Part 21 (1/2)

”And this is why you are so dull?”

”I am not dull,” I said flatly. ”I am sad. I am so sad that I want to do nothing but lie on my bed and put my face into my pillows and weep and weep.”

”Because you miss your child?” My mother had to have confirmation, the thought was so strange to her.

”Did you never miss me?” I cried out. ”Or if not me, then Anne? We were taken away from you when we were little more than babies and sent to France. Did you not miss us then? Someone else taught us to read and write, someone else picked us up when we fell, someone else taught us to ride on our ponies. Did you never think that you would have liked to have seen your children?”

”No,” she said simply. ”I could not have found you a better place than the royal court of France. I would have been a poor mother if I had kept you at home.”

I turned away. I could feel my tears very wet on my cheeks.

”If you could see your baby would you be happy again?” my mother asked.

”Yes,” I breathed. ”Oh yes, Mother, yes. I would be happy if I could see him again. And Catherine.”

”Well, I will tell your uncle,” she said grudgingly. ”But you must be really happy: smiling, laughing, dancing blithe, pleasing to the eye. You must win the king back to your side.”

”Oh, has he strayed so very far?” I asked acidly.

She did not look ashamed, not for a moment. ”Thank G.o.d Anne has him in her toils,” she said. ”She plays with him like you might tease the queen's dog. She has him on a thread.”

”Why not use her then?” I demanded spitefully. ”Why bother with me at all?”

The swiftness of her answer warned me that this had already been decided at a family council.

”Because you have the king's son,” she said simply. ”Bessie Blount's b.a.s.t.a.r.d is made Duke of Richmond, our Baby Henry has as good a claim. It is nothing to annul your marriage to Carey, and next to nothing to annul the marriage to the queen. We are looking to have him marry you. Anne was our decoy while you were in childbed. But we are placing our fortunes with you.”

She was silent for a moment as if she expected me to respond with joy. When I said nothing she spoke again, a little more sharply. ”So get up now, and get the maid to brush your hair and lace you tightly.”

”I can come to dinner because I am not ill,” I said grimly. ”They say the bleeding does not matter and perhaps it does not. I can sit near the king and I can laugh at his jokes and ask him to sing for us. But I cannot be merry in my heart, Mother. Do you understand me at all? I cannot make myself merry any more. I have lost my joy. I have lost my joy. And no one but me even knows what this feels like, and how dreadful it is.”

She looked at me with a hard determined stare. ”Smile,” she ordered me.

I drew back my lips and felt my eyes fill with tears.

”That's good enough,” she said. ”Stay like that, and I will make arrangements for you to see your children.”

My uncle came to my new rooms after dinner. He looked around with some pleasure, he had not seen how richly I was housed since I came out of the birthing chamber. Now I had a privy chamber as large as the queen's and four ladies of my household to sit with me. I had a pair of personal maids for my service and a pageboy. The king had promised me a musician of my own. Behind the privy chamber was my bedchamber which I shared with Anne, and a little retiring room where I could go to read and be alone. Most days I went in there, closed the door tightly behind me and wept without anyone seeing.

”He's keeping you very fine.”

”Yes, Uncle Howard,” I said politely.

”Your mother says you are pining for your babies.”

I bit my lip to try to stop the tears coming to my eyes.

”What in G.o.d's name are you looking like that for?”

”Nothing,” I whispered.

”Smile then.”

I showed him the same gargoyle face that had satisfied my mother and he stared at me rudely and then nodded. ”Well enough. Don't think you can be idle and spoiled just because you have his boy. The baby is no use to us unless you take the next step.”

”I can't make him marry me,” I said quietly. ”He's still married to the queen.”

He snapped his finger. ”Good G.o.d, woman, d'you know nothing? That never mattered less. He's one step away from war with her nephew now. He's all but in alliance with France and the Pope and Venice against the Spanish emperor. Are you so ignorant that you don't know that?”

I shook my head.

”You should make it your business to know these things,” he said sharply. ”Anne always does. The new alliance will fight against Charles of Spain and if they start to win then Henry will join them. The queen is the aunt of the enemy of all of Europe. She has no influence with him any more. She is the aunt of a pariah.”

I shook my head in disbelief. ”It's not long since Pavia when she was the country's savior.”

He snapped his fingers. ”Forgotten. Now, as to you. Your mother says that you are not well?”

I hesitated. The impossibility of confiding in my uncle was very apparent to me. ”No.”

”Well, you have to be back in the king's bed by the end of this week, Mary. You do that or you'll never see your children again. D'you understand?”

I gave a little gasp at the cruelty of the bargain and he turned his hawk-face toward me and looked at me with his dark eyes. ”I'll settle for nothing less.”

”You cannot forbid me the sight of my children,” I whispered.

”You'll find that I can.”

”I have the king's favor.”

His hand slammed the table with a sound like a pistol shot. ”You do not! That is my very point! You do not have the king's favor, and without it, you do not have mine. Get back into his bed and you can do whatever you like. You can ask him to set up a nursery for you, you can dandle your babies on the throne of England. You can banish me! But outside his bed you are nothing but a silly used wh.o.r.e that no one cares for.”

There was a dead silence in the room.

”I understand,” I said stiffly.

”Good.” He moved away from the fireplace and pulled down his jerkin. ”You'll thank me for this on your coronation day.”

”Yes,” I said. I could feel my knees giving way. ”May I sit?”

”No,” he said. ”Learn to stand.”

That night there was dancing in the queen's rooms. The king had brought his musicians to play for her. It was apparent to everyone that though he sat beside her, he was there to enjoy watching her ladies as they danced. Anne was among them. She was wearing a gown of dark blue, a new gown, and she had a matching hood. She was wearing her usual necklace of pearls with the ”B” in gold as if she wanted to flaunt her status as a single woman.

”Dance,” George said to me very quietly, his mouth next to my ear. ”They're all waiting for you to dance.”

”George, I dare not. I'm bleeding. I might faint.”