Chapter Six
But such a scornful cheer, wherewith she him rewarded!
Was never seen, I believe, the like, to such as well deserved.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
June 11, 1536
“But you have influence, my dear.” My mother’s calculating eyes flashed with anger as she stalked across my presence chamber to grasp a cup of wine from the sideboard.
Sir Richard Page, my stepfather, shouted, “For Christ’s sake, Anne, your sister-by-marriage is the queen!”
I bit back a retort and instead mustered enough willpower to give them their due respect as my mother and her husband, as I had been taught, despite my instincts raising arms about it… “Yes, she is. However, if the king does not wish to give you apartments at court, who am I to gainsay him? Is it not pleasing enough that he should make you Sheriff of Surrey?”
Mother rolled her eyes heavenward, arms tossed up in the air with disgust. “What good came of bringing you to court, immersing you in this life, and seeing you elevated, if you will not offer help to your own mother and father?”
I refrained from reminding her that Page was not my father, and thank God for that. His ambition and willingness to put his family at risk reminded me all too much of my own brother Richard.
“A sheriffdom? Really, Anne, do you think I have no ambition? I want a title! I want more land. The only way I can ensure that happens is if I am housed at court,” Sir Richard Page railed.
“I shall inquire, if it pleases you,” I responded, although I had no plans to do so. The fact that the king had seen fit not to give them apartments meant they had to rent a home in London, and, quite frankly, I much preferred that. More to the point, they’d only recently been banished from court. One must accept the meager crumbs offered before gobbling the meal.
“Well, Lizzie shall stay with you until you make it so.” Page pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, challenging me to say otherwise, regarding my eleven-year-old half-sister.
“I will see about placing her in a room with some other girls her age.” Lizzie sat on a nearby bench, her lip curled sardonically. The illusion was disturbing. She was the image of her father, and I could almost see her meddling in other people’s affairs or, at the very least, spying for her father.
“We should like it better if she were to be in yours and Lord Beauchamp’s apartments,” my mother stated, her jaw set.
Their insistence made it clear the only reason they wanted Lizzie with me was for their own personal information, making me more determined to have her placed elsewhere.
I took a deep breath and centered my gaze on first my mother and then Sir Richard. “I understand your desires. However, it will be beneficial for Lizzie’s training if she is housed with other girls. This will allow her to make friendships and keep their same hours.” I glanced at my mother. “You recall when you brought me to court that I was also housed with other girls and not yourself?” My mother nodded, her lips pinched so tightly together they were only a thin white line. “And, as you well know, Lord Beauchamp and I are extremely busy with court matters. I have not the time currently to take Lizzie under my wing.”
A loud knock at the door interrupted their replies, and I was grateful for it. The conversation had become dull, and I no longer wished to argue the merits of why I would not bend to their will. I’d surely ruined any respect my mother had had for me as a dutiful daughter, but I could not forget the past. They’d both been there and done nothing about Surrey’s flirtations. They’d seen him drag me from the hall, both intent, from what I’d learned later, on trapping him into marriage, no matter the pain it caused me.
Sir Richard Stanhope, my eldest brother, sauntered into the room. Oh, dear God in heaven!
When it rained it poured! Why was God punishing me so? I glanced toward the sideboard, where wine goblets, pre-poured, sat out. I needed the extra courage even a few sips of wine could provide.
Richard was tall, as Michael was, his dark hair unruly and skin tan from serving the king as a knight and spending much of his time outdoors. He wore a fancy embroidered doublet of black and green, a codpiece that was grossly overstated, and soft leather boots.
He entered the room with a sneer on his face. “Lady Page.” He bowed. “Sir Richard, Lizzie. Dear Anne.” His voice belied the endearment. He came forward and kissed my cheek, the bristles of his short beard scratching against my skin.
When he straightened, he looked about the room, taking in the contents and apparently finding them lacking. “Well, I see the whole family is nearly here to beg favors from the one member who has been so elevated in courtly status.”
Disgust radiated through me. I may have been elevated, but I deserved it, and if anything, I had suffered more than most of them. And how like Richard to have been so blunt and honest. Here I was, in a room filled with those I either detested or resented—except for Lizzie, whom I barely knew.
I put on my lady-of-the-court’s face and tamped down my feelings. Delving into the past would do nothing now. “Richard, I am so glad to see you have returned. I take it your progress went well?”
He snorted in disgust and stalked to a nearby table, plucking an apple from a bowl. He bit into the fruit, and juices spilled over his chin. “I was successful, and still the king keeps my own great reward from me. I seek marriage. And I’ve an eye for a sweet wife of high birth.”
My stepfather let out a burst of taunting laughter. “And you think your sister can help you there, boy?”
Richard flamed at the derogatory remark—for he was over thirty winters—making a sucking sound on his teeth with his tongue. I prepared for the barrage of violence that would surely ensue, especially since he and Page were of similar age. But, instead, Richard said with a deadly calm, “She damn well better.”
My jaw went into a spasm, as I had clamped down so hard to keep from screaming at the lot of them. Mayhap, I could just leave the room and hope they tore each other to shreds instead of me. When had my mother become so conniving? I had known her for more than a humble woman when we had first come to court, but now she reached beyond what she was given. The king owed them nothing and what he gave wasn’t good enough in her eyes. I could not ask for too much without jeopardizing my own future. It was dangerous—for me.
“She cannot even gain us court apartments—a bed! And you want a wife? You must seek your fortune elsewhere. Lady Beauchamp has no influence at court.” My stepfather came close to me, his scent that of horses, sweat and stink.
I longed for Edward, but his trip north had been extended. I longed for his support against intruders and power-hungry people. People like my relatives, indeed my own mother. As much as I wanted to, I was nearly incapable of outright refusing her. I was normally strong, but in this… there was only so much I could bear. I stiffened my back and managed to look my stepfather in the eye.
“You and Edward have managed to keep your secrets well hidden,” Page whispered. “Surrey has equally kept his mouth shut, but I suspect the payment your mother sent him was bribe enough. Do as we ask, or I will expose you.”
I stifled a gasp, and my fingernails dug deep into my palms. I inclined my head as I did not think I could speak. Our gazes locked and I let all the hatred I felt for them spear his eyes. Damn him. Damn them both.
At last, my stepfather broke my gaze and motioned for Mother and Lizzie to follow him. “We shall see you this evening. I must attend to our lodgings in town. Do see that Lizzie has a bed for tonight.” They retreated through a door held open by groomsman.
But I still could not relax. My brother, Richard, stood in the room still, arms crossed and brows furrowed at their retreating figures.
On the sound of the door clicking closed, he spoke. “If ever I saw a man in need of flogging, I am certain that man would be a likely candidate. I am glad to not be forced into their company often.”
I had an overwhelming urge to shout at Richard that I wished he would be flogged as well.
“I find myself growing tired. What is it you need, Brother?”
“Did I not make myself clear? I want to marry.”
“Whom did you have in mind?” I feigned boredom when all I wanted to do was run screaming.
He chuckled, and some of his usual orneriness disappeared. “I had no one particularly in mind. I thought perhaps you would mention to the king I sought a wife.”
“I shall. Now if you will excuse me?”
“My lady.” He bowed low and plucked another apple from our bowl before taking his leave.
As soon as the door shut, I crumpled into the window seat, forehead against the glass. What was I to do? If they revealed my secrets about Surrey—indeed if Surrey himself revealed our past—I would be ruined! Edward would be ruined. Damn them!
Angry tears filled my eyes, stinging the rims and lids. I could arrange for another bribe out of my own income, but how long would the extortion last? I could not allow our past to become known. Surrey had to be dealt with.
I needed to escape this place. My breathing tightened, my chest burning from lack of air. I was suffocating here.
I pushed away from the glass and stood. How I hated being at the mercy of those around me. As much as I knew it was not in my nature, sometimes I did long for the life of a simple country wife. No court, no kings, no queens, no blackmail.
“Edward, where are you?” I knew my plea for Edward would go unanswered. He was out on campaign, securing our future, and building his own self-confidence.
How I longed to go northward, even just for a short time. I went to my writing desk to pen a note to my husband.
Dearest Edward,
News arrived today that your trip north had been extended for another fortnight. I humbly beseech you to let me join you, for I still remember your promise to allow me to accompany you north on progress. I eagerly await your response as I have news to share with you for which I think you will be most intrigued, and I seek your advice on other matters.
With love and affection,
Anne, Lady Beauchamp
June 13, 1536
Two days had passed and still no word from Edward. Angry tears stung the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I forced the salty liquid to remain in place. I would shed no tears for Edward. He’d left me with a task and I had no need to complain, save for the fact I wanted to go northward. I wanted to be away from this place. From its people, from the constant prying eyes and hatched rumors and plots. Acid burned in my stomach from tension and lack of food. My neck ached from being in a constant state of uplifted chin. My head pounded. Even my ears buzzed from having to spend so much time eavesdropping.
But who was I to complain? I was Lady Beauchamp, sister-by-marriage to the king and queen. My apartments were attached to the royal rooms. My every whim would be satisfied if I only deigned to ask. And, hence, there was my answer. I had only to ask. Jane had seen to it that Elizabeth Page was housed at court with the other young girls, and Jane would for certes understand that a mother and father wished to be close to their only young daughter.
Before he’d left, Edward advised seeking his brother, Thomas, out for council, but I refused. The man was still angry at me for having seen me with Anthony, although he had made it clear he would say nothing to Edward, and would for now take my word for what it was. I let out a long sigh, my temples aching.
Night was already upon us, the sky black, hardly a star in sight. But the blackness still twinkled with the lights of candles in windows and torches set on the stone walls surrounding the castle and city. London. Night would not stop the city dwellers and residents of the castle from living their lives.
Taking a deep breath, I walked back to my writing desk and sat down on the scarlet, embroidered cushion. My arms rested against the ornately carved oak, so delicate and feminine with its swirls and roses. The chair and desk were a gift from Edward on Christmas last year.
I dipped my quill into the ink pot set neatly at the corner and began to scratch my words onto crisp new parchment, and attempted to appease my husband in hopes of a reply. Edward needed to be reassured in my ability to maintain our household while he was away. It was my duty, and he had more important things to worry about. He need not be concerned that his woman was at home floundering. Or philandering.
Dearest Edward,
I am as always your most humble and obedient wife. I will do my duty with pleasure. My patience will persevere, and I eagerly await your return. If there is anything you need whilst away, you only need but ask. All is well at court, and what needs be whispered in your ear can await your return.
With love and affection,
Anne, Lady Beauchamp
After signing my letter to Edward, I sprinkled sand over the ink so it would not smudge, folded the parchment, and stamped my crest into the red pool of melted wax I dribbled onto the loose ends to seal it shut. I kissed the seal and set the letter aside.
I pressed my hand against the rosary embedded in my sleeve and rubbed the smooth round stones. ’Twould not be good for anyone to see me with a Catholic relic. I stood abruptly from the writing desk and approached the prie dieu in my bedchamber to pray. I needed strength to endure, strength to face my enemies and friends alike. For it felt like I was surrounded on all sides by people who haunted my past, my present and my future. I shuddered and knelt on the cushioned kneeling pad, eyes closed, fingers clutched together in prayer. When I finished, there was a silence about the castle, night fully upon us.
A renewed fortification filled me. I was strengthened and resilient once more—at least for the time being.
But my letter writing was not done, and this time I did not need ink.
I pulled from my writing desk a clean quill and a jar of lemon and orange juice. A smile curled my lips. Who had ever been such a genius as to create invisible ink should be commended. All the reader would need to do was hold the paper to candlelight for the words to appear. I dipped my quill in the juice and penned a letter to the Marchioness of Exeter, as she’d instructed me to do, explaining the delay in Edward’s trip and that I would be in contact with her as soon as I had the chance to pave her way back to court. I still had a few ideas of how I could place her name upon the king’s ear.
I took a jeweled hairpin from my jewelry chest and tucked it against the letter, folded the parchment around the pin, sealed it with wax and ribbons, and called Jenny forth. The marchioness had informed me she would be staying at a house in London until they heard from me. Giving Jenny a gold coin for her silence, I sent her on her way with my gift of the pin and unbeknownst to Jenny, my secret letter. Thank the Lord in heaven for loyal servants.
Even with the time nearing ten o’clock, I was restless. Sleep would not come to me tonight. I paced my bedchamber, awaiting word back from the marchioness, and contemplated my brother Richard’s situation.
I would keep my eye out for anyone who would make a good match for him. There were several of the queen’s ladies who were maidens in need of a match. But my brother, as volatile as he was, was less of a threat now than my stepfather. Richard might lash out, get into fights and spout nonsensical things that could be construed as treason, or spew words meant to hurt and crush and damage, but he was still my brother, and he would not whisper of my secrets.
I did not have to wait long for Jenny to return with another blank parchment sealed in wax around a jeweled sewing thimble. I waved her from the room and opened the letter, holding it close to a lit candle. Slowly, the citrus juices darkened and burned into the paper from the heat of the wick. Brown letters appeared, and I read them eagerly with a smile.
Dear Lady Beauchamp,
We were pleased to receive your correspondence and understand the delay. If ’tis any help at all, Lady Salisbury has revealed to me that her son, Reginald Pole, has written her a letter recently with some very intriguing information. Perhaps you might take it upon yourself to speak with your dear sister, and she could lend a hand in having us reinstated at court.
Eager to serve and please His Majesty,
Lady Gertrude, Marchioness of Exeter
Yes, mayhap she was right, although Jane was hardly in a place to whisper desires for reinstating those banished. Perhaps a talk with Sir Anthony was in order. He, having the king’s ear, might have known just how to proceed. Becoming friends with the man may now serve its purpose.
June 14, 1536
The click clack of my slippers on the stone floor echoed off the walls of the gilded antechamber in the king’s chapel as I paced the room, hands fisted together, fingers numb from their wringing.
Everyone had gone from Mass nearly half an hour ago and would be now breaking their fast. I should have been with the queen and would no doubt be questioned for my lateness, but this was the only time I could safely break away to meet with Sir Anthony.
Soon, the clicking of my heels was joined by the click of another, more steady, heavier foot. Anthony.
I turned just as he stepped into the shadowed antechamber.
“My lady.” He bowed and then came forward to place a kiss on my wrist, his lips lingering too long. I suppressed a wicked shudder and yanked my hand from his grasp, forcing myself to be disgusted. Edward had been gone too long, and I longed for intimate touch. Edward, come home!
“Sir Anthony, please, if you’ve the will, rein in your flirtations for this day. Our meeting here must be quick as we are both in need of returning to our respective sovereigns.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He swept his cap from his head and bowed to me again in an exaggerated motion.
I rolled my eyes, which gained me a lusty chuckle from his throat. I could not help but smile. For as flirtatious as he was, and as repulsed as I wanted to be, he still elicited some emotion from me.
“I’ve met with Lady Exeter and had correspondence with her. She and the marquess have need to return to court and be granted an audience with the king. The information they contain is of great importance, and I am certain once His Majesty hears of it, he will agree it is vital to the functioning of his realm. Suffolk is reluctant to aide their cause, but if someone else were to champion them, he might step up to voice his pleasure at such an occasion. And you know very well Cromwell prefers to keep everyone from court who might influence the king.”
Anthony nodded, tapping his chin. Why must he do that? It only brought attention to the firmness of his facial musculature, to the squareness of his jaw. I had a moment that I pictured myself nipping his strong jaw with my teeth, but quickly shut that thought away and willed the blush starting to rise on my chest from such wanton thoughts to cool. How quick I was to judge Catherine Filiol, and even Edward himself, who no doubt had his cock in many a camp whore while out on campaign, yet here I was dreaming of my lips on another man.
“What news do they wish to impart on His Majesty?” Anthony finally asked.
Our whispered voices were muffled, not echoing as loudly as my steps had.
“The whereabouts and future plans of Reginald Pole. Even now he works for the pope, upsetting the Catholics against our king.” Though my heart was Catholic, my head was thoroughly loyal to the king and the Seymours. I briefly touched the rosary sowed within the fabric of my wrist, asking God’s forgiveness for betraying my soul in order to keep my head.
Anthony’s eyebrows shot up. “How did they come by this news?” Together, we walked to a nearby altar and lit candles, so to anyone walking by, we might have seemed like two courtiers intent on prayers.
“Lady Exeter is a close confidante of Lady Salisbury, who informed her that she’s been in recent contact with her son. Lady Salisbury and her eldest son, Montague, would do anything to disassociate with the young Pole, even giving away his whereabouts.”
Together, we knelt on the altar stair, my skirts cushioning my knees from the stone. Filtering down from the high-arched ceilings, we could hear the virginals and the sweet voices of choir boys as they practiced for Evensong in the nearby cloister.
“Sad how the thought of your head being severed can make a mother turn on her own son, is it not?” Anthony whispered, his head cocked as he pondered his own question.
The thought alone made me shudder. And I swore the candle light flickered. To think I was willing to play a part in the downfall of yet another—that would most probably result in their death—turned my stomach. But for the sake of keeping the Howards away from the throne—to save Jane and my family, I would. If it were my child, I would never dream of betraying our bond. His comment reminded me of my own mother. She had thrown me to the wolves where Surrey was concerned, and would continue to do so if I let her. She’d stood by and done nothing, and still did nothing as her husband threatened me. What made a mother so harsh?
And how could I encourage such cruelty and betrayal in another mother?
But I could not allow such doubts to take hold inside me and root out the end result, which was for mine and Edward’s family to move forward, for this reign to continue and succeed. My goal was to seek out those who would see it put to an end and make certain they disappeared, because if not for them, it would be me fading from this place.
“Tragic,” I mumbled, and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer in my mind.
“I will speak with Suffolk. Naturally, when Beauchamp returns, we shall have his support, and whilst he is away, his brother will support us as well. I do believe I might be able to convince His Majesty’s Groom of the Stool to insinuate a rumor to pique the king’s interest.”
“Rumor?”
“Mmm… Mayhap he heard talk of Lady Salisbury having a letter recently.”
“That should do.” I could only imagine the king’s eyes widening, his lip curling up, but the smile not anything pleasant as he saw the coming of his revenge in sight. “Are there any others we can count on our side?”
“I already know for certes Sir Nicholas Carew, the king’s Master of the Horse, and Sir John Russell will aid us. If I can get perhaps one more lord of great standing, Suffolk will indeed assist us.”
“What of Shrewsbury? He’s got power and wealth enough to entice Suffolk.”
“Yes, I will see if I can enlist him on the morrow. Sir Francis Bryan and Sir Thomas Wyatt come to mind as well.”
Ah, Sir Francis—the renowned lover of women—and a loyal servant of the crown. And Wyatt… Anne Boleyn’s first love, long before she was married to King Henry. The voices of the choir and virginals ceased, leaving the antechamber in an eerie silence. We stood from our prayer positions.
“I will keep you informed on their decisions to aid us in returning Lord and Lady Exeter as well as Montague to court.”
I nodded and began to walk toward the main cloister of the king’s chapel. Anthony grasped my arm, and the renewed enchanting voices of the choir hushed the gasp that escaped from me.
“There is something else you should know.”
“And what is that?” I wrested my arm from his grasp, the press of where his fingers had been still warm through my gown.
“The Howards are conscripting girls.” Anthony ignored the shake of my arm and took my hand in his. I could not help but notice how warm and firm his grip was. How I secretly wished he might rub those strong fingers up the length of my arm and down my spine as he had in the great hall. But it was shameful for me to think that way. Indeed, being close to him was becoming dangerous. Perhaps our further correspondence should be through secret codes and letters.
“Conscripting girls?”
He nodded. “When Jane becomes with child, Henry will need a distraction, and with his reputation, his distractions soon become queen. They plan to wave a pretty piece around Jane’s retinue.”
I sighed. I would have to put a plan in place to make certain our own harridan was within Henry’s sights and perhaps rumors of a pox on whomever the Howards brought into play. My own lip curled much as I had imagined the king’s would at hearing such rumors.
“The king is also starting to suspect that his councilors and privy chamber men may be more sympathetic toward Mary than even Jane’s own children. He’s started to question us at length. I do believe I am out of his line of sight now, but we must tread lightly in any talks of Lady Mary.”
My stomach tightened. Were there men within the king’s household conspiring to elevate Lady Mary over Jane’s issue? Such would have to be avoided at all costs. A vision of the king, face almost purple with rage, shouting, spittle flying from his mouth, as he ordered his guards to arrest each and every member of his council and privy.
“Do be careful, Anthony. If he catches wind of even the slightest rumor, be it truth or not, he will retaliate.”
“Yes, my lady. But now you know we stack allies on our side. We may even be able to count Cromwell on our side some days. Others, he is so flustered—but he’s created enemies with so many, he cannot be trusted.”
“Cromwell!” I hissed. “Do not dare propose that jackanapes is on our side!”
Anthony made a motion with his hands for me to keep my voice down. “Calm yourself, my lady. All of us are treading lightly now, until Jane is able to place Mary back within the good graces of His Majesty, which will only make her look more virtuous to the king and the people. Pulling Mary back into King Henry’s fold will show that Jane is confident in her ability to issue him a child—and that she is the rightful successor of Queen Katherine—not Anne Boleyn. ’Twill also appease those who hanker to raise Mary above Jane. There is no reason for it. Jane is the rightful Queen.”
I nodded, taking in the information he provided but not wanting to make any verbalizations of my own for fear of my voice rising once more. The shuffling of feet indicated that people were beginning to come into the chapel for confession and prayer.
“We must away, Sir Anthony.”
“I will send word to you.”
I nodded and hurried from the antechamber, lifting my skirts away from my ankles so I might make a quicker escape—before anyone noticed that we’d been together.
Today, I would make a list of all the girls that would be witty and intelligent, and somehow would still come off as na?ve, to dangle before the king. The Howards would not usurp our position, not when we’d finally wrested if from their cold, vicious fingers.
June 20, 1536
Darkness of the night enveloped us—fitting since I was looking for a whore for my king. My cloak was pulled tight around me, the hood shielding my hair and face from view. We’d long since passed through the gates of Hampton Court and now rode our horses gingerly up the main city streets of London. We’d taken a small boat from the castle up the Thames to a dockside where three rag horses awaited us. From there, we’d crossed into the city.
Despite the hour, the streets were busier than I had imagined. Light-skirts, merchants, knights, peasants, peddlers, drunkards, all walking up and down the streets, lingering in shadows or already passed out in their own excrement. The scents of the city rivaled that of the Thames the morning of Jane’s coronation. Fish, bread, ale, vomit, urine, feces, roasted meat, unwashed bodies, all of it assaulted the senses.
I looked up at the sky to judge the hour by the moon, but all I saw was rooftops and smoke from chimneys. The air was thick with stench and smoke. How did the people live here? When I was a girl, I had met a woman once who told me she’d never left the city except for the one time she’d gone to Anglesey Abbey in Cambridgeshire to pray for a cure for her mother’s illness. To be born, live and die in the suffocating atmosphere was something I would not wish on anyone. This business could not be done soon enough so that I might return to the comforts of my own chambers within the castle walls.
“We’re headed to an inn in Cheapside,” Sir Nicholas Carew said, his voice muffled from the hood of his own cloak. No one would be able to tell that the three riders were none other than Lady Beauchamp and two knights armed to the teeth.
“And she will be there?” I asked.
“On my honor, my lady,” Sir Anthony answered.
I nodded, even though neither of them would have seen me.
At long last we arrived at the Wattle and Daub Tavern, where Sir Nicholas and Anthony dismounted. I sat in stunned silence. Did they really expect to get a drink of ale prior to me conducting my business?
“What are you about? Whoring and drinking were not part of the plan,” I snapped. With each passing day that I was without Edward, and threats surrounded me, bitterness took over. I longed for some bit of happiness, but such dreams were purely fantasy for me. Happiness looked like rain in a hot summer drought, and I felt delusional for even imagining it would someday be upon me.
They both looked at me, their faces startled in the moonlight. “My lady, you are mistaken,” Sir Nicholas answered.
“Am I not?” I waved to the hanging sign and pinched the bridge of my nose to keep from exploding at their ignorance. “Is this not a tavern?”
Anthony had the nerve to chuckle. “My lady, ’tis a tavern, you are correct. But the inn is upstairs.”
My hands tightened on the reins of my horse, biting into my flesh through the leather of my gloves. I was grateful for the darkness of night to hide the blush on my cheeks.
“My apologies,” I grumbled, unwilling to admit more than that.
“You are a true lady.” Anthony came to my side and held out his hand to help me dismount. His voice was filled with mirth. “Else you would have known the inn was above stairs.”
“Humph.” I was more than a little irritated they were having a laugh at my expense.
“Come then, we must hurry.” Sir Nicholas opened the front door of the inn and immediately we were awash in noise—really the only way to describe it. Shouts, instruments being played out of tune, laughter, chatter, the clang of mugs and loud belches. With the noise came another stench I would be happy to never smell again.
Briskly, we entered and climbed the stairs, where Anthony knocked once on a wooden door that had seen better days.
A matronly woman answered the door and bid us enter. There, standing in the center of the room, was the person I had come to see.
“My lady, sirs,” she mumbled and then dipped a curtsy.
The matronly woman bounced beside her charge. “Annie and I were so pleased you wished to see us.”
I nodded and removed my cloak so I might get comfortable, then came to stand before the young girl.
“Mayhap you want to see my other daughter as well?”
“No, there is room for only one.” I gave my attention back to the girl. “Turn around.”
Anne Bassett turned a perfect, graceful circle. The girl, nearly eighteen, would be perfect. Her gown swished around her. She was slim yet curvy, her chestnut curls enough to entice even myself to touch their silky threads. Her eyes were a bright blue, innocent-looking but lit with mischief when she smiled. Her mother had been trying for years to get her a position at court, and whereas Anne Boleyn would not accept her for the girl’s flirtatious and beautiful countenance, I would see to it she was put in place.
“If you are to be a lady in Queen Jane’s retinue, you must appear to be modest and chaste. Her Majesty does not tolerate idolatry or unvirtuous behavior.” I walked around Annie, examining her from head to toe as I ticked off each item. “Her ladies are all required to dress well. The queen herself will want to tell you how you should appear. Have no fears for the costs. I will absorb them myself. Attending Mass is a must. We read Her Majesty passages from the Bible daily, and you must pledge allegiance to her in all things.”
Annie nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
“Can you dance or sing?”
“Both, my lady.”
“Oh, she is so very talented!” the older woman gushed. I silenced her with a glare.
“Let me hear you,” I instructed, coming to a stop in front of the girl, my hands folded at my hips. I felt bitterness at her excitement, for coming to court would melt her sweetness into a puddle of disappointment and regret.
Annie opened her mouth, and the most breathtaking song issued forth. I was impressed and lifted my brow with an appreciative nod.
“And a dance?”
She began to dance to her own song, her arms arching delicately, hips swaying, feet moving in perfect formation. I was reminded of a younger version of myself, and instantly I resented her for her youth and innocence.
“Well done. I think Her Majesty will be pleased to add you to her household. Come sit with me a moment.”
Annie followed me to the chairs by the hearth and sat prettily.
“Are you aware of why I sent for you?” I had not made the express desire for her company clear in my letter, only alluding to my wishes for her to meet with me about the possibility of her coming to court.
“You wish to please the queen and king and for me to experience all that life at court has to offer.”
A very diplomatic answer. “Yes, both of those reasons are quite true. But you will have one other duty. When Queen Jane begets a child, you will keep the king’s eyes on you and you alone—unless, of course, he has eyes for Her Majesty. Do you understand my meaning?”
“You wish me to become his mistress?” Her eyes lit with fear and flicked to the matron. Perhaps she would not be the right choice.
My gaze shifted to the older woman, who stoically kept her face void of any emotion. Well played.
“If he so wishes, I do expect that. But do not fear. He will not take you to wife and I will make certain you know how to abstain from conceiving a bastard. We simply wish to keep any Howard girls out of his bed.”
Relief flooded the girl’s features. “I understand.”
But did she really?
“Do you think you can accomplish what I ask? It is of the utmost importance. The Howards will seek to place a girl within Jane’s court who not only entices the king but pulls him from his wife completely, which will not end well for anyone involved. We simply want a young lady who keeps him sated until it is time for him to return to his true and rightful wife.”
Annie sat forward. “I can do as you ask. I swear it.”
I smiled and patted her hand. “Good girl. Shall I introduce you to Her Majesty on the morrow?”
“I would be honored.” She paused, worrying her lower lip. “May I ask one question?”
“You may ask as many questions as you like. You and I will be confidantes for a long time.”
“What of a match for myself when my duty is complete?”
From the corner of my eye, I watched her mother nod. I could almost believe Mistress Annie Bassett was a Seymour. She would not go unpaid for her generous offer, and most generous it was. A woman’s virtue was the only thing she had to bargain with in a marriage deal—that and a large dowry—and I was stealing the former.
“I will supply the dowry myself. Any man would be lucky to have you. I will see to it he is generous and wealthy.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Annie stood and embraced me.
“No, thank you.” I stepped away from her, nodded to her mother and pulled my cloak back on.
The two women curtsied and bowed their heads as I, Sir Nicholas and Sir Anthony exited the room.
Let the merrymaking begin.