Bans were read at Mass that Sunday, announcing that Mary, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn and Lady Elizabeth would be married to William Carey, son of Thomas Carey and Margaret Spencer. Legally they were married since the marriage contract had been signed, but they would not begin their married life until after the ceremony.
Mary felt uncomfortably conspicuous, but hearing her name and William's together gave her a secret thrill. Gone was her reputation as a loose woman at the French court, now she was simply an English girl, the daughter of Thomas Boleyn marrying a man who had the favor of the king. She would be "Mary Carey" married to a husband that she loved.
Lady Elizabeth had obtained a position for her as a maid of honor to the queen. Mary was intimidated at first, not sure if Queen Katherine, Henry's neglected queen, was aware of her reputation, but the history of her behavior had been left in the French court. She found the queen kind and generous, although Katherine was intelligent and did not tolerate fools. She was flattered that Queen Katherine knew of her impending marriage and touched when she gave her a necklace with a little pearl cross hanging from a gold chain.
"Thank you, your Majesty," Mary curtsied, "It's beautiful, I will wear it at my wedding." She thought about the necklace Anne always wore, the "B" for Boleyn with three little pearls hanging from it. She was glad Anne was in France, serving Queen Claude. She would find a way to make Mary's day about her, something she was very good at. At least, on her wedding day, people would be looking at her, not the sultry Anne.
Her mother's chamber was full of fabrics and two seamstresses, and their assistants were measuring, cutting, and sewing the gowns—with English-style sleeves-that would make up Mary's trousseau.
"I don't see how we're going to get all your dresses made in a month," her mother complained, but the seamstresses knew their business, and the gowns were slowly taking shape, including her wedding dress.
"Please come and try your dress on, madam," said one of the seamstresses. Mary removed her gown and allowed the women to drape her dress over her and tie the laces of the stomacher. "Perfect," one of them said and Mary looked in the mirror.
The gold and white brocade suited her. Sir Thomas was parsimonious, but he had loosened his purse strings to provide Mary with an adequate trousseau. She turned back and forth in front of the mirror, allowing herself to admire what it reflected back.
Mary was known as the beauty in the family, but she seldom felt beautiful unless it was through the eyes of another. Francis had made her feel beautiful, but he had deceived and discarded her. William told her she was beautiful, he made her feel beautiful and loved. Now that she had William, her life would hold nothing but happiness, she told herself.
The next day she was back in the Queen's chambers, learning her new duties. Queen Katherine was patient, when Mary dropped the bible the queen asked her to fetch, or the packet of embroidery threads spilled across the floor, her mother winced. The queen, however, said nothing but waited patiently for Mary to retrieve the silken threads for the altar cloth she was embroidering.
She was reading from the queen's bible when Henry came into the room. The ladies, including the queen, stood and curtsied, then sat and arranged their skirts, wanting to look the best for their handsome king.
He greeted the queen, then announced, "I have come to see Lady Mary; I have a wedding present for her." He smiled at Mary, a smile that concealed a secret and she wondered what it was. He handed her a red velvet pouch, saying, "Open it, I wish to see if you like it."
Mary's trembling fingers opened the bag and spilled the contents onto her lap. A rope of precious pearls, shimmering and iridescent lay against the blue silk of her gown. She picked them up, running them through her fingers.
"Oh, your majesty, they are so beautiful, but I cannot accept them, they are too precious." She tried to put them back into the bag to hand it to him, but he took them from her.
"I insist, Lady Mary; here, let me help you put them on." His big hands wound them deftly around her neck, looping one, two, three times, "There, they suit you, they will go with your wedding gown, please wear them for me on your wedding day."
Defeated, she stood and curtsied low, as she had been taught in France. "Thank you, your majesty, please don't think I was trying to be ungrateful, it's just..."
"Please, you don't need to say anything, your modesty suits you, Lady Mary. I am glad you like my gift, it makes me very happy." He turned to the queen, "Madame, I will take my leave, I will see you at supper."
She stood and curtsied to her husband, then watched as he and his train left.
Katherine of Aragon had once been the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. In her youth she had been small and petite, with fair, petal-like skin and red-gold hair. Seven years after her brief marriage to his brother, Henry married her when he took the throne. Though she was seven years older than him he had fallen deeply in love with her and ignored his advisors who told him not to. He even received a dispensation from the Pope so that he could marry his brother's beautiful widow.
A marriage that started out as a love story now seemed doomed to failure. Katherine's six pregnancies had produced only one living child and that a girl. Henry was not faithful and a few of his mistresses had given him living children, convincing him that Katherine's unsuccessful pregnancies were not his fault. One, Bessie Blount, had given him a living son, named Henry FitzRoy, son of the king.
Katherine watched as the mistresses came and went. She never raised her voice to the king, never accused him, just waited until he tired of the latest mistress as she had been taught. No one saw her cry, no one saw her despair.
Mary felt uncomfortable wearing the king's pearls and placed them in the velvet pouch. Henry's gift was too luxurious, too precious but she had seen no graceful way to refuse his gift. And just what did this gift mean?
She and Lady Elizabeth made their way back to their rooms after helping the queen get ready for bed. Mary was getting used to the duties of a lady in waiting, such as washing her feet, or assisting Queen Katherine in getting dressed in the morning.
It had fallen to her to set out the fruit and, along with the decks of cards. It was lively in the queen's rooms, and she received visitors as well as the king and his retinue—and when the king visited her rooms the queen's aging face seemed to come to life and revealed a glimpse of the young girl she had once been.
Mary struggled to keep up with his mother this night. She held the velvet pouch that contained the pearls in her hands. She wished she could get rid of them but knew when they got back to their rooms her mother would tell her father and he would demand to see the king's gift.
"Show your father your pearls," commanded Lady Elizabeth and Mary cringed. She did not object, she did not have it in her, and handed the pouch to her father, feeling defeated.
He shook the pearls out of the pouch onto his hand and examined them. He held them up to the light.
"Very nice," he said and replaced them into the pouch and handed it to Mary. "I don't know what you've done, but you seemed to have gained the king's favor."
"I haven't done anything; I don't know why he gave them to me. I'm getting married at the end of the month, I'm not interested in attracting his attention."
Her parents exchanged a look. "Well," said Sir Thomas, "William Carey does have the favor of the king, it's your duty to help your husband to advance. Play your cards right and William may obtain a knighthood."
I don't see how my playing any cards will help my husband advance, Mary thought but said nothing. She curtsied to her parents, then Rose helped her get ready for bed.
"Something is happening," Mary told her, "I have a feeling something is going on but I'm not clever like Anne and I don't know what to think."
At last, the day came that she was waiting for—her wedding day. Her mother and her maid, along with Rose, helped her dress then brushed out her long golden-brown hair and placed a wreath of flowers on top of her shining tresses.
She wore her hair down, even though she was not a virgin, another strategy to squelch any rumors that may have followed her from France. The king's pearls had been placed around her neck—after being twisted three times around her neck, the remaining length fell to her waist.
The ceremony would take place in the Chapel Royal. It was rumored that the king would make an appearance, a great honor her mother assured her as the maids lifted the train and the family made their way to the chapel.
Mary felt beautiful and hoped that William would see her in the same light. She had not told him about the pearls, she did not dare, she did not wish him to think her disloyal to the king.
She walked down the aisle holding Sir Thomas's arm and saw William, looking handsome in blue velvet, awaiting her. She placed her hand in William's, then the priest conducted the ceremony that transformed her from Mary Boleyn to Mary Carey, wife of William Carey, till death they do part.
William slid a gold ring on her finger, blessed first by the priest, on her ring finger. They were then introduced to the crowd in the chapel who applauded the young couple.
"I could faint with happiness," thought Mary as she and William walked down the aisle. She looked at her two rings, now symbolic of her new life, and squeezed William's hand.
The reception was splendid, the hall decorated with ribbons and white flowers in honor of the couple. The couple was congratulated and feted, and then the dancing started, with the young couple leading.
Mary was always happy when she danced, she could lose herself in the movements and the music and anything that troubled her seemed to slip away. If she had felt any trepidation, it had slipped away and she was lost in music and dancing.
Mary felt someone take her hand, she looked up and saw that she was dancing with the king. He spun her around, put his hand around her waist and led her away from the dancers.
"I am pleased to see that you are wearing my present, madam, I thought pearls would be appropriate for a new bride." His mouth was dangerously close to her ear.
"Your majesty is generous," Mary replied demurely, but she felt a rising panic. King or no, he should know his behavior was disrespectful.
"Then reward my generosity," he replied, then to her dismay he took her in his arms and kissed her slowly and deliberately.
She tried to push him away but his hold on her was strong and she could not escape until he released her.
"Do not do that again sire, ever. I forbid it! Why would you do this to William, your majesty?"
Henry said nothing as he bowed low to her, and left without saying a word, but the smile on his face made his meaning plain.
