To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  After Christmas, she never seemed to leave his side. As a maid of honor who helped the Queen get ready for bed, Frances knew that the King had stopped visiting her bed.

  Catherine staunchly refused to give any credence to the rumors and went on as usual. Behind the closed doors of her privy chambers she would sit at her little desk and write letters by the fire long into the night. Frances was by her side, ready to fetch her more ink, or sharpen her quill or refill her glass. After helping the Queen into bed, she would sleep on a palette set at the foot of her bed.

  It was an honor she coveted and Frances made sure to perform every service with perfection.

  She was fetching the Queen’s smelling salts that she had left in the chapel during Mass when she spotted the King walking with the Lady Anne Boleyn among the hedgerows.

  Anne Boleyn was now absent from the Queen’s rooms most of the time. She had been given her own apartments and had a group of ladies serving her as if she was someone of importance. This in particular made Frances resent her even more. She was spending her time alternating between serving her mother in her own apartments and the Queen — and she was the daughter of a Duke! Why should this work be beneath someone like Anne?

  Frances paused to study them.

  Anne was speaking to the King in a very animated fashion. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but the King seemed absorbed in every word as though he was trying to commit them to memory. Then Anne placed her hand over his, almost as if she had done this by reflex. She gave a little gasp and seemed to blush, taking the hand away.

  It left Frances with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach to see the King fawn over Anne.

  She wished she could be as fashionable and desirable as this woman.

  No one ever talked of her beauty or wit. A few of the other girls would whisper about men who would ask them to dance or give them little gifts. Of course, nothing serious ever happened as Queen Catherine would be sure to dismiss them from her service if she heard of any untoward behavior, but it left Frances on the sideline.

  Whenever she was asked if she found anyone attractive, she would turn up her nose at such questions and say she had no time for silly flirtations. Her family was arranging a brilliant marriage.

  At night she would dream of being married off to a Duke or perhaps, like her mother, she would be sent off to France to marry a Prince.

  “Why are you dawdling in the stairwell?” Maria de Salinas, Baroness Willoughby interrupted her thoughts.

  Frances flinched at having been caught out. “I was fetching something for the Queen.”

  “Then you had better hurry.” Maria had no kindness to show her. In her dark black gown of mourning she cut a severe figure. She had always been a joyous woman easy with her smiles, but recently she had become defensive and sour. Her expression fixated in a grimace.

  It was no secret that after the death of her husband, she had become embroiled in legal battles with her brother-in-law over her daughter’s inheritance. Frances had heard this from her mother and father on the rare occasion they shared a private meal in their apartments.

  Without any further hesitation, Frances ran off but looked back to see Maria staring out the same window, her face set in a grimace at seeing the King below.

  The beginning of Lent was upon them and a great banquet was planned to begin the celebrations on Shrove Tuesday.

  Frances was excited for the chance to wear her magnificent gown again. She was helping her mother dress in her room, handing her jewels and pins as her lady-in-waiting asked for them.

  “Have you practiced the steps?” her mother questioned.

  “Yes, every night.” Frances did not add that she had not managed to add any graceful flourishes to her movements.

  “Good, there will be a lot of people watching and plenty of foreign ambassadors.”

  This made Frances’s stomach clench in fear rather than encourage her.

  “Your father wishes you to be personable,” her mother added, examining the rings on her fingers and exchanging one ruby ring for another.

  “I shall try.” Frances’s throat went dry. Now she was worried about saying the wrong thing and embarrassing herself.

  She left shortly after as she had to get ready herself.

  The ladies were using an antechamber off the main hall where the masque would be performed. She had been given a minor role at the request of the Queen.

  Her aunt had meant this to be a treat for Frances, not understanding how terrified she was of performing before an audience.

  Frances was stripped down to her petticoats by ladies and helped into the costume — a long sleeveless robe of white damask replaced her over-gown. The light fabric of the sleeves was fastened in place by broaches creating a draping effect near her shoulders. Next came tight white sleeves which were pinned in place before another layer of hanging sleeves were added. These sleeves were made of fine white gauze.

  Her soft leather slippers were replaced for white ones and a mask was secured to her face with a white ribbon. Her hair was plaited and piled high on her head, with only a gold hair comb as a decoration. Frances felt exposed without a hood.

  Around her, seven other ladies were being similarly dressed. They were a dazzling assembly of white.

  She tried her hardest to ignore the eighth lady who was dressed in a similar costume but in gold rather than white. The costly cloth glittered and her red petticoat made her stand out all the more. On her head, her sister was carefully pinning a gold hood in place on her silky black hair. The hood had been altered. The veil was removed and all around white satin flowers were propped up to create a halo of dazzling white. In the center a large ruby drew the eye. Anne Boleyn wore it like a crown. She was certainly dressed as richly as any Queen.

  The master of the revels soon called them all to attention and informed them to take their places in the main hall. For once, it was empty of all people except for the few putting the final touches on the décor.

  In the center of the room stood a fountain, a hawthorn tree and a mulberry tree. Frances took her place with the other ladies on the bench while Anne Boleyn stood before them. To her right, a painted screen decorated with red roses hid a small choir from the Chapel Royal.

  Frances spotted a small boy hiding in the alcove, biting his lower lip. He was dressed up as Cupid, in a white doublet and hose, a set of gold wings attached to his back and carrying a fake bow and arrow.

  Time seemed to stretch forever as they waited for the court to arrive.

  Frances found herself fidgeting with her girdle until Lady Hastings next to her told her to stop. She tried controlling her breathing but this did nothing to stop her heart from racing. Instead, she took to praying that this ordeal would be over with soon.

  As if answering her prayers, a fanfare of trumpets down the hall announced the King approaching.

  Everyone became serious, straightening their backs. The choir master began directing the first of many hymns so when the King finally entered, accompanied by ambassadors from France and Spain on either side, they were greeted by a beautiful display and soothing music.

  Anne Boleyn had turned her back to the crowd awaiting the beginning of the dance. Frances hoped she saw the disdain on her face and that it would make her falter and miss her steps, but, as always, Anne seemed impervious.

  Perhaps she was used to hatred from women just as much as she was used to love from the men. The thought made Frances smug.

  As soon as the rest of the court were seated and the Queen had taken a seat on the raised dais, the Lord of Misrule appeared before them. In a booming voice that echoed through the hall he announced the start of the masque.

  The choir began singing the lyrics to a song composed by the King himself. It spoke of the beautiful goddess Venus watching her son Cupid playing in the garden.

  At this point the little boy came leaping from the alcove, spinning and twirling around the fountain. Venus turned to face the crowd, and strung her harp as
her child played. The crowd murmured appreciatively, much to Frances’s dismay.

  She tried to maintain the smile on her face but found herself slipping. They remained on the bench for quite some time.

  The boy made a small speech about the beauty of love. Then a man strode into the hall waving a wooden sword. He was dressed in grey and declared that he would make sure that Cupid would be unable to spread the joy of love to anyone.

  At this point Frances and the rest of the women made a great show of gasping and looking afraid. Venus, still playing the lute, sung a pretty song imploring someone to come rescue her and her son from such a vicious attack.

  In response, a blare of trumpets sounded and in came the god Mars, behind him marched eight soldiers. Mars challenged the grey man to a duel, and they made a fine show of sword play before finally the man in grey fell to his knees in defeat.

  Venus came forth and bowed to Mars thanking him for his bravery and courage.

  At this point, music from the rafters filled the room and the pair clasped hands to begin the dance. The other men invited the ladies in white to dance as well and Frances took the hand of Sir Francis Bryant and let him lead her around the fountain and elderberry tree.

  Then the pairs danced around Venus and Mars.

  Frances was counting the steps in her head, her concentration must have been so obvious that Sir Bryant gave her a reassuring smile which made her all the more embarrassed. She nearly tripped as they spun around but he managed to keep her upright and Frances hoped no one had noticed.

  As the song drew to a close, they all dropped to their knees in a synchronized bow, heads down to the floor as Venus declared that love triumphed over all as she remained in Mars’s arms. Cupid danced around the pair throwing white rose petals in the air.

  Finally, to the applause of the court, they stood and unmasked each other.

  There at the center was Anne and the King flushed from their dance and beaming at each other. The reveal came as no surprise to anyone, but still they applauded even louder and sung the King’s praises.

  Frances looked to the Queen to see what she would make of this obvious show of love and favoritism. Queen Catherine did not miss a beat — she was on her feet applauding with the rest so as her husband looked out at the crowd he saw her. She stepped down from the dais and curtseyed before him.

  “That was beautifully done, my lord,” she said, a hand to her heart as if she was left breathless herself.

  He smiled in response.

  The Queen turned around, the swish of her gown swatting Anne’s. “Shall we not have another dance?” she asked the court.

  Shouts of agreement filled the hall.

  She turned back to her husband. “Shall you dance for us again?”

  The King nodded, motioning to the musicians to start up another song.

  In one stroke, Catherine had shown Anne that she did not see her as a threat, and, by giving permission, she was in essence giving her ascent to her being in the King’s favor. Frances grinned, for she could tell that Anne, whose smile was now finally faltering, was very much displeased. She was reminded that she was not Queen.

  Bryant took up her hand again, leading her to join the others dancing and Frances had to focus on her steps yet again.

  After one last song, they departed, pulled by a chariot out of the hall.

  Back in the antechamber, she changed back into her original gown of cream damask with the plum kirtle. She desperately wished to keep the beautiful sleeves of her costume though they were quite indecent. A maid helped tuck her hair into a coif cap and then adjusted her French hood ensuring she was every bit the proper lady again.

  When she finally joined the rest of the court her mother pulled her aside.

  “You didn’t do so badly,” she said as she adjusted the pendant of her necklace. “Tonight, you shall sit with your father and myself.”

  “But shouldn’t I be seated with the other ladies?” Frances would much rather sit with them than worry about every movement she made being scrutinized by her mother.

  At her mother’s raised eyebrow, she looked down.

  “Come along and for Heaven’s sake remember to smile.”

  Frances let herself be dragged away. She did her best to fix her features in a pleasant smile.

  Her father had an honored place near the King’s own table. He was one of the leading men in the realm and one of the highest ranking as well.

  She picked at the food placed before her, finding she had no appetite for the rich food served tonight. This would be her last chance to eat eggs, meats and cheeses but she found they made her sick to her stomach.

  Men and women came and went from their table stopping to greet her mother and father, sometimes whispering news or asking for it in return. Frances was thankfully ignored.

  The French ambassador came up to them, sweeping a special bow to her mother.

  “France is not the same without you, my lady,” he winked. Her father laughed at the flattery.

  “But she blooms ever so nicely in England does she not?”

  The ambassador nodded in agreement.

  “This is your daughter is it not?” He turned his gaze to Frances. She did not enjoy being scrutinized, but she did not look away either.

  “Yes, it was time she joined the court.”

  “Perhaps you would honor me with a dance later on?” He gave her mother a little bow when she nodded her assent.

  “Excellent.” He clapped his hands together and then turned to her father and the two talked about other things not concerning Frances or her mother.

  “Don’t embarrass me,” her mother repeated as they sat back down.

  Frances wasn’t sure how she could reassure her mother that she never sought to embarrass herself or anyone but sometimes things were beyond her control.

  As the banqueting dragged on, Frances was invited to dance several times by her mother who encouraged her to partner with a variety of people. She suspected that her mother was trying to show her off to the court, but she was not the favorite lady that night.

  As she sat in her bed that night, she felt dismayed that she had failed to make much of an impression. It made her sulky even the following day when even the Queen noticed her sallow face.

  “What is it, Frances?” The Queen invited her to sit beside her before Mass.

  She couldn’t bring herself to tell this great lady the truth. After all, Catherine had greater problems and made a better show of strength than she did.

  So instead she settled for a half-truth.

  “I want to be like you and my mother. You have such grace and strength and I fear I shall never be like you.”

  Catherine was perhaps shocked by her candid response for she was silent for a few moments.

  “We all have our own strengths. You are young and shall come into your own. I have no doubt of that. You have royal blood running through your veins and the blessing of God. Turn to Him and He shall reward you.” She took France’s hand in her own. “Nor should you compare yourself to others. God has set you in your place and given you many gifts. You should not question them, but thank Him for his many blessings. I was one of many sisters, and yet I knew that despite my shortcomings I was destined for great things and that my parents loved me dearly. Jealousy is a sin.”

  Frances swallowed hard. What the Queen said struck a chord deeply within her.

  “Thank you, your grace.” She found herself wiping a stray tear away from her eyes. “I shall strive to improve myself and learn to be grateful and truly worthy of the position I was born into.”

  “I am glad.” The Queen released her hand and returned to her reading.

  The season of Lent ended quickly with the swift arrival of early summer heat bringing the cool wet spring to an abrupt end. This spelt the beginning of a troublesome summer for Frances. The heat coincided with outbreaks of the sweating sickness. The doctors predicted this would be an unusually rough season as there seemed no end to the heat. />
  As soon as an outbreak was reported in London the King retreated to Greenwich, which was farthest from the city, and then from there fled into the countryside. Her aunt, Catherine, went with him. Despite their recent travails, he had not abandoned her.

  Many of the court were left behind, however, Frances among them. She returned to Westhorpe Hall in the country with her mother while her father accompanied the King.

  In her own element, she took to ruling the nursery once more. She pretended like she was too old to play games with the others in the school room. She had left such things behind and had become a lady. But of course, most days she found herself wandering into Eleanor’s rooms.

  She took on the role of instructor from time to time, correcting her manners and pointing out her mistakes. She left Eleanor in tears once.

  “How shall I ever go to court?” she wailed. “I cannot do anything right.”

  “You are still young.” Frances was not very sympathetic. She was secretly pleased that her sister was not overly confident and full of herself. “I don’t think Mother and Father will have you come to court for a few years.”

  “Oh good.” Eleanor looked obviously relieved.

  Just then, their mother appeared. Behind her trailed a girl Frances vaguely recognized.

  “Frances, Eleanor, I have someone to introduce you to.” Mary motioned to the mousy brown-haired girl at her side. “This is Katherine Willoughby, your father’s new ward. She shall join our household.”

  Frances looked from her mother to the new girl. She was about her age, she was still dressed in black for mourning and looked dour. Didn’t she know how lucky she was for the opportunity to join such a well-connected household?

  “Make sure she is welcome. I have to speak with the lord chamberlain about dinner.” With that, Mary left them alone.

  Eleanor looked curiously at the newcomer, but her childish shyness waited for Frances to say something first.

  “I know your mother, Maria de Salinas.”