At that moment, Mary then began to feel unwell. “I need to get some air,” Mary told me. She started to feel a bit faint and I helped her up. The commotion caught the attention of the rest of the room. The King and the ladies stopped dancing.
Mary caught both the King and Queen’s attention. “Lady Carey,” the King bellowed. “Are you feeling well?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I spoke up. “I beg Your Majesty’s permission to leave the room as my sister-in-law is unwell and needs some air.”
“Permission granted,” the King replied instantly. His eyes then fell on Mary’s bump. “Lady Carey, are you with child?”
Mary started to blush as the whole of the room focussed on her shape. She had been rumbled. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Mary replied timidly. I saw the Queen. It was like the colour had instantly drained from her face. She was smiling hard, but in her eyes, you could see her pain. The sight of another woman carrying a child, something that she could no longer do, cut into her like a knife.
“If it’s a son, it definitely belongs to me!” The King said joking and the rest of the room laughed with him, except for the Queen who failed to find this funny, no matter how much she tried to force herself to. “Your husband must be very proud and I send my congratulations!” Anne stood behind Henry, shaking her head at Mary, taking all the attention away when only a moment ago, all the attention was on Anne.
“I thank you, Your Majesty,” Mary replied. I then left the room with her and we took a slow walk to the gardens.
We sat quietly outside and Mary began to feel better. “You’re probably just exhausted,” I then said. “You have continued to work very hard, serving the Queen, when really you should be slowing down. You shouldn’t feel bad about it, the Queen will understand.”
Suddenly we both felt an arm on our shoulders. It was Anne, slightly dishevelled and breathless from all the dancing that still continued inside. “Oh poor Mary! Having to sit here and be sensible!” Anne said.
“It is a wonderful surprise for us all,” I said.
“You named Catherine after the Queen, so if this one is a boy, maybe you could name it after the King?” Anne said, teasing Mary.
“I agree,” Mary replied. “I think Henry is a great name for a son. Henry Carey.”
“I think you could also pass on some expert advice to our new sister-in-law!” Anne said joking to Mary. “No doubt, my brother will be expecting at least three sons within the next five years!” Anne then turned to me. “And how is it going with the baby-making, Jane?”
I stared at the ground, not sure how to answer. George and I have been trying and trying, but I was still not with child. “Sadly, no. I am still not expecting a child myself. I really can’t understand it.” Anne and Mary began to look at me concerned.
“Maybe you could see a specialist?” Anne suggested. “There’s got to be a simple reason why it is taking so long.”
“Are you doing it the right way?” Mary asked.
“Oh don’t be silly! Of course they are!” Anne replied.
As the months went on, however, I became increasingly preoccupied by why I had still not conceived. I found myself praying alongside the Queen, almost as fervently as her early in the morning, asking why do I not have a son? Was it the food? The drink? Were my clothes too tight? Was I being punished by God?
“Lady Boleyn, I am going to send my Doctor to you,” the Queen said one morning. “It is important that you give George a son. You are his wife – that is your duty.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I replied. Although, the thought of seeing this specialist did frighten me. The thought of being subjected to blood-letting, or some strange diet.
I timidly walked into the Doctor’s chambers the next day. Doctor Wilding was a thin man in his sixties with a long, white beard, dressed in black with a high hat. He looked like a wizard. “Come in, Lady Boleyn,” he said warmly. “Take a seat.”
I sat on the other side of his great oak desk which filled most of the room. The room was quite small, had linenfold panelling and had direct access to the Queen’s bedroom. “Are you well, Lady Boleyn?” He asked.
“No,” I replied. “I am having problems conceiving.”
He sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes. Being the Queen’s Doctor, how many times had he dealt with this kind of problem. He had a tired look on his face as if to say “Oh not you as well! How am I supposed to know?”
“Do you eat excessively?” He then asked.
“No, not really,” I replied.
“Do you drink too much?”
“No, I don’t,” I replied.
“Well, that is a good start,” He replied. “Too much eating and drinking needs to be avoided as that can decrease your chances of becoming with child.” He got up and then started walking around the small room, pondering. “Hmm, do you pray much?”
“Every day with Her Majesty,” I replied.
“Confession?”
“Yes, that as well.”
“Hmmm, sometimes this may not be enough. The body can sometimes retain some sin which stays in the blood.” I knew instantly where this was leading and dreaded to hear the words. “If you have sin flowing in your veins it helps to prevent a new life from growing inside you. We need to get rid of some of that bad blood.” He then went to a small alcove covered by a curtain, brought out a small jar and came over to me to show its contents. I flinched at the sight of it – it was packed with leeches. “Don’t be afraid, Lady Boleyn!” He then said. “They are for your own good! They will help you get rid of some of the bad blood.” He insisted. “I’d advise you to undertake a course of blood-letting. We will start the first session today. I will call a maid to help you undress.”
I lied face down naked on a table with only a big towel covering most of me except for my arms and legs. The maid stayed sat in the corner of the room and watched while the Doctor brought over the jar of leeches. “I promise you, this will not hurt!” He assured me. “You will not feel a thing. As this is the first session, I need to put one leech on each leg and arm at certain points to allow the bad blood out. They will suck up the bad blood then fall off.” He laid the first little, wriggling, slimy, black leech on my right leg. At first it tickled and then it bit in. Surprisingly though, I felt no pain, just a numbness as it started to drink my blood. I calmed and the Doctor continued to lay the three remaining leeches around me. “On this session, we will use four, then the next sessions we decrease them by one, so that in the next session we shall use three, then the next just two.” I felt resigned and glum. If this is what it took to make me better, so be it.
During and after the treatment, George and I continued to try for a child, but it was all still in vain. “I know of a lady who makes different herbs and I believe she grows some to help your problem,” Anne told me one day.
“Is she a witch?” I replied.
“Don’t be silly, of course she isn’t! Why would I send you to a witch?”
“I don’t think she should see her, Anne,” Mary said. Mary, who unlike me didn’t need the help, was showing an ever increasing bump that grew bigger by the day. “You know what it is like at court – gossip spreads. To us, Jane would be visiting a lady who grows herbs; to the court, she would be consorting with the Devil.”
“I agree Mary,” Anne then concedes. “It is not a good idea. Maybe for you and George, it will take a little bit longer.”
“When are you going to make me a Grandmother?” My mother asked me one afternoon as I sat alone in my private chambers that I shared with George at the Palace. “Surely it shouldn’t take this long! Look at Mary!”
“Yes, mother, let’s all look at Mary!” I retorted as I finally started to crack under the strain. I then stopped for a moment and took a breath to calm down.
Mother calmly approached me and gently urged me to sit down with her by the fireplace. “I apologise Jane, this can’t be easy,” she then said calmly. “I am just perplexed.”
“How do yo
u think I feel?” I replied smiling. “I have visited the Queen’s Doctor, I have done all of the right things, I have been careful with my diet, I even nearly visited a witch.” A look of horror spread across mother’s face at my last sentence, but I then laughed and said “I was only joking about the last point!”
“Witchcraft is not a laughing matter in this court,” Mother said sternly, her voice made into a low whisper as if she was fearful that the walls around us could hear and spy on us. “You should take care not to make such associations as you may face dreadful consequences for it later on.” We sat in quiet silence for a few moments and she then said “Are you sure that there is nothing wrong with George?” The thought had never crossed my mind. What with the constant problems the Queen had faced with carrying a child, the blame seemed to be always left at Catherine’s door; nobody ever questioned if anything was wrong with the King. Nobody dared question this, well, certainly not to his face. It is always assumed that it is first and foremost the wife that is at fault – it never is the husband’s fault.
“I don’t know,” I replied. I didn’t feel comfortable with asking him this either.
Spring 1526, Blickling Hall, Norfolk.
Since our marriage, we regularly stayed at Blickling, Hever Castle and Rochford in Essex. George was also rising at court. Only in July, he was appointed as a gentleman of the King’s privy chamber. One day, these properties will be run by us, but for now, George and I had to watch how these places were run by his parents. This would be our inheritance, but just as important for us was to have children so that we had an heir to pass our property onto.
I lied in the bed in the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep, unlike George who was fast asleep beside me. Mother’s words kept echoing in my mind - “Are you sure that there is nothing wrong with George?” How could I ask him this? Why would there be something wrong with him?
Suddenly, I could hear commotion downstairs in the entrance hall. Someone had come through the door. Who would come at this early hour?! As I got out of bed, George stirred and awoke. “What’s happening?” He asked, still half asleep.
“We have a visitor,” I replied, slightly confused. George immediately got up and started dressing, when there was a knock on the door. It was one of our household staff, Joan. “Forgive me, for waking you at this early hour, my Lord,” she said. “It was a messenger. He has brought some exciting news!”
Joan handed the parchment to George who tore it open. It was from the Carey household. I stood behind George trying to glimpse the contents of the message. “It’s Mary!” He then said. “She’s given birth to a son! Joan, tell Stan to get the horses ready – we’re going to visit her today!”
“Very good, my Lord,” Joan replied obediently then disappeared. George was helped hurriedly to get dressed by his attendant, but an awkward silence hung in the air. “Such wonderful news!” I said.
“Yes, it is,” replied George, “For the Careys.” His tone was clipped and he didn’t continue the conversation. Shorter conversations, or lack of them, were starting to become a regular occurrence between George and I. Deep down, we were both happy for Mary of course, but at the same time it rubbed salt into the wounds. If Mary could have a son, why couldn’t I? I hadn’t even conceived yet despite over a year of trying. I felt George slowly becoming more and more distant, not spending as much time with me, not talking to me, as if I reminded him of failure. Joan soon returned and I left him to go into my closet, where she helped me along with Ruth, another of my ladies-in-waiting, to help me get ready. What if he tired of me? What if he tried to get a son off another woman, like the King?
“I wonder what Mary will call her son?” Joan said to Ruth and I. Both were chatting excitedly about the news. I did as Queen Catherine did on many occasions, smiled and carried on, my face a veneer of calmness disguising my inner turmoil.
“Yes, I wonder what she will choose!” Ruth replied. “Maybe they’ll name him William – after William Carey of course!”
“I believe that she may call him Henry,” I said. Both Joan and Ruth for a moment smiled mischievously to each other, those paternity rumours no doubt at the front of their minds. “And no, it is not because of that reason!” I said, smiling and they both began to giggle.
“Forgive me for saying this, my Lady,” Joan said, “But I can honestly say, when you and my Lord finally have a child, it will be such a happy day!”
I smiled and agreed with her. “Thank you Joan. Yes, I do hope that day comes soon!”
“We are sure it will,” Ruth said and I was touched by their offering of support and sympathy.
George, I and a handful of our household made the journey towards Hever, where Mary was resting while Thomas and Elizabeth doted on their new grandson. As we entered the courtyard, we found Anne sitting outside reading a French prayer book. “Not helping to look after your new nephew?” George asked her.
“I have come out here for a moment’s peace!” Anne replied. “For a little man only a few days old, he has a great pair of lungs! He just won’t stop crying for Mary!”
“Anne, that is generally what babies do,” George replied. “You were one yourself once upon a time!”
“Well, I am not sure that I would like to have a child myself!” Anne replied.
“My dear sister, Anne. Always changing the rules!” George replied.
We were led into the Parlour and saw Thomas and Elizabeth sat in front of the fire, proudly watching their new grandson as Elizabeth rocked him to sleep. William Carey sat in a corner, partly-shattered and Mary was resting in her bed chamber. Thomas greeted us. George took off his hat and I curtseyed to Thomas. “So, glad you came,” Thomas said. “George, may I have a quiet word with you?” George nodded and then, followed Thomas into the next adjoining room. I walked up to Elizabeth to inspect the new arrival. The little boy looked so perfect sleeping. Elizabeth was going to let me hold him, but then thought better of it. Even though she never said it, she sensed the pain and frustration from George and I. “And how are you, are you both well?” Elizabeth asked politely.
“Yes, we are, thank you,” I replied equably.
There was some silence and Elizabeth was just about to say something when suddenly George stormed back into the room. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe that man!” Thomas followed him back in, unsuccessfully trying to calm him.
“What?! What has happened?!” I asked suddenly shocked.
“It’s the Cardinal,” Thomas replied calmly. George stopped and then, sat in a corner with his head in his hands silently. “He has made some reforms in the privy chamber as part of the Eltham Ordinances. This means that George has lost his place.” I went up to George and tried to comfort him, but he didn’t respond and stayed as he was. “At least our friends William Brereton and Francis Weston keep their places though.”
George then looked up and said “The Cardinal is trying to keep the Boleyn contingent down as much as possible!”
“All is not lost though,” Thomas said. “Both you and Jane will still have a palace room beside His Majesty and you still are welcome to dine with the King when he eats in state.”
Anne then entered the room. She immediately rushed to George and hugged him, an embrace full of sisterly love. “The Cardinal – again,” she muttered. The pain of her heartbreak over the Henry Percy affair was still very raw. “Don’t worry George, we will get it back – and your position will be even better!”
In that moment, we all believed her.
Shrove Tuesday, 1526, Greenwich Palace.
The Boleyn family may have been oust, but we were still going to make our presence known. George was down, but not out and with plenty of encouragement from Anne, he was all smiles as we watched the King joust. The king, who was enjoying being at the centre of attention, entertained us all amongst his team of eleven other jousters. They all shone in the cloth of gold and silver that covered both them and their horses.
The King rode past the watching crowd that
cheered him on and then, stopped for a short moment, looking at Anne who sat next to me. He winked at her, she smiled back and then, he continued to ride on. I looked at him, then at Anne, then back at him. I was just about to ask Anne, when she suddenly got up and said to George “Here, have some wine!”
“I think he’s had enough already,” Elizabeth said. George sat with Francis Weston, both slightly giggling and sharing jokes. Then, all the attention went on the King who had taken on and beaten his third opponent. The crowd went ecstatic, particularly Anne, putting on her most dazzling smile as he rode past.
I then caught sight of the emblem that the King was carrying. I had never seen this before. It was of a man’s heart squeezed inside a press with flames surrounding it, but that was not all. There was writing in French “Declare ie nos” – “Declare I dare not”. What could this mean? My thoughts were then interrupted by the laughter of George and Francis. I turned irritably and saw them looking at a book. I walked up to them and then, they quickly hid the book. “What is that?” I asked.
“Oh George, you’ve been rumbled!” Francis said. George, resigned and with a sigh, gave the book to me. It was called “Tourmens de Mariage”, the Torments of Marriage.
“What is this book?” I asked him confused.
“Oh Jane, it’s just a joke! It’s a satire on marriage! It was given to me on our Wedding Day!” He replied.
“I don’t remember you getting this book!” I replied.
“Of course, you don’t!” He replied. “I hid it from you because I knew how you would react when you saw it. You would think I didn’t take our marriage seriously, that it was a mockery!”
“And do you think that?” I replied, I could feel myself holding back the tears. “Do you think our marriage is a mockery?” George, who now had a solemn look on his face, didn’t respond. I turned on my heel and walked back to Anne, trying to stop us from causing a scene. I sat back down next to Anne. Anne’s attention appeared to be on the joust. The king’s opponents were led by the Marquess of Exeter, dressed in green velvet and crimson satin. Like the King, they also had an emblem, which showed burning hearts which had silver dewdrops of water falling from containers held by ladies’ hands coming down from out of the clouds. I pondered on the King’s mysterious emblem. “I wonder what it means?” I said, thinking out loud.
The Lady Rochford Saga Part 2: Tourmens de Mariage Page 5
