Chapter Eight
Do way! I let thee know, thou shalt not play with me:
Go range about, where thou mayst find some meatier fare for thee.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
Night of June 28, 1536
“You are not asleep,” Edward stated the obvious as he entered our suite well into the night. He’d crept in quietly, shutting the door with care. When he’d turned around, the only light in the presence chamber, from the crackling hearth, played shadows across his face. Seeing me perched and curled in the window seat obviously startled him, as he raised his brows and gave just the merest of jumps.
“I could not sleep.”
“Meddlesome minds cease to rest.” He sauntered forward, tall, lithe, powerful. A teasing smile played at the corners of his mouth.
I chuckled. To some it might have been an insult, but Edward prided me on my ability to meddle. I supposed this was partially why we got along so well, and even more so the reason he trusted me to take care of our fortunes while he was away.
“Something of the sort. Come sit, have some wine.”
Edward came to sit beside me, his warm thigh pressed to mine. I handed him a cup of wine. He took a long sip, his shadowed eyes taking me in. I gazed into their depths, watching the flickering firelight play along his irises. He seemed to be thinking of where to start the conversation, and I let him. Sometimes it was better to let the man think he was in charge. He was much easier to mold when he thought he was in control. The thought struck a chord inside—perhaps I should give this same advice to Jane. A soft smile covered his lips, and I returned the gesture, filing away my intent to inform the queen of yet another way to meddle with the king.
“Come now, so quiet. Are you not wondering where I was tonight and what I was doing all this time I have been away from London? My meeting this evening with the king?”
I turned a coquettish smile and a saucy pop of my shoulder in his direction. “Dear husband, it is the duty of this wife of yours to wait until you are ready and listen to all you wish to tell me.”
He laughed and patted his knee, his arms coming around me as he settled me onto his warm and familiar lap. The intimacy of the gesture startled me for a moment. It was almost jarring. For all the outward indiscretions he’d indulged in, and the ones I had played in my mind, the two of us were a match. I sank into his lap, letting the warmth and strength of his body melt into mine.
Edward. My husband, my savior. I reached up and touched my lips, my fingers wiping away nothing… just following the motions of Edward’s fingers as they’d wiped blood from my swollen and torn mouth some years before.
“Since you are being so patient, I suppose I will start from the beginning.” His voice startled me, but I had enough composure to play down my jump for only a jerk of rearranging my skirts. He took another sip of his wine and then set it on the side table. He pulled my head down to rest on his shoulder, his fingers threading through the ends of my hair, and I let out the breath I had been holding. “The king sent me to look in on several monasteries he will be dissolving. I was calculating goods, land, taxes, and gauging the hearts of the tenants, the clergy within.”
“And what did you find?”
The fire crackled and popped in the background. I toyed with Edward’s beard, and he caressed my back. A moment of guilt passed over me. He was such a good man, had done so much for me, and I was relieved I’d not fallen prey to Sir Anthony’s advancements, no matter how he stirred me. Despite all I owed Edward, my very life in fact, I could not seem to control the pounding desire Anthony’s presence elicited. Nay! The very thought of the man brought my heart to crescendo, moistened my palms. I cringed inwardly. Edward’s first wife had betrayed him thusly… and with his own father—who sired two children on her, whom they tried to pass off as Edward’s. My stomach churned. I could not. Would not.
“Half the monasteries are robbing the king blind.” Again, Edward’s voice jarred me from my thoughts, and I pushed the sinful recollection of Anthony’s strong fingers from my mind. I must concentrate on Edward! What he had to say was important, and all information must be stored and filed away in the great vast canyon that was my memory, only to be recalled when needed.
Edward continued as I parted the way and paved a path in my mind for what he had to say. “A percentage of their tithes are supposed to go to King Henry, but there is a lot more gold in coffers than records in the books. It also appears they are harboring many jeweled relics. We had to repossess many a wagon full. His Majesty was made a rich man while I was on progress.”
He laid his head back against the shutters that I had secured tightly and closed his eyes. I moved to straddle his waist so I could better massage his shoulders. His hands came to cup my behind, kneading the flesh there.
“And what of the people? Did you get a sense of their support of the king? For Jane?” I asked, worried over what I’d heard of people fearing the changes to our faith the king had mandated—those same people that were supporting Lady Mary. His breathing was even, and he did not move, did not answer. He looked ready to fall asleep, and we had so much left to discuss. I kissed the side of his neck to awaken him. His fingers gripped my hips, rubbing sensually as he rocked me back and forth. Far from asleep he was.
“I feel trouble is coming down the road,” he whispered. “The monks were angry. They argued at first, but then they acquiesced, saying they wished to please His Majesty.” Edward nibbled a path from my ear to my collarbone. “As they stood by silently watching, I could see the anger seething in their eyes. Peasants, merchants, even some noblemen gathered, expressing their displeasure, but none moved against us. The silent ones, fury bubbling under their calm exteriors, are the ones I worry about.”
“When the time comes, you will be prepared. You’ve the fortune of seeing the smoke before the fire truly breaks into heavy flames.”
With change there was always opposition. Even here at court, when new families rose, there were those who tried to suppress them. I did believe Edward was right. Trouble would come soon for the king. Whether it was in the way of the people, the clergy, the Pope in Rome, other monarchs, someone would not sit silent as King Henry took down their relics, changed the rules of the sacrament, harbored new thoughts on religion, gave power and credit to heretics and men of low birth—like Cromwell.
“What of Cromwell?” I moved my hands from his shoulders and began to massage his temple. Edward’s head fell forward to lie against my breasts. I sucked in a breath, having missed the sensuality experienced between a man and a woman. Once again, Sir Anthony invaded my thoughts. How was I to get rid of him? Perhaps I should tell Edward the man was making untoward advances. Edward would have him gone in a moment, attending some task abroad, or thrown in the stocks for a crime he’d not committed but plenty of people bore witness to. No, I must be the one to strike him from my mind. And I must do it soon, for I truly loved my husband, would not want to hurt him.
“They whisper it is all his doing. The king can easily blame an uprising on Secretary Cromwell.” Although his voice was muffled, the sneer in his tone was evident.
“Well, perhaps you might make mention of the whispers to His Majesty.” I gasped as Edward pulled the ribbons from my chemise open, baring one breast for his examination. He palmed it, weighing it, massaging it, and then brought his lips to the turgid peak. My gasps for air turned to a murmur of appreciation.
“Indeed.” He paused a moment, indulging in my flesh, but I sensed he had more to say. “They also voiced their ire at the Lady Mary being forced to renounce her parents’ marriage and her title as princess.” Here again, he paused, paying homage to my breasts. By the time he was through, I panted heavily, no longer able to focus as well as I should. “I think now might be the time to have Jane express her interest in the lady’s status.”
“And what of our new friends?”
“They will return to court shortly. The king is most interested in the whereabouts of the traitor Pole. He is a Plantagenet and gaining support quickly across Europe to take the throne. There are even those in England who believe he is the rightful heir, and that Henry VII—the king’s father—was only a usurper and our own king a pretender. Pole is a threat the king will want to be rid of most expeditiously.”
I nodded, and there ended our speech. I stood and led Edward to my private chamber and the bed in which I had spent the last fortnight dreaming—albeit regrettably—of Sir Anthony. But shame had no place in our marriage, and I reminded myself that while he was away, Edward had surely indulged himself between any number of women’s thighs. My fantasies of another man could hardly have been criticized when they’d only happened in the darkened night of my room when I was all alone.
Edward lay down atop of me. “Promise me you will take care of Mary with Jane?”
“As it is your wish, my lord.” I lifted my legs around his hips, eager for him to slip inside me. My fingers slid a path down his back. Edward kissed my lips gently, lovingly. He was in no hurry. I lay back and let him make love to me, pleasure radiating throughout my limbs.
I would see to it that Jane made mention of Mary, and Edward would stir the beginnings of suspicion on Cromwell. If all worked out in our favor, Cromwell would fall, and there would lie an opening to more elevation, for the king would need a new secretary and Lord Privy Seal, and my lord husband would be a perfect match. With Edward as secretary, our way in England would be paved.
July 1, 1536
“Are you happy, Jane?” King Henry asked.
A select number of ladies of the queen’s bedchamber and the king’s Privy Council stood quietly in the room, breath held at this last question, as the royal couple indulged in a private meal. As a collection, our torsos moved forward to better hear the answer. Jane opened her mouth and closed it—a fish out of water. My chest grew tight from not breathing. I glanced around at the others in the room.
The women were seated behind the queen, and the men stood behind the king. A visible show of who was stronger. Men vs. women. The king vs. his queen. Should either sovereign have need of something, we were here to serve. But at the moment, the only thing we were truly interested in serving was our ears. Answer, Jane! The shout inside my mind did little to make the words come out of Jane’s mouth. Seconds felt like an eternity. The clock on the mantle ticked thirty-three times.
A musician played the lute quietly. Candles were lit in the wall sconces and on the table. The room was bright, and although the king and queen sought privacy away from court, the dozen or so of us courtiers negated such a true happening. We all pretended interest in our own thoughts, but every person’s ears were trained on the conversation at hand.
I ducked my head and grimaced. My stomach turned in knots, and bile rose in my throat. Edward and I had partaken in a light supper before attending our sovereigns, but once again I had not been able to eat much. The scent of grease and meat had made me queasy these past few days.
Finally, Jane took a deep breath and smiled, her eyes sparkling clear and blue. “Yes, Your Majesty. You have seen to my every comfort, and I am much obliged for your love and grace.” She picked at some seasoned vegetables on her plate with her fork, pushing them around as a small child would but not bringing the food to pass her lips.
King Henry broke out in a wide grin, seeming either not to notice Jane’s nerves or seeking to soothe them. “I have a gift for you.”
At this exchange, the group of men stood taller, the women sat straighter, all of us visibly relieved at the queen’s answer and the king’s respective response, a testament to the king’s volatile moods and how much the court was attuned to them, indeed in sync.
He waved over a groom, who presented him with a small package wrapped in purple velvet. The king held onto the gift and seemed to watch his wife, who eyed the package.
“What do you think it is?” he asked, his voice filled with mirth.
Jane folded her hands in her lap. “I could not guess, Majesty, but I am confident with your most excellent taste it is a gift I will cherish for all seasons.”
“I do adore you, Jane,” Henry breathed with a passion that I hadn’t heard in some time. I was struck then with how much he truly cared for her.
Henry handed the gift to Jane, who took it with slim white fingers. He was forever bestowing gifts on her, and she accepted them with grace.
I strained forward just a bit as to go unnoticed, while Jane unwrapped her gift. A glittering brooch of pearls, rubies and diamonds inlaid in gold emerged.
“It is beautiful,” she breathed, clutching it to her chest. “You spoil me.”
“No, Jane.” Henry leaned over the table and took one of Jane’s hands in his. He kissed her gently on the knuckles, his lips lingering perhaps a moment longer than was proper. “It is you who spoil me. A husband could not ask for a better wife, and a king could not ask for a more humble queen.” The way he said “queen” was drawn out on his lips, as if he wished to impart on her the import of what he had said. The king always seemed to have a never-ending wealth of well-thought-out speech. His words were gracious but meant to mold. He thanked her, loved her, but at the same time told her he expected her to remain humble.
“Thank you.” She inclined her head in her usual fashion, which only made her look more virtuous, and Henry’s smile widened. She handled the king well. Very well.
“Is there anything you require?” he asked, taking a large chunk of bread into his mouth.
Now was Jane’s chance. Would she do it? I silently prayed that she had the nerve to do the Lady Mary justice. I had had a long conversation about the matter with the queen, and she had even admitted to me it was a subject she felt very close to her heart and had in fact been planning to approach His Majesty on the topic very shortly.
She met his eyes, her mouth opened and shut again. She must have been thinking about it. Dear God, do not let her back down now!
“What is it, Jane?” the king urged. He set down a chunk of meat he’d picked up, sat back and folded his arms over his chest. His expression was open, as if he hung on to the air for the syllables of her speech, but his countenance was reserved, closed off. I would have hated to have been on the receiving end of such a conundrum. Was the king open to her request or not?
“There is one thing.” She put her utensils down, the clink echoing in the silent room. Each courtier once again held their breath, and the musician even played at a quieter tone. I chewed the inside of my cheek, indeed biting into the flesh enough to draw a drop of blood.
“Yes?” Henry raised his brow. His countenance remained unchanged. He waited, almost like a lion waited on the sides for his prey to make itself an easy target. He expected her to make a mistake. He was a pessimist, thinking that each person he loved would soon toss him and his values in the wind. And, indeed, if one wasn’t with him, one was against him.
Slim fingers folded in her lap, Jane sat up straighter, chin lifted slightly as she faced the lion head-on. Her words were hurried, as if she feared she would not finish if she spoke too slowly. “I would request that the Lady Mary might come back to court. I am lonely and in need of someone close to my rank to make merry with.”
A dark cloud consumed the king’s eyes at first, and we all thought he might become angry. I twisted my fingers together, knuckles whitening, as I sat on the very edge of my chair. But then he laughed—a jubilant sound. Even still, with the king you never knew if that laugh would end with you in a prison cell or with gold in your hands.
“Then we shall have her here, for I would only wish to see you merry.”
Jane smiled innocently and thanked His Majesty. I breathed a sigh of relief and unclenched my fists, which I had not realized left my fingernails digging into my palms. I was not the only one, as the ladies surrounding me sat a little less stiffly in their seats, and those men who’d locked knees relaxed their stance. In fact, the very walls seemed to expand and contract with a breath of relief at His Majesty’s giving mood. With Mary back at court, it should appease many in the land who sought to move against His Majesty and Jane.
“Is there anything else, My Queen?” He sat forward, his expression challenging.
I wholly expected Jane to decline and continue to eat her pheasant with ginger sauce, but instead she perked up, leaned her head closer. And I fought hard to hide the incredulous look on my face. The queen was tempting fate to be so bold.
“I heartily beg you to leave the monasteries as they are.” Jane’s voice was filled with emotion as she choked out the words, the last few said in a whisper as she lost her nerve.
At this, Henry slammed down his napkin and rose. I jumped a little in my seat, suppressed a gasp, my nails once again digging into my tender palms. My brocade and jewel-encrusted gown felt suddenly heavy. My headpiece squeezed the sides of my head. My emerald and gold necklace choked me.
No, Jane! The king had already agreed to have the Lady Mary to court, and with this one last request, pure and sweet, Queen Jane could devastate all of our well-laid plans!
Bracing his hands on the small table, King Henry leaned toward his wife. The air was thick, and I, along with several courtiers, visibly cringed, if only for a second. Would he strike her? The air in the room was sucked out, as every lady and gentleman took quick and shallow breaths, expecting the worst.
“Kindly do not meddle in my affairs.” His voice was whisper quiet, alarming. A shiver passed over my spine. “You are queen, bound to obey and serve me. Do not presume to offer me advice. Bear me a son and make merry with my daughters. That is all I require of you.”
His words must have stung Jane, for she envisioned herself in love with the king, and his ire, and reminder that she was only a womb to bring forth a child, would dampen her spirit.
She bowed her head, her hands in her lap. “I am most humbly sorry, Your Grace. If it pleases you, I will never bring up such a topic again.”
“It pleases me.” Henry slumped back into his chair and popped an almond into his mouth. “Shall we continue to make merry, Jane?”
His countenance changed to one of joy, and one would not have thought he had just been so menacing, towering over his petite wife. I looked from one to the other, not certain I fully understood that he’d forgiven her so easily, that he hadn’t changed his mind and told her she could no longer have Mary at court. But ’twas true. Verily, he sat there, happy as a clam, gazing at his wife.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“To you, then!” He raised his goblet, and she to his. They clinked glasses, and he downed his in one large gulp, while Jane sipped prettily.
I took the chance of glancing toward Edward, who stood stoically to the right behind Henry, but his gaze never left the king. I wanted to gauge his reaction. There was no light in my husband’s eyes, not a curve of his lip to show he was pleased or displeased. No doubt his pleasure at Mary coming to court was outweighed by his fear for Jane and anger at her request about the monasteries. He would have words with her later, of that I was certain.
My gaze moved to Anthony, who stood beside Edward. He was staring at me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. Could he see my discomfort growing? As soon as our gazes connected, he looked away. Was he angry with me? He could not be, for there was no reason, other than I hadn’t indulged in his request for intimacy.
One of the ladies in waiting opened her fan and began to wave herself, and I quickly followed suit. The room was becoming hotter by the moment.
And then suddenly the room heated another degree, as once again I caught Anthony gazing at me. He wet his lips, hungrily, like if there had been no one else in the room, he would gave stripped me bare and pounced on me. At one time, such a thought would have had me shaking and running from London, but for him… my blood heated.
I longed for Anthony—for the freedom he represented—as much as I wished he would disappear. Confusion warred within me. Duty, loyalty, love for my husband clashed with pure desire, curiosity and, if I was honest, the unadulterated passion Anthony promised.
But I could not come undone. If I was going to be successful at this court, rise to the ranks we strived for, I could not let an affair of the heart—or the loins—take over my whole state of mind. I was not a young maid. I was a woman grown, age six and twenty. Only one time had my feelings for a man nearly ruined me, broken me. And that same man still affected me, sending the blood rushing like the icy Thames through my veins. I could not let a little thing like infatuation ruin all of our carefully laid plans.
Even as I thought it, my subconscious struggled. Infatuation was not what I felt for Anthony. I did not know how it happened, but in only a few weeks, his heated stares, his promises of pleasure had begun to strike some forbidden chord buried deep inside me. That chord had trilled its way to the surface, and now, I sat while a bitter battle crashed within, tempting me to rush behind the curtains and drag Anthony with me. Steal a kiss, feel his beautiful lips on mine. I looked down at the skirts of my gown and my jeweled hands folded there.
Silly chit!
Just as Jane was descended from Edward III, I was as well. Royal blood flowed through these veins. Indulgence, flights of fancy, were beneath me. Demeaned my bloodline. My legacy.
When I looked up again, I caught the gaze of Surrey. He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what he thought he might know about me beyond the disgrace in which he played such a part. The man was so volatile, a firework ready to explode. He was dangerous to have around court. He would surely be the ruin of someone else, and I prayed he did not get his talons buried beneath my flesh again.
He silently pursed his lips as if to kiss me, I wanted to jump up, shout and strike him. Instead, I sniffed and turned my head. The last thing I needed was another loaded match with the man. I needed all my armor for the days and years ahead, and he would only drain me of my wits in one conversation.
“Ladies, gentlemen, we bid you goodnight,” King Henry said. Engrossed in my thoughts, I had not seen King Henry rise. He waved his hand, dismissing us from his presence.
Courtiers began to file out, but I took notice that Jane stayed behind. I skirted my way around to her chair, curtsied. “Your Grace, will you require assistance?”
Jane grasped my hand and squeezed. It was not she who answered, but Henry himself.
“Lady Anne, she will not require anyone this evening, save myself.” His voice was calm, solicitous. He offered me his hand, and I kissed his ring before rising.
Jane blushed at the king’s very obvious desire for her.
I nodded and quit the room, only to run headlong into the object of my own desire.