“Really, Stafford, you read in far too much. The queen, whom I have served so faithfully as adjunct to the king, desperately wishes to see her sister. Exactly why, I am not certain, for she would not say.”
“But we know whom you will serve next week or next month if he decides to rid himself of her. It is obvious there could be no divorce. This queen would not be shuffled off to some deserted country house with few servants or permanently forbidden to see her daughter. How will you manage it for him, Cromwell, since your very being will depend on it?”
“Anne Boleyn is still Queen of England, Lord Stafford and, as king’s chief minister, I cannot listen to such insinuations. Will you show me your charming Wivenhoe or shall I only await our early morning departure in my room? I have brought dispatches and parchments to tend to.”
“I will show you the little farm I love, Master Cromwell. I will show it to you so that you may think on its peace and security when someday you shall need such as the poor, desperate queen does now.”
Mary darted toward the kitchen as she heard the chair scrape on the floor, for the sudden plans meant much work for her and the servants. She nearly stumbled over Andrew’s blocks of wood strewn about the red-bricked entryway as she hurried away from Cromwell’s droning voice.
The last part of their journey to the court at Greenwich was by horse barge, which Cromwell had arranged to wait for them under London Bridge in the City. Through occasional flakes of snow, Mary stared up at the stony supports of the bridge and remembered that this was where the brave Meg Roper had retrieved her father’s head. It was still mild for February and the only river ice was the brittle, fragile kind which clung to the shallow shoals near the banks. The gray Tower glided coldly past and massive Greenwich appeared from behind the bare arms of the trees. The memories staggered her: she had come here as Will’s bride; here the king had first seduced her; here Staff had first kissed her; here Staff had proved to her his undying love when they had returned from Plashy. Here...
“Mary, are you all right?” Staff’s voice came low in her ear.
“Yes, my love. All right when I know you are near.”
“I shall be, Mary. You will have to go to the queen alone, but I shall be near.”
Cromwell hurried them along the path toward the queen’s wing. “Will we see her immediately, Master Cromwell?” Mary questioned, suddenly realizing it was all rushing too fast toward her.
“I shall first announce that you are here, Lady Stafford, while you and your lord take a moment’s respite and have some heated wine.”
“Will my father be about, by chance, Master Cromwell? I did not come to see him.”
“I realize that, lady. Do not worry. He sticks close to the king these days and is at Eltham.”
“And Jane Seymour?”
“Seymour, lady?”
“Yes. Is she at Eltham, too?”
“I believe she was invited and declined. She is at Wolf Hall with her family and will not be back until the king acknowledges he will insist no more on her forbidden affections. She seems to be quite the Boleyn ally lately.”
“Hardly that! I am no wench new brought to court, Master Cromwell. That only means she plays for high stakes and you and my lord know it well enough. Do not think I am so untutored.”
“I apologize, Lady Stafford. It is seldom that such a stunning woman thinks in a—well, in a political way. I see you have learned to do so.” He opened a door. “In here. Rest by the fire and ask my man for whatever refreshment you would have. I shall return shortly.”
They took off their cloaks. Cromwell’s servant poured them wine and scraped the mud from their boots. “Can you not feel it, my lord?” she said low to Staff as they sat before the blazing hearth.
Behind the servant’s back, Staff held a quick finger to his lips and shook his head. “Feel what, sweetheart?” he inquired smoothly.
“Well, just how familiar it all is.” She had wanted to tell him how the palace was oppressive and terrifying to her. How the very walls and heavy tapestries smothered her after the plain stucco and rough beamed walls of Wivenhoe. But, indeed, Staff was right to urge caution. Cromwell was well known for his spies, and she and Staff had talked late last night planning how careful they must be if they chose to walk among the snares of Cromwell and the court in such unhappy times.
Cromwell was back almost immediately. “Her Grace is ecstatic that you have come and awaits you now, Lady Stafford. Will you follow me? Your lord can be summoned from here if the queen wishes it.”