Anna of Kleve, the Princess in the Portrait

by Alison Weir

  “Then he should hear them, and have the right to answer for himself.”

  Anna summoned Jasper, and made Dr. Cruser state what Franz was saying about him.

  “What?” Jasper was appalled. “I have never stolen from her Highness, or falsified her accounts; nor was I ever overfamiliar with her. How can he say that? And if I have remonstrated with her, it was for her own benefit.”

  “That is true. It’s all true.” Anna smiled at him to show that she believed and supported him.

  “Madam, this is slander of the worst kind,” Jasper protested. “I feel I must go to Kleve to defend myself against these accusations, if you will permit it.”

  “Of course,” Anna said, wondering how she was going to manage while he was away.

  “That is the wisest course,” Dr. Cruser pronounced. “But first, Herr Brockhausen, I will myself ask the Duke to guarantee that you will be allowed to return to England to resume your duties.”

  “You must not leave until you are assured of that,” Anna told Jasper, and he reluctantly agreed.

  * * *

  —

  After a frustrating delay, during which Wilhelm was persuaded to provide the requested guarantee, Jasper departed for Kleve, leaving behind a furious Gertie, who was ready to do all kinds of violence to Franz von Waldeck, should she get her hands on him.

  Anna was already feeling overwhelmed by all this when a letter arrived from the Council, demanding that she dismiss Florence de Diaceto, who was suspected of intriguing with the French, and had been ordered to leave the realm within thirty days, on pain of imprisonment.

  “Florence, you must read this!” she cried, when she had raced through the house and found him playing bowls with Otho in the grounds.

  He read the letter, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve served you loyally for fifteen years, Madam. I can only think that the Council have been suspicious of me since they impounded my letters in Dover last year.”

  “I will go to court myself and speak for you,” Anna declared.

  “No!” he said, so sharply she wondered if he did have something to hide. “They might think you guilty by association. Madam, it is not fair that you be drawn into this. It is my problem.” Her suspicion deepened.

  “I will seek help from my uncle,” he went on. “He has friends in Paris, and I will go there.” Why go to Paris and not Kleve? she wondered.

  Otho, standing behind Florence, nodded at Anna to agree.

  “Very well,” she said, “but I shall be deeply sorry to lose you, after all the good service you have given me. How will you live? They will stop your pension.”

  “I have money saved,” he told her. “I shall shift as best I can.”

  “Are you sure there is nothing I can do?” Anna begged.

  “Nothing, Madam,” Florence said.

  “He’s hiding something,” Otho muttered when Florence had gone. “He never did tell us what was in those letters he brought from Denmark. And why did he stay all those months there—and come back by Dover, when it would have been easier to make land much further north? I have wondered if he went to France on the way. And these friends in Paris—are they really Dr. Olisleger’s?”

  “But his family have always been loyal,” Anna protested, “and he receives a pension from the Queen. Sir John is my only other servant so honored. I think Florence got his for services to King Edward. I cannot believe…”

  “It’s not inconceivable that he was working for the French.”

  Anna’s thoughts went winging back to the previous year, when she herself had been suspected of doing just that. Had Florence, out of a sense of misplaced loyalty, tried to persuade the French King to make war on England on her behalf? It seemed far-fetched. Yet what other motive could he have had?

  As they walked back to the King’s Manor, she made up her mind to have it out with him. But when she sent a groom to summon him to her parlor, the young man returned alone. “He has gone, my lady,” he said helplessly. Anna looked at Otho, whom she had asked to be present at the interview.

  “God damn him!” he swore.

  * * *

  —

  Anna sent for Dr. Cruser, and related what had happened. “He said he was going to Paris,” she said. “I must beg a favor, my friend. Could you go home that way, and see if there is any news of him there?”

  “I will do my best,” Cruser promised.

  He had been gone for a week when Jasper returned from Kleve in a foul mood. When he came to see Anna, he had a simmering Gertie clinging to his arm.

  “The Duke would not listen to me, Madam,” he growled. “Franz has poisoned his mind against me, and he said that, while he would honor his promise to let me return to England, he will urge your Highness to dismiss me.”

  “Rest assured, I will never do that,” Anna declared, “and, if my brother complains of you to me, I shall tell him the truth.”

  The Brockhausens looked relieved.

  “Thank you, Madam,” Jasper said. “With your leave, I will rest a while after my journey, then see to your accounts.”

  Anna returned to her closet to find a letter waiting for her. She recognized Dr. Cruser’s handwriting. He had reached Paris without incident and, by great good chance, had encountered Dr. Wotton, who was now serving as England’s ambassador there. He had confided to Dr. Wotton the purpose of his detour, and the doctor had revealed that he had been charged by the Council to keep an eye on Florence. Furthermore, Dr. Cruser had learned that Florence had had many meetings with no less a personage than the Grand Constable of France, and with the entire French council. Dr. Wotton thought that showed no good intent.

  Anna dropped the letter. Maybe Florence had been responsible for her coming under suspicion, and all the unpleasant consequences she had suffered. If so, he had a great deal to answer for. The worst of it was, she had trusted him, as she had trusted his uncle—and now she felt she could not rely on her own judgment anymore.

  * * *

  —

  Dartford was a big house, and Anna lacked the means to furnish it properly. On a recent visit to Bletchingley, she had mentioned to Sir Thomas Cawarden that she was trying to find funds to buy what she needed for the King’s Manor.

  Two days after she returned to Dartford, three cartloads of furnishings turned up.

  “They were sent by Sir Thomas Cawarden,” Mr. Carew informed her.

  She did not want to be obliged to Cawarden, yet she did not wish to appear churlish. “Mr. Carew, please write and tell him I am most grateful for his kindness, and will pay him back when I know the cost.”

  Back came the prompt reply. The furnishings were a gift. In return, would she do Sir Thomas the great honor of visiting him at his house at the Blackfriars?

  After he had been so generous, she could hardly refuse. She only hoped this was not a prelude to his making another unwelcome proposition to her.

  * * *

  —

  Anna stared into her mirror. She was forty now, and had been fretting that it showed, but the reflection that looked out at her seemed little changed, the skin still smooth, the hair still yellow.

  Mother Lowe tapped her on the shoulder. “Mr. Carew is here, Madam.”

  Anna laid down her glass. “Good day, Mr. Carew,” she said, smiling.

  “It is about your Highness’s coming visit to London,” he replied, taking the stool she indicated. “It is customary in this country for visiting royalty to send harbingers ahead with a list of their requirements.” Did she detect a note of mischief in his tone? She knew he did not like Sir Thomas. None of her servants did. That business with the tree-felling still rankled.

  “It might be helpful to summon Meister Schoulenburg,” he advised. “Sir Thomas would wish to be apprised of the foods your Highness enjoys.”

  Meister Schoulenburg appeared to have been prepared
for the summons. He insisted on Anna asking for lavish amounts of beer and wine, and presented a long list of the foods Sir Thomas might like to order—mutton, capons, rabbits, the best-quality wheat flour, raisins, prunes, and costly spices. To this, Mr. Carew added wood for the fires—which must not be stinted in this cold season—and torches to light the house.

  “We must not forget fish,” he reminded her. Meister Schoulenburg suggested carp, pike, tench, and other fresh fish. “And maybe your Highness should ask for a kitchen to be set aside, so that you can prepare dishes yourself, as you do here. Also, it might be best to ensure that Sir Thomas’s kitchens are well equipped for the service of so many guests. Instruct him to obtain in advance…let me think: sixteen dozen earthenware pots, pewter pots for the buttery, pans, kettles, skillets, ladles, peelers, dressing knives, spits, racks, flesh hooks, tubs, baskets, trays, and flasks.” The list seemed endless, and had obviously been well rehearsed.

  Anna knew what they were doing. They were having their revenge on Sir Thomas.

  “Is that everything?” she asked, unhappy at asking for so much. Cawarden might conclude that she meant to stay regularly at Blackfriars in the future, and she did not want him thinking that. “Are you sure you need it all?”

  “In my experience,” Mr. Carew said, “visiting households can face challenges when they find their hosts are not sufficiently prepared to receive them.” Herr Schoulenburg nodded vigorously. Anna gave in and signed the order.

  * * *

  —

  Sir Thomas seemed to mind not one jot that she had made so many demands. His welcome was warm, if not overpowering, and he proudly showed Anna around his domain. His house was not large, having just twelve rooms, but it was in a most desirable part of London. It stood in a precinct, in which she could see the ruins of what appeared to have been a monastery.

  “This was the house of the Black Friars, where King Henry’s nullity suit against Queen Katherine was heard back in 1529,” Sir Thomas said. Now, there were houses on the site, and business premises. Anna saw a bookbinder’s and a printer’s.

  “I lease the houses,” he said. “Lord Cobham has one.”

  They returned to his parlor, where supper was about to be served.

  “Everything your Highness asked for has been provided.” He beamed. “I outlaid forty-one pounds of my own money on those items and more.” That was substantially above the annual rent he paid for Bletchingley.

  It was bad manners to tell a guest how much you had spent on entertaining them, and Anna felt uncomfortable.

  The supper was good, the mutton tender and tasty, the fish delicate in flavor, steeped in a rich cheese sauce. Sir Thomas exerted himself to be witty, and Anna began to relax. She caught Otho’s eye across the table. It held the promise of private pleasures to come. But they would have to take great care to be discreet.

  * * *

  —

  As ever, their lovemaking left them unsatisfied. Now, more than ever, Anna feared risking a pregnancy. Queen Mary would be utterly shocked.

  As they lay entwined, talking about the evening just past, Otho’s hand strayed to Anna’s breast—and stopped. “What’s that?” he asked, and guided her fingers. There was a hard lump, the size of a pea, beneath her skin.

  “It’s probably a mole or a spot,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “I’ve not felt it before,” he murmured. Anna realized she hadn’t either.

  She forgot about it the next morning, when she donned an apron and made for the laundry, which was serving as her personal kitchen, to dress the fish that would be served to the top table at dinner. She walked into a scene of devastation. There, scattered about the kitchen floor and table, lay most of the new kitchen equipment, broken and spoiled.

  “What has happened?” she cried.

  Her servants looked as bewildered as she was.

  “I do not know,” Herr Schoulenburg said. “Someone, it seems, has been a little clumsy.”

  “Aye,” some others agreed. Anna frowned. Was this more revenge being exacted for Cawarden’s complaints about the tree-felling?

  “Clear it up, please,” she said. “I will tell Sir Thomas.”

  He came down himself, frowning, to inspect the damage. “You have all been wantonly careless!” he shouted. “You should have more respect for other people’s property. This stuff was provided against your mistress’s coming, and now it is unusable. How am I to provide her with good service now?”

  “It’s all right, Sir Thomas,” Anna said hastily, glad of an excuse to leave. “We will not impose on you any more. I can come another time.”

  He rounded on her. “What about the money I have outlaid, Madam, and the losses I have incurred through your servants’ carelessness?” His emphasis on the word was deliberate, she knew.

  She could not repay him; as usual, she was short of money.

  “I am very sorry for it,” she said, feeling humiliated.

  “Very well,” he replied, after a pause. “I shall petition the Privy Council for compensation.”

  “I do hope they will help,” Anna said, and fled to her room to pack.

  Chapter 29

  1556

  Cawarden had been arrested again. The household was agog, crowding into the hall as Sir John, standing in his riding clothes, related to Anna what he had learned at court.

  “Lord Paget told me the Council uncovered details of a Protestant plot to rob the Exchequer and set the Lady Elizabeth on the throne. Sir Thomas was plainly implicated; he and other gentlemen were to intercept any treasure sent abroad by the Queen to King Philip in Spain. One confessed that some of the conspirators were Members of Parliament who despised the Queen and her faith, and had declared themselves true Protestants.” Anna could easily imagine Sir Thomas doing that. How reckless he was. Did he not know that even Archbishop Cranmer had not been exempt from the heresy laws? He had suffered only this month; Anna had heard he had held his right hand in the flames, saying it should be punished first, as it had signed the recantation he had afterward abjured.

  She was glad to be at Dartford. She felt relatively safe here. Should the Council suspect her of too close an association with Cawarden and his heretical friends, it was well placed for an easy escape from England by sea.

  The next she heard, Sir Thomas had been released, after binding himself for four thousand pounds to reappear before the Council by November. So he was still under suspicion.

  Anna hoped he would clear himself. She worried that her fate was linked to his, and she did not want to flee England. She had grown fond of the country and its people, and, for all the squabbles, the life she lived in her beautiful houses with those she loved most around her. Johann was twenty-five now, a tall, blond giant with a gentle nature and a willing heart. She adored him, and often wondered if he suspected that he meant more to her than any servant could. She wished, more than anything else on earth, that she could tell him she was his mother, and lavish openly on him all the love she had had to keep hidden.

  There was little for her now in Kleve, where Wilhelm had strangely prospered under the Emperor’s direction, and was building and beautifying fortresses and palaces and earning himself the nickname “Wilhelm the Rich.” He was preoccupied with his wife and his growing family. Emily was living out a spinster’s existence, and seemed to have lost her youthful vivacity, if her letters were anything to go by. From them, Anna learned that her sister spent an inordinate amount of time quarreling with Wilhelm. She did not want to get caught up in that. All she wanted was peace in which to lead the life she had built for herself.

  * * *

  —

  The late spring brought with it Franz von Waldeck, on a ship from Germany.

  Anna received him coldly. “I did not look to see you here again,” she said.

  His blue eyes narrowed. “The Duke sent me, Madam, as hi
s emissary. He desires you to dismiss the Brockhausens and…” his eyes strayed to Otho, who was standing by Anna’s chair, “and Herr von Wylich.”

  Anna was so horrified she felt she would faint. It would be bad enough to have to get rid of Jasper and Gertie, but to lose Otho? That would be beyond dreadful…She would never, ever allow it to happen.

  She could sense indignation emanating from Otho himself.

  “Might I remind you, Franz,” she seethed, her voice taut with anger and fear, “that these good people have given me years of loyal service. Jasper deserves only praise for his efforts to save me money and conserve my funds. And yet, having caused discord in my house in the past, and having presumed too far on our blood tie—for which, I might remind you, you were recalled to Kleve—you come here today and demand that I dismiss them. Well, I declare to you here and now, I will not! Now go.”

  Franz glowered at her. He gave a curt bow, and stalked out.

  “I will write to my brother,” Anna told Otho. “I will make him aware of the perfidy of this rogue. Do not worry, my love. I will never let you go.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it, caring not who saw.

  * * *

  —

  After Franz had left, and her letter to Wilhelm had been sent by fast courier, Anna hoped that would be the end of the matter. She was surprised when Dr. Harst arrived at Dartford a fortnight later, looking plumper and grayer, and none too pleased to be there.

  Wilhelm would have sent him, she did not doubt it. As she attended to the courtesies that must be extended to a visitor, even an unwelcome one, she determined to resist any pressure that might be brought to bear on her. Never would she allow the removal of Otho or the Brockhausens.

  “Well, Dr. Harst,” she said, when, at last, they were alone in her privy chamber. “What brings you to England?”