Anne paced swiftly to Mary and her slender hand grabbed her sister’s wrist in a tight grasp. “Mary bore a son, even as our mother did before us. Our heritage for sons is good, and His Grace knows it well. Maybe Mary’s son was even from His Grace, so I have no fear of not bearing him sons. That is the least of my concern right now.”
Mary felt the urge to snatch back her arm. Anne’s words always hurt and she seemed to have lost all sense of the verbal cruelty she inflicted more and more on those close to her. Staff was right. It was as though some terrible demon seized the girl’s tongue at times, as though she feared something. But she knew Staff was wrong about one thing. Surely, Anne did not fear the king’s bed the closer she got to him in lawful wedlock. Surely that was what Anne had been striving for all these years.
The slim, raven-haired woman still held her sister’s hand although her eyes darted about somewhere past Mary’s head, and she said no more. Lord Boleyn motioned George and the stormy-faced Jane to leave. Then he pointed toward the door to the wide-eyed Mark Smeaton, who obeyed instantly, tagging behind the Rochfords. Still Mary and Anne stood facing each other and Lord Boleyn’s eyes swept carefully over them.
“You do understand? You do believe me, sister?”
Mary could not recall a question. It seemed such an interminable time that they had stood there. Anne’s dark-brown eyes still gazed into space behind Mary’s head. “Yes, of course, Anne. It is all right. Everything will be fine. You are tired now and we had both best go to bed. You are going falconing with the king in the morning, remember? It will be great fun.”
“And you are going with me to France and will stay very close, Mary. Promise me. If the French king will not receive me, I must have my own retinue, and a fine one. Father, Mary can have more funds, for dresses, can she not? She must be well dressed to show them that the Boleyns are not an upstart family, father.”
Their father moved silently to stand behind Anne. “Yes, of course, Anne. And Mary is right. I shall call your women. You need to go to bed. I did not mean for my words to unsettle you. It is important to us all that you be rested and lovely and happy in the morning.”
Anne released Mary’s wrist at last and pirouetted to face her father. “Do you think I am lovely, father? Lovely like Mary to hold the king over the years? I know I have not the Howard beauty of mother and Mary, but I shall hold him. I shall!”
“Yes, of course, you shall, my Anne,” her father comforted and patted the girl’s shoulder awkwardly. “You are of a different beauty than your mother or Mary, but a beauty indeed. And you are clever and talented. After all, you have the greatest king in the world chasing after you. That should end this discussion. Besides, neither your fond mother or your sweet sister have risen to the heights you have. You are the only one who has truly seen the possibilities and acted accordingly. A daughter after my own mold, a Bullen indeed!”
Anne stared at him oddly for a moment and did not answer. Then she turned tiredly, slowly toward her bedroom door. “I wish you to remember that our name is Boleyn now, father, and times have changed. Please go now. Go somewhere and serve your king.” Anne gestured to Mary with her right hand. “Please stay, sister. Please stay until I sleep.”
Awed at the strange and touching request, Mary followed Anne into her bed chamber without another glance at their father. Anne’s bed was huge and square, almost as great in size as His Grace’s bed, probably because he had at first expected to share it with his dear Anne when he had granted her vast Whitehall Palace. She hoped Anne would not ask her to sleep here or in call, for it was possible that Staff would pay her chambers a night visit.
Then her own world rushed back to her. Yes, she wanted to be there waiting for Staff. He would not find a sweet, compliant lover breathless for his hurried arrival as he was accustomed. She would show him a true Boleyn temper for his over-fond treatment of that Cobham wench, and if he would dare not to come at all, she would know he was with the woman. Her thoughts would take her no further. He was all she had but little Catherine. She would die if he should change his love for her.
“Do not be so grim, Mary. I do not know where our festive mood went so fast. It was that viper Cromwell ruined it all. I really meant to put on our own family revel in honor of the cardinal’s leave-taking of us all. My prayers are continually answered, it seems. Cromwell would have made a fine Satan, you know. I would like to talk Henry into getting rid of that little, shifty-eyed man.”
“I think you had best not dabble in the king’s power when it comes to Cromwell. Besides, father likes him.”