She followed the chamberlain back to her rooms, feeling as if she were walking, not on the ground, or on the palace floors, but on air. She didn't know if Henry had changed, but suddenly the man who had tried to force his attention on her was no longer the same person. He was kind, he was considerate, he was a tender lover, and he even made her laugh.
The chamberlain opened the door and bowed—Mary was surprised to find that William had not locked her out. Perhaps he did not dare, his wife was now the lover of the king, and any offense to her would be taken as an offense against him. An offense committed against his majesty would not bode well for him.
William was nowhere to be seen, but Anne and Rose were waiting for her, a wooden tub of steaming water sat ready for her use.
"You need to bathe, Mary. You've come from the king's bed and you don't want to present yourself to the queen with his scent on you." Rose helped her out of her nightgown and robe and Mary sank gratefully into the hot water.
"Is that all, Anne? Or is there something else you are dying to tell me?" She knew her sister well, there was more she was concerned with than making sure Mary bathed.
"Yes, Father and Uncle want to talk to you before mass. They want to know what happened with you and the king."
Mary sighed, what else did she expect? Both men had spies are throughout the palace and would have heard that she spent the night with the king. She hated it, not even her private life with the king was private.
Rose brushed and perfumed her hair while she soaked. Anne picked out a modest blue-grey silk gown with a pink underskirt for her to wear and she covered her hair with a French hood of the same color, the same style that the ladies of the court brought back with them from France. It was more comfortable and less awkward than the traditional English gable hood. The French hood could show off a woman's hair while the gable hood hid it entirely.
Mary took one last look at herself in the mirror and straightened her hood. "If I must do this, Anne, I wish to get it over with. I don't want Father staring at me during mass; I would like to eat my breakfast in peace. I have done as they ask, why can't they leave me alone?"
"You're a Boleyn," replied Anne, "None of your business is your own."
She followed Anne to their parents' rooms, dragging her feet. As each step brought her closer the stronger the urge she felt to turn and run, not walk, in the other direction. The feeling did not vanish when they reached the door. Anne knocked and when they were admitted Mary had to remind herself that she had done as they asked, she had ruined her marriage so that she might help them advance the Boleyn ambition.
Her father and uncle barely looked up, neither she nor Anne were asked to sit down.
Boleyn set the papers down that he had been examining. "Tell me, Mary," he said to his daughter, "Is it true that you spent the night with the king?"
"Yes, Father," she lowered her eyes and waited for the question she knew would come.
"How many times did he have you? Did he seem satisfied with you? Do you think he will summon you again?"
"He seemed satisfied, Father, and he was very tender. I cannot say if he will send for me again, but I think he will." She was not sure if she had said the words he wanted to hear.
"You think he may ask to see you again? That is not good enough, Mary, will he or will he not summon you again to his bed?"
"He told me he wanted me to belong to him. He didn't say he loved me, or he wanted me to love him, what he said was only love words. And if you must know, he had me twice," she had to hold back her impatience, she who was the obedient daughter who always did as she was told.
"You have done well, Mary, if the king wishes to invite you back. I am looking forward to seeing what benefits this will bring us."
You may be disappointed, she thought, I will not be your means of advancing your ambitions. If the king bequeaths you lands and titles, that is one thing, I will ask for nothing for you, or for myself. If that is what you want, put Anne in his bed, I'm sure she won't mind.
"You're dismissed, Mary, keep trying to please the king if he asks for you again. You are doing a great service to this family, please do not disappoint us."
Mary curtsied and left with Anne to join the queen at mass.
"Well," said Anne, "Father and Uncle seem pleased. Don't do anything to offend the king and things may go well for us, and you. Just think, you could conceive a child, and if it's a son..."
"Oh, stop it, will you, Anne,¨ her nerves were on edge, Anne's prattling about the Boleyn ambition was making it worse. "If I do have a child with the king, boy or girl, it will be a Carey. Henry has a son, a recognized son, Henry Fitzroy, Bessie Blount's child. And if I do give Henry a son, all it will prove is that he is capable of fathering healthy children. He can prove to people that the lack of an heir from the queen is not his fault."
"Do you think the queen will suspect that you have been with him?" Anne could not seem to stop herself, "She knew about Bessie Blount, and when she got pregnant..."
"I am sure that Henry will want to be discreet, at least I hope so. I love the queen, it is one thing to be sleeping with her husband, another thing altogether to flaunt it in her face. You know this court Anne, any hint of this and it will be on everyone's lips. Francis and I kept our affair relatively secret." Until he tried to pass me off to his favorites, she thought, I thought more of him than he deserved. "He loves the queen, he'll be careful of her feelings."
"He may love her," Anne snorted, "But the romance is long gone. She's not the Spanish beauty he married with the red-gold hair down to her knees. Now her hair is grey, she's lost her figure from all those pregnancies and what does she have to show for it? A girl, she couldn't even give him a son."
"Shh," Mary told her, "You can't say such things, even if it is the truth. To say the king won't have an heir..."
"Is the truth, but there's nothing to be done about it." They had reached the doors of the queen's chambers. The guards admitted them, and they found the queen and her ladies preparing to go to mass.
"Anne, Mary, you are late." The queen's voice was gentle yet reproachful, "Why were you not here?"
Mary and Anne curtsied. "I am sorry, your majesty," said Anne, "But we were summoned to a family meeting. I don't know why Uncle Howard insisted on it before mass, but he felt it was of sufficient importance, perhaps he will be occupied today and this was the only time."
"The Boleyns and Howards always seem to be involved in something," the queen said, "But I wonder why they insisted on your coming to this meeting when they knew you should be attending me. You are obedient girls and the bible says to obey your parents, but next time please remind them that I am your queen and I come before them.
While the queen and her ladies attended chapel Mary was aware that the king was staring at her. It was not so much that she could see him, but she could feel him. When at last she could bear it no more she turned to look at him and saw him smiling at her.
His smile warmed her and she returned it, looking at him with her soft hazel eyes, then turned around lest the queen see her.
When the priest finished, he wiped the chalice and the queen and her ladies filed out of the room. Mary stayed close to the queen, fearful that the king would catch up to her. It was not because she did not want to be near him, in fact, it was the opposite, but she was too afraid she would give herself away.
She found it impossible to sit and embroider on an altar cloth without her thoughts drifting to how Henry's hands felt when he touched her. She barely heard the words that were being read from the bible because all she could think about was how Henry's lips had felt when they touched hers. She tried hard to pay attention to the queen when she spoke to her when in fact she was wondering when she would share his bed again.
She knew he had cast covert glances at her during dinner, and now, during supper, he was looking at her again. When he finished his meal—consisting of several courses—the tables had been cleared for the dancing that would go on for hours.
He did not bother to ask the queen, her dancing days were done; he presented himself to Mary and took her hand, and led her out onto the floor. He took her in his arms and signaled for the musicians to play and whirled her around the dance floor, again and again.
She was not aware that her father and Uncle Howard had lingered to watch, she only knew the pleasure that she felt when she danced. When the first dance was finished they left, secure in the knowledge that it was their girl that was dancing in the king's arms.
Henry surrendered her to her brother George and began to dance with another of the queen's maids. She watched Henry go reluctantly, knowing that George had been ordered to question her as to the king's intentions.
"Henry seems pleased with you, sister." His handsome face smiled but she did not trust him, as much as she loved him. "Has he asked to carry your favor in the joust tomorrow?"
"No, I had not given it any thought. I know William is participating, perhaps he expects that William will claim it." She looked around, trying to see the king.
"I would have it ready for him, something small that he can tuck into his armor that the queen won't see."
"Are you watching me, George, have they sent you to spy on me to see how I progress?" Tears of frustration were forming in her eyes that she could not wipe away. "Is it not enough that I have shared the king's bed?"
"Smile, sister, you should be happy, you have done what they asked and the king seems satisfied with you. If I am not mistaken, he is coming now to claim you." George handed her over to Henry and bowed to the king.
"Thank you for rescuing me," she said and he wiped the tears away with one of his long fingers.
"Ah, Mary, I pity you, you are a victim of your family's ambition but you came to me anyway. I thought I wouldn't succeed in winning you, but you proved me wrong. I have a favor to ask of you, madam, if you would oblige me."
She knew what he would say before he even said it.
"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to carry your favor in the joust tomorrow?"
"What of the queen, your majesty?" she asked sweetly, "Will you not be carrying hers?"
"I prefer to carry yours," he was blunt and to the point, "Will you do me the honor?"
"Yes, your majesty, of course. I would be honored." What else could she say? She followed the chamberlain back to her rooms, feeling as if she were walking, not on the ground, or on the palace floors, but on air. She didn't know if Henry had changed, but suddenly the man who had tried to force his attention on her was no longer the same person. He was kind, he was considerate, he was a tender lover, and he even made her laugh.
The chamberlain opened the door and bowed—Mary was surprised to find that William had not locked her out. Perhaps he did not dare, his wife was now the lover of the king, and any offense to her would be taken as an offense against him. An offense committed against his majesty would not bode well for him.
William was nowhere to be seen, but Anne and Rose were waiting for her, a wooden tub of steaming water sat ready for her use.
"You need to bathe, Mary. You've come from the king's bed and you don't want to present yourself to the queen with his scent on you." Rose helped her out of her nightgown and robe and Mary sank gratefully into the hot water.
"Is that all, Anne? Or is there something else you are dying to tell me?" She knew her sister well, there was more she was concerned with than making sure Mary bathed.
"Yes, Father and Uncle want to talk to you before mass. They want to know what happened with you and the king."
Mary sighed, what else did she expect? Both men had spies are throughout the palace and would have heard that she spent the night with the king. She hated it, not even her private life with the king was private.
Rose brushed and perfumed her hair while she soaked. Anne picked out a modest blue-grey silk gown with a pink underskirt for her to wear and she covered her hair with a French hood of the same color, the same style that the ladies of the court brought back with them from France. It was more comfortable and less awkward than the traditional English gable hood. The French hood could show off a woman's hair while the gable hood hid it entirely.
Mary took one last look at herself in the mirror and straightened her hood. "If I must do this, Anne, I wish to get it over with. I don't want Father staring at me during mass; I would like to eat my breakfast in peace. I have done as they ask, why can't they leave me alone?"
"You're a Boleyn," replied Anne, "None of your business is your own."
