The Lady Carey
Royal Court Series
Anne R Bailey
Edited by
Vanessa Ricci-Thode
Copyright © 2017 by Anne R Bailey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For my dearest friend Ana-Maria
Contents
Also by Anne R Bailey
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Afterword
Also by Anne R Bailey
Forgotten Women of History
Joan
Fortuna’s Queen
Royal Court Series
The Lady Carey
Green Hearts Series
Delusion
Roselyn
Other
The Stars Above
You can also follow the author at: www.annerbailey.com
Prologue
The night’s silence was broken by the shouts of a group of men staggering to find their way back into the palace after an evening of frivolity in the taverns of London.
The bargeman that had carried them across the Thames cursed at them under his breath. He had been knocked back by an elbow and could have fallen into the river if he hadn’t caught himself. Nor had they paid him much for his troubles. He fingered the coin and tucked it away. Perhaps he would buy himself a pint of ale.
The jolly men were oblivious to the activity happening in the palace, but someone finally noticed the candles were still lit at this late hour and wondered out loud what was happening.
Edward broke away from the group and, when asked where he was going, told them he needed to relieve himself. Unlike the others, he was not half-drunk. His mind was whirling as he ran through the gardens and alleys to enter the palace through a more direct route to the King’s chambers.
The physicians were heading away from his rooms, and the man grabbed a manservant and pulled him to the side.
“Sir, let me go! I am about the King’s business.” Edward was undeterred.
“What is happening? Is the King well?”
The manservant, recognizing Edward, took a breath and leaned in. “It’s her majesty the Queen. She’s gone into labor.”
With that, he spun on his heel and left the courtier to think about what he had said.
It was too soon for the Queen to be delivered of a healthy babe. She was not in labor, she was miscarrying her child — Edward did not have to think long about what he would do next.
The next night, he waited in the depths of darkness for his compatriot to arrive. There was a sense of anticipation about him as he tapped his foot and paced the alcove. He had been unable to sleep properly, but it was excitement that had kept him awake.
“You wished to see me.” Sir Bryan, Edward’s co-conspirator had appeared.
Both men were shrouded in darkness, it would be hard to distinguish who they were much less see them. Then again, there were spies everywhere, even in the garden.
“With this latest development, I think it is time.” Anticipation and hope spilled forth with each syllable.
The other man chuckled. “You are too eager.”
“There is no longer any reason for you not to support us. The Queen, God rest her soul, is buried.”
“Amen, but our allegiance is with Princess Mary and to see her restored to her rightful place.”
“Exactly, I could achieve this for you.”
“How?”
“Jane has the affections of the King, and she could persuade him to restore the Lady Mary.” Edward stressed her new title.
“Jane? Don’t tell me the King is looking to her as his new wife.”
“She is the perfect example of womanly virtue and obedience, unlike the concubine.” He referred to the Queen by the nickname the Spanish referred to her.
Sir Bryan laughed again. “Was she not caught by the Queen, sitting on the King’s lap? Is that what you would call a virtuous woman?”
Even in the dark, the scowl on the man’s face was evident.
“My sister is a most chaste and virtuous woman. There is no blemish on her reputation, and I shall make sure the world knows it.” He collected himself. “The King is furious with the Queen over the loss of her babe and told me himself that he wonders what sins she has committed to be punished so.”
There was silence as the other man considered. “I believe something can be done. If we have your promise that you and your family would support Princess Mary and help restore the true faith in England?”
“We shall do everything in our power,” Edward promised, feeling assured that the King, seeking to please his new amour, would bend to her will.
“Then we shall meet again.”
The schemers could not foresee the affect their decision to bring down one woman would have. England would never be the same.
Chapter One
Catherine bit back a complaint as the rented litter jostled her yet again.
Across from her sat her mother, the beautiful Mary Boleyn, with a past that would make anyone blush. Even in her thirties, her mother had retained her smooth skin, rosy cheeks and full mouth. But now her face was distorted by anguish and fury.
They were traveling with all haste towards London. They would not stop, could not stop.
As the driver swerved to avoid an obstacle in the road, Catherine was nearly thrown from her seat. Her stepfather could not afford anything more grand or comfortable. She had not come from meager beginnings. Her family was at the height of its power when she was born. But when her mother married the common-born William Stafford, she had been banished and, thus, impoverished. They had not spared Catherine, nor her younger brother Henry, when they sent her mother away from court.
Love cannot keep you fed. Catherine remembered one of her mother’s many quips and wondered why she had not listened to it herself.
It seemed that things were changing for the family yet again. Catherine stared at the crumpled letter in her mother’s clenched fists.
It had arrived just after they had finished dinner. The messenger had taken his time arriving with this important letter. Perhaps it had been intercepted before being sent onwards. She had watched from the door as her mother nearly collapsed while reading the letter. Her stepfather was at her side in a moment, whispering words of comfort. Catherine wished she knew what it said. She had recognized the royal seal and knew it must have been an important message from the court.
Catherine was only eleven years old now, but even she knew that the font of all wealth and power came from the court and the King. Her mother had caught her in the hallway, and she’d thought she would be lectured for eavesdropping. Instead, her mother had ordered her to tell the maid to pack her things, for they were to go to London.
She hoped that her aunt, the Queen, had sent for her to be a maid-in-waiting. It made her heart beat with excitement just to think of the prospect. Perhaps her mother was sad to part with her and that was why she was being so theatrically grim. Mary’s eyes had not wavered from the road as they had set off.
Catherine was not a fool, though. If her dreams had come true, then there would be no need for such haste. They would have sent a proper retinue to escort the pair of them to London, not just two m
anservants of her stepfather’s. Catherine would have been ordered new gowns. No, something else had happened, and, whatever it was, it was not good.
She shivered.
The long hours passed, and the party passed through the gates of London just before curfew was called and the city gates would be closed.
Catherine felt aches all over her body after the hard travel. The houses and streets they passed did not interest her as they would have done.
Finally, she could sigh with relief as the litter came to a halt, and the driver helped them out. Wobbling with the first few steps, she turned to ask her mother what they would do now, but she found her mother was already walking towards a man dressed in black livery. Catherine tried to get a good look at the coat of arms on the man’s chest and recognized the crest of her grandfather, Lord Wiltshire.
“Take me to my father, the Lord Privy Seal.” Mary’s voice was sharp and commanding, unlike the normal soft tone Catherine was used to hearing.
They followed after the man as he led through the winding corridors of the palace. They could have been walking in circles and she would not have known.
The man slowed his pace as he reached a pair of doors, another man standing guard beside it. They nodded to each other, and the second man stepped aside to let the first lead them inside.
“Lady Mary Boleyn and Lady Catherine Carey,” he announced to the shape of a stooped man sitting in front of the fire.
“Leave us.” A gruff voice gave the order, and the man disappeared from the room.
“You should not have come.”
“I had to. How could I abandon her now?” Mary was incredulous as she watched her father.
He laughed. Catherine felt it was an inappropriate sound for such a somber moment.
“I wrote to warn you to stay away from court.” He sighed as if the worries of the world were placed on his shoulders alone. “But I forget what a fool you are sometimes, not quite as clever as her.”
“I am no fool.” Mary took a breath. “I just did not have the ambition Anne always had, but look where that has taken her!”
Catherine grasped at her prayer book that hung from her side. She desperately wished she could slink away from the battle broiling before her.
Thomas Boleyn was on his feet in a moment, as if he had been struck. Perhaps he was not used to Mary biting back in response to his abuses.
It was then he noticed Catherine standing there petrified. He fell back into his seat as though his breath was taken out of him.
“You should not have brought her.” He waved Catherine away. “It will do us no good to remind him of the closeness the two of you enjoyed.”
“You should retire for the night, Catherine. I’ll speak to you in the morning.”
Catherine was at a loss for what she was supposed to do and was exasperated that, after dragging her from her home, she was brought to court only to be abandoned.
Thomas Boleyn was also annoyed and snapped to a manservant to fetch his wife’s maid.
After some length of time had passed, Catherine was led away. Before she left the room, she saw her mother take a seat beside her haggard father and ask him to repeat what had happened from the beginning.
Meanwhile, Catherine was enjoying the scrutiny of her grandmother, whose severe features were intensified by the strain she was under.
“Grandmother,” Catherine knelt for her blessing.
“You shall share your mother’s old room.”
“Will you tell me what has happened?” Catherine got straight to the point before she could be sent away yet again.
“Your aunt is to stand trial.”
Catherine’s eyebrows furrowed. How could a queen stand trial?
“For what?”
“It would be better that you did not know.”
“And we are here to defend her?”
The shrill laugh of her grandmother echoed through the room. “We are here to serve the King. Your grandfather sat on the committee to investigate the Queen’s behavior. Your uncle…” She pointed a finger at her face to emphasize the point. “…is to be the judge at her trial and of my son, George.” Lady Elizabeth Boleyn’s face crumpled and she choked back a sob.
Catherine took a step back at her words. “Why?” Her voice quavered.
Her grandmother composed herself; she refused to show weakness in front of this child. “Now you’ve gotten to the crux of the matter. The Queen has displeased the King.”
Catherine looked as though she wanted to know more. Was that all it took? The King’s displeasure?
“Perhaps you will learn, and, if the family ever recovers from this, you will have better luck as a courtier. Now say your prayers and go to bed. I do not have patience for your questions now.”
Catherine did not protest as she was yet again taken away. She was shown to a small room with a truckle bed in the center of the room and a small chest of drawers. The maid unlaced her gown and put her in one of her grandmother’s nightshifts. It did not escape her notice that the quality of her gown was nearly the same as that of the maid’s.
She shuffled uncomfortably and then said the maid could leave; she would plait her hair herself. The maid was more than happy to go. After she said her prayers, she climbed into bed feeling too cold to try to listen at the door. A small fire had been lit in the room only recently.
As she shivered under the covers and willed herself to sleep, Catherine couldn’t help remarking that this was not what she had envisioned her first night at the Palace of Westminster would be like. Nor had her estranged grandparents shown much interest in her. Then again, they were not a very loving family.
Finding she could not sleep, she went to find her mother only to hear whispers coming from her grandfather’s privy chamber. She looked through the keyhole and saw Mary kneeling before her father, holding his hand.
“Will she be found guilty? Is there really nothing we can do? And George? Surely, this is nothing but rumors…”
Thomas Boleyn held up a hand to stop her.
“It is done. The King wishes to put her aside, and he will do so. One way or another. We must try to come out of this intact.”
Mary bit the bottom of her lip to stop herself from protesting. Catherine could guess what she was thinking. After all, no one was ready to put their neck on the block by standing up to the King. “But it is not just him, is it? Many people want her put aside. He must have another bride in mind. Just like it was with Katherine of Aragon.”
“Yes. Jane Seymour seems to be his choice. The King does nothing to hide his feelings towards her, and the family is showered with gifts.”
Catherine knew it was their family that had once enjoyed this good fortune themselves.
“You should not be seen here. It will do you little good, and it may end up pulling you into the trial as well.”
“I have done nothing.”
“Perhaps. That is up to Cromwell to decide. But even if you have done nothing, then you may still be required to stand as a witness.”
“I would defend her,” Mary swore, but Thomas Boleyn only laughed. Catherine moved back from the keyhole at the cruel sound.
“Not in her defense, child.” His hand lifted her head up to meet his gaze full on. “But against her for there is no defense to her actions.”
Despite the fire blazing in the grate, her mother had started shivering. Catherine could imagine her thinking that yes, perhaps she shouldn’t have rushed to return to court. But how could someone abandon their sister so easily?
“When is the trial?”
“It is set for the fifteenth, but, with Henry Norris and the rest of them declared guilty, there is little she can say or do to dissuade the council.”
“She must be so afraid.” Mary rubbed her hands together, when an idea seemed to strike her. “Catherine could go to her, couldn’t she?”
Thomas Boleyn looked unsure. To Catherine, it looked as though he was trying to judge what advantage it might bring to him. Perha
ps he was thinking how it would affect the family’s reputation and her own.
“She would be able to comfort her. To let her know that we pray for her.”
He shook his head. “I will not be associated with a harlot. I would disown her if I could.”
“You did not have any hesitation before to call her your daughter when she was in the King’s favor. You do not have to do anything but allow me to send Catherine to her. It would be a small act. You are her father, do you not hold any love in your heart for her?” Mary was insistent and she seemed to have struck a chord in the man before her.
“I am ruined regardless. Yes, you may send her. Though you do her no favors. Think of her future and how this might affect her.”
Mary scowled. “I do not plan to use her as a pawn as you have used me and all the rest of your children.”
Her grandfather smirked. “This is the way of the world, but I will not argue with you now. Let’s talk of something else.”
Catherine snuck away from the door. Her thoughts trying to process everything she had heard.
The next morning she awoke in a strange bed to her mother’s gentle prodding.
“You must wake up now, Cate.” She was using her pet name, but her face seemed contorted as though she was in pain.
“I know that Queen Anne has been imprisoned,” Catherine assured her mother, thinking her mother was stressed about revealing this piece of bad news to her.
Mary nodded and sat down beside her daughter. “I have something important to tell you and you cannot tell anyone. Promise?”
“I do.” Catherine looked intently at her. All the sleep from her eyes was gone, and she focused on her mother.
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