?
All she desired to do was dance, dance, dance. Dance and sing and play. She wanted to try on dresses, pick out fabrics for new dresses. Style her hair thirty different ways each day.
She was tiresome. I’d begged Edward—on my knees—to not have to serve as lady-in-waiting to the imp, but he’d said I must. It was the only way to get rid of her. Thank God, I was not the only one who could not stand her. Lady Mary was equally disturbed by the young and unintelligent girl. She was no gentle lady, although she played well at it—it was only playing. From the moment the doors closed, she flopped around like a country scullery maid.
We had set our spies in her household, and I’d done myself a favor and made certain Jane Rochford was also a lady-in-waiting. She, in the last few years, while still extremely irritating, had calmed a bit, as well. We simply did not speak to each other. But I did have an agenda, and Jane’s big mouth was going to do me a world of good.
I was more than determined to see this marriage ended. The silly chit was not worth a lick, and the Howards could all go to the devil. Unfortunately, Catherine Parr was also a lady-in-waiting, and I found it hard at times not to scratch her eyes out.
For now, I stood in the great hall, sipping on wine and trying to figure out how I could escape this place.
“There you are.” Elizabeth Cromwell sidled up next to me. I still felt guilty when I looked at her, that Edward and I played a large part in the demise of her father-by-marriage, but she had not held it against us, despite her husband being severely enraged. “Are you not enjoying our new and… pretty queen?”
“I find her sublime,” I said sarcastically. My eyes searched out ’Nan Bassett in the crowded great hall. She was dancing with Katheryn Howard. Whatever jealousy she’d first felt had all dissipated. Perhaps she’d realized the fate of a queen was not how she wanted to end her life, or perhaps the few names I had listed as possible grooms had sought to ease her mind.
Beth laughed. “I hear you went to visit Beau.”
I stiffened. “Yes.” After Edward had come to me on bended knee, we had gone together to visit Wulfhall and our baby, and in so doing, the ice had melted clear off half of my heart.
“And all is well?” Beth’s gaze searched over the crowd. She seemed distracted this evening.
“He is a beautiful boy.” And healthy, robust, and oh-so-sweet, and the one whom I would stake my claim, for when I held him in my arms, the distinct vision of him wrapped in royal robes filled my mind’s eye. “He took to me right away. It was pleasing.”
“I should like to visit with him. I hope to soon provide him with a cousin.” She rubbed at her belly and turned to face me.
I gripped her arm, eyes widened, excited at the prospect. “Are you with child, Beth?”
“I believe so!” Her voice was filled with girlish excitement, and I felt myself being caught up.
“I am so very pleased for you! When do you think the babe shall arrive?”
“The midwife says about Christmastime or the first of the new year.”
“Marvelous!”
“Mayhap I shall be back at court in time to help the new queen with her own birthing.”
“I doubt you’ll need to come back so quickly… There were rumors the king and she have been romping like springtime rabbits since the beginning of this year, and she has yet to conceive. With all of the issues he had with Jane, and then not being able to consummate his marriage with Anne of Cleves… No, you shall not worry on it. I have doubts he can become fully erect anyway.”
Beth gasped and then laughed. “But does not he dabble with Anne Bassett?”
I snickered. “Aye, but she does wicked things no gentle woman would do, and no queen would dare.”
“Oh, my! I am most intrigued.” She gripped my hands in hers. “Do tell.”
“We shall whisper about it on the morrow. Perhaps a walk in the gardens. I’ve a need to go into the maze and remember better times.”
Just then the new queen rushed up to us, a wide toothy smile covering her entire face, laughter bubbling from her lips. “My ladies-in-waiting! Come dance with me!”
She grabbed our hands and yanked us to the center of the great hall, where she proceeded to swirl and twirl, not even remotely in time with the music. She grasped a goblet of wine from a passing footman and downed the contents.
Beth and I exchanged triumphant glances and continued on with the dance.
This queen, poor child that she was, would topple like those before her.