It was her golden summer and Mary was reluctant to see it coming to a close, for the court was preparing to return to Greenwich where they would celebrate the Christmas holidays. Greenwich palace was Henry's favorite, and he spent time there whenever he could.

She could not remember when she had felt so happy, she transformed from the daughter Sir Thomas had despised to someone who had value and worth. She had been reluctant to submit to the king's embrace but now found herself in love.

She did not care if she and Henry must conduct their love affair in secret, it added spice to their relationship. It was enough that she could spend time with him and be not just his lover but his confidante. He would tell her the things he did not say to his advisors, and especially to Cardinal Wolsey, the butcher's son who aspired to be Pope and saw the king as his path.

The queen had benefitted from the fresh air and sunshine, Mary could see it in her face. The deep shadows under her eyes had faded and the premature lines etched in her face had softened though too much time and grief has passed for them to disappear. Henry still loved her and valued her opinions, but she would never again resemble the young beauty he had fallen passionately in love with.

Anne and young Henry Percy spent much time in each other's company, not bothering to hide their affection for each other. Percy's betrothal to Mary Talbot did not seem to matter and more than one courtier wondered how much his father knew. His betrothal to Mary had been arranged by both the king and their families, and Percy was expected to wed her when a date was finally set. In the meantime, the betrothal was as binding as a marriage ceremony, perhaps more so. The papers had been signed, the arrangement formalized, and Henry Percy was as good as married.

Anne and Mary were getting ready for bed when Mary finally found her voice and confronted Anne.

"What are you doing, Anne? You and Percy cannot continue to carry on as you are. He's as good as Mary Talbot, do you think you can subvert both his father's and the king's will? If you continue this much longer Father will send you from court."

"He loves me, he doesn't love her. A betrothal can be binding, but it can also be broken. He's told me that he's going to ask his father to release him from the contract so that he can marry me. Our father is one of the most important men in the kingdom, why shouldn't I be considered a suitable match?"

"Have you given any thought to what this might do to him? They've been precontracted since 1516! She's a countess, Anne, compared to her you are a nobody. It's not up to us to decide who we marry, you know that. We not only need our parents' permission, but we must also have the consent of the king and he favors this match." Mary did not often lose her temper, but she was both frustrated and concerned for her sister.

"Once Ormond turned the match with me down what has he done since? Nothing, that's what. He married you off to the first nobody who would have you despite the reputation you brought back from France. He's doing everything for George that he can to advance his career but for me he does nothing. There are plenty of eligible bachelors here at court, it would not be hard to find a match for me. I'm the daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, that should more than suffice, but what good will it do if he makes no effort?"

"Percy is not your solution, Anne, it will only bring you grief. Step away from him while you can, or you may find yourself in trouble. I don't want to see you sent away from court, who will I fight with? George will miss you too. You're setting yourself up for a fall, and in the long run, you will have only yourself to blame."

Mary did not expect to find her words prophetic, but within a week young Percy's father came to court and took him back to Northumberland. No one knew for certain who had sent for him, but Mary suspected that the king had spoken to Wolsey and Wolsey had sent for Henry Percy's father. Percy's father was upset at the thought of his plans being upended by his son and Thomas Boleyn's daughter, who was a nobody in his eyes.

It had come so suddenly that the young couple had had no chance to make their farewells. Mary came to their room as soon as she heard and found Anne sitting on the bed, crying.

She sat down next to her, not reaching out the hand she wanted to give to comfort her but knew Anne would not want it. So, she sat and listened to her cry until Anne would be ready to speak.

When her sobbing subsided, Mary handed her a handkerchief and Anne took it and wiped her eyes.

"Does it make you feel better to be right? That you could see this coming when I couldn't?"

"No," answered Mary quietly, "But I feared that this was coming. You flaunted yourselves at court, you didn't bother to hide your feelings for each other even though you knew Percy was pre-contracted. He loves you, I am sure, but he's not free to marry you, Anne."

"If he loves me, then why doesn't he stand up for me? Why doesn't he defy his father and marry me?"

"Because he can't. What would you have him do, Anne, defy the king and his father? Give up his title and his income? How would the two of you live? We are not like ordinary people; we are ruled not only by our parents but by the king. Henry wants this match; do you think you are going to be allowed to interfere?"

"Go away," said Anne, "I don't want to look at you. Just leave me alone."

Mary left the room shutting the door gently behind her. For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for Anne.

The next day came the reckoning. Mary had been waiting for the queen since morning mass and now had a quick moment for herself. Anne had not been present, and she was worried about her, so decided to go back to their room and see if she was all right.

She opened the door and was met by the sight of a large trunk and boxes. Her mother stood in the middle of the room supervising the packing of Anne's things. Anne herself sat sullenly on the bed, refusing to lift a finger as to say, "This is none of my doing and I will not be part of it."

"Anne is being sent to Hever," her mother announced, "You will need to inform her Majesty that she will no longer be one of her maids in waiting. If she asks for how long you will tell her we do not know when she will be returning."

Mary curtsied to her mother and then had to restrain herself from running down the hall back to the queen's chambers. She felt bad for Anne, but Anne had refused to listen to any advice she was given and pursued a reckless course to her own ruin. Now, at last, she would be the only Boleyn girl and would not have to compare herself to Anne and find herself wanting. Anne's little court would miss her, but soon they would attach themselves to another attractive, vivacious girl in the queen's train.

She and George saw Anne off, not attempting to offer her comfort but assuring her that her exile would only be temporary. They promised to write and keep her apprised of the goings on at court, but neither she nor George were the best correspondents.

Sir Thomas returned from the latest mission his monarch had sent him on to France, trying to hold together the fragile alliance that had been established at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Francois, I was ambitious as his fellow monarchs, Henry and Charles V, and they all had the conquering the whole of Europe on their minds.

Now that Anne was safely out of the way at Hever, Sir Thomas was free to turn his thoughts to Mary and the king. He summoned Mary to him and asked her the question that was foremost on his mind.

"Are you pregnant yet?" He asked her point blank for a moment all she could do was stare at her feet.

"No, Father, I am not and I'm glad. If I do become pregnant, there are a dozen young women who are waiting to take my place."

"If you bear him a son, that may secure your position, Mary. The queen cannot give him any more children, but if you have a son that will show he is still capable."

"What good would it do? He has a living son, Bessie Blount's bastard. A bastard cannot inherit the throne unless he is willing to go to great lengths to adopt him and make him his heir. For now, Mary will inherit the throne and there is nothing anyone can do about it." She wanted to leave; she wanted this discussion of pregnancy to end.

"He keeps him close to him and there is talk that he is considering ways to make him his heir. He has made him Duke of Richmond and Duke of Sussex. He cannot declare him, not yet, but it is not unlikely that he could."

"And what if I have a daughter?" Mary hated the way her father discounted girls.

"He will find her a husband, perhaps, most likely a noble in his favor. You are young, Mary, you could bear him several children."

"And they will not be Tudors, they will be Careys. You forget that he prefers to take married women for his mistresses. That way there is no question of paternity, and he never acknowledges their offspring."

"You forget Bessie Blount; he was so in love with her that he did not bother to disguise his feelings for her in front of the queen. When she became pregnant he found a husband for her."

"And do you forget, Father, that once she became pregnant she fell out of his favor? And he took her son from her when he was old enough and she has not seen him since."

"Children do not always live to adulthood, Mary, and if you bear him a son he could be waiting in the wings. Perhaps Henry will overlook the fact that he will be officially a Carey and declare him. You could be the mother of the future king of England."

"No thank you, Father, I want a happy childhood for any children I have. Henry is…" She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Henry had been alternately spoiled, neglected, ignored, and indulged. She knew that the nature of the man whose bed she shared was not the one that the world saw. Henry was becoming a tyrant and more out of control every day.

"Mary, we have everything to gain by your giving him a child. William will benefit, our family will benefit, and there may even be an advantage in it for you. Any child you have will be considered William's, so you will not have to hide your pregnancy. The queen will suspect nothing."

"The queen may have her suspicions, but Henry has been careful. There are only a few people who know about us, and I am glad."

"Have you had marital relations with him?" her father asked.

"No, you forbid him from touching me, remember?" And I paid for it, she thought, no man has ever done to me what he did, and I will never allow any man to do that again.

"Yes, I gave little thought to it at the time, but I think it was a good thing. You should have been pregnant, but he had not yet given you a child. You come from a fertile family, and Henry is more than capable of fathering a child. Pray for a child, Mary, maybe God will listen to you."