“But that is what I was thinking, Mary,” Elizabeth Boleyn returned, her voice warm and strong. “If the king pulls them all down, and if he dares to imprison or harm Anne and George, if these false charges should be published, they will all poison little Elizabeth’s ears, over the years. But we—all of us, especially those of you who are younger than I—must tell the child the truth of the good things of her mother and family. That is what I have been thinking over and over all this long morning since the messenger came.”
“Yes, mother. And Harry and Catherine are old enough to be told the truth, and they will not forget. They will tell Elizabeth. Little Andrew will know someday too. Staff will ride to bring him here tomorrow, for we are staying at Hever a while if you will have us.”
“Have you? Yes, my dearest one, do not leave me. My pretense of strength is over. You must tell us truthfully, Staff, what will happen. You have always told the truth here, I think.”
Staff’s worried brown eyes sought Mary’s for comfort and returned to the steady blue-eyed gaze of his motherin-law. “There will be a trial, Lady Elizabeth, and the king will try very hard to rid himself of the Boleyns so that he may marry elsewhere. At best, Anne and George may be exiled and...”
“Oh, do you think it a possibility, Staff?” Elizabeth’s thin hand gripped Mary’s wrist in excitement. “Anne would love to live in France if she escapes this. We could visit there someday.”
“It is a possibility. But I think, with Anne’s inner fire and backbone—and the fact that she will believe she has nothing else to lose but her life if she agrees to exile—she will cling to being queen and make him take it from her.”
“She is innocent of all his charges!”
“Yes, lady. Mary and I and most of the court know that, but His Grace wants to convince himself otherwise to clear his wretched conscience.” Staff continually gripped and wrung his hands. Mary had never seen him so distraught, though his face appeared quite calm.
“That bitter-cruel Jane Rochford has helped to cause all this. She dares to swear false unholy charges against Anne and her husband! But then, it is the poisons of their forced marriage coming out at last. My lord must answer to that too. The only thing Anne and George were ever guilty of was love of power, and that they learned at their sire’s knee. Tell us, then, Staff, for Mary can bear it and I shall too—what is the worst that might befall?”
“The most ominous sign I see is that the king is so desperate that he is willing to let two of his closest friends, Norris and Weston, fall with the queen. And the crazy charges of witchcraft he allows his henchman Cromwell to drag out of the closet show his unbending attitude. The worse, lady, is that the innocent shall be declared guilty and shall pay the king’s price for his own sins. Thank God Mary and I are well rid of him!” Tears stood in Staff’s eyes, and Mary crossed the little space of carpet to touch him.
“Well, my children, spring is coming and spring always comes to Hever with beauty and consolation. I have seen that many times. You must rest now. You have not even been to your room. Semmonet and I shall await you here, and I shall order food and wine. I wish to talk some more to Semmonet.”
They stood awkwardly and Mary resisted the impulse to embrace her mother since she seemed suddenly so in control of herself. They went up the broad staircase to Mary’s old room. The doors to all three of the children’s childhood bedrooms stood ajar and Mary wondered irrationally if ghosts lurked there or ever would. The servants had been about and their clothes were on the bed and fresh water and linen towels waited on the massive bureau. Staff leaned on the ledge and gazed out the window toward the bare gardens while Mary quickly unpacked the purse of Anne’s jewelry and unfolded the legal parchment promising her control of her children.
“She did not ask you the next question, Staff.”
“No. She already knows the answer to that.”
“He cannot dare to behead his own queen!”
“That is why he will try to prove she is not his legal queen. He will use the witchcraft or the fact that you were once his concubine or whatever moral arguments he has to rid himself of a legal, God-given, and crowned queen.”
Mary walked slowly to him, the stiff parchment roll clasped to her breast. “He would never order me to come back to testify that we were lovers so that he can cite his own incest.”
“I have reasoned it out and I think you are right. He does not dare to do that since he has charged your brother with that same heinous crime. Oh, Mary, I do not know. I am so sick at heart and soul of it all!” He pulled her roughly against him and the parchment in her hands rustled against his shoulder. “I am so exhausted from trying to out-think him and protect you and keep us untouched and at Wivenhoe.”
His admission of weakness and fright terrified her, for she had never really thought that the confident, assured, and sometimes cynical man she loved could be truly tired or afraid. “But I am here and you may lean on me, my love, always,” she said low. “Whatever befalls the Boleyns, it is partly of their own making and it is a far different thing from our dreams.” Her arms went around his waist and she hugged him hard.