The Boleyn Inheritance Read online

  The duke says nothing, but his eyelids hood his dark eyes. “Oh, who can foretell the future?”

  “She will be in the greatest of danger every day of her life,” I predict. “If the king wants rid of her, he will soon think that it is God’s will that he is rid of her.”

  “That is generally the way that God’s will seems to be manifest,” the duke says with a wolfish grin.

  “Then he will find her guilty of some offense,” I say. I will not say the word treason.

  “If you care for her at all, you will persuade her to go now,” the duke says quietly.

  I walk slowly back to the queen’s rooms. She will not be advised by me, in preference to her ambassadors; and I am not free to tell her what I truly think. But if I had been her true friend, I would have told her that Henry is not a man to take as a husband if he hates you before the wedding day. His malice toward women who cross him is fatal. Who would know better than me?

  Anne, Greenwich Palace,

  January 3, 1540

  The lady-in-waiting Jane Boleyn seems troubled, and I tell her that she can sit beside me. I ask her, in English, if she is well.

  She beckons my translator to come and sit with us, and she says that she is troubled by a matter of some delicacy.

  I think it must be something about precedence at the wedding; they are so anxious about the order of the service and what jewels everyone may wear. I nod as if it is a serious matter and ask her if I may serve her.

  “On the contrary; I am anxious to be of service to you,” she says, speaking quietly to Lotte. She translates for me; I nod. “I hear that your ambassadors have forgotten to bring the contract that releases you from a previous betrothal.”

  “What?” I speak so sharply that she guesses the meaning of the German word, and nods, her face as grave as my own.

  “So they have not told you?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say in English. “They tell nothing.”

  “Then I am glad to speak with you before you are ill advised,” she says rapidly, and I wait as the words are translated. She leans forward and takes my hands. Her clasp is warm, her face intent. “When they ask you about your previous betrothal, you must tell them that it was annulled, and that you have seen the document,” she says earnestly. “If they ask why your brother failed to send it, you can say that you don’t know, that it is not your responsibility to bring the papers – as indeed it was not.”

  I am breathless; something about her intensity makes me feel fearful. I cannot think why my brother should be so careless of my marriage, then I remember his constant resentment of me. He has betrayed his own plan from malice; at the last moment he could not bear to let me go smoothly from him.

  “I see you are shocked,” she says. “Dearest Lady Anne, be warned by me, and never let them think for a moment that there is no document, that you have a previous betrothal still in place. You must tell a powerful and convincing lie. You must tell them that you have seen the documents and that your previous betrothal was definitely annulled.”

  “But it was,” I say slowly. I repeat in English so she cannot be mistaken. “I have seen the document. It is not a lie. I am free to marry.”

  “You are certain?” she asks intently. “These things can be done without a girl knowing what plans are made. No one would blame you if you were at all uncertain. You can tell me. Trust me. Tell me the truth.”

  “It was canceled,” I say again. “I know that it was canceled. The betrothal was my father’s plan, but not my brother’s. When my father was ill and then died, then my brother ruled, and the betrothal was finished.”

  “Why do you not have the document, then?”

  “My brother,” I start. “My foolish brother… My brother is careless of my well-being,” Lotte rapidly translates. “And my father died so recently, and my mother is so distressed, there has been too much for him to do. My brother has the document in our records room, I myself have seen it; but he must have forgotten to send it. There was so much to arrange.”

  “If you are in any doubt at all, you must tell me,” she cautions me. “And I can advise you what best we should do. You see from my coming to you and advising you that I am utterly loyal to you. But if there is any chance that your brother does not have the document, you must tell me, Lady Anne; tell me for your own safety, and I will plan with you what we can best do.”

  I shake my head. “I thank you for your care of me, but there is no need. I have seen the documents myself, and so have my ambassadors,” I say. “There is no impediment, I know I am free to marry the king.”

  She nods as if she is still waiting for something else. “I am so glad.”

  “And I want to marry the king.”

  “If you wished to avoid the marriage, now you have seen him, you could do so,” she says very quietly. “This is your chance to escape. If you did not like him, you could get safely home, with no word against you. I could help you. I could tell them that you had told me that you are not certain, that you may be precontracted.”

  I withdraw my hands from hers. “I do not want to escape,” I say simply. “This is a great honor for me and my country, and a great joy for me.”

  Jane Boleyn looks skeptical.

  “Truly,” I say. “I long to be Queen of England, I am coming to love this country, and I want to make my life here.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, on my honor.” I hesitate, and then I tell her the greatest reason. “I was not very happy at my home,” I admit. “I was not highly regarded or well treated. Here I can be somebody. I can do good. At home I will never be more than an unwanted sister.”

  She nods. Many women know what it is to be in the way while the great affairs of men go on without them.

  “I want to have a chance,” I say. “I want to have a chance to be the woman I can be. Not my brother’s creature, not my mother’s daughter. I want to stay here and grow into myself.”

  She is silent for a moment. I am surprised at the depth of my own feeling. “I want to be a woman in my own right,” I say.

  “A queen is not free,” she points out.

  “She is better than a duke’s disliked sister.”

  “Very well,” she says quietly.

  “I suppose the king must be angry with my ambassadors for forgetting the papers?” I ask.

  “I am sure that he is,” she says, her eyes sliding sideways. “But they will give their word that you are free to marry, and I am sure it will all go ahead.”

  “There is no possibility of the marriage being delayed?” I am surprised at my own feeling. I have such a strong sense that I can do much for this country, that I can be a good queen here. I want to start at once.

  “No,” she says. “The ambassadors and the king’s council will resolve it. I am sure.”

  I pause. “He does want to marry me?”

  She smiles at me and touches my hand. “Of course he does. This is just a small difficulty. The ambassadors will undertake to produce the document and the marriage will go ahead. Just as long as you are certain that the document is there?”

  “It is there,” I say, and I am speaking nothing but the truth. “I can swear to it.”

  Katherine, Greenwich Palace,

  January 6, 1540

  I am to help the queen to dress for her wedding, and I have to get up extremely early to get everything ready. I would rather not get up early, but it is nice to be singled out from the other girls who sleep so late and are so lazy. Really it’s very bad of them to lie in bed so late when some of us are up and working for Lady Anne. Truly, everyone but me is completely idle.

  I lay out her dress as she is washing in her closet. Catherine Carey helps me spread out the skirt and the underskirts on the closed chest as Mary Norris goes for her jewels. The skirt is enormous, like a great fat spinning top, I would rather die than marry in a dress like this; the greatest beauty in the world could not help but look like a pudding, waddling out to be eaten. It is hardly worth bein