“I have no fear of that, Will. It is said she has splendid gifts from him, the best suite in the queen’s wing of the palace, notes from him daily at Hever, and his Tudor heart to trample on if it pleases her.”
She swept by him in her sky-blue dress and opened the door to their room herself. Even the archway to the main hall was narrow and she made certain that she carefully gathered her full skirts with their silken ribbon catches and slashes as they passed through. The dress was last year’s fashion, with a tight and low square-cut bodice which came to a point at the waist, but Mary Tudor had assured her that it was still stylish enough to wear. The matching blue silk slippers were slightly soiled from romping galliards long months ago at Whitehall. It was an endurance test for slippers to dance all night with the king, but she figured no one would notice if she danced with Will in a crowd tonight.
Will led her through the weblike corridors of Greenwich to the queen’s wing and to Anne’s spacious suite. The first thing her eyes saw when the painted door swung wide for them was Jane Rochford hovering over Anne and stroking her black tresses with a gilded hairbrush. Anne’s dark eyes caught Mary’s in the huge polished mirror she faced.
“Mary, dearest!” Anne’s face was alight with excitement and her eyes sparkled. “Now the holiday is perfect. You have seen mother this morning, I hear. We are all back together. And what fun the revels will be tonight! I am to be the lady with the Lord of Misrule, and you know who always takes that part!”
They embraced, almost formally, and Anne turned to kiss Will on the side of his cheek. Anne looked wonderful and words spilled from Mary in a rush. “Yes, Anne, I have seen His Grace play that boisterous part many times. Once,” she said almost to herself, “he stumbled and his whole arm flopped in the wassail bowl.”
“I remember that,” Jane Rochford put in, merely nodding to Mary and turning back to finish Anne’s coif.
“Will thought father would be here, Anne.” Mary stood aside and scrutinized Jane’s fussy ministrations over Anne’s headpiece and jewels.
“Oh, he is, somewhere, Mary. He is never far away, as you can imagine.” Anne giggled and her eyes sought Mary’s in the mirror again. “He was livid and fumed for days, sister. He threatened to beat me, but he never did. Not when he saw His Grace still cared, even if I held the cards.”
“And do you hold the cards still, Anne?” Will queried.
“Wait and see for yourself, Master Carey,” Anne teased. She bent to pick up her pomander ball on its velvet ribbon and added, “There are jewels and notes and flowers and great promises and I control father now—wait and see, Mary, if you do not believe me—and still His Grace has my refusal to share his bed and my word that I have only come for Yule festivities. I shall go back to Hever afterward and await my next move, however much father fusses. Wait and see.”
Your next move, Mary thought hollowly. But Anne, she wanted to cry, you are acting and talking exactly like father. She pictured again the tiny green and white chess pawn Mary Tudor had once given her which she still had in her jewel box and had stared at so often in the long afternoons at Plashy while Catherine played in the orchard outside the window.
“Here you are, Mary, Will. You look fine. It is good to have you both back.” Thomas Bullen patted Mary’s shoulder and shook Will’s hand. “Yes, you look well, Mary, as always. A little thinner perhaps.”
“And older, father. And wiser.”
He eyed her face carefully and turned to survey Anne. “Black and red for Yule, Anne? The slashings on the gown are very deep.”
“I am not ready to be seen in Tudor green and white, father. I think the dress looks perfect with my dark hair and eyes and so does Jane.”
“Yes, Jane would.” He spun to Will, and Mary noted the new massive golden crest on the heavy chain her father had draped across his velvet and ermine doublet.
“Will, the position is yours. Fear not about it and, of course, the lands and parklands from His Grace will remain quite untouched. As you know, you have Stafford to thank for holding the appointment and freely returning it to you. The man’s cynicism and lack of court ambition when the king so clearly favors him never ceases to astound me. Anyway, I offered him several hundred pounds a few months ago for holding the position for you—gambling money I told him—but he would take nothing. A rare, but foolish knave and evidently a trusted friend to you.”
“Yes. Evidently,” Will said so ominously that Anne looked up from her mirror. Thomas Bullen narrowed his eyes, and Mary held her breath.
“Let’s be off. We must not keep the Lord of Misrule waiting. Come on, come on.” Thomas Bullen waved his jeweled hand toward the door and shooed them into the now-crowded hall as if they were chicks from the hen yard at Plashy.