“Yes, I will have you Harry Percy. I love you.”
“And I love you. We must hold out against the promises made by our fathers. James Butler is wanting to take you to Ireland.”
She shook her head.
“I’ll not go,” she said. “I suppose we must ask the King for his consent.”
“I suppose so; and the Cardinal.”
“I was told the King had commanded my marriage, although I have no idea why he would have an interest.” A sudden fear clutched at her heart and she leaned in closer to him, held him even tighter. “Oh, Harry,” she said. “What will we do if they refuse?”
“We will elope,” he said. “We will run away together and live in a wooden hut.”
“Will we, Harry? Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
He kissed her then, held her so tight she could scarcely breathe and she felt that unfamiliar throbbing deep inside, that need that was as powerful as hunger or thirst.
They had no idea they were being observed.
CARDINAL WOLSEY LISTENED carefully to the young page. He was a rather unpleasant young fellow, named Clarence, the sort of person who was always trying to be first with the gossip so as to make himself important. But still, his latest piece might well be worth hearing. It seemed it was, as Clarence related every detail of the conversation he had overheard.
Wolsey knew something that young Clarence did not, that nobody else knew. The King himself had told him that he had his eye on Mistress Boleyn and he was to be sure her planned marriage to James Butler did not happen.
Wolsey was sure the King would be just as eager for this association with Lord Percy to be stopped and the King’s reaction to the news proved him right.
“They must be separated, at all costs,” ordered the King.
Wolsey’s purpose in life was to please King Henry and this was no different. He knew that Percy’s father, the Earl of Northumberland, would likely refuse his consent, even without the King’s interference, so it should not be too difficult.
He would not send for young Percy. He would wait for their evening meal, where he could best display his authority and make his opinions clear.
When Harry arrived in the Cardinal’s hall at Westminster that evening, his head was full of Anne and the love they had for each other. He hated to leave her this evening, wanted to take her to his bed and make love to her, wanted to satisfy his need for her. He had no space among his thoughts for anything else and he failed to notice the silence that fell over the company when he appeared.
It was not until he approached the dais and noticed the angry gaze of his employer that he realised something was very wrong, although what, he could not have guessed. Perhaps someone had died; Harry could think of nothing else that would account for such a sombre atmosphere.
“Ah, Lord Percy,” said the Cardinal. “Thank you for joining us. I hear you have been very much engaged with entertaining young Mistress Boleyn.”
Harry’s eyes met his defiantly. What he wanted to do was ask Wolsey what the hell his love life had to do with him, but he knew that it had everything to do with him. Yet to ask about his private business here, among the whole household, was crass and ignorant in Harry’s opinion. What more could one expect of a man of such low beginnings? Who was he to treat him like this? Nothing but the son of a butcher.
“As it happens, Your Grace,” he replied, “you are correct. Anne and I are betrothed and wish to be married as soon as may be.”
“Do you indeed?” said Wolsey. “Well, you need to remember your place, young man, as well as your duty to your family.”
“What does that mean? My duty to my family involves marrying and procuring an heir. That is what I intend to do.”
“Not with Mistress Boleyn,” said the Cardinal. “You are promised elsewhere, and you know it. She too is promised elsewhere. Your father’s consent to this ill favoured match will not be forthcoming, neither will mine. I very much think the King himself will have a say.”
“The King? Anne wondered why he had commanded her marriage.”
“The King commanded her marriage to settle a long standing family dispute. He’ll not be happy to have his wishes ignored. Your choice is not good enough for the son of one of the most important and wealthy earldoms in the kingdom.”
Harry was furious. He looked about him at the staring eyes, all firmly fixed on him. There were even some sniggers from his colleagues, yet he found no opinion in the countenance of James Butler. He stood silent, his eyes and expression showing nothing of how he felt about this abuse to his position as Anne’s betrothed.
Harry had no time to consider what that meant; he had to reclaim his dignity in whatever way he could.
“Anne might well be the daughter of a mere knight,” he said. “But her mother is the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. She is easily my equal.”
“The King has forbidden it,” said Wolsey.
That was when Harry felt tears gathering in his throat. If the King had, for whatever reason, forbidden it, there was nothing he could do. He was going to lose Anne and he was certain he would never recover from that loss.
“Surely the King will relent when he knows how much we love each other,” said Harry. “I am convinced my father can be persuaded.”
“We will see when he gets here,” said the Cardinal. “I have sent for him.”
Wolsey knew for certain that the Earl of Northumberland, Harry’s father, would refuse his consent because Wolsey would make sure of it. Once he knew the match found no favour with the King, he would have no choice other than to refuse. What no one must know was that the King himself had a fancy to take young Mistress Boleyn to his bed.
He had already known one sister; why not the other?
ANNE WAITED FOR OVER an hour in their secret meeting place, but Harry never came. She knew well he would not have let her down if he had a choice, so something must have happened to keep him from her. It must have been something to do with his duties for the Cardinal, something he could not avoid, but knowing all that did nothing to ease her disappointment.
Fighting back tears, she told herself firmly that he would be here tomorrow. He would not disappoint her two days in a row; he might even have sent a note. It could be waiting for her in her suite. Now the sun was moving across the sky and she needed to get back to her own apartment before she was missed.
It was not a note from Harry that awaited her; it was her father. That was unusual, strange even; he never visited her. But he was visiting her now and he did not look pleased.
“Father,” she said. “This is an unexpected honour.”
“Unexpected? It should most certainly be expected, since you have seen fit to entangle yourself with young Harry Percy without my consent, nor the King’s.”
Anne caught her breath. It was only yesterday that she and Harry had pledged themselves to each other; gossip travelled fast in court circles, but not this fast, surely. Someone must have gone out of their way to tell Sir Thomas of his daughter’s betrothal and she had a good idea who that someone might be. The butcher’s son, Wolsey, he who believed it was his place to interfere in the lives of his betters.
“You should be pleased, Father,” she said. “He is the heir to Northumberland, not a minor earldom like Ormond.”
“You stupid girl!” he shouted. “You’ll never be allowed to marry into that family, you, a mere nobody and just when I was beginning to gain some favour with the King. You have likely lost me my title.”
“You have no title.”
“Not now, no, but I would have.”
Anne bit back a retort, but it would not stay hidden. She was angry and her temper had ever had a will of its own.
“Still enjoying the spoils of whoring out your daughter?” she said.
She did not see the blow coming; it was too sudden, too fast, but she certainly felt the sting. Holding her cheek to soothe it, she stepped back and fought against the tears that sprang up.
“You ar
e to return to Hever, at once,” he said.
“No. I will marry Harry. I love him.”
“Harry Percy is confined to his chamber while he awaits the arrival of his father. He’ll likely take him back to Northumberland; he cannot stay here now.”
She shook her head, still clutching her injured face.
“I want to see him,” she said.
His mouth turned down in a grimace, as though disgusted with her and he likely was.
“You are even more stupid than I thought,” he said. “Nobody is going to let you see him ever again. The sooner you get over him and let him concentrate on his marriage, the sooner we can all get back to normal.”
“His marriage?” she said. “His marriage to a girl he’s never met, one he does not want? He wants me! We love each other.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head, flung open her clothes chest and let the lid bounce against the bedpost.
“Have your things packed. We leave in an hour.”
She watched him go, then a maidservant came in to pack her boxes for the journey to Kent. Anne sat in the window seat and stared out at the beautiful palace gardens, her memory full of Harry’s promises. He would not let anyone stop them; they would elope, run away together and be married. But where was he now?
Anne knew well he would be here to keep his promise had they not locked him up to wait to be taken home to Northumberland in disgrace. It would be a week or more before his father could get here, but Anne would have no chance to sneak in and see Harry. She would be in Kent, waiting for a marriage to a stiff and silent Irishman who likely wanted her no more than she wanted him.
What did it matter? Without Harry, nothing mattered. It made no difference if she were in Ireland or in London, she would be just as miserable, just as lonely.
Sir Thomas came back to see if she was ready to leave, another personal touch she had never before encountered.
“You are packed?” he asked.
She stared at him defiantly.
“I’ll not marry the Irishman,” she said. “And Harry’ll not wed Mary Talbot.”
“He will if the King commands it,” he answered. “That or lose his head.”
“He is no traitor!”
“Defying King Henry is not a wise choice. He’ll find something to twist it into treason if he so wishes and you should be thankful. His Majesty has taken a particular interest in your wellbeing.”
She made no reply. If he spoke the truth, Anne knew well his meaning, but she would not go the way of her sister. All at once she was glad to be leaving court.
CHAPTER THREE
Do Not Tell Mary
“DO NOT TELL MARY.”
Mary Talbot was not a listener at doors. She always assumed that if a subject involved her, she would be told about it. But to hear her father’s voice through a half open doorway, demanding a secret be kept from her – that was a different matter.
She stopped and pushed the door open wider. No doubt her father would not be happy to know that she had overheard, but she could not concern herself with that.
“Do not tell Mary what?” she demanded.
The Earl of Shrewsbury turned from his conversation with his secretary and looked at her for only a few seconds before he spoke.
“Now you have spoilt the surprise,” he said. “I was going to announce it at the banquet on Saturday.”
“Announce what? If it concerns me, I should be at least included in the arrangements.”
“Forgive me,” said the Earl. It was a few minutes before he went on, hoping his daughter might prefer to be surprised, but she made no move to leave the room. “The fact is, your marriage to Lord Harry Percy has been brought forward. You are to wed early in the new year.”
“Why? Surely he has another two years or more with the Cardinal before he can marry.”
“His father has decided to take him home and train him to inherit the title when he dies. I know nothing more.”
Mary did not believe him, but if he thought she would mildly obey his wishes and accept his word, he was mistaken. She knew how important Percy’s time in the Cardinal’s household was and she thought it unlikely that his father would take him away from that, not unless he found himself terminally ill.
Mary had a friend at court, Lady Lucinda Hampton, a maid of honour to Queen Katherine. She would write to her at once, hope to receive an answer to the conundrum before the banquet.
Nothing more was said about the sudden change and Mary watched the servants, hurrying to get the banquet ready for Saturday. It was a regular thing, a celebration for the local gentry, nothing exceptional. She felt sure her father was using it as an excuse to announce her forthcoming marriage.
Once the date was announced, it would give the betrothal a more official seal than it had so far had, so the urgency she felt was understandable. She had begun to give up hope of a reply before the announcement when it arrived, a sealed letter from Lucinda in London.
My Dearest Friend, it read, I was both surprised and perturbed at your request for information concerning your betrothed. I assumed you would know more about matters than I, but if your noble father has seen fit to bring forward the date of your marriage to Lord Percy, I believe you have a right to know what has been going on here.
My dear, there has been a terrible scandal. Harry Percy has seen fit to betroth himself to a girl of no consequence, one Mistress Anne Boleyn, the daughter of a mere knight. Tis true her mother is a Howard, but her father comes from low stock. The pair declared themselves to be in love, if you please.
Harry Percy has been sent home in disgrace, as has the girl. She too was promised elsewhere, although what is happening about that I cannot tell.
The Cardinal upbraided him before his entire household and words were spoken which can never be forgiven. I believe Lord Percy informed His Grace, Cardinal Wolsey, that he was nothing more than a butcher’s son and had no right to speak to him so. One has to be amused at the audacity of the man.
Either way, I believe this is the reason for your sudden change in circumstance. I am so sorry, my dear. I am sure that once he sees his beautiful bride, young Harry will soon forget his feelings for Mistress Boleyn.
I am sorry to be the one to tell you, my dear friend, but it is a fact that Lord Percy’s father, the Earl of Northumberland, came here himself and warned Harry that he had two more sons and that if Harry did not obey him and marry where he was promised, he would disinherit him and leave everything to one of his brothers.
It is rumoured that the reason permission was refused is because the King himself has cast his eyes on Mistress Boleyn, but how much truth there is in that, I cannot say for certain.
Forever your friend and obedient servant,
Lucinda Hampton
MARY CRUNCHED THE LETTER up in her fist and moved to the window to look out and see that her father was there, discussing something with a man she had never before seen. She wondered if he was some emissary from the Earl of Northumberland, come to arrange her life for her.
Well, she would have none of it! It was bad enough to be duty bound to wed a man she had never met, but to wed a man who was in love with someone else was too demeaning to even think about.
She left her bedchamber and hurried down the stairs, out into the grounds and toward her father who had turned away from his visitor. His expression seemed to take on a sort of forced joy when he saw his daughter, not a smile of greeting and pleasure, but one that he had deliberately put upon his face.
“Mary, my dear,” he said. “How lovely. Not long now till the banquet tonight and my announcement of your official betrothal. Are you not excited?”
“Is that what I am supposed to be?” she replied. She waved the letter at him. “I have word from a friend at court. She tells me my future husband has declared himself in love with another woman, has even promised her marriage.”
The false smile fell from his face to be replaced with a pink flush.
“It is true he has di
sgraced himself,” he said. “I’ll not deny it.”
“You would have denied it had I not already the proof.” Mary’s voice rose as she settled her fist around the crunched up letter. “You care nothing for me, for my happiness. You want to tie me to a man who will never respect me, who will resent me for not being someone else.”
The Earl stiffened. He had no experience of his daughter arguing with him, of her not obeying him without question. He was angry, yes, but he had to soothe her fears or this whole situation could turn to disaster.
“You’ll obey me, Mary, if you please. I have always had your best interests at heart, as you well know. This situation is no exception. Lord Percy obviously had an infatuation for this girl, which he was not entitled to have, but that is all it was, an infatuation. He knows where his duty lies, as do you.”
“My duty does not extend to marrying a man who will always consider me to be second best.”
“I’m afraid it does, my dear.” He paused and drew a deep breath to settle his temper. “I blame the Cardinal for this. He was supposed to be supervising the pages in his household, not allowing them freedom to satisfy their youthful lusts.”
“Lusts, is it?” said Mary. “Are you now saying the pair have bedded together?”
“No, no, of course not. It was a poor choice of words. You can have no idea about the urges of a young male; why he’d likely fall in love with any young woman who came his way. He’ll soon recover from this fantasy.”
“And while he does, he’ll not be eager for marriage with me.”
“Yes, he will. His father and yours are determined on this match.”
“Is not consent supposed to be a part of marriage?” she said. “I’ll not consent, no matter what you do.”
She turned back toward the house, wanting nothing more than to take her anger out on some inanimate object, to throw something, smash it to pieces as she wanted to smash her father and Harry Percy. But her father’s voice stopped her.
For the Love of Anne Page 2
