Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
“The queen is asking for her mother.”
Lady Elizabeth hurried, as best she could, along the corridor that led to Anne’s bedchamber, Thomasin close upon her heels. They were met at the door by Mary in a state of agitation. The residents of the Tower had woken early to a clear, bright morning.
“I cannot calm her; she is convinced that she will die today in the streets, some lone arrow or a stone thrown from an upper floor. She will not listen to reason.”
From far within, they could hear Anne’s rising tones.
“Where is my lord? Fetch your father!” insisted Lady Elizabeth, giving Mary a little push. “At once!”
She pushed open the door and stepped into the antechamber.
A dozen women were assembled here in their finery, members of the Boleyn clan including Mary and Jane, ladies in waiting like Nan Gainsford and others unfamiliar to Thomasin.
They all looked uncomfortable, like chess pieces assembled at the start of a game, waiting to do battle.
Mary came forward, clasping her hands together. “She won’t let me in. She had nightmares, barely slept a moment, and when she did, the child woke her early, stirring in her womb.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded and pushed open the double doors at the far end. Behind her, Thomasin followed, and they entered Anne’s chamber. She was alone but for a pale young woman with large blue eyes, who was holding out the jewels Anne was declining to wear.
The sight of Anne was enough to take one’s breath away.
She stood like a centrepiece, dressed in a gown made entirely of silver tissue, her long dark hair loose and rippling down about her like a mantle, with a gold circlet set on top.
Yet she was anything but regal and composed, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in gasps, her face a picture of distress.
Her mother went to her at once, drawing her back to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Some wine,” she called, “quickly.”
Thomasin was closest to the door, so she turned back towards the anteroom where wine glasses sat on a table and poured a generous measure. Anne received it silently, only sipping it with her mother’s encouragement.
“Now, it is almost time. Your coronation procession!” Lady Elizabeth was saying. “The moment that London will see you as their queen. The moment you have waited for all these years. Do not let your own fears rid you of the enjoyment of it. You are quite safe. You must master these fears.”
“It is her condition,” said the pale lady. “It causes anxiety and flights of fancy.”
“You slept in her chamber last night, Isabel?”
The woman nodded. “She was full of strange fancies. I have seen it before in women in her condition, and she would not be soothed.”
Lady Elizabeth looked back at Anne. “Stand, girl, stand up.”
Anne struggled to her feet.
“Back straight, head up, and look at me. Yes. Now, I want you to take a long, slow, deep breath.”
They all breathed in and out with Anne.
“Now, you are the queen. Whatever you are feeling inside, you must put on a performance. Royalty is an act. God knows we saw your predecessor do it a thousand times, and she was skilled at it! You must put on a show of confidence, of happiness; you must perform the emotions, look proudly out at the crowd, sit up straight and smile. No matter how you are quaking inside, you must go out and be England’s queen today.
This may be the hardest day of your life, but every day is a gift from God, and this is his gift to you.
So, lift up your chin; let’s finish getting you ready. ”
These words seemed to be exactly what Anne needed to hear. Her shoulders went back; her chin lifted. Isabel came forward with the diamonds and set them about Anne’s slender throat.
“They will be looking closely at you,” her mother continued.
“Your clothes, your hair, your circlet, your diamonds. Your face must also be a jewel among them. You must go out wearing a mask and never let that mask slip. As you travel through the streets, and the crowd cheers you, you will find yourself better able to be calm, to enjoy the moment. By the end of it, you will have forgotten your fears. When you look back upon it, you will put these doubts away and remember only the moment of glory.”
Anne closed her eyes and breathed.
“Mint?” Thomasin said suddenly. “Sucking on leaves of mint has a great calming effect, if there is any to hand.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded at her to go and see, so Thomasin headed again to the antechamber and summoned a maid. Presently, a sheaf of mint leaves was brought up from the kitchens.
“Here,” said Thomasin, holding it out to Anne, in what must have been the first kind gesture between them. “Place one on your tongue. It has always calmed me in times of anxiety.”
“It cannot hurt to try,” urged Lady Elizabeth, nudging her daughter’s silver arm. Anne obeyed, slipping a green leaf into her mouth without looking at Thomasin.
The door behind them admitted Sir Thomas, dressed in black velvet lined with silver, and heaped with gold chains. It suited the salt-and-pepper colouring of his hair well, and Thomasin blushed to admit to herself how striking he looked for an older man.
“Are you ready? The procession is waiting. All they lack now is you!”
“Anne has had some worries,” said his wife tactfully.
“Worries? It is too late for worries. You cannot give in to worries as a queen! You are all ready to go?” He looked her up and down, taking in the silver gown and the hair and jewels.
But Anne refused to move.
“What are you waiting for?”
One hand hesitated about her belly.
“Are you in pain?” asked her mother.
Anne’s large dark eyes opened even wider. “I fear for my child.”
She looked so pitiful, despite her glittering clothes and surroundings, that it was impossible for Thomasin not to be moved.
“The child, the son,” corrected Sir Thomas, “who will be a future king of England. This is the first step in his glorious journey. Come!” He took her by the arm, but she resisted.
His tone changed then, and he started to grow impatient.
“What would you have me tell the king? That you have changed your mind? You are indisposed? Shall I tell him to send the procession away? Send home the crowds that have been waiting for you for hours in the streets? Stop being so selfish and do your part.”
“This is unlike you,” said Lady Elizabeth, more gently. “Where has all your confidence gone?”
“I know not,” Anne said softly.
“Shall I send for the king?” Sir Thomas almost hissed.
“What would he say, seeing you like this? You are no queen in this state! Remember you were not born to this. You must perform your role even better than those who were. Think of Queen Catherine!” He did not hesitate to use her old, rejected title of ‘Queen’ instead of ‘Dowager’ when the situation demanded.
“Can you at least equal her performances?”
Anne sighed deeply.
“People are out there waiting, asking where you are. What has happened? You have come this far — why this terrible reluctance now? It’s too late to give back the wedding and the babe, and everything else that has been undone for your sake! Do not be a disgrace to our name! Get out there!”
Thomasin winced at his harsh words, but there was no denying that Anne must embark at once.
“I am going to call for the king!” He moved towards the door.
“No! He cannot see me like this. He must think me strong. I cannot show him my weakness.”
“Then move! Get out there and perform, as if you were taking place in a giant masque. Or else you are done for! You think Henry will tolerate this?”
Turning away from him, Anne held out her arm to Isabel. “Mistress Danvers?”
Danvers? The name cut through Thomasin like a knife.
This Isabel, with the pale hair and blue eyes, was Rafe’s wife?
Her guts twisted. Of course, she should have realised he would return from the country for the coronation.
As a member of Sir Thomas’s household, he would not have missed that for anything.
Thomasin could only stand and stare as the pair of women glided past, out of the chamber.
“Well, thank God for that!” Sir Thomas hurried after them.
“We should take our places, too,” said Lady Elizabeth, oblivious to Thomasin’s change in mood. “Help me up, would you? The carriages are waiting.”
In the outer courtyard, an immense amount of people had gathered ahead of the procession’s departure.
Carriages and horses were stacked nose to tail, and there were guards and dignitaries, earls, lords and ladies, messengers at the front, servants, trumpeters, ushers, chaplains, squires, knights, bishops and all the members of the court.
Thomasin had never seen so many people squeezed into one small place, all impatiently looking up at the staircase leading down from the queen’s apartments.
As the distant silver figure of Anne took her place in a golden chariot, there was a bustle of movement as those waiting stepped back into line, anticipating their imminent departure.
“At least the sky is clear,” said Lady Elizabeth, looking up at the blue expanse above them, dotted with small clouds.
Behind Anne, a number of similar chariots awaited, with officials guiding the women to their places.
All were dressed in crimson velvet and Thomasin was grateful that she matched their colour, so as to look as if she belonged among them, although her own stomach was clenching with the feeling of being an imposter.
Relatives of the Norfolks occupied the first chariot due to their rank, but Lady Elizabeth and Thomasin were shown to the second and assisted by guards to climb into their seats.
It finally felt as if the day would go ahead after all.
“That is not an Anne I ever expected to see,” whispered Lady Elizabeth, once they were settled side by side.
“I expect it is her advanced condition,” Thomasin replied, “like Mistress Danvers said. Does that lady have any children of her own?”