by Alison Weir
“That is my desire and intention,” she said.
“You must surrender those jewels that are the hereditary property of the queens of England, but you may keep all your other jewels, including those the King gave you, and your pearls, plate, clothes, and hangings. Madam, the King trusts these arrangements are satisfactory to you.”
“More than satisfactory, Sir Thomas. I thank his Majesty for so generously providing for me. Please assure him that I will maintain the truth in regard to the annulment, especially touching the integrity of my body, which I here declare the King left in a state of virginity.” She could sense Harst’s eyes on her. He would understand why she was making this statement, and God would surely forgive the lie. He would know that she had to safeguard her reputation in order to protect everything she held dear.
“Lady Suffolk,” she asked, “would you fetch the casket containing the queen’s jewels? My lords, please take this ring to the King, as a token of my pledge.” She drew it from her finger; it had a fair diamond that caught the sunlight.
When the Duchess returned, Anna bade her hand the casket to her husband, the Duke. “My lord, please convey these to the King.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Suffolk said, and smiled at his wife. Anna had long wondered what passed between them, this aging man in his mid-fifties and his young Duchess, who must be little more than twenty. Yet they seemed to get on well. Suffolk clearly adored his Katherine, and Katherine seemed happy enough with him.
“There is one other request I must make of you, Madam,” the Duke said to Anna. “Naturally, the King is anxious to prevent any unpleasantness between England and Kleve. For the avoidance of this, he asks that you write to Duke Wilhelm in your own language, explaining that you are content to be divorced.”
Anna balked at this request. It put her in a very difficult position. She had no idea how Wilhelm would react when he heard the news. Her decision to stay in England might seem cowardly or even treacherous to him. She did not want to contact him until she knew his response. Surely it was up to Henry to inform him of the annulment? It was nothing of her doing.
“It is not fitting that I write to my brother before he writes to me,” she said. “But when he does send to me, the King’s Grace shall see the letter; and, according to what my brother writes, I will answer him with the best will and pleasure. And I trust that, however he or the Duke of Saxony take this matter, his Grace will be good to me.”
The lords nodded understandingly. “No matter, Madam,” Suffolk said.
“I will not vary from my agreement to the annulment,” Anna declared. “To be honest with you, I fear that my brother will blame me for what has happened. If I return to Germany, he might slay me. That is why I wish to stay in England.”
They were regarding her with some sympathy and concern, these hardened, experienced men. She suspected that candor and honesty were not qualities they encountered very often at court.
“I can hardly believe the Duke would treat his sister so,” Suffolk said. “Not such a gracious lady. You are blameless in this matter, Madam.”
“I trust my brother will see it that way,” she answered.
“His Majesty will make sure of it, I have no doubt. He is sending Dr. Wotton back to Kleve to inform the Duke of the late proceedings.”
Anna did not envy Wotton, but felt reassured that the urbane cleric, with all his experience and diplomatic skills, would be breaking the news to Wilhelm.
“Now, we will take our leave,” Suffolk said. “We bid you farewell, Madam.” He bowed most courteously.
Anna stayed them. “Before you go, my lords, may I request, as a great favor, that I might be permitted to see the Lady Elizabeth sometimes. She is the most delightful child.” If it was not possible for her to remarry and have children of her own, Elizabeth could help to fill that empty space in her life. She could not be a mother to the child, but she could be a friend. She hoped, of course, that the Lady Mary would visit her too.
“Madam, we will convey your request to the King,” Suffolk promised. “In the light of your praiseworthy and exemplary conduct, I do not see how he could refuse.”
Chapter 17
1540
Anna kept wondering if Henry would marry Katheryn Howard. There was no doubt that he must marry again, and soon. At his age, and in his state of health, he could not afford to waste time.
Well, it was no business of hers anymore. She got on with her quiet daily tasks and pleasures, taking care to be circumspect in all her doings, and saying to those who would have commiserated with her over her divorce that she wished for nothing but what pleased the King her lord. In her heart, she was resolved to accept what could not be remedied.
Two days after they had departed, the councillors returned to see her. This time, they seemed a little warier than before.
Suffolk cleared his throat. “Madam, the King still wishes you to write to your brother to make it clear to him that you have freely consented to the sentence of the bishops, and are satisfied with the provision that is being made for you.”
It came to her that Henry was worried she might change her mind, especially if Wilhelm protested about her being divorced.
“His Grace would prefer that you do not put off writing until your brother writes to you,” Wriothesley added. “He feels that, considering how you have so honorably and virtuously behaved in this matter, and, indeed, earned yourself much love and favor, it would be for the best if you informed your brother of all the proceedings, so that he may not heed tales and rumors.”
“My lords,” Anna protested, “I wish to do nothing but what pleases the King, yet I have made clear to you my reason for not wanting to write to my brother at this time. After I have heard from him, and know where he stands in this matter, I will do so, I give you my word.”
Suffolk was almost dancing in perplexity. “Madam, I do not wish to offend you, but his Majesty is aware that the nature of ladies is to be changeable. Mindful of the treaty with Cleves and the surety of his realm, he fears that, unless you do write and assure your brother that you are content, everything hangs upon a woman’s promise.”
Anna felt indignation rising in her. “I am a princess of Kleve, my lord, and when I give my word, I keep it. I fear my brother, as you know, so I dare not write at this time.”
“Madam, for your comfort, the King has commanded us to tell you that, however your brother may conduct himself, so long as you continue in your conformity, you shall never fare the worse.”
“I thank his Majesty. But pray give me grace to wait upon my brother’s response.”
The councillors exchanged glances.
“Very well, Madam.” Suffolk sighed.
* * *
—
Anna fretted for three days, worrying she might lose Henry’s favor and goodwill by refusing to write to Wilhelm. She did not want him to think her lacking in gratitude. Probably he was stunned that she had been so cooperative. After his long battle with Queen Katherine, he must be finding it hard to believe that she, Anna, had capitulated without a fight. He might be wondering if she meant to complain to Wilhelm, which would really jeopardize England’s relations with Kleve.
She could not let Henry think her capable of such duplicity, and to show her good intentions, she decided to write to him.
Seated at her desk, she sent for Mr. Paget and Mr. Carew. “I wish to dictate a letter,” she told them. “Address it to ‘the King’s Most Royal Majesty’ ” and write: “ ‘Most excellent and noble Prince, my good brother. I do most humbly thank you for your great goodness, favor, and liberality, which it has pleased you to determine toward me. I can say no more, but that I shall ever remain your Majesty’s most humble sister and servant, as I have informed your Grace through your councillors, which is what I have intended from the first. I have neither varied from that, nor will hereafter; and, if any man has said
anything to the contrary, I assure your Grace that he has done it without my consent. Thus I beseech our Lord to send your Majesty long life with good health, and perpetual felicity. Your Majesty’s humble sister and servant.’ ”
She signed the letter and sent Paget with it to Whitehall, hoping it would set Henry’s mind at rest.
* * *
—
The sensational news of her divorce must be all over England by now, and soon it would reach the courts of Europe. Anna thought the Emperor would be pleased. Courteous as he had shown himself to her on her journey to England, her marriage to Henry had been an obstacle to their friendship.
The reformist party at court must be disgruntled to hear of the annulment. Already, Lady Suffolk had told her, their power had been weakened by the fall of Cromwell. The Catholic Howards now held sway. But here at Richmond, that all seemed a world away.
On the day after Anna wrote to the King, the lords of the Council came to Richmond to discharge some of those who had attended on her when she was queen, and swear in those who were to stay and serve her as the King’s sister.
She was dismayed to discover that her household was to be severely reduced. Instead of having more than a hundred and thirty officers and servants, she would now have only thirty-six. But she was gracious to the lords when they told her. At least she was to be allowed to retain her Germans. Mother Lowe would now come into her own, with no rivals to challenge her authority.
At Suffolk’s instance, Anna formally dismissed those who must leave her service, and put on a smiling face when she said farewell to them, as they bowed and curtseyed in turn before her. For the most part, she was not sorry to see the back of her English ladies and maids. Some she had liked—especially Margaret Douglas and the Duchess of Suffolk—but the rest she had not. Their presence in her chamber had felt intrusive, even though they had had every right to be there. Some had been catty, and most had made little effort to bond with her German ladies and maids, which had made for a divided household with all its awkwardnesses.
She was aware of Susanna Gilman searching her face for any sign of affection or regret when her turn came, but she merely inclined her head and let Susanna move on. It would be a relief not to be constantly reminded of the woman’s betrayal.
She was sad, though, to be losing the Earl of Rutland, who had been a kind and efficient chamberlain. No longer, either, would she have her own chancellor, master of horse, surveyor, or auditors. Her councillors had all been dismissed.
When the presence chamber had emptied, she received the new servants selected for her by the Privy Council. They had been waiting downstairs in the great hall and, one by one, were summoned to be presented to her and sworn in. She received them kindly, and welcomed them to her service.
Sir William Goring was her new chamberlain. He was a Sussex man, a courtier through and through, clearly loyal to the King, and jovial in spirit. Anna liked him instantly.
Jasper Horsey, whose equine looks did not belie his name, was to be her steward.
“Mr. Horsey is well qualified for the office,” Sir Thomas Wriothesley told her. “He was comptroller to the late Marquess of Exeter, whose treason he helped to uncover. In reward, he was made a gentleman usher of the King’s Privy Chamber and granted the lands of the manor of Bletchingley that are now in your ladyship’s hands. Mr. Horsey has been given another estate in compensation.” Anna hoped Jasper Horsey did not begrudge her the exchange, but his manner toward her was deferential, even friendly.
Wymond Carew was to stay in post as her receiver general.
“He will also act as envoy between yourself and the King,” Suffolk told her. “His Majesty wishes you to show to him any letters you receive from your brother.” Anna nodded. It was not an unreasonable request to make.
On, on they came. The majority now were Germans who had accompanied her to England, and who were required to be sworn again. She was ridiculously pleased to see Otho von Wylich walking toward her, and hoped it was not too obvious. He was followed by Franz von Waldeck, Florence de Diaceto, Dr. Cepher, and her cook, Schoulenburg. Katharina and Gertrude had now been promoted to gentlewomen of her chamber, and would serve alongside the five other gentlewomen appointed by the Council. Katherine Bassett had secured a place at last, which would doubtless please her mother, especially with Lord Lisle still in the Tower, and no one any the wiser as to what was to happen to him.
Frances Lilgrave, a plump, dark-haired woman in her forties, told Anna she was an embroiderer, and that her husband had been embroiderer to the late Queen Anne. Then came the amiable Dorothy Wingfield, pale-faced Jane Ratsey, and an older woman called Mistress Simpson. Next to last, rustling over in her good black gown and overlarge Stickelchen, was the redoubtable Mother Lowe. Elya Turpen, the laundress, brought up the rear. It seemed all too small a household after the great establishment that had been Anna’s for the past seven months.
When everyone was assembled, Anna addressed them. “Again, a hearty welcome to you all. I need not remind you, and my lords here present, how bound I am to the King, who has been pleased to appoint you to my service.” Let no one think her in any way resentful of the man who had spurned her. “In serving me well, you will be serving him.”
She turned to the councillors. “I know myself to be under great obligations to the King’s Majesty, and I am determined to submit myself wholly to his goodness. I will never vary or change in that regard, and all the letters and messages I receive from my brother, my kin, and my friends I will send to the King’s Majesty, and be guided by his determination.”
“You have done well, my lady,” Suffolk murmured. He turned to the waiting servants. “Now, all of you, to your duties!”
Hastily, Anna’s new household began to disperse. Mother Lowe was already in charge, in her element, issuing orders. Anna saw Sir William Goring staring at the nurse in dismay, probably wondering if this old woman was intent on subverting his authority. She hid a smile.
* * *
—
The lords came back four days later, at the King’s behest, to see that Anna’s new household was settling in efficiently, and surprised her elbow-deep in flour in the kitchen, making a pie. Having quickly washed her hands, she hastened to the hall and exclaimed in delight when they showed her the jewels, tapestries, and plate they had brought, all gifts from Henry. They also gave her a letter from Wilhelm. It was addressed not to her, but to the King.
She was stunned when she read it. Wilhelm’s response was milder than she could ever have expected. He was sorry for what had happened; he would have wished it otherwise, yet he would never depart from his friendship for his Majesty for such a matter. Both he and Dr. Olisleger were concerned about his sister being ill treated, but trusted the King would never allow that. He could have wished for her to return to Germany, but if she preferred to remain, he was confident the King would act uprightly toward her, and he himself would not press for her to come home.
Anna could have danced with relief. It did not sound as if Wilhelm was angry with her at all. She handed back the letter. “Please convey my most humble thanks to the King’s Majesty for letting me have sight of this,” she said. “Now I can write to my brother without fear. I want to reassure him and Dr. Olisleger that all is well with me. My lords, if you would kindly wait, I will write to him now.”
* * *
—
When Paget had finished, she had Wymond Carew read the letter back to her in English and then translated into German. Her heart lightened with every word, and she nodded in approval, confident she had conveyed everything she needed Wilhelm—and Mutter—to know.
“Will that do, Madam?”
“Thank you, Mr. Carew, and Mr. Paget,” Anna said. “It will do very well. Pray ask the lords to return.”
They came, and read the letter in turn, nodding their approval. “This will be conveyed to the Duke by Dr.
Olisleger’s nephew, Mr. Diaceto,” Suffolk said. “He has agreed to carry it for you. He departs for Dover after dinner.”
“Then, with your leave, Sirs, I will send for him. I wish to give him a personal message for my brother.”
Florence de Diaceto was summoned, and when the swarthy young man appeared before her, already dressed and booted for travel, she spoke to him, the councillors looking on. “Florence, when you get to Kleve, I desire you to convey my hearty commendations to the Duke, and to tell him I am merry, and honorably treated, and that I have written my whole mind to him in my letter.” She smiled at him and held out her hand. “God speed you.” He would be able to tell Wilhelm that she was not looking miserable or discontented.
When he had left, Anna invited the lords of the Council to dine with her. Now that they had her letter, they were relaxed and less on their guard. She had choice wines served to them, and good English roast lamb, which she much enjoyed herself. It was a very convivial dinner, and the conversation flowed, touching greatly on her new properties, about which the councillors were able to tell her a great deal. Afterward, when she stood, they leaped to their feet.
“My lords,” she said, feeling rosy from the wine, “I want you to return this to the King. It is the ring he gave me at our pretended marriage. Take it, I pray, with my most humble commendations. I desire that it be broken in pieces as a thing of no force or value.” As she held it out in her palm, she caught sight of the inscription engraved on the inner side of the band: “God send me well to keep.” God had done that most effectively, she reflected. Without doubt, He had been keeping her safe these past days.
