The loyalty of Thomas Boleyn and his service to the young monarch had won him rooms at the palace. Henry liked to have his courtiers and advisors close so many had living quarters in the palace as well as their estates.
Mary trailed behind her mother and Sir Thomas as they made their way to their rooms. She noticed the same rich carved beams, the hangings on the wall, the fresh rushes strewn with fragrant herbs on the stone floors.
Not so luxurious as the French court, but beautiful, nonetheless. Some of the women wore gowns in the French fashion with their wide, long sleeves while others chose the English sleeves, narrower and ending at the wrist. One thing was the same, the rich fabrics, silk, satin, brocade, trimmed here and there with lace.
Her father's rooms were large and luxurious, with dark beams and a large stone fireplace. Servants came and lit a fire of applewood, and soon the room was scented with the odor of the sweet-smelling flames.
"Dinner is at four o'clock," said her father, "The king does not allow taking meals in your room, and you are expected to be on time.
"Yes, Father," she replied and curtsied dutifully. Her mother and the servants opened her trunk and began to unpack it, looking for something suitable for her to wear to dinner.
"Here, this will have to do." Lady Elizabeth pulled out a rose-pink gown with a silver underskirt. "We will have to make you some new gowns," her mother said as if Mary's dresses were old and not suitable, which in Mary's eyes there were not. Her dresses were not all that old, they were made in the French fashion for when she became part of Mary Tudor's court.
Her mother held up a dress, scrutinizing it, "The Queen does not care for French fashions."
"The French court is the most fashionable in Europe, Mother," Mary replied, "I like my dresses but if you wish, any new one will be made in the English fashion. I don't like gable hoods, though, I think they made you look old and dowdy."
Lady Elizabeth touched her gable hood, the same style that the queen wore. "Well, since it seems you young girls prefer the French hoods, I suppose there's no harm in it. But we must have some new dresses made for you and they will be in the English style.
Mary was grateful to shed her traveling dress. The maid slid the clean dress over her head and laced it up, shaking her head at the wrinkles. It could not be helped, the rest of her gowns would be put into the clothes press and the next gown she wore would be more presentable.
A knocking noise, loud and impatient, sounded at the door. A servant opened the door to reveal George standing in the doorway. Mary ran to him, not bothering to wait for him to enter.
"George!" she cried and threw her arms around her brother. He hugged her tightly, kissing her cheek.
"So, back from France Mary? Did you miss us so much that you had to leave the glory of Francis and the French court?"
"I think I have had enough of Francis and his court for now," she replied primly, "It is good to be home. I have heard that I am to marry."
George looked at his father before he replied, "Yes, indeed, you are. I know your husband well, we serve the king together. He's a handsome devil, too, and high in Henry's favor. I think with one look you will fall madly in love with each other."
"George," said Lady Elizabeth, "That is enough. Do not fill Mary's head with nonsense."
"I think it's an excellent match, Mother, why else would Father and the King favor it? Carey is handsome and Mary is a beauty, I believe they will take to each other. It may not be a love match but they ought to be happy together. They should make some pretty grandchildren for you."
"If you say I'll like him, George, I'm sure I will. I think I will enjoy being Lady Carey."
"That's my girl," he said, "Time to go to dinner, Mother? Father?" He held his arm out to Mary.
Lady Elizabeth took her husband's arm and they led the way to the dining hall. George let go of Mary's arm, whispering, "I must take my place with the king, but Carey wants a look at you and I will do what I can to arrange it.
The members of the court stood, waiting for the king and queen to make their entrance before they sat down. The silvery ring of trumpets rang out and their majesties entered, Queen Katherine holding the king's arm, The courtiers bowed and curtsied, waiting to take their seats until the king and queen seated themselves.
Mary was starving, the appetite of a teenage girl. Even though she had sat at Francis's board it amazed her to see the large quantity and variety of dishes presented at the king's table. As she waited for the food to come to her, she stole a look at the king and could almost have lost her heart.
Henry was handsome, not in the traditional way, certainly not as Francis was handsome, but he had a sort of angelic face and bright blue eyes. His turquoise velvet hat, pinned with a broach of diamonds and gold, and covering his strawberry curls, matched his gold-embroidered doublet.
"Don't stare," said her mother, "It's rude, did you learn nothing at the French court?"
"I'm sorry, my lady," she murmured and accepted a piece of fish that a servant offered her. It was hard for her not to stare, and as she looked around she realized that she was not the only one.
When the meal was finished, her brother came, a dark-haired young man following in his wake.
"Mary, allow me to introduce you to your future husband," George said with a flourish, "This is William Carey.
Carey bowed, took her hand, and kissed it. It was a bold move, for they were not yet officially betrothed-the gesture pleased her. She was pleased with the boldness of this handsome young man. Second son William Carey might be, but he still had presence, a confidence, and Mary found herself liking him. If her parents thought she was soiled, perhaps a second son was all they could find for her, but George had told her William Carey had the favor of the king and that must count for something.
"There is to be dancing after dinner," said George, "I told young Carey here that the Boleyn girls are crazy for dancing."
"You must look after your sister then," Sir Thomas said, "And do not be too late returning."
"Of course not," replied George. He took Mary's hand and Carey followed them as they made their way into the main hall.
Henry and Katherine sat and watched the dancers as they danced and whirled to the music of the violins. Mary and William were dancing, dipping and swirling, weaving in and out of the formation, laughing and smiling at each other. The music stopped and they bowed to each other, Mary curtseying prettily as she had learned to do in the French court.
She stood, smiling as she waited for the music to start again when she saw the king watching her. He smiled and winked, and she blushed, glad that he was just far enough away that he could not see her cheeks flushing—it might only be from the exertions of the dance, after all but why had he done it?
Had William noticed? No, he did not, she decided as he came to her side, saying, "Let us pause and have a glass of wine, they will play all night and we will have many chances to dance."
"Yes, please," she answered, she wished to get away from Henry's stare and she felt his eyes on her as she and William found the footman carrying trays with glasses of cooled wine.
"I'd like to get you alone, pretty Mary, but I am afraid your brother will run me through with his sword," he steered her to a chair, "Tell me, Mary, do you think you would mind marrying me?"
"Oh no, William, I would not mind at all. I was afraid that my parents would pick someone old and ugly, I could not have born that."
He laughed and she liked the sound of his laugh, "Well, an old ugly man might be a rich one that could buy you many pretty things. I am only a second son, Mary, but I am high in Henry's favor so it is possible that I could rise in this world, which means that you would rise with me."
"William, did my parents tell you—about my past? I did some very foolish things when I should not have. I promise, that is all over and I will be a good wife to you, I promise."
He kissed her for the first time, a light kiss on her cheek, then let her go. "I know, Mary, your parents warned me that you were not virgin, but I told them that it did not matter. I am a man who may have no prospects, or I may rise high in the king's favor. You were young and thrown into that viper's nest known as the French court. I believe in forgiveness and when I saw your sweet face, I was determined to have you for my own."
What had made her parents say that? Were they afraid he would find out on their wedding night? Tears formed in her eyes, she had not expected his kindness in regard to her past. He took her hand and led her back to the dance floor and they danced until George came and told her she must return to their parents' rooms.
The next day they met with William's parents and the contracts were signed that sealed their union. William slipped a ruby ring on Mary's fingers, and in front of their parents and the bishop, they plighted their troth. The wedding itself, only a formality, would come later. Even though now they were legally bound to each other although they were not permitted to consummate the marriage or even be alone until the ceremony.
William was everything that she could want: kind, handsome, a sweet man who would surely strive to make her happy. She would do everything she could to help him advance at court. The memories of the hurt that Francis had inflicted upon her were slowly fading and she could see happiness in her future, but...
She could not forget the look that the king had given her, his smile and his wink. He had looked at her the way Francis had looked at her, but not so coldly calculating as the French king.
Henry had had his share of mistresses, any woman in the kingdom could be his for the asking. William was his friend, surely he would not seek out his friend's wife? Please god, no, she prayed, not again, please don't let it happen again. She had had more than enough of kings.
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