In Mary's eyes, Queen Catherine's health slowly improved as the court spent days in the fresh air and sunshine. The deep lines etched in her face slowly softened and the shadows under her eyes faded though they did not entirely disappear. Perhaps she no longer participated in the hunts and games that her husband loved, but she was more relaxed in the summer air than she was at court.
Mary was flourishing under Henry's attention. She learned quickly that her purpose was to grace his bed and listen to the things he dared tell no one else, and she was glad to do it. Henry was not harsh in his manner towards her as Francis had been. He would spend time with her, rather than simply have her and dismiss her when he was finished. He valued her and was clearly fond of her, but she realized, as her family didn't, this affair was not meant to last.
She never knew when Henry would want her. He might give her a secret look and a little nod of his head that let her know he desired her that night to grace his bed. He would hold her tightly when they danced while paying her no more attention than he would another partner, but whisper in her ear that he wanted her.
Sometimes Sir William Compton would claim her attention, then bring her to the king. Or perhaps a page would bring her a note that she read in secret before she hurried to where her lover was waiting. It was all done in secret, but the clandestine nature of their relationship made it all the sweeter.
They would disappear together on a secret ride and Henry would take her to a place that had been prepared for them—wine and fruit would be sitting on a table while a bed with fresh linen awaited them. They would enjoy a few stolen hours then return to court, and back to their business, he of being king, she of being one of his courtiers.
All of this was done in a manner that would preclude the queen from finding them out. Henry had been careless in his attentions toward Bessie Blount, but he did not care to flout Mary in the queen's face. It protected her position in the queen's train if they were not discovered. There was a handful of his friends and servants that knew of her, but that was all.
It was a lazy, sleepy afternoon and some of the court were resting in preparation for the ball that was to be held that night. Sir Thomas had summoned her to his rooms but Mary was in no hurry to respond. She finished the game of bowls she had been playing, then and only then did she respond to the page that Sir Thomas had sent to fetch her.
She followed him to the rooms her father had been assigned, noticing that even on progress they were more lavish these days. In the old days, Sir Thomas might have stayed in a pavilion, but the rooms where he sat waiting for her had beams that were etched in gold. Her father had been important to the king before, but where he sat now meant the king had rewarded him and she had played a part in it.
"Well, Mary, have you anything to tell me?" Sir Thomas was blunt and to the point, "Are you perhaps with child yet?"
"No," she answered, somewhat taken aback but not entirely surprised at his question, "I don't think the king has given any thought to a child, and what good would a bastard of mine do him? He has Henry Fitzroy so knows he can father a son, but not on the queen. Her childbearing days are over, but his ties to the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor will prevent him from setting her aside. He would not dare alienate either one."
"He told you this?" Clearly, her father doubted her as he always had.
"He didn't need to; it is common knowledge. Princess Mary is the official heir unless he finds a way to have his bastard son legitimized so he can make him heir, which he can't do."
"If you give him a son he might marry you." Her father picked up a quill and turned it around with his fingers.
"How could he do that, Father? Even if he could get his marriage annulled, and I know that wouldn't be likely. And if he divorced the queen he is not allowed to remarry without a papal bull, and he couldn't marry me even if William and I divorced with permission of the church. I could give him children, I suppose, but the best I could hope would be for him to give them titles. I'm sorry if I disappoint you, but you won't see me queen, ever, and I don't want to be. I've seen what the queen has gone through, I would not want to be her."
"Well, William hasn't given you any children, maybe he can't. The women in our family are fertile, there's no reason why Henry can't give you a child, his mistresses have had children and Bessie Blount has a son. And unlike the queen's, their offspring have lived.
She knew where he was leading. She and William had had marital relations, many times, but she had not become pregnant. If she became pregnant with Henry's child, some might say that she and William had not consummated their marriage and it would open the way for an annulment. She had not come to William's bed a virgin, but few knew.
"Father, when William married me I was not a virgin, but he knew it, I gave him a chance to back out of the marriage if he wished. I cannot lie and say we did not consummate our marriage on our wedding night. I was a woman, not the naïve girl that Francis took into his bed. I left that scandal behind in France and I thought we agreed we would leave it there. And I don't think Henry would marry me, I'm his mistress not a candidate for the queen's crown."
"And worst of all, you do not want it," said Sir Thomas, "But the queen has got to go, Henry needs an heir, a girl cannot inherit the throne of England. Most importantly, we do not want a foreign king sitting on the throne."
"Well, father, unless the queen dies, Mary Tudor will inherit, she's his only heir."
"Women cannot inherit the crown, it's the law. If Henry does manage to have a son, he will supplant the princess. Women cannot rule, not in England, not in France. Henry must have a son."
"Then we leave the matter unresolved, so may I go now, Father?"
He nodded, and she curtsied and left. She knew she was a disappointment to him, even more so since she would persist in doing the right thing over the interests of her family. She would not lie, she would not pretend. She knew if Henry did make up his mind to remarry, it would not be to her, and she did not mind. She had no desire to be queen.
The queen was napping, so she had no need of her attendants at the moment, leaving Mary free to seek the cool solitude of the gardens. She had hoped to be alone, but she found Anne and Henry Percy sitting together on a bench, closer than decency allowed for a young man and a maid. Their flirtation had not gone unnoticed by Henry, but he chose for the moment to do nothing about it. He was determined that the match with Mary Talbot would go through as arranged, so at some point, the young lovers would have to be separated.
The court would soon return to London. The plague had abated in the city and Henry's palaces had been cleaned and were ready for his use. The summer had been spent in idle pastimes, now was the time for him to return to the serious work of governing England.
Mary was sad to see the summer end, for it meant a return to her husband. William had remained behind and not rejoined the court when he had healed. Her relationship with Henry had grown strong with the absence of her husband, now she would have to face him and the consequences of the choice she had made. There was no easy solution, but she was determined not to resume marital relations with William. If she were to have a child, she wanted to know who the father was, not to have to guess if it were the king's or her husband's.
