Their times together were often fleeting and bittersweet, but Mary treasured each in her heart. The stares, rude barbs, and affronts to her as the king’s now-cast-off mistress bothered her not at all. Anne’s self-centeredness, the lack of her father’s goodwill which she had once coveted—what did that matter now that William Stafford loved her and she belonged, body and heart, to him only?
They had become as clever as the king’s court spies, Staff teased her. Sometimes Mary’s trusted maid Nancy went between them with information about when one of them was unexpectedly free or where to meet, but usually they managed unaided. When Will, as Esquire to the Body, fulfilled his duties as royal valet and companion to the king by sleeping within call of the royal bedroom, Staff sometimes dared to come to her, but often they met in the dead of night in some unoccupied bedroom or other empty chamber in reach of whatever palace the court visited. Staff seemed to know everything: Will’s schedule, what rooms in what halls were vacant, when to dare much, and when they must go endless days not chancing a tryst. Mary trusted Staff completely, as completely as she desired and loved him.
But it had been almost a week now, the longest they had not dared, and this chilly and damp late April day here at Hampton Court was starting to seep into her bones. After each time they had been together, she fed herself on warm memories of each embrace, each passionate caress, living his tender touches over and over until the memories cooled and she burned with desire for new lovemaking with him.
Mary leaned her flushed cheek on the cool pane of the leaded window overlooking the vast stretch of roofs at Hampton abloom with twisted brick chimneys in the early morning rain. This room was not a bad one really—spacious with a fireplace and a tiny sitting room attached. How the Carey living quarters had improved since they had returned from their year-long exile only three months ago! Their bouche too, the daily allotment by rank of candles, bread, wine, and beer sent to the hundreds of courtiers’ rooms, had increased. Probably the result of some comment of her sister to the Great Henry rather than His Grace’s true estimate of the Careys’ worth. But today, the red bricks of Hampton were glazed with chilly rain and a gray fog drifted in from the river with cold, clenching hands to dampen her precious memories.
She heard her maid Nancy come and she turned to see the girl’s arms full of the laundry she had gone to fetch and a bolt of shell-pink satin. “Good news, Lady Mary,” the sweet-faced, brown-haired girl beamed at her mistress as she laid the pile of goods carefully on the table. “The washer women had the linens all done and—look at this!”
Mary gazed with awe at the thick bolt of pale pink satin Nancy extended toward her. She hated to admit it, but she had longed for new gowns after a year away from court while her own sister’s growing influence over king and courtiers had changed the styles gradually until her older clothes looked much outdated. Long, tapered sleeves dripping with lace were now the rage and a more bell-shaped sweep of skirt than the padded ones Spanish Queen Catherine still clung to. Mary did not care for her own pride so much that some of her clothes were several years out of style from the heyday of the king’s bounty to her, nor for the terrible family pride her father espoused. But she did so want to look beautiful and fashionable for Staff and, of course, she could take no gifts or money from him or else her penurious husband, whose wealth went for Carey causes, would know.
“It is so lovely, Nance, and such a delicate color.”
“Enough for a May Day gown if we get after it fast enough, m’lady. Let’s see—it be but four days away, but if we work at it and I get my sister Megan to help us a bit on all the fancy tuckings and embroidery—”
Mary slid her tapered fingers along the rosy and silvery sheen of the material. Even in this muted light it came alive with shimmering highlights when it was turned or moved. “But, Nance, where in the world did it come from? Not my Lord Carey, I warrant, and Lord Stafford does not dare.”
Tears of excitement flooded the maid’s hazel eyes and she nearly jumped about in her desire to tell. “By the saints, Lady Mary, I was waiting for you to ask me and you just keep staring wide-eyed in wonder at it all. Your lady mother has come to court with your sister for May Day and she brought it for you.”
“My sister?”
“No, your lady mother.”
“Why was I not told they were coming? I should have known the king would insist Anne be here for the May revels, I guess, but, oh, why do they not tell me anything anymore? And mother should not have borne this great expense for me. Father does not give her a very big allowance for Hever anymore as she and Semmonet are the only constant householders now.” She sank into a chair at their little table with the bolt of shimmery pink satin spilled over her knees.
“Saints, Lady Mary, I thought you would be dancin’ on the ceiling for it and you look like the gray sky outside. Lady Bullen said to tell you that she will see you as soon as she and the Lady Anne get settled and after she talks to Lord Bullen.”