I have written this story because I could not find any that told Mary Boleyn's story. At best she's given passing mention, often not very flattering. I wanted to rectify that.

Mary is a fascinating character in her own right, but not much is known about her. Her grave is unknown, although that of her daughter Catherine was in Winchester Cathedral (that may not be the exactly correct). Her sister Anne left one descendant, Elizabeth I, but Mary has a long line of descendants, including Queen Elizabeth II of England.

Chapter One: Blickling Hall

The Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, nee Howard, was in labor with her first child. According to custom, the midwife had been called and Elizabeth delivered after a modestly long labor a perfectly formed baby girl, whom Lord Thomas named Mary.

He was disappointed that she had not been a boy but had brushed off his wife's apology. Daughters were valuable currency in the marriage market, important tools for attaining political alliances.

Thomas Boleyn was a climber and had improved his fortunes by marrying Elizabeth Howard, linking him to the influential Norfolk family. He was a man of ability and through his connections had managed to come to the attention of the young monarch, Henry Tudor, and because of his fluency in several languages had been able to secure a post for himself as a diplomat.

He and Elizabeth eventually had three children who managed to survive infancy and flourish; their heir, George, and sisters Mary and Anne. Though they had lost two boys and a girl, they were doing better than their young king. Queen Catherine's pregnancies were resulting in miscarriages, stillbirths or did not survive to reach their first year. All that Henry had to show for his marriage to his brother's widow was a girl, Mary. His only surviving son was his bastard by his former mistress Elizabeth Blount. The baby had been named Henry Fitzroy, and there was speculation that Henry might make him his heir.

As was the custom, Elizabeth Boleyn took charge of her daughters' education, seeing that they learned reading and writing, sewing, embroidery, singing, and dancing. The girls were also taught riding and archery, and took music lessons, learning the virginal and lute. Also necessary were table manners and the Boleyn children were taught piety, and were expected to rise early to say their prayers every morning and attend Mass.

The Boleyn children were attractive and intelligent and were being groomed to attend court. Anne and George were dark-haired and dark-eyed, but Mary's hair was dark gold and her eyes were the color of amber. Of the two girls, she was considered the more beautiful and blessed with a sweet temperament that had somehow escaped her younger sister, Anne. She was also giddy, romantic, and not as serious-minded as her brother and sister.

This was no deterrence, and her father managed to find her a position at court. The king's younger sister was to be wed to the fifty-two-year-old monarch Louis XII of France. Perhaps Mary Tudor would have fought it, but Louis was known to be in poor health, even for his age, and Mary hoped to find herself a widow before the year was out. She had also secured a promise from her brother (no doubt not taken seriously) that she would be able to marry whom she wished when Louis died.

Boleyn had faced a dilemma—which daughter to send where? Mary had the greater beauty but Anne was the more intellectual of the two. He'd obtained a promise of a position for one of his daughters at the court of the intelligent and sophisticated Margaret of Austria, and the other was to be sent to France with Mary Tudor. But who was he to send where?

In the long run, he chose Margaret of Austria for Anne and Mary would be sent with Mary Tudor. It was not a hard decision; Anne was attractive and bright and would benefit from being sent to the Low Countries. Mary, the beauty, would be sent with Mary Tudor in the hope that she might find herself a husband.

And so it began...

Mary Boleyn was excited to be chosen to accompany Princess Mary. The voyage to France had been an adventure of a lifetime, even if the ladies had to be rescued after their ship had run aground. She might have been frightened but for the princess (now Queen of France), who had been excited, almost exhilarated, by the storm that beached them and its aftermath.

"She thinks it's an omen," one of the other maids of honor had whispered to her, "It's a sign that her marriage to Louis will only last a short time."

"He's only fifty-two," replied Mary, "That's not that old."

"But he's sickly and not well," said the other maid, "She said she's not worried about the wedding night because he will be too sick to perform. And if he's not, she'll take measures to ensure that he is."

At fifteen, Mary was not sophisticated enough to know what "perform" meant. None of the Boleyn children were sexually experienced and they were shielded from the idle gossip of the servants. She had never even seen a litter of kittens or puppies born, the idea being that young women should not know about sex or childbearing until the time came.

The eyes of Francis Valois, the presumptive heir of Louis, fell on the sweet and vivacious young Englishwoman. Mary loved to dance and there was nightly dancing at the French court. One night he made his move and picked Mary, much to her pleasure, as his partner, then danced most of the night with her.

"Stay away from him," Mary Tudor told her, "He's a roue, he's not to be trusted. Don't let him ruin you, it will be hard for you to find a husband if it's found out that you were his mistress."

Mary was young and naïve, not equipped to protect herself against the attentions of the handsome French prince. Perhaps his nose was a bit too long and he was starting to put on weight, but the ladies of the court thought him attractive, and few were willing to resist his charms.

Perhaps Mary Tudor should have supervised her ladies more closely but since she had come to France things had started to fall apart. Most of the ladies who had accompanied her had been dismissed by Louis, including the older and more experienced. Those who were left were the young and giddy, and the most attractive. These were the ones who would be vulnerable to the unscrupulous courtiers who surrounded Francis—and Mary Boleyn was no exception.

Francis found himself liking the looks of the vivacious English girl with the golden hair and sweet figure. An old campaigner, he began to seek out her company, giving her little gifts of no real worth but Mary was flattered that he would pay attention to her. He would bow to her and kiss her hand, telling her she was the most beautiful of the new queen's ladies. He showered compliments on her, praising her beauty and her kindness.

She was too young and naïve to know that she was being groomed by Francis. The Boleyn girls had been carefully chaperoned and were never allowed to be alone with men without an adult accompanying them. They had been well brought up, and this was the first time that Mary found herself on her own.

One night he slipped a note to her, asking her to meet him in a small chamber off the hall after the other maids of honor had gone to their beds. Their chaperones were careless about locking the girls in, and Mary, her nightdress covered by her robe, managed to slip away unnoticed.

She stole down the hall, afraid of being seen, then came to a door that had been left slightly ajar and knocked—only to be greeted by Francis, clad in nothing more than his night clothes.

"Cherie," he said softly and swept her into his arms. He lifted her and carried her to a bed and began to kiss and caress her. With expert hands, he removed her robe and night shift leaving her lying vulnerable on the bed—and afraid.

"My lord," she said, "I do not know what to do, I am a virgin. I should not be here," and tears began to pour from her eyes. "I should not be here," and she struggled to get up.

"Ma pauvre petite," he said, feigning sympathy but restraining an urge to slap the insolent chit, "We are all virgins once. I did not know but perhaps I should have guessed—yes? You must relax, petite, and let me do the work and your virginity will be no more than an unpleasant memory."

He began to caress and kiss her, probing her with his fingers where no one had ever touched her. When he put his mouth on his breast she shuddered, but eventually fear gave way to pleasure and she began to enjoy his touch. When he lifted his face and smiled at her, all her defenses fell away and when he saw the luminous look in her amber-brown eyes he knew he had succeeded.

She cried out in pain as he entered her, putting his hand over her mouth, he said to placate her, "The pain will subside after a while," and as it did, she began to enjoy the feelings he aroused in her. He pulled out of her before he finished, a somewhat reliable means of preventing an unwanted pregnancy. He knew she would feel sore and tender if he prolonged this first time, he would leave lengthier pleasures for when she was more experienced.

"You must go back to your room now and wash your privates before you go to bed. This is enough for one night my little English mare, there will be time for longer pleasures later."

He smiled at her but made no move to kiss or comfort her. She threw on her shift and night robe and ran down the hall, not certain of what she had done. She was too young to realize she had been taken advantage of by a master seducer, she only knew that she felt guilty but flattered that the soon-to-be king had taken interest in her.

No one in Mary's life had ever made her feel important. She knew she was dismissed by her ambitious family as not being as talented or intelligent as Anne or George. All she had was her beauty and the sweetness of her temperament, but in a family who wished to climb the ranks that did not count. But now she was the lover of the powerful king of France.

She scrubbed away the blood on her thighs and burned her stained shift in the fireplace. What had she done? Part of her was deeply ashamed and feared what would happen if her father found out, but another part of her was pleased that she had attracted the attention of the heir to the French throne. She knew this was a secret she must keep to herself, but a part of her was as thrilled as much as she was ashamed. Francis would be king one day if Mary Tudor bore Louis no heirs. What might happen then?