Chapter 5 #2
If the legality of a nun re-marrying did not trouble the King, who had given his permission readily, Marris supposed that it should not trouble her.
Now she had been at court for a while, she also realised how much easier her life would be as Lady Sharington.
As a former nun she was an oddity and a figure of curiosity and ribald gossip; as Sir William’s wife she would have status and a recognised place in the world.
It was infuriating yet it was the way the world worked.
‘It is true that there are always those working against milord Cromwell.’ Sir William was musing aloud as he reached for the wine bottle.
‘Your cousin, His Grace of Norfolk, for one. And now he has a pretty little niece, whom he hopes may catch the King’s eye.
This contretemps with the Princess of Cleves may provide the perfect opportunity…
’ His gaze fell upon her. ‘Perhaps you have seen her – Mistress Catherine Howard? She is dainty and sweet-natured, and the King is already doting on her.’
Marris sighed. ‘I had observed it.’ Just as there were always ambitious men, there were always pretty girls out to catch the King’s gaze, and Marris could see why such an amenable and pretty young woman as Catherine might appeal to the jaded eye of a king who liked to get his own way.
She would never challenge nor gainsay him and no doubt she would appeal to him physically far more than a cool, stately beauty like Anna of Cleves.
Marris had in fact first become aware of Catherine because her sister Bridget had formed a firm friendship with the Howard girl.
It was odd, as the two of them were so very different and yet they had been immediately inseparable.
They were close in age, but Catherine was emollient where Bridget was spiky, Catherine frivolous where Bridget was studious.
Perhaps it was a case of opposites attracting.
Marris could not be sure. But she saw that Bridget, so fierce and loyal, had already set herself up as Catherine’s champion.
Rose, in contrast, had no interest in making female friends.
Having been courted by at least half a dozen young bucks from the moment she arrived at court, she was already betrothed to the younger son of a baron, a young man who matched her in good looks and was keen to make an alliance, no matter how distant, with the Howard family.
‘Well…’ Sir William drained his glass reluctantly and got to his feet. ‘We shall see how tonight’s banquet proceeds. Try to get the princess to be charming and amenable, eh. Should she be capable of it.’
‘She is eminently capable,’ Marris said crossly, feeling protective of Anna, the princess thrown to the lions. ‘This is but a small setback. Once they are wed it will be forgotten.’
‘It is a pity she can neither play nor dance.’ Sir William was following his own train of thought. ‘The King loves music. How is it you have been unable to teach her even the simplest of steps?’
‘There has scarcely been time,’ Marris said. ‘Besides, she tells me that the court of Cleves does not approve of dancing. It is considered unseemly.’
‘God’s death!’ Sir William looked appalled. ‘If the Lady Anna thinks that dancing is the height of decadence, she will be shocked to the core by the other activities of our court!’
‘She is not na?ve,’ Marris said sharply. ‘Her upbringing was strict, but she is not stupid. She knows that the behaviours her brothers indulge in, for example, are vastly different from her own. And let us not forget that her grandfather had sixty-three illegitimate children.’
Sir William’s face split into a grin. ‘True. They are evidently a fecund family. That bodes well.’
‘Precisely,’ Marris said. ‘Once Anna conceives a son, her position as Queen will be secure, just as Queen Jane would have been, had she lived.’
‘Let us hope that she and the King get that far,’ Sir William put in, darkly.
‘Aye, well, we can only trust in the princess and your sound tutelage.’ He took a step closer to her, sliding a hand down the velvet of her sleeve in a caress, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the palm.
‘May I stay with you tonight? There is no accommodation to spare in this benighted castle and I have no desire to ride back to London after the feast.’
‘How romantic you are,’ Marris said sweetly. ‘Sharing my pallet is preferable to the floor of the hall or a cold ride back to Whitehall.’
He laughed. She felt his breath against her cheek. He smelled of fresh linen; his scent and his touch were now so familiar yet so exciting that it was in itself a seduction.
‘Someone would notice,’ Marris said. The King’s gentlemen and the Queen’s ladies were not supposed to co-habit, even those who were married. The cramped quarters of the ladies in waiting scarcely allowed for it anyway.
Will’s lips brushed her temple. ‘So? You are to wed me soon, are you not? And people will talk whether or not we give them cause, so we may as well enjoy full measure.’
He kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Please, Marris… I will make it worth your while to let me stay.’
‘You have a great conceit.’ But she was smiling as his lips traced a path along her jaw and to the hollow of her throat, then lower, to the edge of the lace bordering the bodice of her gown.
‘Will,’ she whispered as he licked the hot skin there and her knees weakened, ‘you must stop. Anyone might come in.’
‘Then agree to let me stay and we may save the pleasure for later.’
Marris stepped back, straightening her gown, trying to clear her mind. ‘Very well,’ she said, mock-severely, ‘but no rolling in at some godforsaken hour, singing loudly and smelling of drink.’
‘Of course not,’ Will agreed easily. ‘And what about my marriage proposal? Do you agree to that too?’
‘I did not notice a marriage proposal,’ Marris said innocently, ‘merely a man assuming we would be wed.’
Will dropped to one knee, startling her. ‘Marris North, my dearest love… Will you do me the honour of consenting to be my wife?’
Before Marris could reply the door burst open again and Anna appeared, clad in a magnificent gown of cloth of silver.
Will scrambled to his feet but not before Marris’s lips had shaped the word ‘Yes’.
He was grinning broadly as he bowed to the Princess of Cleves.
‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘you cast the candles into shade. His Majesty will be utterly dazzled.’
‘Who is that charming man?’ Anna asked as he strode away. She fixed Marris with a keen look. ‘Mistress North, I do believe you are blushing!’
‘That is Sir William Sharington, my betrothed,’ Marris murmured.
‘Du hast Glück,’ Anna said, staring after Sir William. ‘If I am but half as fortunate with the King then I shall be happy.’
Marris was not superstitious, but she found she was crossing her fingers.
* * *
The dinner was a great success, at least on the surface.
The King behaved chivalrously, selecting the choicest cuts of meat for his affianced bride, ensuring that her goblet was always full.
Marris admired the way in which Anna had overcome her shock at their initial meeting and was gracious and her manners perfect.
It could not be easy with the incessant noise of a foreign language drumming in her ears, competing with the music and the laughter.
Anna was quiet, but that could be taken for modesty.
The King showed no sign of dislike or disapproval of her although equally he showed her no warmth.
Marris felt a cautious hope that they might pretend that the first, disastrous meeting had never happened.
Once in the privacy of her bedchamber, however, Anna threw aside her fine clothes and disintegrated into exhausted tears.
The gist of her words, which Marris caught between the sobs, was that she did not care for her husband-to-be.
He was cold to her and she knew he did not like her; he was old and fat and ugly, he smelled bad, he repelled her and it was unfair that he had been permitted to see a painting of her before the engagement, when she had not been afforded the same privilege.
Marris could not argue with that. She was sure that Henry would have felt it below his dignity to send a future wife a portrait; she would be expected to accept him as he was and be grateful.
‘Is Her Highness set against the marriage?’ she asked Lady Kessler when they were able to catch a quiet moment. She was expecting confirmation, but the good lady looked appalled.
‘Great God, no!’ she said, ‘For Her Highness, the greatest shame would be to return home unwed. She would have let down both her brother and her country. No, this drama is but the product of tiredness and – dare I say it – disappointment.’
Marris understood. What young woman hoping for a happy future would not be disappointed by an old, physically unappealing bridegroom who had shown her no kindness, only a polite formality? The contrast between the dream and the reality would be almost too great to bear.
She nodded. ‘Then let us pray that matters will look better in the light of a new day.’
Whilst her German ladies comforted Anna and put her to bed, Marris moved quietly about the room, tidying and folding Anna’s clothes ahead of the packing they would need to do – again – for her continued journey to London.
It seemed likely that the physical repulsion that both bride and groom felt for one another would be no bar to matrimony.
On a political level this was a relief, but on a personal one it felt like a very bad omen.
Sir William agreed when, later, he joined her in the tiny chamber she had been allocated in a corner of the keep. It was draughty in this freezing winter, and she was grateful for the warmth of his body pressed against her to ward off the chill of the night.
‘Many a successful marriage has been based on mutual dislike,’ he observed, settling her more comfortably against his chest so that she could hear the strong beat of his heart. ‘This is a matter of diplomacy more than love. I am sure the King will remember that.’
Marris privately worried that Henry would do precisely as he pleased; statecraft and foreign alliances had not prevented him from putting aside his first wife.
However, with William’s arms about her, the warmth of his skin, the scent of him, she was not prepared to argue.
They made love with quiet tenderness and afterwards she felt contented, her body utterly relaxed.
She allowed her worries for the future to dissolve away and slipped into sleep.