Chapter Four
I might perceive a Wolf as white as whales bone,
A fairer beast of fresher hue, beheld I never none
Save that her looks were coy, and froward was her grace:
Unto the which this gentle beast did him advance apace.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
June 6, 1536
“I never thanked you.” Elizabeth Seymour, my sister-by-marriage, sauntered toward me. She was beautiful, with gorgeous bouncing curls and eyes that were wild in a way the sea was on the scallop of its waves. Men desired her.
“Thanked me for what, Beth?”
She sidled up next to me in my dark corner, her eyes sweeping down in a way to take in my gown and bejeweled fingers.
“If you had not thrust our Jane under King Henry’s nose, we would not be standing here, would we?”
“Ah,” I muttered, observing the court in all its glory, marveling that I had a part in the way things were. From the top of the vaulted ceiling to every hidden nook and the great space between, laughter bubbled over. Cheers, boisterous voices and the occasional shout mingled with the musicians, who provided the evening’s enchanting sounds. Above all, the booming voice of King Henry VIII, or his roaring laughter, dominated the room. This was his court, his England. And every single person within the realm knew this. “I suppose. But he would have noticed her somehow or other.”
“Not likely. The Howards were hard-pressed to replace the queen with one of her cousins.” Beth smirked in her haughty way. She was blunt as a knife in the gut.
“We may have planted the bait, but your sister is and was exactly what the king desired.”
Beth laughed. “Indeed, my lady. But let us pray his eyes do not soon stray to another luscious Howard. Our king’s appetite may not be so well pleased with my modest sister. I must away.” She curtsied. “This last dance is for a lucky gentleman, your brother, and then it is back to the country for me.”
“It is most assuredly Michael’s good fortune to have you grace his arm. Bon voyage!” Despite my attempts to be jovial, her words haunted me.
“Oui, ma soeur.” Beth dipped low in a curtsy and then vanished in the crowd to locate my brother. Besides Edward, the one male I could count on at court. My eldest brother, Richard, was still as volatile as ever, and I walked on the cracked shells of eggs when he was near. He was another reason I feared for my life—for more often than not, when the king was angry at one, he thrashed his punishment on the whole family unit. And should Richard entreat the king’s ire…
I took a slow sip of cider and suppressed a shudder, wishing for something a little stronger to take the edge off the fear that Beth had summoned, for she had a valid point—one I’d been avoiding pondering. Richard would be back soon. I would have to be cautious and seek out information from one of our spies about what he’d been up to. The tang of ale and apples washed over my tongue, and I let it settle a moment, taking in the full flavor.
The Tudor court perpetually exhibited only the finest of food, drink and entertainment. Only the best for the king. Even his candles were made from premium wax. Those in the great hall and the king’s other chambers were infused with special herbs and flowers.
“Are not thou a pretty king with emeralds and rubies surrounding thy neck like the grande dame of all thy court!” The king’s fool, Will Somers, pulled me from my dire thoughts as he frolicked about, making jests of the clothing styles, Henry’s jewels and choice of councilors. The fool gestured to Henry’s councilors. “And your ladies in tow with you!”
Henry laughed and kicked out his foot, but Somers quickly rolled away.
I could not help but snicker, for the men spent just as much time preening as the women of court. What a shame it would have been if all had not looked their best. My gaze shifted to the spot next to Henry. Jane sat pretty as a summer rose on her throne, a peaceful smile upon her lips. At last, a smile that was not hardened with strain around the edges.
Yes, I had had a hand in the way things were tonight. And judging by the new diamond and jade ring upon my finger, my kindness was being repaid. But it was not really a kindness, was it? I was only taking what was duly mine. I had set the plans in motion, so to speak, for it was I who put a young piece in front of Henry while Anne observed, and watched the sparks fly.
Oh, and fly they had.
“My lady.” Chapuys interrupted my reverie. He nodded his head and bent a leg in front of me. His eyes were hard and cold, belying the friendly smile upon his lips.
“Excellency.” I nodded and curtsied.
“I pray that all is well within your family?”
“We are fortunate to report only good things.”
Chapuys chuckled, perhaps at the shortness of my answer, or at some internal jest of his own.
“And you, Ambassador?”
“Very well.” He turned and gestured at the court. “The people are so very taken with our new queen. My own master, His Imperial Majesty, has it in his mind to set up an alliance between England and Spain again, given that Queen Jane is of such an… admirable disposition.”
I inclined my head. “That is indeed good news. I am confident His Majesty will be most pleased to hear your proposal.” I had my doubts Henry would be pleased at all. His moods shifted with the tides, and he might form an alliance on impulse but change his mind come breakfast. Henry’s previous wives were a perfect example of his changing moods.
“That is my hope.”
With nothing further to say, he moved on to the Duke of Norfolk. Our conversation had been a little tense, but I was pleased to see that Chapuys and I were at least still on biddable terms.
“Sister.” Michael came up beside me, and I gifted him with a true smile. “You were deep in thought. Might I trouble you for a glimpse into the mind of such a genius woman?”
“You have a way with words for ladies, Brother.”
“I’ve been trained well.” At this he handed me a fresh cup of wine and waved a groom over to take my empty cider mug.
“Do tell, Annie.”
I smiled at his reference to my childhood name. “I was recalling the night of Henry’s public explosion.”
“Which one?” Michael chuckled, and both of us looked around to make certain we were not overheard.
A slight pang of guilt whittled its way into my heart. Michael was closer to me than either my mother or brother Richard, and yet I still did not feel I could confide completely in him. One’s own internal thoughts were best left there, for if they were to slip delicately past your tongue, the ax might be just as swift to cut it off.
“The night Henry loudly rebuked Anne for her temper when she lashed out at the young lady, Claudia, and the king himself for dancing and making merry.”
“Ah, I recall the night. The moon hardly shown and rain pelted the roof, the ting ting of its droplets echoing in the great hall. The music had stopped. The crowd was silent. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, only emphasizing the king’s ire, like the heavens backed up his very words.”
“You’ve always had a flare for drama, Brother. You make it sound like the prologue to a play.”
“Most events at this court have proven to appear the stuff of make-believe.”
“Yes, well, that is the way of the court.”
Michael nodded. “What made you think of that evening in particular?”
“No reason. You know what made that night all the worse? Claudia bid my instructions not to pay respects to Anne as she was expected to do. Seeing as how the king was already enamored of Claudia and only hours away from gaining his great reward, Anne’s outburst only made him most angry!”
“Ah, yes. He hotly told his queen where she ought to take her thoughts and loudly complained to all the court of Anne’s importunity. It was only a matter of time before he set Anne aside, and by then you and Edward had already put your playing pieces on the table.”
“I played a part in that night.” But the words sounded full of dread even to myself.
“And I thank you for doing so. I would not have garnered a position among his groomsmen if not for you.”
“You are the second person to thank me this eve.”
“And who was the first?”
“Elizabeth Seymour.”
“A delightful young woman.”
I eyed my brother suspiciously. “And not for you.”
Michael bowed. “I will always accede to your great desires, my lady. What think you of Jane Rochford?”
At this, I nearly snarled. “Do not even think about it, Brother. It still disgusts me that Jane Rochford took it upon herself to have revenge against her philandering—and most probably buggering—husband, and in so doing took out a queen in the process. I swear by all that is holy, one day she will see her foul ways put to the test, and, I daresay, she will not be the champion.” At once I realized what I had said and was at least fortunate enough to have spoken the words to my brother—despite my strict rule of keeping my own counsel. Had I not also seen to Anne Boleyn’s downfall? Played people as though they were chess pieces? I brushed the guild aside.
Being the older brother that he was, Michael saw fit to goad me further. “Pray, tell me what you think of the lady.”
“Oh, posh!” I swatted his arm.
“Mayhap I shall see if the vixen is in need of a dance with a man who does not covet male flesh.”
I gasped and was rewarded with raucous laughter from Michael as he swaggered off.
I had barely enough time to recover from Michael’s teasing before his spot beside me was filled by another figure. Apparently, the dark corner of a room was a most popular place.
“Good evening, my lady.” The smooth, sensual whisper of sweet breath tickled along the shell of my ear.
Sir Anthony. He’d sought me out in my private spot in an alcove of the great hall. Out of sight from others, his hand brushed the small of my back, sending shivers racing up my spine, partly from fear and partly from desire. Fear, for the sensations his light touch gave me were forbidden. Desire, for a man as beautiful as he was, to taste something I had never had. Freedom. Choice.
Edward loved me, yes. But he’d married me to protect me after Surrey’s violation, and I’d felt after being compromised that I had no choice. Over the past year, we’d both decided it was a good match. We worked well together, and had the same goals. But Anthony… He touched a part of me that had not been allowed to speak.
“Sir,” I responded, a slight quiver in my voice.
“Why are you all alone? No husband on your arm?”
I thought a moment at his choice of words, no husband on my arm, as if I wore Edward and not the other way around.
“What makes you think I was not awaiting Lord Beauchamp?” I asked haughtily.
“No particular reason, other than he is… otherwise engaged.”
I sought a glimpse in the crowd of chestnut hair topped with the dark-green velvet cap, ostrich feathers jauntily stuck from the side, which I had given him on his birthday. There it was, and with it my husband, ogling the décolletage of a young court lady. Miss Elizabeth Darrell, I thought. My lips pursed into a frown.
“Hmm,” I said, irritated that I had not seen him with her before and that Sir Anthony was the one to point it out to me. “Do you make a point to show me my husband prefers the company of some other gown than mine own? Hardly a gesture expected of a gentleman.”
He bowed, his dark eyes catching mine. For a moment I thought to drown myself in their depths, wishing for him to take me somewhere private, stroke my own ego, which had been sorely bruised with the sight of Edward so outwardly flirting with another.
Until now, I’d never indulged in the baser attitudes that seemed to encumber most at court. Philandering, adultery. They disgusted me. And yet… Even Edward sneaked away when he thought I was not looking to taste the nectar of another. Why had not I? Why should I not indulge my desires? Because I am stronger than that. Because I love and respect my husband. Because to do so could jeopardize our future.
“The man ought to know he’s already obtained the prize.” Anthony’s lips curled at one corner, giving him a devilish sort of look, and his gaze roved up and down my form. The expression in his eyes was one that made a girl dream of romantic poems and a midnight rendezvous. With that one smile, my senses were sent into a whirl. I felt breathy, my heart racing. Almost like I was standing before him, already nude. But I remembered who I was, and I recovered by turning up my nose and glancing away. How dare he make me think such things?
He chuckled gaily in my ear. “Your reputation precedes you, my lady. Though you were rather serious as a child, if I recall.”
“My reputation?” I looked back at him sharply. “We’ve met before?”
“So you do not remember me?” He pursed his lips and glanced away. “Well, you were a petite thing when you first came to court to serve Katharine of Aragon. But look at you now. Grown, and fierce. And ever so lovely.” The man had the audacity to wink at me. “They say you are a viper in a den of rabbits.” His lips crooked in a teasing, sinful smile, and I wanted to slap him and kiss him all at once.
I sucked in a breath. Should I be offended by his nature and words? Or by my own thoughts? I vaguely remembered him dipping low and kissing my outstretched fingers. Of asking me to dance, and whirling me around. Of giving me ribbons and sweets. Pulling me on his team to play boules. But he was a man then, and I a child. Now we were both grown, and his fondness for me did not seem to have waned.
“But I do not agree,” he said. His fingers tickled against my own. The room suddenly felt warmer, and it was not from the heat of summer, since the evening had finally brought sweet relief from the humid air. “Your cunning and intelligence, I quite admire, as I do your spirit.”
I was relieved he did not think me a viper, but I did not know why. Did people really think me so cold? For certes, I did not smile, nor offer words of comfort often, but I wasn’t cruel without purpose.
Had he said these things merely to see me riled? Was it because of what I’d done to secure Jane Seymour’s success—that I’d forsaken the queen, flaunted women before the king to see her enraged?
“To me, you are a plush… red… apple.” Each word he spoke slowly against my ear, his finger trailing up my spine, plucking the buttons at the back of my gown. “An apple I wish to sink my teeth into and feel the sweet juices as they run over my tongue.”
“Sir!” My head snapped toward his, mouth open in outrage as I said it, perhaps too loudly, as a few eyes gathered toward our spot.
“I think we can help each other, sweet Anne.”
He used my Christian name without my permission. Such insolence! But I liked it. The man was daring, and I found myself intrigued despite the impropriety of it all.
“I do not see how.” I stepped away and eyed the crowd for Edward. He was now trailing discreetly behind Miss Darrell, who’d rounded a corner at the far end of the great hall. My feet itched to run after him. How dare he make a mockery of me!
Anthony took a step back, lest our closeness have tongues flapping about court. “Surely, you do. I am a member of the king’s privy chamber.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, rewarded only with a merry smile and sparkling eyes.
“As is my husband.”
“This is true, but your husband is brother to the queen. Some secrets are kept from his ears.”
What he said could have been true, but why would he offer to share those same secrets with me?
“It would also be my pleasure to introduce you to a few of my friends, who might I say, would be advantageous to you?”
This last favor would indeed have been of great importance to me. Because of Edward’s position at court, I was often avoided, unless someone wanted something whispered into the ear of the king.
“And what do you want?” For I knew what I could get out of him. Information. And see to it that he could carry out any plans I’d put in place. But, what exactly, he wanted from me was a mystery.
Sir Anthony’s eyebrow crooked upward, and he licked his lower lip deliciously. “Friendship…” His voice trailed off as his eyes swept the whole of my form, lingering on my sensitive spots. “Special friends we could be.”
Heat flooded my face, and I was certain my cheeks showed flaming red. Had the man gone daft? Propositioning a married woman of noble blood, the king’s own sister-by-marriage, in the middle of courtly festivities? And, what’s more, I did not believe him for a minute. What more did he seek from me? I was aware that some may have called me easy on the eyes, and some may even have raved at my soft, honeyed beauty, but I was not na?ve enough to believe Sir Anthony wanted only sexual gratification. There was some other means he hoped to gain.
“Sir! I am a married woman,” I hissed, furiously checking the crowd, all too aware of the curious gazes that were intent on reading our lips.
Anthony laughed and chucked my chin with a finger. “I often want what I cannot have, my lady.”
“Never.” I dipped a curtsy. Already too many eyes on us. Time to part company.
My heart pumped so fast I thought it might burst from my chest as I made my way to my seat at one of the long trestle tables. I was too fidgety to take my seat and instead stood, grabbing a few grapes and popping them into my mouth. I glanced toward the dais where King Henry and Jane sat idly chatting. Jane motioned me near.
“Your Majesties.” I curtsied low and bowed my head.
Jane inclined her head to me as did Henry, and then he stood, regal in cloth of gold and a collar of black diamonds and rubies. Despite his thickening waist and injured leg, King Henry could still rival even the most handsome courtiers. He always had been a truly beautiful prince. Ambassadors raved to their respective foreign courts of Henry’s tall stature—for he was a head taller than half the court—his broad chest, well-muscled physique, red-gold locks, piercing blue eyes and charming and intelligent mind. He was the whole package. Except for his moods, which changed with the coming of the tides and the whispers of the wind.
“Lady Anne, will you dance?” The king smiled solicitously and gestured toward the other dancers.
I was a bit surprised by his request but quickly nodded my head in acquiescence. He stood from his chair and descended from the dais, taking my hand and wrapping it around his arm.
“Do you recall the first time I asked you about dancing?” His blue eyes twinkled, and with a wave of his hand, the musicians began a lively pavane. Henry twirled me, and we both clapped, falling easily into the rhythm of the dance.
“I do.” It was the first time I had met King Henry. I had been but a young girl of twelve when Queen Katharine had invited me to court to serve as a maid of honor along with my mother. I had been enamored of the glittering gowns, capes, doublets, caps, headdresses and jewels. But nothing had prepared me for my first introduction to Katharine, who had sat so stoically upon her throne. She had been gracious and kind and had bid me to read her a passage from the Bible. After the reading, she had dismissed me, and later that evening I had been faced with the tall and muscular frame of Henry VIII of England. “You called me Little Anne, and I recall my mother’s mortification at my exuberance.”
I frowned slightly as I remembered just how my mother had pinched the back of my arm discreetly, after I had gushed to the king. I hadn’t meant to overstep my bounds, but I had been truly enamored of the steps of the dance and that I had been invited to court with a chance to practice those steps. And what had been even more thrilling had been the chance to dance with the handsome and congenial king. But the king had only laughed at my girlish antics, a sound that had tickled the ears, for it was pure delight in what he had found humorous.
Mother’s voice as she’d rushed to apologize still rang in my ears. “My apologies for my daughter’s forthrightness. She is just come to court and is new to what is expected and proper.” My mother’s voice had sounded so whiny to me, and it had irritated me that even with the king’s humor, she had felt the need to make excuses for me. Before I had been able to open my mouth to voice my opinions, I had received an even harder pinch to silence me.
King Henry’s eyes had exuded mirth, just as they did now, and I still found myself eager to please him as I had in my youth.
Henry’s head fell back with his renewed laughter. “You frown so! It was all in good sport. Lady Page’s strings are so easily twisted. But what a pleasure it was. You succeeded very well in acting just as regal as the other ladies at court and your dancing was—is divine.”
I smiled and tossed my gaze in Jane’s direction. She was engaged in a rather lively conversation with a few other court ladies. All of them were dressed to the highest fashion, with slashed sleeves and vibrant ribbons of colored silk pulled through. The king was in such high spirits this evening, and despite being a court lady for half my life, I found it difficult to know just what to say.
“You are too gracious, Majesty.”
“As the second hand of God, it is my duty to be gracious to those who are loyal to me.” His heavy words were accompanied by a jovial smile. “I hear your mother is soon to return to court and bringing her daughter, too.”
Just the mention of my mother’s name had my chin lifting, shoulders squaring. Phantom stings tingled the backs of my arms as if my skin remembered her pinches.
“My stepfather is to return to your service?”
Henry chuckled, but his eyes held warning. I would not forget that Sir Richard Page, the man who’d married my mother and gotten another daughter on her, had been a close confidante of Anne Boleyn’s and even Wolsey’s before her. The man had tread on dangerous ground, and Henry had banished him from court. I shuddered to think of my mother coming so close to the scaffold at her husband’s own hand.
“Indeed, he is. I have a mind to make him Sheriff of Surrey under the Earl of Surrey. What think you of that? And your little sister Elizabeth shall serve England’s new queen as a maid of honor.”
“I’d rather hoped to get away from my family, Your Majesty,” I gave the king a conspiratorial smirk, though my insides burned with anger that my family would be that much closer to my enemy. “And here you are seeing that I’m once again surrounded. Are you trying to send me away?”
King Henry laughed. “Would you have me toss them in the Tower?”
I knew he was jesting. But the words, yes, please, teetered on the tip of my tongue. He teased me with his power. “I thank you for the offer, Your Majesty, but I must decline. I’d not want to put that much distance between us.”
The king laughed all the more. But my limbs were going numb from fear. Was this the king’s way of keeping me further on edge? I was hardly a consequential person… Had someone else put the notion in his ear to punish me? To make mine own stepfather answer to the one man I abhorred almost as much as Lucifer… It was insufferable. If invited to stay for a visit at my mother’s castle, it would be entirely plausible that Surrey could come unannounced, only putting me further into his path. And then he might possibly try to—I swallowed hard—violate my person once more.
Furthermore, I hardly knew the girl, my half-sister, but would surely become acquainted with her soon. Would my mother thrust her daughter into my care, seek my patronage to advance herself?
The music for the pavane began to die down, and with the fading music I forced my worries away. I could not think about it now. I needed to concentrate on getting through this evening, keeping my attention on the king. He was known to get cranky when not the full center of one’s consideration.
“What was the dance you’d learned just before coming to court all those years ago?” he asked.
“The galliard.”
“You shall dance the galliard again this evening. I have the desire to reminisce in younger days.”
I sighed inside, heavy-hearted. I had no interest in reminiscing in earlier days. The past was best kept there. The future was where I wanted to be—titles added to my name, power and riches for my family. Edward and I at the right hand of the king and queen. Aunt to the future king. Nobles, most established and respected.
He snapped his fingers and instructed the musicians to change the music. All eyes were on me as I began the steps, swaying my hips and taking the king’s arm. Some gazes were outright jealous, some angry, some blank, but most were calculating. Better he dance safely with me where I could keep his vision in line with Queen Jane. The Earl of Surrey, Norfolk’s son, and the very man I despise most, watched me most intently, as if sensing keenly my distress. I somehow managed to keep my surprise at his appearance at bay. He snickered. I wanted desperately to wipe the image of his face, the stain of his past violation of me, from my mind. Why had he come to court? Sometimes I felt it was only to torment me.
Why all the sudden did it appear that nearly all my past would be coming back to haunt me? Now all we needed was for my brother Richard to return, and the court would be a merry hell indeed.
I ignored the begrudging scrutiny of the courtiers and court ladies and gave King Henry my full attention. Perhaps remembering earlier days would not be so bad, returning to youth before I had been soiled by the wantonness of court and viciousness of human nature. I wished for those happier, na?ve days sometimes, and since the king had asked for it, and I was willing to give it, I did, letting myself fall completely for the music, the instruments leading my limbs in a swaying decadence.
When the dance ended, he led me back to the dais and to Jane.
“Your sister-by-marriage is a superlative dancer, my love.” He kissed Jane on the forehead, and I was pleased his affection was so public.
The Duke of Suffolk approached. “Your Majesty, if you’ll allow me to interrupt.”
Henry’s face split into a wide smile, just as it always did when Charles Brandon came around. The two were the best of friends, despite Suffolk marrying Henry’s sister in secret… Poor Mary Tudor, may she rest in peace.
The king perfected a courtly turn of his leg. “If you’ll excuse me, Madam, Lady Anne.” He bowed first to his wife and then to me before disappearing with Suffolk into the crowd.
Jane patted the seat next to her. I moved to take it.
“Are you enjoying this evening?” she asked.
“I am. His Majesty’s fool is at the top of his game tonight.” As if on cue, the man jumped upon a table that housed a group intently playing cards. He switched around a few hands, which earned him a hard kick in the rear.
Jane laughed, the pure tinkling sound almost magical. I smiled in turn. She had that effect on people. One wished to be happy with her.
“Anne.” She motioned me closer, and we leaned our heads together in confidence. She smelled of pears and honeysuckle and all manner of sweet things.
“I am nervous about tomorrow.” She bit her lip, and I noticed the white in her knuckles as she entwined her fingers with mine. “How will the people accept me? I am their king’s third wife and his last wife they despised. They all want so much from me. What if I fail to deliver it?”
Tomorrow she would enter London in state, taking a barge along the river. Rumor had it her entrance would be much more lavish than even that of Anne Boleyn’s, at which Henry had spared no coin to see his new bride presented to the people.
“Oh, Jane, do not let your nerves work the better of you. You have a loving husband, the support of the people. Just look around.” I motioned to the crowd of several scores of courtiers and court ladies. “Everyone here supports you. The people of London and indeed all of England are behind you.”
She nodded, her eyes downcast. “Yes, but I have heard that there are those who secretly are not supportive. They believe I will put a stop to the Reformation, encourage Henry to make amends with the Pope.”
Indeed, I knew there were those, especially the Howards, who had fears of such—nearly the entire last decade of Reformation had begun with their doing, or rather Anne Boleyn’s, but was she so much an independent? With an uncle like Norfolk pulling the strings, it was more likely the puppet had followed the rule of her master.
And, secretly, I did hope that Jane would push the king to return to the old ways, the way of the true and right religion. I worried for the sake of our country and its people. A break from Rome and some of the most powerful European nations left us vulnerable. At any given moment we were enemies with one or the other of the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, or the French. God save us all if we were enemies with them all at one time.
But there was no arguing with the king and his desire to be Supreme Head of the Church. Breaking from Rome and the Pope made Henry richer and more powerful than any English king before him. But I dared not utter a word for or against anything and have advised Edward to remain a friend to all. For one whisper of our true beliefs could leave us with air above our shoulders and our heads tossed out like the rubbish in a chamber pot.
“Do not pay credence to rumors. Remember, the king wishes you to be his true and obedient wife. When the time is right, you might whisper to him of your opinions, but now is not that time and to do so only puts you at risk. Tongues will wag at will. Make nothing of the words spilling forth.” I patted her hand and sat back. Already, wolves were hunkering closer to hear our words.
“You are my tower, Anne. Without you to lean against, I might succumb to my fears.” She smiled for the sake of the onlookers, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. If I were the queen and married to Henry, my eyes would show just as much fret and fear as hers. There had been a time in my girlish na?veté that I had held such hopes—to be a queen. But they had been only girlish fancies, and I had had such respect for Queen Katharine that I never would have gone to the lengths that Anne Boleyn had. And even she—God rest her soul—had garnered my respect.
“Nonsense, you are a strong woman Jane. And the king loves you. The people will, too.”
“Yes, but there is still one thing I have not done, and I fear he might grow angry soon.”
“My queen, you have only been married a week. These things take time. Edward and I have been married almost two years, and I have yet to conceive.” I failed to tell her we had done so on purpose. She needed only to hear encouraging news. “Give it time, woo him to your bed often, be certain he is pleased and sated, and soon your belly will swell with growth.”
A vibrant light came into her eyes, and she stood, offering me her hand. “Shall we dance, then?”
“Yes!” I stood, and we jumped enthusiastically into the dancing throng.
I swirled, twirled and hopped with each string of music, following the dance as I had been taught to do. But it was even more than just following the ritual steps. I truly loved to dance. My hips swayed, and my arms waved gracefully in the air before I clapped my hands. The freedom dancing brought, if only for a moment, took me away to a dream land.
My hand, up in the air as I clapped, was brought to the lips of Henry Howard—Surrey— sending a violent jolt of revulsion careening through me.
“At last we dance, ma cherie.” He lifted me in turn, his hands gentle, his breath thick with wine.
As he was a Howard, I was already predisposed to despise him. And on top of that, every time I saw him, I felt pain.
I remembered his angry fists on me… tearing at my clothing, splitting my lip. But it had been gentle at first. Reading poems, holding hands, and making love to me with his words. Dancing with me at court, playing boules with me in the garden. It was innocent love, and love is what I had felt despite the cautious glances from my mother. For the first time I’d allowed myself to succumb to courtly love instead of being cautious. And I’d lost.
“Kiss me, Anne. Show me what those sweet lips taste like.” He had pulled me into an empty storeroom. But kissing had not been something I’d been ready for. I had spent nights awake dreaming of what his full lips would have felt like on mine, but when it had come down to the doing, I just had not been ready. I had resisted, tried to excuse myself, but his words had stilled me. “Wherefore I would you wist, that for your coyed looks, I am no man that will be trapped, nor tangled with such hooks.”
Anger, fierce and vicious, had flashed in his young eyes and I had been trapped by his wooing and then trapped by his unwanted ardor. He’d mistaken my innocent flirtations for being coy and wicked. I had tried to explain, but he had not understood. A true hothead if there ever was one. He had wanted only one thing and that had been satisfaction—gratification for the time he had spent wooing me.
His hands had been strong as he’d gripped my arms and brought his lips down hard on mine. I had tried to turn my head, but he’d held me there, blood dripping into my mouth, either from having bitten my own tongue or from him as he’d bitten my lips in an attempt to open my mouth to his invading tongue.
I had tried to scream, but his hard mouth had silenced me, and then the crack of his hand across my face had left me dizzy. Even still, I had pushed his hands away, tried to kick out, as he had yanked my skirts up and tore at the bodice of my dress. His fists had left bruises, his teeth had left marks.
Images of his rough body thrusting upon me sent bile rising to my throat. The only reason he could have been seeking me out was to rut around for information. Or worse still, he was on some sort of priggish progress to stroke his own ego. He so enjoyed to rub in my face that he had once held power over me. Our past was best kept buried deep in the very cesspits of purgatory.
“I am not your darling. We may dance, but do not think I will warm your bed this night or any other,” I sneered, trying as hard as I could to put up a strong front, even though I only wanted to cower. My arm laced through his as we took the steps forward and back. I searched the crowd for Edward, hoping he might give me reprieve of my current suitor. I was pleased to see he’d returned to the great hall and that there was no woman on his arm, but my ire was pricked when he only smiled and gave me a wave of his hand. My heart pulsed rapidly. I was left to my own defenses, and it was about time I took charge.
“Who said anything about a bed, my lady? The cold stone floor will do for me.” Surrey’s face was close to mine, menace in his voice, wickedness in his eyes.
“Loathsome boar,” I hissed. Just like Surrey to try to torment me. His perversion knew no bounds. I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. I would not be a coward. He’d forever changed me, and never again would I bow to a man. Unless, of course, he was the King of England or my husband.
“Maddening wench,” he retorted.
Our dance became vicious as he tossed me and turned me, and I stomped on his toe and pinched his arm. I wished to cause him harm. Tried to extricate myself from his grip. But it was all to no avail, and as I did not want to cause a scene, I continued to dance with the raping bastard.
“You consort often with the queen, Lady Beauchamp.” His words were whispered on a breath and meant for my ears alone.
“Of course I do. She is my sister-by-marriage, our queen, and I most humbly serve her.”
He snickered and twirled me around. “Aye, those things are true. But I say you prod too high above your origins.”
I might have been the daughter of a knight and he the son of a duke, but it was my family relation who was the current queen, and his tie to the throne was dead and buried, so I snatched my hand away from his and stopped dancing. I now cared little for causing a disturbance. I only wanted to distance myself from the man who conjured up painful memories. “It is not I who gropes for more than what gifts and honors I receive from our most gracious sovereign. Your grandiose beliefs in your own importance are exactly that, grand flights of fancy, my lord. You’d drink the blood of any noble should it raise your status.”
Surrey dipped in close to me. “You wound me with your tongue.”
“I will do nothing with my tongue when it comes to you.” I turned in a huff, needing the comfort of Edward’s arms, his kind words. But before I could search him out in the crowd, Surrey gripped my hips tightly from behind, stopping me from walking. His fingers dug through the fabric of my gown and underskirts and bit into my flesh.
“Do not insult me, woman.” He bit the shell of my ear gently. At once I was filled with repulsion and anger. Flashes of memories best left buried tormented my mind.
“Unhand me,” I hissed, digging my nails into the backs of his hands.
He did so with a laugh and sauntered away, plucking a wine goblet from the hands of a courtier and downing it. He tossed the empty cup to the floor and twirled another lady around. The crowd laughed and clapped at his jubilant nature. But Surrey was anything but jubilant. He was a dangerous man. We Seymours would need to be wary of him, and me especially, for with tonight’s encounter, I had an extreme sense of foreboding. The man may have wanted to see to the downfall of the Seymours, but worse, I felt he wanted to see me fall—and fall beneath him in a depraved and utterly horrific manner.
I walked from the court, my hips stinging where he’d likely bruised me. The evening entertainments no longer held their fancy for me, leaving a bitter taste to sweep over my tongue.
“How dare you make a mockery of me in front of the whole of court!” I shouted when Edward entered my bedchamber later that evening. The goblet of wine in my hand flew out as if by its own accord, smashing into the hearth. I stood to confront him, dressed only in my nightrail. Edward’s indiscretions becoming more frequent and public.
I had no right to take notice of them; I knew I had no right. But after what I had endured…having to dance with Surrey. Having to pretend that every moment of it did not make my flesh crawl. I wanted more than Edward as a husband. I wanted love. I wanted more. Too much to ask, I knew, but I wanted it!
He stalked toward me, his brows drawn together, clothes in disarray, as if he’d only just left his lover’s bed. I could smell her, the sweet, tangy scent of Mistress Darrell, a whore. How dare he? I could not stomach it, and my gut twisted, threatening to toss up my accounts.
He gripped my upper arms tightly, fingertips and nails biting into my flesh through the thin linen cloth of my attire. “Do you spew your scorn at me, wife?” His breath washed over me, strong with liquor, lips contorted in anger, spittle landing on my cheeks.
I wriggled free and stumbled away. I myself had had more than my fair share of wine this eve, and part of me intimated that I should go to bed, forget this confrontation, but it had already begun, and I was no longer in control of it.
“You are my wife, my property. I saved you from the vile hands of Surrey, and this is how you repay me?” He walked toward me, but this time did not lay his hands on my person. His angry breaths came quick, his chest visibly rising and falling. Arms waving out to take in all of our possessions. “Rose you up from the depths of a knight’s daughter to be the sister to a queen, and yet you tell me who I can f*ck? I give you my name, money, a title, a home, indeed your very life, madam.” His face came within inches of mine. “I shall conduct myself however I deem fit, and you will suffer it,” he growled.
“You speak to me of never making a cuckold of you like Catherine did, yet look what you do to me! You hypocrite,” I said lowly.
Edward’s eyes lit with rage, with the mention of his previous wife’s name, and for the first time, I thought he might strike me. “Do not speak her name to me. You know never to speak her name!” He took a step back, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Never say her name again,” he whispered.
He stumbled backward, head down, shaking it from side to side. I realized then just why he felt the need to flaunt his masculinity. Catherine had taken an ax to his bollocks, and he needed more than anything to have them reattached. When he looked up and his eyes met mine, they shone with regret, disgust. But for what I did not know. Did he regret marrying me? Was he disgusted with me? Or did he regret our argument? Was he disgusted with himself?
Whatever his reasons, I was made to swallow his words, although they hurt. For they were true enough, despite my mother’s family background linked to royals. Who was I to suppose a say in anything he did? Was not it the way of women? We were brought up to obey our husbands, indeed made to say it when we vowed to honor and cherish them as well.
But no matter what the church, my mother, father, all of society said, I refused to bow to it. I was worth something. I was worthy of his respect. He may have saved me from Surrey’s violent hands and certain ruin. He may have helped me to rise over the past year, but I helped him rise now. I stood tall, shoulders back, chin lifted as I faced him.
“My gratitude, your lordship, for giving a woman of such humble origins all she might need to thrive at court.”
“Don’t mock me, wife. I know your true heart.” His gaze slid over me, filled at once with desire and something else, close to disdain.
“What do you know?” I asked, voice shaky.
“That you’re as stubborn as you are cunning. You cannot fool me. Do not even try. Despite what you think of yourself, I still own you. You are mine and you will obey me.”
My voice grew deeper with my anger, hurt, cracked on every few syllables. “Hear me now when I say, if this is how you conducted marriage with her, then you shall expect the same fate from me.” Edward’s eyes widened as he took in my words. “I am not your property, a cask of wine to be devoured and then pissed out. And you owe just as much to me for our current position in life as I owe to you.”
Edward’s lip curled into a sardonic smile, as he studied me, nodding as though coming to terms with what I’d said. He bowed. “I am humbled.” He stood tall and gazed at me, taking me in. His face showed not a shadow of his feelings, but his eyes were dark, swirling pits of emotion. His soul was out on display, torn and tattered and lost. I’d cut him to the core with my words—and he knew I meant them. He came forward slowly, cautiously, until he was only inches away. His voice was soft, yet still bit hard. “One of the many reasons I married you. A serpent’s tongue you have.”
When he turned to leave, I didn’t stop him. Hadn’t the energy. Tonight’s battle would forever change us, but perhaps for the better. Maybe now Edward would know that I refused to be trampled on. Perhaps tonight, I truly had become that viper.