10

Queen Anne Percy

A month later, Edward and Marguerite were crowned King and Queen of England in a blaze of Boleyn triumph.

Trumpets blared; the people flocked in their thousands to see their King and Queen ride out together to Westminster from the Tower, where as tradition required, they had spent the night before their Coronation; servants in russet and black Howard livery and deep green and gold Tudor livery were very much in evidence, and Edward's new motto was everywhere anyone might dream of looking, as was Marguerite's "nomen est omen."

Edward and Marguerite themselves were in royal blue robes trimmed with gold and silver, over which the cloaks of state would be draped, just before Archbishop Cranmer placed the coronets of delicate gold upon their young heads. They looked like angels, both of them.

Head seraphs for a reborn Court, as Edward's new motto, "Fiat Lux!" signified.

As Archbishop Cranmer proclaimed "To the North and to the South, to the East and to the West, I give you His Majesty King Edward, and his wife, Her Majesty, Queen Marguerite, as your new rulers, King and Queen of England, France and Ireland! God save and God Bless Their Majesties!" the children rose together, hand in hand, to smile upon their cheering Court, and I chuckled grimly, thinking how easily it could have been me in their place.

How it should have been me in their place.

I, the eldest daughter of the King. I, who had two daughters, Isabel and Marianne, and, most importantly, a son, healthy Thomas Edward, who had just passed his first birthday, and was expecting my fourth child in a matter of months, had been overlooked in favour of these children!

The resentment, which I so rarely gave into, flared in my breast as I knelt with the rest.

Would I ever receive some of the honour that I felt I deserved?

****

I need not have worried. As it turned out, Edward and Marguerite had taken a shine to my husband and myself, and, though I remained in the Princess Anne's household, we were created Baron and Baroness Seymour, and our income was more than doubled.

"Mary" The young King beckoned me to his side, not long after he had finished giving out the honours that marked his coronation day.

"Sire? You wish to talk?" I curtsied deeply and moved up to stand beside him.

"Aye. Tell me, what of my sister? Anne? Has she somewhat improved?"

He did not need to say any more. I knew very well what he meant.

"Sire, I shall speak openly. I am afraid she is getting no better with age. Her demands are still as frequent and as unreasonable as ever. The only thing we have to be thankful for is that she now knows, more or less, what is really harmful and what is not."

"I see. Is there any way I can improve her? She has our lady mother's support and approval in anything she wishes to do, of course, so I should have to be subtle." Edward looked thoughtful, and I dared to make a suggestion.

"Subtlety is indeed the key, Sire. Either that or you send her to live with your aunt and uncle at Rochford and deny your mother access to her."

"Nay, Mary, that would not work. My mother would never allow such an arrangement, for they would both hate it passionately. Ah, what a curse it is to be young and go unheeded!" Edward sighed, before saying to me kindly "But, I thank you, Baroness Seymour. I shall consider our talk most carefully. You may go."

The King dismissed me with a wave of his hand, and I complied with his wishes, joining my father-in-law, Sir John Seymour, beside one of the pillars in the corner, as the dancing, which had been stopped so that His Majesty could give out the Coronation Honours, restarted. My smile was warm as I curtsied to my father-in-law, for my mind was still on the way King Edward had placed heavy stress upon my new title as he dismissed me.

"Mary, my daughter. Good evening to you."

"And to you, my honoured father."

We conversed easily, sipping absentmindedly at our ale as we did so. Suddenly, Sir John startled me by saying "Mary. I have a task for you."

"Father?" I glanced up from where I had been lolling against the pillar, eyes closed, for once delightfully careless of my posture.

"Edward and I want to know what the Queen Dowager is planning, now that she is no longer Queen. Doubtless she will be busy trying to secure her own future. Watch her – I want to know how."

"As you command, Sir." I inclined my coppery head, deciding not to point out that, as a Baroness, I now outranked him, and as such, did not actually have to follow his orders.

My eyes strayed to Anne Boleyn, now Queen Dowager, and I stifled a gasp as I saw her dancing partner.

"Mary? Are you all right? Not laced too tight, are you?"

"No, no. What's she doing with him again? That makes it seven times I've spotted them together tonight."

"Who? Who have you seen together?"

"A certain Mademoiselle Boleyn and Henry Percy."

"Henry Percy? The Henry Percy? Her first love, the Earl of Northumberland?"

"The very same." I nodded, my eyes riveted to the distant pair as they danced a Volta – the ultimate dance of seduction.

"This is what I mean, Maria. Don't let her out of your sight."

"But I have to wait on the Princess. And Queen Anne hates me, remember? She's not exactly going to suddenly start confiding in me, you know."

True. Very well, ask Maria-Anne Howard for help. Queen Anne likes her well enough to serve our purpose, and she'll do as you ask, given her mother's friendship with you."

"Yes, Father." I curtsied low as he left me, before making my way surreptitiously across the Banqueting Hall to join Queen Anne.

I was just in time to see Mary Stafford take her arm, and draw her out of the Great Hall. Quickly, I followed, just as I had been requested. They ducked into a small pillared chamber, and I loitered outside, straining to catch what they were saying.

"Anne, what are you doing?" That was Mary Stafford's voice, all right. No-one else would dare speak so plainly to Queen Anne, save her brother, Lord Rochford, and he was not there.

"What do you mean? I'm doing nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing!"

"Yes you are, Anna-Maria. How many times have you danced with Henry Percy this evening? Tell me honestly, sister."

"Seven."

"There you are. How many times have you danced with George, or anyone else, for that matter?"

"Twice."

"Exactly. That's my point, Anne. You have to stop paying such attention to Henry Percy, or else someone is going to notice."

"What's this now, Mary? Am I not allowed to pay attention to my own Husband?" Queen Anne laughed gaily, and though it sounded false, at least she had not lost her temper.

Not yet.

"Husband? Husband? Anne, you have no husband. You are the King's widow, and are now officially Queen Dowager of England, since your eldest son has been crowned King."

"No, I'm not, Marianne. I am My Lady Anne Percy, Countess of Northumberland. I married Henry Percy a month ago, whilst the rest of you were all busy obsessing over Edward and Marguerite's coronation."

"Anne! Please God you didn't. Please tell me this is some sort of joke!" Mary sounded desperate by now, as she pleaded with her sister to take back the truth and tell her the kind, comforting, generous lie. Anne refused.

"No. What is more, sister, this time no one can say it was all a dream, or that we are mistaken, for we have children."

"Already? That is impossible. Surely you mean you are with child, sister?"

"No, I mean exactly what I say. A month ago, you yourself told me to go to him and have him if I wanted him, Mary, and I did – seven years ago!"

"Anna-Maria, you are impossible!"

"Don't I know it?" The Queen Dowager laughed madly. Her sister sighed in resignation.

"How many children have you?"

"Two. They're twins. A boy and a girl, and they're both beautiful young children."

"No doubt they are, with a Boleyn for their mother and a Percy for their father. What do you call them, anyway?"

"Margaret. Margaret Frances and Robert. Robert James Henry. Prince and Princess of England!"

"Anne, you'll never get that past Council! They're not a Prince and Princess and they never will be! You know perfectly well in your heart you won't manage to get them accepted as a Prince and Princess, because they are not King Henry's children."

"Yes, I will, for I am Queen Dowager, regent for my son Edward, and the most determined woman in Christendom. They will be honoured throughout Europe as a Prince and Princess if it is the last thing I do!"

Mary sighed.

"I can't stop you now, can I?"

"No!" I could almost hear Anne Boleyn's infuriating, reckless, yet also somehow promising, smile in her voice as she spoke, and knew there would be no changing her mind. Mary Stafford seemed to realise this too, for she merely said "Come then. Let's get back to the feast. You may as well make a public announcement now."

I gasped. I could not let them catch me spying! Besides, I had heard enough. I hurtled back to the feast, timing my departure so that, when Mary Stafford put her hand on her sister's arm and opened the door for her to go out, the last of my velvet skirts were just vanishing from sight down the passageway.

Back in the banqueting hall, I drew Edward, my beloved husband to one side, breathless.

"Mary? Is everything all right, my love?"

"Not for us Seymours, it isn't. The Queen has married Henry Percy."

"The Queen? Marguerite?"

"No, you fool! Anne. Queen Dowager."

"Are you sure, Mary? How do you know? You can't be mistaken about this. You have to be certain, if we're going to get any use out of it at all." Edward asked, ever the eldest and most ambitious son of an ambitious family. I nodded, breathing in slowly and deeply, as I tried to calm my racing heart.

"I overheard the Boleyn sisters talking. Anne just told Mary."

"Spying, were you?" Edward chuckled, for I was always known as the straightforward Seymour, the sharp-witted one, the honest one, the one who would not mince her words. That I would even dream of eavesdropping on anyone was almost inconceivable, however advantageous to my family it might be if I was to do so.

"Only because your father asked me to. He wanted someone to watch Anne Boleyn's movements." I retorted, before continuing "Anyway, at the moment, we're alone in knowing this, but there's bound to be a public announcement sooner or later, you mark my words."

"Right. Thank you, Mary. You have my thanks. Go and rest now, my sweet. You look like you need it, you really do."

I touched his hand and made to withdraw, but he called me back.

"Mary?" Turning, I saw him gazing at me steadily, as though he could scarcely take his eyes off me.

"Husband?"

"You've done well, my love. This is what we needed to know. Has the Queen Dowager children?"

My silence was enough. Edward, clever as he was, realised at once that Anne Boleyn did indeed have children by Henry Percy, but that they had been born whilst she was still married to my father, and honoured as his Queen.

"Well then. We'll offer to help get the children safely ensconced at Court. We'll see some return on this, don't you worry."

I walked back to him, keeping his eyes locked with mine, and kissed him lightly on the lips. I said only "Hopefully.", before turning away, so that I left him there, standing beneath the garlands that ran the length of the hall.

****

Edward was right. We did. He became the young King's Master of Horse, and Viscount Beauchamp, whilst I became a Viscountess and entitled to wear purple.

A fortnight after Queen Anne publicly announced her new marriage, and took up her new title of Countess of Northumberland, her children by Henry Percy came to Court.

They were striking children, dark and dramatic to look at. The girl was the bolder, but the boy had an easy, laughing, natural grace that made his every move mesmerising to watch.

Queen Anne gave them titles; Robert became the Duke of Gloucester, while his sister, Margaret was created Marquess of Salisbury. She also joined Princess Anne in her household, bringing with her a retinue of over two hundred servants.

Princess Anne was envious, which made that year a difficult one for all of us, for in her desperation to regain her mother's attention, which she felt Margaret had stolen from her, she reverted to the pettiest, most childish ways – ways none of us could stand. She had been difficult enough before, but the shock of her father's death, and her mother's immediate remarriage, had unbalanced her severely. Her orders became more and more unreasonable, her already formidable temper worsened, and she often made a point of deliberately "forgetting" something she needed, and then remembering it as soon as we could be no further away from her rooms.

I was always chosen to go for whatever it was she needed, even though I was bloated with pregnancy. It was horribly unfair, but I never allowed so much as a murmur of protest to escape my lips, for I knew it was only the friendship of Prince George and King Edward, and the fact that I was the only governess Anne had ever had who dared not complain that her mother over-indulged her shamelessly, that kept me in my half-sister's household at all. If it hadn't been for that, if the Princess had had her way, I (and my husband) would have been banished within days, as every other Seymour had been.

Except Jane. My sister-in-law, amazingly, was still with us, though that was partly because Princess Anne enjoyed having a couple of ladies that she knew she could get away with taunting and bullying, and with me about to begin my confinement, Jane would have to bear the brunt of it soon.

I always tried to make things easier for Jane by doing small things like brushing her hair, lacing her gowns, running errands for her. Anything I could do to ease the tension in her life.

As did Princess Margaret, Marquess of Salisbury.

What a contrast there was between her and her sister!

Margaret, named for my aunt Margaret Tudor, the old Queen of Scotland, was a seven year old girl, who was the spitting image of her mother, with dark glittering eyes, and hair that fell to her waist – thick glossy and black as a raven's wing.

But her manners? They were different. Very different.

She thanked all of us for doing the least little thing for her, she did not for us to do anything, and, like my mother used to do with her favourites, she would bless each and every one of us before we retired for the night.

In fact, within a fortnight, I found myself rising an hour earlier than necessary, just to help Margaret dress, even though she was not officially my charge.

During those hours, which both of us prized highly, I used to tell her stories of her mother's life at Court before she was called to Court as a Princess.

It was while I was doing so that I realised, though we had all been so surprised when Anne Boleyn married Henry Percy, we ought really to have seen it coming. If you looked back with hindsight, there were just so many clues.

The number of times they had danced together at every banquet, the way Queen Anne always allowed her eyes to linger on Henry Percy when she greeted him – even in front of her husband, her children, or other nobles. And now I came to think of the conversation between Queen Anne and Mary Stafford before young King Edward's marriage, which at the time, I had dismissed as an argument, it was just so obvious!

****

That evening, I was putting Princess Anne to bed, as was my assigned task. No-one liked doing it, for she was always most fretful in the evenings. She always had been, right from infancy, but she did have to go to bed, and as such, Lady Shelton had made me do it, as I had been, in her eyes, the lowest-ranking of Anne's ladies, and even now that Lady Shelton had been dismissed, it still fell to me, for I was her governess, and no-one else wanted to do it!

However, much to my relief, it had all passed off much more smoothly than normal, so much so, in fact, that I was beginning to nurture a hope that I might actually get to leave the room before all the other ladies, save those who would have to share a bedchamber with Anne, had fled.

"Lady Mary?"

Ah. No such luck, then.

"Your Highness?"

"My mother loved Henry Percy, didn't she?"

I groaned inwardly. We'd been expecting the question, it was true, but why did Anne have to ask now? And why me? Why not Eleanor Neville, or Maria-Anne Howard? Someone who actually understood the logistics of this? Someone whose mother had been at the centre of the Anne/Percy intrigue the first time around?

I crossed the room, and reached up to close the thick panes of glass that served as a window. Little Anne was still waiting for an answer.

"Well, she married him, Your Highness. Of course she loved him." I replied cautiously, praying that that would be the end of it. I was sadly mistaken.

"No, I meant – she loved him before she married my father, didn't she?"

Oh God. How to explain the passionate Anne Boleyn to a girl not yet ten years old, and that girl her own daughter? I had no answer.

As I stood silently at the window, I found I was holding a fold of the heavy tapestry that served as a second layer of curtains to keep the draughts out of the bedchambers. I pleated it almost viciously.

"Perhaps if I stay quiet, she'll either go to sleep or forget the question." I thought hopefully. But Anne, even with vision which was hazy with exhaustion, read the true answer in my stubborn silence, my reluctant posture, and my nervous pleating of her fine tapestry and brocade curtains.

"She did, didn't she?"

Sighing, I released the curtain, and twitched it straight, trying to smooth out the folds I myself had created.

"Aye, Your Highness. I'm afraid she did."

Then, without so much as a goodnight, I turned away and left her.

AN: So! We come to the climax of the Anne Boleyn/Henry Percy drama at last! I hope you enjoyed this, and that I haven't made any mistakes with real historical details - The Viscountess wearing purple comes straight from the Other Boleyn Girl, so if that's wrong, blame Phillippa Gregory, not me! By the way, I own zip, zilch, nada. Got it?
R and R. please!