Chapter 34
‘Do you think the king sent Papa to France on purpose?’ demanded Mary, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Why would he do such a thing?’ asked Elizabeth, looking up from the trunk of Mary’s belongings, which she had been inspecting.
‘He is jealous of Papa,’ she said. ‘One day, when William and I were watching Papa in the lists, the king was nearby with the Duke of Suffolk and we overheard him stating that Papa had everything the king wanted.’
Elizabeth shuddered. ‘Did he say anything else?’
‘The duke laughed and the king looked irritated, then he said, “One day, I shall have all he has; in the meantime, it’s time he went abroad again”.’
‘You must have misheard,’ said Elizabeth, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of one of Mary’s dresses.
The king’s pressure on Elizabeth to grace his bed had intensified in recent months.
Whenever she was at court, he singled her out, walking with her, sending her poetry, flirting outrageously and dancing with her more than any other courtier, which was why she absented herself whenever possible.
Even her husband had finally realised the attention given to her by the monarch was more than the usual game of courtly love.
‘His eyes watch you whenever you are in the room,’ Thomas had said one night when they were wrapped in each other’s arms. ‘There is a hunger about his gaze which concerns me, Lizzie.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Henny might be king, but, at heart, he is a spoiled child. He has been pampered all his life, given his every desire, and you refuse his advances again and again. It worries me that one day, his obsessive love might turn to hatred.’
‘What concerns you most? My safety or the loss of your status?’ she had asked.
‘Lizzie, how can you even ask? You are my sun and my moon, the stars in my sky, without you, my life is nothing. I fear for you and your reputation first, but we would be na?ve to ignore the havoc he could wreak in all our lives.’
‘Would he be so cruel?’ she had asked, shivering, despite the warmth and strength of Thomas’s arms.
‘Yes,’ her husband had replied simply. ‘He has destroyed others for less. For your safety, Lizzie, we must hide you away as much as possible.’
The following day, Elizabeth had travelled to Cerensthorpe Abbey on the pretext of finalising the building works and supervising the decoration of the rooms her family would use in their visits.
In reality, she wished to capture Thomas’s words and his fears concerning the king in her growing tale.
Mistress Ellyn Goodwin had taught her the art of using a page to its best advantage, leaving space for marginalia and illumination, should she wish illustrations to be added when her story was complete.
As her words unfurled across the parchment, Elizabeth had shared her fears for her family, particularly her daughters, and her concerns about Henry’s deepening obsession with her.
This was the only place she felt safe divulging her suspicions that the king was being encouraged by her father and eldest brother.
On the day after she and Thomas had spoken, Elizabeth wrote:
What will happen if there comes a day when my husband buckles to pressure from the king?
Will he be brave enough to resist forever or, one day, will he join my traitorous father and brother by leading me to the king’s bedchamber himself.
Worse, will he sell our daughters’ virtues to protect himself?
Now, to hear Mary’s words, Elizabeth was sickened, wondering if the king meant to use other ways to dispose of the obstacle he perceived Thomas to be: a jousting accident?
A stumble aboard a ship during one of his foreign trips, her husband disappearing forever below the waves?
A lethal dose of poison slipped into his wine by an untraceable foreign assassin?
She tried to hide her shock as her daughter shrugged and returned her miserable gaze to the window.
Elizabeth felt helpless. The king held them all in his power, what choice did they have but to submit to his whims?
Would she have to bed the king to protect her family?
Should she? But where would a submission such as this lead – to more power or less?
Her daughter gave a long sigh and Elizabeth’s heart contracted with sorrow when she saw the tears in Mary’s eyes.
She was to be married the following day and her belongings would be moved from the maids’ chambers, where they were currently, to the new married quarters she would share with her husband, Sir William Carey.
Mary would become Lady Carey, a position of high status, but Elizabeth understood, it did not matter how important a man, if he repulsed you, no title would ease the pain of the marriage bed.
‘Mary, do you not wish to marry William tomorrow?’ Elizabeth asked, rising elegantly to her feet and joining her daughter on the window seat.
‘Of course I want to marry him,’ Mary said as Elizabeth took her ice-cold hands, ‘but with Papa and Anne both in France, only you and George will be there, especially as Grandmother is…’ she hesitated, then finished, ‘absent.’
The past year had been challenging for Elizabeth and Thomas.
Even though his career had flourished and he had travelled abroad to represent the king on numerous diplomatic missions, problems at home had continued.
After many strange and frightening episodes, Thomas’s mother, Lady Margaret Boleyn, was diagnosed by their physician as being insane.
‘We’ll care for her at home,’ Elizabeth had said to her shattered husband.
‘Would she be better with one of my sisters?’ he had asked.
Margaret had delivered eleven children, of these, eight had lived into adulthood, but Elizabeth had shaken her head.
‘Hever Castle has been her home for most of her life,’ she had said. ‘To move her to another property could cause her more fear and confusion. I’m happy to remain here and care for her.’
Thomas had nodded, understanding this was the perfect reason for Elizabeth to stay away from court while he was abroad.
Now, Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s hand, before leaning forward and tucking a loose curl behind her daughter’s ear, a gesture left over from Mary’s childhood.
‘Your Papa is negotiating a very important meeting between King Henry and King Francis. It is to take place in France and will be the biggest, most glamorous meeting of kings ever seen,’ said Elizabeth.
‘It’s a huge honour for Papa to be one of the organisers.
He’ll be home soon, but then it will be Lent and, as you know, the devout are supposed to abstain from the enjoyment of the marital bed.
It would be a dismal way to begin your marriage if we were to postpone the ceremony to coincide with a period of abstinence. ’
Mary gave a watery smile at her mother’s arched eyebrows. ‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘Tomorrow, you’ll become an important woman at court,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Your husband-to-be is a cousin of the king. He is also his friend and he holds a high position. Remember, William is an Esquire of the Body and a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, as his wife, you will be included in the inner circle of court life. Your life will be your own to create, my dearest, and I will be here whenever you require help or advice.’
‘But Papa—’
‘Your grandfather, the Duke of Norfolk, will more than make up for Papa’s absence. As will your many uncles, aunts and cousins,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Your grandfather told me himself he will be the proudest man at court, being able to give you in holy matrimony to William.’
Mary wiped her eyes and a cheeky grin spread across her face. ‘Don’t forget step-grandmama, Duchess Agnes will also be there,’ she said, and Elizabeth closed her eyes in pretend horror, which made them both giggle.
The newly built Chapel Royal at Greenwich Palace on the River Thames was packed with courtiers.
The vast Howard family and the extended Boleyn family watched as Mary Boleyn married Sir William Carey, even though the bride’s father and sister were absent.
However, the king was in attendance and Elizabeth had no choice but to welcome him as he sat beside her, his legs jammed against her, the bulk of his body formidable in its presence.
His shadow jaded the happy occasion, but Elizabeth managed to feel a swell of pride as Mary and William exchanged their vows.
‘Mary is beautiful,’ the king said as the radiant couple left. ‘Although, she is but a sketch, you are the finished painting, my love.’
He kissed her hand, then looked up, gazing into her eyes.
‘Soon, my dearest Lizzie,’ he said, ‘our time will be upon us and we will be able to declare our love to the world. You shall be my queen, forever.’
He gave her a grave smile, then swept away to join his friends, Nicholas Carew and Anthony Browne, members of his inner circle.
Elizabeth swayed on the spot, wondering at the king’s words, then she felt a hand under her elbow and turned to see her sister Anne.
‘He’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘You’re safe.’
Elizabeth looked at her in alarm.
‘Thomas explained the situation has worsened and your father and brother are encouraging the king,’ said Anne and her voice shook with anger on her sister’s behalf.
Elizabeth felt a wave of love towards her husband, as well as relief to have her sister by her side.
‘Don’t fret about the king, his presence means the couple has been honoured by his attendance,’ remarked Anne as Henry strode away, laughing with Nicholas Carew and Anthony Browne.
‘Of course,’ said Elizabeth. ‘My eldest daughter is married, this is the most important thing to remember.’
They watched as William and Mary left the chapel arm-in-arm.
‘It feels like only yesterday when we were girls ourselves with Mother at Sheriff Hutton discussing our own marriages and children,’ said Anne.
‘She would have been so proud of Mary,’ said Elizabeth with a sad smile.