The Boleyn children had been raised to be pious, and Sir Thomas and Lady Elizabeth expected them to rise early every morning and say their prayers. What started as a childhood habit had now become routine for Mary, but lately her devotions had become more fervent.
She would rise before William woke, then kneel at her pre-dieu and pray, desperately, for a child. "Let me be pregnant, Mary Mother of God, let me give my husband the child he deserves. And please, please, let the king lose interest in me! Do not let them send me to the king's bed!" She would remain in place, meditating, imploring god to hear her.
Queen Catherine was pious and expected her ladies to accompany her to chapel every morning for mass. She was pleased to see Mistress Carey becoming so devout and gifted her with a rosary and bible. She had no idea that her maid of honor's prayers for a child was to keep her out of the bed of the king, her own husband.
Every morning the first thing Mary did was check her linens, holding her breath until she saw if her sheets were free of the tell-tale red stains. The stains would mean there was no child, and she would be doomed to Henry's bed; the clean linen meant freedom.
If William was confused by his wife's behavior, he gave no sign of it. Mary told him her prayers were for a child, a child wanted by them both and he was eager to procure a son and heir. With an heir, the grants given to him by the king would stay in the family, no heir meant that they would revert to the crown upon his death. An heir would provide security not only for him, but it would mean Mary would be provided for.
Mary grew more hopeful by day as her courses did not start. She did not dare hope too much, for she had learned that a woman's body was a fickle thing. A late bleeding may be just that. She had seen more than one of her companions disappointed when the signs of pregnancy appeared to be approaching, only to have her hopes dashed.
And fate was against her, or so it seemed. Just when she thought there was hope she woke to feel a trickling on her leg and reached down to find her menstrual blood flowing. No, no, she thought and began to cry, waking William who sat up and put his arms around her, trying to soothe her.
"Whatever is wrong, Mary? What has happened? Are you upset because you are not pregnant? Do not worry, we can keep trying."
She pulled away from the comfort of his embrace. "Oh, William, you do not know what this means. It's not because I am not pregnant it's because, because..."
"What is it Mary, tell me so I can make it right."
"I had hoped I was pregnant, if I was, they could force me to become the king's mistress. They want to destroy our marriage."
"What? Who wants to destroy our marriage? You must tell me." He grabbed her arm roughly and shook it, then, ashamed, let go.
"Father and Uncle Norfolk. Anne told them that she saw the king kissing me and..."
"Mary," he looked at her, his eyes dark in handsome face. Mary had never seen him look at her that way. "Tell me, Mary, have you been flirting with the king?"
"No, never, but he's been pursuing me since before our marriage, and on our wedding day he, he...he kissed me in a way he knew he should not have."
"I see." William fell back on his pillow, a look of utter despair on his face. "And Anne saw and told them?"
"No, it was not then, it happened at the Feast of the Cloth of Gold. When I left the tent for a breath of fresh air, she followed me. When she told me what she saw I begged her not to tell Father, but it was no use. She has always considered herself above me, but I think the fact that I married while her marriage plans fell through ate at her. She saw the king looking at me, then saw him kiss me and that gave her a weapon. I don't want to be the king's mistress, I don't want anything to interfere with our marriage. I want to grow old with you, I want to have your children. I don't want to be put in Henry's bed."
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Do you think we can fool them? Let them think you're pregnant? We can always say you had a miscarriage and maybe Henry will find himself diverted by someone else. Maybe we can conceive a child and by the time they find out it will be too late."
"Oh William," she sighed, "I wish that could be so, but I would not be surprised if they have bribed one of my maids into spying on me. If that is true, she will learn that I have bled and that I am not with child. I think they have been watching me since they learned of Henry's intentions."
"I did not know that I had married into a viper's nest. Oh, Mary, I had such plans for us and now I don't know if they'll see fruition."
"You married a Boleyn, my dearest love, and they are greedy, grasping, and can never have enough. My father has the king's favor, but for him that is not sufficient. We cannot climb high enough or achieve enough wealth. My father sees this as an opportunity, never mind the fact that you and I pay the price."
"Perhaps this will buy that knighthood for me, maybe even the Order of the Garter. If we cannot avoid this, maybe we can use it to our advantage."
"William," her eyes widened at what she heard, "Do not think like that. If I must do this, I am going to ask for nothing. I don't want to be how my family enriches their coffers. I am going to fight this, do you understand? Do they want a daughter in the king's bed? Let it be Anne, not me."
"Still," said William, "If Henry is going to avail himself of my wife I ought to a least receive a knighthood. I am one of the king's favorites, if he's going to whore with my wife he owes me this at least!"
Mary winced when she heard this, but she could understand his anger and hurt. And a whore is exactly how she would feel if she were forced into yielding to Henry.
There must indeed be a spy amongst her maids, Mary decided, for as soon as her sheets were clean again, she and William were summoned to a family meeting.
They entered her father's rooms with its dark carved beams and stone fireplace. Sir Thomas, Norfolk, her mother, her brother George, and the inevitable Anne were waiting. Her will almost failed her, but William grasped her hand tightly, giving her support.
"So, you are here. Have a seat, William, Mary you may sit too." Her father looked from one to the other with his dark Boleyn eyes.
"Why are we here, Father? I should be serving the queen, George, and William should be with the king. What is so important that we are drawn from our duties?"
"William, the king's attention has fallen upon Mary, have you noticed this?" It cut Mary to the quick that her father was ignoring her. Neither Sir Thomas nor his brother-in-law Norfolk was known for their tact.
"Not until Mary informed me, sir. I was not aware that the king was paying improper attention to my wife." William kept his grip on her hand, I support you in this, the gesture said.
"The king intends to court Mary. This will help advance further the interests of our family, and as the Boleyn's rise so will your own fortunes. The king will desire to be discreet, but if he wishes to show favor to Mary I will expect that you will not object, indeed, it is your duty to cooperate."
"My duty to cooperate while another man claims the attention of my wife? Mary does not want this, nor do I want it for her. If Mary refuses, there are other beautiful women at court who could easily take her place."
"If it is Mary that he desires, then it is Mary he shall have. I cannot have your marriage annulled, but I will take her from you if you spoil this. You have not received your knighthood yet, but Mary may be able to obtain it for you. This is an opportunity that should not be overlooked." He sat back, glaring at his son-in-law.
Mary choked back a soft sob. Her father had made it plain. She was just another step on the ladder, no more. Nothing mattered more than ambition to the Boleyns, her happiness and marriage to her husband mattered not at all.
"Am I to have no say in this, Father?" She did something she had never dared before, she looked at him directly, meeting his gaze.
"No, none," Sir Thomas replied, "We expect you to fulfill your duty to your king and your family. There is a masque coming up and you and Anne will take part in it. If the king seeks you out, you are not to refuse him. If he seeks your attention, we expect you to give in to him willingly. You are to do your duty to your family, do you understand me?"
She lowered her head, defeated, "Yes Father, I understand. May William and I be excused?"
Her father nodded his dark head and she and William rose. They bowed and left the room, still holding hands, unwilling to let go.
"I cannot believe he is doing this to me? To us. He is asking me to betray my vows, vows that we took in the church." Mary tried to wipe the tears from her eyes and gratefully accepted William's handkerchief.
"And he is dishonoring me and my family so that he may put you forward to the king," William said darkly, "I was warned against marrying into the Boleyn family, but I do not regret marrying you. I had such hopes for us, children, grandchildren, and a place to call our own when we retired. And now..."
"And now if I have the king's child it will bear your name. There is something unjust in that. If he wishes discretion, he will not acknowledge any child I bear him. I did not foresee this, William, and I am sorry. I wonder if Henry heard about my affair with Francis and thought that I am a loose woman he can have his way with?"
"I do not know, my wife, I had thought the king my friend, and now this. I cannot believe that he would pay improper attention to my wife, but it seems he does not care. I will trust no man again, ever."
Mary made her way back to the queen's chambers where the Shrove Tuesday masque was being discussed. The queen's ladies would be in a wooden structure painted green called "Chateau Vert" and the pages would play Indians holding them prisoner. The king and his men would storm the structure and rescue the ladies. Then there would be dancing and feasting, for Henry loved a good party.
The eight ladies chosen would wear white and gold dresses, and gold headdresses, their chosen names embroidered on their gowns. Mary was given the name "Kindness" while Anne had been given the name "Perseverance", which to Mary seemed entirely appropriate. The pages would wear black bonnets while the gentleman would wear hats of cloth of gold and cloaks of blue satin.
Mary looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection. She knew she looked lovely but for whom? She wanted no more than to be with her husband, yet she felt the stirrings of something beginning to happen.
Henry was standing with a group of his gentlemen, waiting to rehearse the dance that would be performed after the pageant. She caught herself studying him, noting his round face, large hazel eyes, and rosebud pink mouth gave him a cherubic or even angelic look. He had put on a little weight, but it did not detract from his good looks. Even his slow loss of hair did not make him any less appealing—and he disguised his hair loss under stylish hats.
William was at his side, something that did not seem to bother him these days, even though Henry intended to bed his wife. Was he deflecting his blame from the king to her? There had been a certain coldness between them lately, and Mary hated it, the old eagerness that had always been between them was gone and her marriage bed no longer felt joyous, but lonely.
"I don't want you to resent me, William," she said out loud, "I love you and I resent being pushed into this but I had no choice. Even if I tried to refuse I would find myself where I am now."
