Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 Read online

  ‘Fertile women gushing water,’ I said, looking at the three gleaming statues.

  Anne smiled at me. ‘An omen,’ she said. ‘A reminder. A wish.’

  ‘Pray God a prediction,’ George said grimly. ‘Any signs yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But it’s bound to happen soon.’

  ‘Amen,’ George and I said together, devout as Lutherans. ‘Amen.’

  Our prayers were answered. Anne missed her time in January and then in February again. When the asparagus shoots showed in spring the queen ate them at every meal for they were known to make a boy. People started to wonder. No-one knew for sure. Anne went around with a half-smile on her face and revelled in being the very centre of attention once again.

  Spring 1534

  The court’s plans for a summer progress were delayed again while Anne, at the very centre of the whirlpool of gossip, was well-pleased to sit serenely with her hand on her belly and let them all wonder. The place was alive with gossip. George, my mother, and I were pestered for news from the courtiers who wanted to know if she were indeed with child, and when she might be brought to bed. No-one liked to be close to the plague-ridden streets of London in the hot weather; but the thought of the queen’s confinement and the opportunities for advancement that a solitary king might provide were a powerful draw.

  We were to be at Hampton Court for the summer, as far as anyone knew, and a proposed trip to France to cement the treaty with Francis was postponed.

  Our uncle called a family meeting in May but he did not summon Anne, she was far beyond his ordering now. However, driven by curiosity, she timed her arrival at his rooms to the very second, so that we were all seated and waiting when she entered the room. She hesitated in the doorway, perfectly poised, Uncle rose from his seat at the head of the table to fetch a chair for her, but the moment his place was vacant she walked grandly and slowly to the head of the table and seated herself without a word of thanks. I giggled, a tiny suppressed sound, and Anne flashed me a smile. There was nothing she loved more than the exercise of her power that had been bought at so high a price.

  ‘I asked the family to meet together to discover what are your plans, Your Majesty,’ my uncle said smoothly. ‘It would help me to know if you are indeed with child, and when you expect to be confined.’

  Anne raised a dark eyebrow as if his question was an impertinence. ‘You ask that of me?’

  ‘I was going to ask your sister or your mother, but since you are here I might as well ask you directly,’ he said. He was not in the least overawed by Anne. He had served more frightening monarchs: Henry’s father and Henry himself. He had faced cavalry charges. Not even Anne at her most regal would frighten him.

  ‘In September,’ she said shortly.

  ‘If it is another girl he will show his disappointment this time,’ my uncle observed. ‘He has had trouble enough making Elizabeth his heir over Mary. The Tower is filled with men who refuse to deny Mary. And Thomas More and Fisher are certain to join them. If you had a boy then nobody would deny his rights.’

  ‘It will be a boy,’ Anne said positively.

  Uncle smiled at her. ‘So we all hope. The king will take a woman when you are in your final months.’ Although Anne raised her head to speak he would not be interrupted. ‘He always does, Anne. You must be calmer about these things, not rail at him.’

  ‘I shall not tolerate it,’ she said flatly.

  ‘You will have to,’ he said, as uncompromising as she was.

  ‘He never looked away from me in all the years of our courtship,’ she said. ‘Not once.’

  George raised an eyebrow to me. I said nothing. Apparently, I did not count.

  My uncle gave a short laugh and I saw my father smile.

  ‘Courtship is different. Anyway, I’ve chosen the girl to divert him,’ my uncle said. ‘A Howard girl.’

  I felt the sweat break out on me. I knew that I had gone white when George suddenly hissed: ‘Sit up!’ out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Who?’ Anne said sharply.

  ‘Madge Shelton,’ Uncle said.

  ‘Oh, Madge,’ I said, my heart pounding with relief and my cheeks blazing as the colour came rushing back. ‘That Howard girl.’

  ‘She’ll keep him busy and she knows her place,’ my father said judicially, not at all as if he were handing another niece over to adultery and sin.

  ‘And your influence is undiminished,’ Anne spat.

  My uncle smiled. ‘That is true of course, but who would you rather? A Seymour girl? Given that it is a certainty, isn’t it best for us that it should be a girl who’ll do our bidding?’

  ‘It depends on what you bid her,’ Anne said shortly.

  ‘To divert him while you are confined,’ my uncle said smoothly. ‘Nothing else.’

  ‘I won’t have her setting herself up as his mistress, I won’t have her in the best rooms, wearing jewels, in new gowns, flaunting herself around me,’ Anne warned.

  ‘Yes, you of all women would know how painful that can be for a good wife,’ my uncle concurred.

  Anne’s dark eyes flashed at him. He smiled. ‘She shall divert the king during your confinement, and when you are back at court she will disappear,’ he promised. ‘I shall see that she makes a good marriage and Henry will forget her as easily as he takes her up.’

  Anne drummed her fingers on the table. We could all see that she was fighting with herself. ‘I wish I could trust you, Uncle.’

  ‘I wish you would.’ He smiled at her unwillingness. He turned to me and I felt the familiar tremor of fear at his attention. ‘Madge Shelton beds with you, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle,’ I said.

  ‘Tell her how to go along, tell her how to manage herself.’ He turned to George. ‘And you keep the king’s attention on Anne and on Madge.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ George said easily, as if he had never wished for any career other than that of a pander in the royal harem.

  ‘Good,’ Uncle said, rising to his feet to signal that the meeting was at an end. ‘Oh, and one other thing …’ We all obediently waited on his word, except Anne, who was looking out of the window at the gardens in the sunshine and the court playing bowls, with the king at the centre of all the attention, as always.

  ‘Mary,’ Uncle remarked.

  I flinched at the mention of my name.

  ‘I think we should have her married, don’t you?’

  ‘I’d be pleased to see her betrothed before her sister is brought to bed,’ my father remarked. ‘That way there’s no uncertainty if Anne fails’.

  They did not look at Anne, who might be pregnant with a girl and thus diminish our bartering strength in the marriage market. They did not look at me, who was to be traded like a farmer’s cow. They looked at each other, merchants with a deal to make.

  ‘Very well,’ our uncle said. ‘I’ll speak to Secretary Cromwell, it’s time she was wed.’

  I got away from Anne and George, and found my way to the king’s rooms. William was not in the presence chamber and I dared not go looking for him in the privy chamber. A young man strolled by with a lute, Sir Francis Weston’s musician, Mark Smeaton. ‘Have you seen Sir William Stafford?’ I asked him.

  He made a pretty bow to me. ‘Yes, Lady Carey,’ he said. ‘He’s still playing at bowls.’

  I nodded and went towards the great hall. As soon as I was out of his sight I took one of the little doors that led out to the broad terrace before the palace and then down the stone steps to the garden. William was picking up the balls, the game had ended. He turned and smiled at me. The other players hailed me and challenged me to a game.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ I said. ‘What are the stakes?’

  ‘A shilling a game,’ William said. ‘You have fallen among desperate gamblers, Lady Carey.’

  I felt in my purse and put down my shilling and then took a ball and rolled it carefully along the grass. It was nowhere near. I stepped back to make a place for another player and found W