Spring 1540
Anne of Cleves was worried.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXG88HJtvad
Her marriage to the king had progressed no further than careful kisses on the cheek or on the back of the hand whenever they were in public, and in private... well, they were no more than strangers.
At mealtimes when she sat next to him at the high table, she sat as his dutiful wife, watching as he gulped his wine and gorged on his food. He still avoided her bed like the plague, but she sat and smiled gracefully and laughed at his jokes. She knew it was useless. The entire court knew the marriage had still not been consummated. She was sure they were all laughing at her.
If that wasn't enough, to add her her worry, the king’s eye had already wandered to another. He watched one of Anne’s new ladies in waiting the way a hunter would watch his prey. It was sickening. He was an old man, and the girl he wanted wasn't even twenty. He was old enough to be her father.
Catherine Howard was the type to entice men with her sultry eyes and slender figure, but even she had never dreamed of attracting the attention of the king himself. Who was she to refuse when she got it?770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ61WEWFDaqh
Anne could hardly blame the girl. Had Catherine refused his advances, Henry would have likely banished her from court and taken everything from her whole family. He could thrust them into poverty if she refused his bed, and Catherine knew it all too well. She was, after all, related to Anne Boleyn on her mother's side.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmEYocJqWAh
Anyway, Catherine was not the type to turn down expensive gifts, and the king had been sending her so many she'd lost track. She liked the attention, especially when it clothed her in fine fabrics and jewels.
The King licked his lips after polishing off another plate of venison, waving his hand to the servants. Three hurried forward at once. Henry declined another plateful of meat, but nodded vigorously to the young boy holding the wine. The king’s goblet was filled to the brim once again, and he drank it with as much grace as beholds a pig in a trough. Droplets scattered down the king's beard and onto the table before him. Anne fought back a slight grimace.
She drank her own wine slowly.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk1khui4pIY
It was stronger than what she was used to, but she drank it anyway.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡORBA8ukoR2
Looking up at the ceiling, she saw the emblem of Henry and Anne Boleyn carved in the corner, one that had not been chipped off with all the others and forgotten about. She saw the faint trace of Katherine of Aragon's pomegranate shape beneath her own emblem on the wooden panels, and she saw Jane Seymour’s unicorn badge on the walls. She was surrounded by Henry’s other wives, two of whom were already dead. Anne Boleyn was in exile and misery, and Anne of Cleves feared she would be next. She saw the way Henry looked at young Catherine Howard, and it stirred a feeling of fear deep inside her.
Glancing over the rim of her goblet, Anne saw the entrance of the Lady Elizabeth. At seven years old, Anne was impressed by her grace. It must be the teachings of her mother, she thought, for it certainly didn't come from her father.
Elizabeth wore red, a daring colour but one that emphasised the bright colour of her hair. The dress was covered in gems - not highly expensive gems, but gems all the same. Elizabeth was pleased when her father had presented her with the dress, thinking it truly fit for a princess. It wasn’t.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwHFR0BcFOU
The gems were hardly the most expensive, and there wasn’t even a single pearl to be seen. The fabric, though good quality, was from a dressmaker that did not frequent the royal wardrobe. Elizabeth was dressed as a royal bastard, and it broke Anne’s heart to see how happy the child was with the gift from her father. It was a cruel snub on the behalf of her husband.
Henry greeted his daughter with a small smile before turning back to his meal. Elizabeth had expected more. A grand welcome perhaps? A display that proved her father was delighted to see her? Whatever it was she was expecting, she didn’t receive it. The child’s smile fell slightly. 770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgl45iPS6E5
Before Anne had thought it through, she rose from her chair. Henry looked up at her, no humour in his eyes. Her heart raced, but she refused to sit down. She would stand her ground.
“Elizabeth, why don’t you sit here with me? I should so much like to hear about how you are enjoying your father’s hospitality.” She said regally. Henry’s expression changed and he smiled. He was content with this, this emphasis on his hospitality, his kindness, his generosity. He was like a fat cat; just one compliment would have him rolling over for you to pet his belly. The hall had fallen completely silent, and she was afraid they would all hear the rapid beating of her heart if it carried on hammering in her chest.
The child was openly relieved to have been noticed. Her little legs carried her to the table and Anne moved up on her large chair to make room for Elizabeth. Elizabeth climbed onto the chair, only centimetres away from sitting in Anne’s lap. Henry nodded in approval and motioned for conversation to continue, since the hall had fallen silent when the Queen had risen. The usual noise of the hundreds of courtiers at once picked up again, and Anne finally let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered from Anne’s lap. Anne was surprised; why should she be thanked for showing the child some kindness? “I think sometimes my father dislikes my being at court.” She said in hushed tones. Anne shook her head, stroking Elizabeth's soft red hair with her palm.
“No, my child. Your father loves you.” She said with a kind smile. She glanced over to Henry, who was deep in conversation with Charles Brandon. Brandon met the Queen's eye as he spoke and smiled kindly; he at least seemed to like her. It was a shame that the same could not be said for the king.
“But he loves Prince Edward more.” Elizabeth asked. It was not a question, it was a statement. So young and already she sensed that boys were more important. She was an observant child. Anne had never met her mother, but she had a feeling that Anne Boleyn was an astute woman to produce such a child. She doubted Elizabeth had gotten her refinement from the king's blood.
“Prince Edward is to be the next king, so he is more…” Anne paused, remembering how it hurt her as a small child, not much older than Elizabeth, when her own mother had told her she would always be second in their parent's affections to her brother. She didn't wish Elizabeth to feel so disheartened. “Edward has to be treated with extra care, since he will one day be king.”
“And will I not be a queen someday?” Elizabeth asked innocently. It was a perfectly normal question for a princess to ask, but as Elizabeth was no longer a princess… well, it was dangerous territory.
Henry, hearing his daughter’s question, turned to face his wife with his eyebrows raised. Anne realised with a jolt that although his eyes had not been on them as they spoke, his ears were open to their conversation, listening to every word they said.
“I think not, child.” Anne said calmly, feeling her husband’s gaze burning into her neck. “You see, princesses have to have two royal parents, and your mother was not ever a queen.” Anne said sympathetically. Henry was pleased. Anne had struck the right note in regards to the other Anne; saying she had never been a queen was the affirmation Henry sought in everybody these days.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjsgTnF2Lza
Elizabeth did not question her stepmother, but simply nodded.
Pembroke was beautiful in the Spring. The windows were open to let in the fresh air, the gardens were full of daffodils beginning to bloom and each room had a bunch of fresh flowers sitting prettily in a vase. Anne Boleyn was content.
She sat at her writing table and prepared to write a letter to her daughter. She had done so many times, but now that Elizabeth was at court, Anne was wary.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWM2tU8ORnM
Screwing up the paper with Elizabeth's name penned at the top, she took a new sheet and instead wrote to Thomas. She did not sign her name, but she was confident that he would recognise her hand and know it was she who sent him the letter. In it, she asked him to visit her, and knowing Thomas, Anne knew she would not have to wait too long to hear from him in person.
Sure enough, Thomas came two weeks later. Anne had been genuinely pleased to see him since everything about Tom was familiar. He was almost like a brother to her, filling in the empty void left behind by George after he had lost his head at the king’s command.
“I take it you want news of Elizabeth?” He asked.
“Of course. I wanted to write to her but thought it unwise.” Anne replied. Thomas nodded.
“You made the right decision, Anne. Elizabeth mentioned you upon her first meeting with the new queen Anne…the king’s countenance positively turned to ice.” He said with a small laugh. Anne took a small intake of breath at ‘new queen Anne’. Thomas bit his lip. “Henry acknowledges her enough, I suppose. He greets her as his daughter but he is never seen with her. He never rises to welcome her like he does for the Prince Edward.”770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrFFxyYEmun
Anne’s heart sank. The thought of her daughter in a faraway palace where her father was at best distant and at worst cold and unfeeling was enough to make Anne’s soul heavy.
“There is some consolation I bring you though,” Thomas said brightly. “Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves seem to be getting along very well. The new queen is very fond of Elizabeth… she rose to welcome her at dinner when Henry would not.” He said.
Anne was surprised that this foreign queen should take such a liking to the daughter of a woman that used to wear the very same crown, but it warmed her heart a little. The pangs of jealously began, but she reminded herself that she was glad someone was being kind to her daughter, even if that someone was not the girl's father.
“I am glad to hear it. She is settling in well? Does she like it?”
“I believe she does, Anne. She is a natural. Much like you were at her age; one smile is enough to make even the sternest of us bend to her will.” He said with a smile. Anne smiled at this too, fondly remembering her own experiences at the court of Margaret of Austria. She was glad Elizabeth was sharing the same experience; the court was a magical place for a young girl, full of sparkling jewels and exquisite gowns and feasting and dancing and music and... She pulled herself sharply from her thoughts. It did not do to give nostalgia a foothold.
“And the court?” She asked.
“Where to start?” Thomas said, racking his brain. This made Anne’s eyes widen in eagerness. “The king has still not consummated his marriage to the new queen, his eyes are on Catherine Howard - just last week he gave her some cloth for a dress that was more expensive than the dresses the queen herself wears.” He said, his eyes still turned upwards as he skimmed through his brain looking for something Anne would find interesting.
At this news Anne was bitterly reminded of Jane Seymour and the jewels the king bestowed on her before having Anne almost executed. He's a bastard, she thought, a heartless bastard, switching women and wives like one might switch a pair of gloves.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ06TABQNaYu
She took quiet pleasure in the irony that although Henry had tired of Anne herself, he now longed for her cousin - a woman who shared her blood, her ancestry and most likely much of her character. Catherine was simply a newer version of Anne; the only difference was she bore the surname Howard instead of Boleyn. Poor Anne of Cleves, thought Anne, she is the new Katherine of Aragon.
“This new Anne shan’t last much longer.” Anne eventually muttered. Thomas shook his head.
“No. Neither shall Cromwell, I fear. I know I said it was just a phase but the king is growing increasingly impatient with him. Cromwell believes he can win back the king’s favour but you know as well as I that once lost, it is not easily recovered.” He said, shaking his head a little sadly.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUMLZE4HzlN
This sentimental fool will mourn everyone that falls victim to the king, Anne thought gently. Thomas was too sensitive to the sufferings of others, his heart was too good... he was not built for the court. Poor Tom, a heart of gold won't last long around liars and thieves, she thought, looking into his honest blue eyes and despairing for him. She didn't have a sorry bone in her body for Cromwell, but she did for Tom. He would mourn Cromwell just as much as he had George.
“No,” Anne agreed after a period of silence. “I do not think either of them will last till Christmas.”
Queen Anne sat in her rooms with a book. Her ladies had their embroidery and many of them sat by the lead-paned windows, watching the young men of the court playing their games on the lawns with the king. Of course the king was not playing - his lame leg meant that he could hardly walk some days - but he was watching from under his awning, clapping as the men wearing his livery scored a point.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHs3cQtdh4G
He had summoned Catherine Howard, and she was down there with them, sat by his side. Anne was not too bothered by this; she did not much care for sport or the king - Catherine was almost doing the queen a favour by entertaining both in lieu of herself.
Elizabeth was in the queen’s rooms. She too had a book in her hands and was reading peacefully, sat on a small stool at the foot of Anne’s chair. So much misfortune had already befallen the poor child, Anne felt compelled to protect her from anymore heartache.
“The Lady Mary to see you, your majesty,” one of Anne’s ladies announced, breaking the silence. Anne nodded for her to open the door, and the young girl did so.
Mary Tudor was twenty-four, only one year younger than Anne herself. She carried herself in such a way that betrayed all her years of royal training. She carried herself with certainty and grace, with pearls around her neck that disappeared behind the neckline of her gown. Anne would have bet all the jewels in her chests that the necklace Mary wore had a crucifix, technically forbidden now England had forsaken Catholicism, dangling at the bottom, hidden beneath her deep-green dress. The dress was exquisite fabric, expensive jewels sewn into the waist and around the sleeves. It was an expensive dress, but Anne's sharp eyes noted that the sleeves were beginning to wear, that the neckline had begun to fray. It was an old dress, probably back from when Mary was still officially a princess and not just the king's bastard.
“Mary! It is truly a pleasure to see you.” Anne said, rising from her chair. Elizabeth rose with her stepmother, but stayed hidden behind Anne’s skirts.
“As it is to see you, your majesty.” Mary said with a small bow. “And is this my sister?” Mary asked warmly. Anne was surprised. Mary had such fervent hatred for Anne Boleyn that she doubted that she would care at all for a Boleyn daughter.770Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPvbC5SOUI3
But despite the animosity for Elizabeth's mother, Mary felt a connection to the other daughter exiled from their father's grace. After all, she had already lost her mother, and her father was absent at best. She could hardly afford to alienate any more of those that shared her blood
“Indeed it is. Elizabeth, this is your step-sister Mary.” Anne said to Elizabeth. Mary looked kindly at the child.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you Elizabeth.” Mary said softly, kneeling down to Elizabeth’s level. Elizabeth curtseyed a little, which made both the queen and Mary giggle.
“You are my sister?” Elizabeth asked softly.
“Step-sister.” Mary corrected quickly.
Anne distanced herself from the girls, giving them a small degree of privacy. Mary had taken a seat on a nearby chair and was reading to Elizabeth from the book the child had been reading before Mary’s entrance. Anne was watching them contentedly when one of her ladies emerged from the corridor with a worried look on her face.
“My lady, it is Master Cromwell. He wishes to speak with you.”
Anne nodded, and entered her smaller reception chamber. No one else was in this room, and it was here that she received the lord privy seal.
“You wished to see me, Cromwell?” Anne asked pleasantly. She had no reason to fear Cromwell; like Charles Brandon he had been nothing but nice to her and she thanked him for it with a kindly smile.
“It is a ...ah... delicate matter, your majesty.” Cromwell said. He was clearly nervous, which was strange. Cromwell had nerves of iron, and he had never had trouble choosing his words before. All of this set Anne on edge; something wasn't right.
“Proceed.” Anne said, although the blood in her veins was turning to ice and a feeling of dread was growing swiftly in her stomach.
“It is the king, your majesty.” He said slowly. His slow speed was making the queen agitated and her anxiety was growing. She nodded her head for him to continue.
Cromwell's fingers fumbled in his palms as he twisted the rings on his fingers. He gulped and took a deep breath before meeting the Queen's eyes.
“He wishes for an annulment of your marriage.”
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