As winter loomed, she joined Mary and Alice in getting the household ready. Fruits and vegetables were canned, meat salted and stored, and winter clothing unpacked and mended. Candles were made and hung to dry, while the wood and coal bins were stocked. A few evenings each week, Anne joined Jon in the hospital’s apothecary workshop to prepare the many medicines needed for his patients.
One evening, instead of heading for the workshop, Jon told her the time had come for Rose’s smallpox vaccination. Together, they went to the dairy where he’d inoculated Anne when she first arrived. Jon went through the same procedure with Rose, scratching the virus into her little arm. But she was far less understanding than her mother had been and squalled angrily all the way home and well into the night.
Anne didn’t mind. The relief she saw on Jon’s face was enough. Their baby was safe from that deadly threat.
Throughout fall and winter, life at the hospital settled into a comfortable routine. In short, life was good and the future of St. Bartholomew’s bright.
* * *
It had to be past midnight, and it was finally time.
Anne dabbed a cool cloth across the queen’s brow. Her lying-in room was stifling, even though the temperature outdoors hovered somewhere near freezing.
Inside, the heavy curtains were closed—had been for days. Throughout February, the world beyond Richmond worried that the queen was suffering from a wasting disease. She hadn’t been seen in public for almost two months, and they whispered she would only allow the upstarts, Brandon and the young German physician Burcot, to attend her. Rumors were rampant that she lingered near death.
The truth, however, couldn’t have been more different. Life was happening here, not death—at least Anne hoped so.
“Ahhhhh,” Elizabeth moaned.
The contractions were getting harder, closer together.
Finally.
She’d been in labor since early the prior evening, and Anne could see the pale light of dawn peeking through cracks in the curtains.
Besides herself, Jon, and Dr. Burcot, Cath Hastings and Robert Dudley were the only other people in the room. Dudley, the baby’s father, and Cath, the baby’s aunt, were the only other people Elizabeth trusted to attend her in this hour.
The rough outline of a story had been concocted to explain the child’s existence, and Cath figured heavily in the story the world would hear.
In the early days of her pregnancy, Elizabeth had been blissfully sure all would be fine—that the child would be accepted, even that she and Dudley might be allowed to wed in order to make everything legitimate.
Elizabeth groaned again, temporarily interrupting Anne’s thoughts.
Too bad the queen’s romantic vision of their future together was only that, a vision, a hope, ultimately impossible to bring about. Politics made other demands, and having a baby out of wedlock would be disastrous for the nation, and might potentially cost her the throne. Plus, Anne knew, Her Majesty was not the sort of woman who wished to share power with anyone, not even Robert Dudley. It just wasn’t going to happen.
There was a knock at the door, and Burcot hurried to answer. He returned carrying a pot of an unguent he’d instructed Kat to make. He put it aside while Jon spoke quietly to the queen, then helped to close the curtains around the bed.
Jon folded back the sheet that covered Elizabeth’s distended stomach, felt her abdomen, then checked her cervix.
“How far apart are the contractions, Lady Anne?” Burcot asked in his heavily accented English.
She looked at the small hour glass, which marked quarter hour intervals from inversion to empty. “About five…six minutes.”
“She’s well dilated,” Jon said. “I think things are about to intensify.” He put the sheet back over the queen, then leaned in and said, “Majesty, the pains will become more frequent now, and stronger. I don’t want thee to worry. This is not like the last time. Both thy health and the babe’s are robust. The pains will not be as fierce this time, for nothing is amiss within thy body. Hold tight to that knowledge and try to remain as relaxed as possible. I and thy body will take care of everything.”
“Robin,” the queen whispered. “I would he held my hand.”
“He will be at thy side in a moment. First I must do something and he would only be in the way. Anne?” Jonathan nodded toward the pot Burcot brought in. “Dr. Burcot suggested we use this, and it’s a splendid idea. He will relay his instructions. Please listen.”
“Ja, Dr. Brandon. I thank thee.” Looking proud, Burcot explained the procedure. “It will help both the queen and the babe. I would like thee to massage her belly from top to bottom with long, firm strokes.”
Anne nodded and got to work. The unguent smelled of mint and menthol, and it filled the air with a sense of well-being.
Almost instantly, the queen had another contraction. Anne could feel the hardening tug of the muscles under her hands and was amazed, as ever, at how the body knew exactly what to do. It was in charge now, and all any of them could do was go along for the ride.
She checked the hour glass again. “This contraction was only about four minutes from the last.”
Jonathan nodded. He was busy tying together thin strips of cloth, which he attached to the posts at the foot of the bed.
“Lord Robert, you may attend the queen now.”
Dudley came quickly, looking haggard with worry, and took her hand in his.
“Ahhh,” she moaned.
“My dearest,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. He winced as her grip clamped down on his.
“Ahhhhhhh, it’s, uh…I’m…pushing! Is that right? Is it too soon?”
Burcot hurried to the end of the bed and stood beside Jon.
“Splendid, Majesty,” Jon assured her. “This is splendid. Everything is going perfectly. Great job, just push along with thy body. Don’t fight it, work with it. Annie, Robert, bring her down here closer to me. Wedge all of the pillows behind her and keep her there.”
As they moved the queen, Jonathan pushed away the bedsheet and propped her feet in the cloth he’d fashioned. Anne saw that it worked like a sling and became something the queen could push against.
“Another contraction is starting,” Anne warned.
Jon nodded. “She’s fully dilated, and I can already feel the baby’s head crowning. Dr. Burcot, take a look. Do you see? Keep massaging her belly, Anne. Majesty, thou art doing splendidly. Everyone, this is it.”
The queen began to groan again, and the sounds got louder until she was nearly screaming through gritted teeth. Anne noticed Cath pacing and praying behind Jonathan, glancing up every now and then, until a new queenly growl emerged and she quickly returned to her prayers.
Time seemed to crawl. The sounds of Elizabeth’s exertion, Jonathan’s encouragements, and her own aching arms were all that seemed to exist in the world. Still, the sounds, the exertions went on. And on. Anne was beginning to wonder if by splendidly he meant taking freaking forever. Six times her body pushed, each coming close on the other. Sweat poured off the queen’s brow, but Anne didn’t dare stop her massaging to take care of it.
“I have the head!” Jon said, a smile resounding in his voice. “It’s got some pale red curls, Majesty. Now, with the next push I want both of you to hold her shoulders forward, help her push. Majesty, your child is about to be born. The next push is critical, and then it’ll all be over.”
Elizabeth didn’t respond, didn’t seem to hear as her head lolled to one side. The next push hit hard and she screamed, but used it, bearing down with every ounce of her remaining strength.
All of a sudden, Jonathan was very busy, very intent. “Here it comes, the shoulders are…here… It’s… It’s a little girl!”
Burcot shook his fist in victory and looked as though he’d like to dance a jig.
The queen slumped onto the pillows, bathed in sweat and smiling. Dudley peered over her knees to see the squirming newborn as Jonathan tied off the umbilical cord. Both men w
ere also grinning ear to ear, and Anne realized she wore the same expression. Then she noticed Cath, still hovering in the shadows. Her hands covered her face. She was weeping, surely from a combination of relief and joy.
Too tired to get up and comfort her, Anne stayed beside the queen and watched Jonathan clean and swaddle the child, make sure she was breathing properly, then place her in her mother’s arms. “Majesty, Lord Robert, may I present your baby girl,” he said.
Anne looked from one new parent to the other. Dudley seemed struck dumb with awe. Elizabeth had tears coursing down her cheeks as she gazed at her child. She touched her lips to the babe’s forehead and whispered. “Thou shalt be named Anne.”
Startled, Anne nearly said something, but quickly came to her senses—Anne Boleyn—the baby was named to honor Elizabeth’s long-deceased mother.
The child gulped in unfamiliar air and let out a shuddering squall. Elizabeth kissed her again and asked, “I have lost all sense of time. What is the date?”
“Thy babe arrived with the dawn. ’Tis the first of March, Majesty,” Jon answered.
The queen nodded and gazed at her daughter. “Happy birthday, my dearest,” she whispered.
The baby continued to howl, and Anne grinned. Little Anne seemed to have every bit of her mother’s fortitude and strength of will as she announced to the world that she had, indeed, arrived, and was certainly her mother’s daughter.
* * *
In the queen’s bedchamber, Anne stood with Jon and watched as Elizabeth and Robert said goodbye to their daughter, just three days old. It was agonizing to watch as, openly weeping, the queen handed the tiny bundle to Cath Hastings.
Henry looked uncomfortable and grave. It was obvious the pain this was causing everyone, but politics outweighed motherhood, and a child of Elizabeth Tudor could not be known to exist.
The child’s secret birth name may have been Anne Elizabeth Jane Mary Dudley-Tudor, but she would be known forevermore as Jane Hastings, named to honor Cath’s mother and also Jane Seymour, Elizabeth’s beloved stepmother. She would be presented to the world as the adopted orphan of a distant cousin of Cath’s who’d died of childbed fever. Cath and Henry would raise the child, thus keeping her in close proximity to her parents—who would become her godparents. Jane would be provided with the upbringing she was born to enjoy, and as the queen and Lord Dudley’s godchild, she could spend time with them, with no one the wiser as to their true connections.
The Hastings were to leave and travel north in a few minutes. They would stay a couple of days in a family holding they rarely visited, then return to London with their brand new bundle of joy. Jonathan had supplied them with rigged-up bottles to feed the child, and once they arrived in the north, a wet nurse would be found for the trip back to London.
Anne was uneasy about the whole affair. Caught by necessity in the web of lies, she and Jonathan were in a precarious position. As much as the queen and Dudley cared for them, Anne had no doubts she and Jon were also being closely monitored. She recalled watching a classic movie with her grandmother when she was very young. It was titled The Man Who Knew Too Much, and although she couldn’t remember what it was about, she felt a kinship.
Elizabeth tearfully kissed her daughter a final time, and the Hastings quickly donned cloaks and left. It was still dark outside, and they wanted to be off before prying eyes caught wind of any activity.
“Robert, oh this is too hard,” Elizabeth moaned and leaned in to his embrace. “What have we done?”
“Majesty, we should get thee abed,” Jonathan said, stepping forward. “Lord Cecil will be here within the hour, along with thy councilors, ladies-in-waiting, physicians, everyone. They must not see thee walking about. Please come with me.”
Dudley kissed her once, hugged her, and mumbled a few words in her ear, then he, too, left Richmond, bound for London by less-traveled roads. He did not want to be seen by any of the new arrivals, and would make the return trip by barge to greet the queen and celebrate her return to health later that afternoon.
“Anne, I wouldst have thee at my side when the others arrive,” Elizabeth said, holding out her hand.
Anne took the proffered hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We will both stay, as planned, until after everyone has arrived and been told of thy miraculous cure.” She helped the queen back into bed. “Have no worries, Majesty,” she added. “Everyone has heard word of the queen’s illness. They will be anxious, but not suspicious of anything.”
“Aye, methinks the ruse went well enough,” Elizabeth concurred. “We will certainly know within moments of their arrival if the truth of it has spread. And if that be the case, then they may strike me down, but thou mayest be sure I will not go down without a hearty fight.”
And if she goes down, Anne thought, history will have been changed, and we will be caught up in her downfall as principal players in this particular drama.
Chapter Ten
3 May, 1562, Hastings House, The Strand, London
Anne took in the scene and nodded with pleasure. She, Alice, and Cath had done a great job decorating.
Festooned and most marvelous, as Cath had put it, the Hastings’s backyard was a sight to behold, filled with brightly colored ribbons and bunting. A Maypole stood near the old yew tree. Beneath it, minstrels sang and played their instruments, while guests milled about, equally colorful, if not more so, than the decorations. Everything was perfect for Rose’s first birthday party.
There were even children dashing around, using straws to blow bubbles in soapy water, or tossing confetti into the breeze and giggling as it fell back to earth. It was unusual for Elizabethan children to be seen at a gathering, let alone allowed to run and play. Anne heard some of the nobles had started having birthday celebrations for their heirs, and she decided to have one for Rose as well.
Anne, arm linked through Cath’s, chatted with the invitees, even Margaret, duchess of Norfolk. She had a small child of her own, now, and seemed content. Anne actually liked her, although she worked very hard at giving her as little personal information as possible.
Since this wasn’t an official gathering with the queen in attendance, there were fewer men than usual, but Anne knew Lord Robert was among them, somewhere. She saw Jon and Henry having a laugh with men she didn’t recognize, and in that moment, as though he could feel her eyes upon him, Jon returned her look and smiled.
A secret, knowing smile, just for her. Anne felt it to her core.
I love you so much.
“Look, Anne! See how Jonathan seeks thee out? I do believe he shalt never let another woman come into his gaze.”
“Lordy, but I do love him,” Anne sighed.
Cath nearly doubled over with laughter. “Oh, the things thou sayest, but I know the meaning well enough, for I feel the same for my man.”
They shared a laugh as they continued their stroll. “You have done a wonderful job, Cath,” Anne said. “It’s beautiful. Rose may not remember this on her own, but she’ll always hear about it from me.”
The ladies rounded a corner and found Alice, heavy with child, tending to Rose and chatting with Cath’s nursemaid, Elinor. Little Jane, just two months old, slept in Elinor’s arms, swaddled and content, her delicate orange curls peeking out from beneath a knit bonnet. Beside her, Lord Robert watched the babe’s every move with a wistful tenderness.
“I thank thee, Anne, but it was thine own idea to invite the children. As thou seeth, it has afforded Robert the luxury of spending time with his, er, with his goddaughter and…er, niece, our little Jane, something he would not normally have time for.” She leaned in and spoke softly. “And in this way he does not have to hide within our walls to show his affection.”
Present at several occasions when Lord Robert visited Jane, Anne was always struck by how affectionate he was with her, and how sadness welled from him every time he had to leave her behind. Elizabeth, she knew, hung on his every word, his every description of their child, but to visit herself or to
bring the child to Court would be difficult at this point in time. Later on, as Jane matured, she could travel to Court to attend functions with Cath and Henry. She might even be made lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty. But for now, it was best if the queen’s attentions were not overt, to keep suspicions to a minimum. Anne was already aware of gossip that told of the queen’s swelling waist some months ago. Even more problematic, little Jane’s hair color might add to the drama, although Anne had recently met Henry’s sister and she was a strawberry blonde with two cute sons who were as ginger-haired as they come.
Suddenly, there was a commotion, and a sense of surprise swept the crowd. Anne and Cath turned to look, knowing instinctively who had shown up unannounced.
Queen Elizabeth left the dark confines of the house and emerged into the full glory of the sun’s rays. She looked stunning in a violet damask kirtle beneath an embroidered, ivory-colored velvet stomacher and gown. Her golden-red hair, worn long and unadorned except for pearls, gleamed in the light, and her skin radiated vibrant good health.
Gloriana, Anne thought. Indeed she is.
“What didst thou say? Gloriana?” Cath asked.
“Shhh!” Anne turned stunned eyes on her friend and whispered, “I said that out loud?”
“Aye, I didst hear thee say Gloriana.” She glanced at the queen, who was being welcomed in courtly fashion by surprised guests. “It fits her well.”
“Please don’t ever repeat it!” Anne urged, hearing the fright in her own voice. “It will become a term she is known by. When we heard it, it only ever referred to one person—but I don’t think it was coined until nearer the end of her reign!”
Understanding crept into Cath’s expression, followed closely by wonder. “Tell me, whilst they are all engaged, just how long will her reign last? Just how well will she be known throughout history?”
Anne withdrew her arm and pulled Cath into a corner well away from others, then took hold of her hands. “It will last over forty years—if we’ve done nothing to change that! When people from my time are asked to name the most famous queen in history, the answer is nearly always Elizabeth. At least up to my era, she will have no equal. She will change the world, conquer the world, and usher in a new age, and it will bear her name.”
Ever Crave the Rose (The Elizabethan Time Travel Series Book 3) Page 8
