In The Midst of Madness
Tudor Chronicles Book Two
In The Midst of Madness © 2016 W L Sutton .
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.
This is a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed here, whilst at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.
Cover illustration from paintings by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale and Hans Holbein
For Sid, who gave me the confidence to write, and for Carrie, who made me do it better.
With the greatest affection.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - 1536
Chapter 2 - 1536
Chapter 3 - 1537
Chapter 4 - 1537
Chapter 5 - 1537
Chapter 6 - 1538
Chapter 7 - 1538
Chapter 8 - 1540
Chapter 9 - 1540
Chapter 10 - 1540
Chapter 11 - 1540
Chapter 12 - 1540
Chapter 13 - 1540
Chapter 14 - 1540
Chapter 15 - 1540
Chapter 16 - 1540
Chapter 17 - 1541
Chapter 18 - 1541
Chapter 19 - 1541
Chapter 20 - 1542
Chapter 21 - 1541
Chapter 22 - 1542
Chapter 23 - 1543
Chapter 24 - 1543
Chapter 25 - 1542
Chapter 26 - 1547
Chapter 27 - 1547
Chapter 28 - 1547
Chapter 29 - 1548
Chapter 30 - 1548
Chapter 31 - 1548
Chapter 1 - 1536
eg sobbed into her kerchief, hardly able to make herself understood, she was crying so hard.
‘The Queen was so brave at the end, my Lady.’
‘Lady Anne, Meg. We must try and remember to call her Lady Anne. She wasn’t Queen when she ….. died.’ Mary Stafford, formerly Mary Boleyn, swallowed with difficulty and tried to comfort the young maid, whose wholesome prettiness was marred by red eyes and blotchy skin.
‘She held her head high, my Lady, and she walked up the steps without tears,’ Meg wiped her eyes, swollen from days of sorrow, ‘and at the end….,’ Meg had to stop speaking to catch her breath, ‘..at the end, my Lady, she seemed to see something we couldn’t. She suddenly turned her head, as if someone was there, and then the sword…..’ Meg collapsed in sobs, unable to continue.
Mary Stafford sat ramrod straight, holding the maid’s heaving body until her weeping subsided and she could speak again. Tears rolled silently down Mary’s cheeks as she listened to the last moments of her beloved sister being recounted.
‘My Lady Anne gave me her prayer book, my Lady, and a necklace to sell for my dowry. Lady Kingston tried to stop her but she insisted. She said they belonged to her, a gift from France. Would you like them back, my Lady?’ Meg looked at Mary with a tear stained face, feeling in her pocket for the items.
‘No, no, Meg,’ Mary clasped Meg’s hands in both her own. ‘If my sister wanted you to have them, then they belong to you. I have my own memories of her; I don’t need to take yours.’ Mary smiled to take any sting out of her words. ‘Did you go to the trials, Meg? Anne’s trial, and George’s?’ Mary’s own voice started to break, mentioning her sister and brother in the same sentence, both dead at the whim of the King and because of the lies of others.
‘I did, my Lady,’ Meg nodded firmly, ‘Lady Anne’s trial was in the morning, and my Lord Rochford’s trial in the afternoon. That seemed strange to me, my Lady. But Lady Anne said if they found her guilty, then the charges against her would make Lord Rochford’s guilt absolute.’ Meg wiped her eyes again, and sipped carefully from the cup of small ale that Mary pressed into her hand so she could continue.
‘And how did Lady Anne’s trial go, Meg?’ asked Mary quietly. Anne had forbidden Mary to come to the trials, and had made her promise to come home to Hever and her children. Mary’s heart had broken that she couldn’t be there to offer her support, but Anne had been so worried that Mary would become implicated in the lies that Mary did as she was told. She tried to spare Anne that last anxiety in her final hours.
‘My Lord Norfolk, my Lady, you wouldn’t have known that Lady Anne was his niece, he was so …… hard on her.’ Mary’s eyes closed in pain to think how their Uncle Norfolk would have treated Anne and George in his disappointment at their fall from favour, and in his own desperation to distance himself and the rest of their family from the disgrace.
‘But my Lord of Northumberland …..’
‘Harry Percy? What did he say?’ Mary’s eyes widened at the thought that Harry, who had once wanted to wed Anne before she caught the eye of the King, had been one of Anne’s judges.
‘He refused to listen to their lies, my Lady. When they read Mark Smeaton’s confession that he had bedded the Queen, I mean Lady Anne,’ Meg took another sip of ale, to calm her breathing, ‘he stood and walked out. My Lord Norfolk was so angry, but he wouldn’t come back. They must have really been in love, my Lady.’ Meg looked at Mary with lashes wet with tears, but a tremulous smile on her lips, ‘Lady Anne told me how much she loved Lord Percy.’
Mary looked at Meg in astonishment at what she was hearing.
‘Lady Anne told you, Meg? Told you what?’
‘That Harry Percy had loved her, and that the King had only ever seen her as a prize to be won. A prize that, once he had won it, he didn’t want any more. And that she had only ever loved one man in her life, and it wasn’t the King! It’s so sad that Lady Anne couldn’t marry the man she loved, my Lady. That she couldn’t have lived happily as Lady Percy.’
Mary sat back in her chair, relief flooding through her. Meg had misunderstood, and even at the last, Anne had been sufficiently vague that the secret had been kept. Only Mary knew Anne’s secret – that the one man she had loved, and the one man she could never marry, was her brother George. And they had both died for it, thanks to the accusation by George’s wife Jane.
‘It’s all very sad, Meg,’ Mary had to find her voice, still thick with sorrow for the tragedy of her siblings’ fate, ‘and I want to thank you for the kindness and service you gave to my sister.’
‘I loved Lady Anne,’ Meg sniffed her tears back as best she could, ‘and Lord Rochford was always kind to me. But now I don’t know what I shall do.’ Tears came back into Meg’s eyes as she whispered, ‘I don’t have a future, now I’m not in service to the Queen any longer.’
‘You shall stay here with me, Meg.’ Mary’s voice was firm now. ‘My daughter Catherine is growing and needs a lady’s maid of her own. Would you like that? She is young yet, and you would be as much a companion for her as a maid. But if you want to stay and work for me, I would be happy to have you. You have already proved your loyalty,’ Mary smiled at the look on Meg’s face, ‘and your discretion.’
‘Oh, Lady Stafford. I would be so grate
ful to work for you.’ Meg’s voice was rough with relief ‘And to be a lady’s maid to Lady Catherine would be wonderful,’ she breathed.
‘She will be thrilled to have you, Meg. Having her own maid will make her feel very grown up, and I know you will look after her when she is old enough to go to court.’
‘To court, my Lady? Will she be allowed?’ The unspoken question in Meg’s voice was heard by Mary.
‘You mean would the King welcome another Howard girl, another Boleyn, regardless of her surname, at court?’ Meg nodded silently.
‘Monseigneur Norfolk will make sure she has a career at court, Meg. Nothing will stand in the way of the Howard rise to power, not even a dead niece and nephew,’ declared Mary regretfully.
The other secret that Mary knew, that other people gossiped about but that she had never confirmed, was that her daughter Catherine was also daughter to Henry, the King.
‘Let me send for her, Meg, and you can meet her now. Then, once we have found you a place to sleep, we can talk about your duties.’ Mary walked over to the fireplace and pulled hard on the bell-cord. Almost immediately, her steward appeared at the door.
‘Lady Stafford?’ the steward bowed as he spoke.
‘Geoffrey. Please ask Lady Catherine to come to me as soon as she has finished with her lesson.’
‘My Lady.’ the steward bowed again as he left the room. Mary smiled at Meg, who had been regarding the exchange with wide eyes.
‘Geoffrey has been with my husband for many years, Meg. He is completely loyal to the Staffords, but as you observe, is a man of very few words.’ Mary’s smile widened as she heard footsteps running along the gallery. ‘Ah, here come the children’, and with that, the door flew open and in tumbled a girl of around eleven, hair a riot of red curls escaping her cap and eyes of the most piercing blue Meg had ever seen on a child. Her brother, younger but already as tall, was at her side, with the same colouring as his sister and the same expression of curiosity on his face.
‘Meg, I would like to present to you my children, Catherine and Henry Carey.’ Mary waved her hand expansively in the direction of the children. Catherine bobbed a curtsey and Henry made a small bow. ‘Children, this is Meg, who will be lady’s maid to Cat, both now and when you go to court, my lovely.’ Mary smiled indulgently as Catherine clapped her hands and kissed her mother’s cheek excitedly. Meg curtseyed deeply to them both.
‘Oh, Mother. Thank you, thank you.’ Catherine seemed overcome with excitement at having her very own maid, and anticipation of being allowed at court.
‘You won’t be going to court for some time yet, my lovely. You’ll be safe here while you grow a little more. But Meg will be here with you until then, and when you do go, Meg can be my eyes and ears, keeping you safe.’
Meg smiled at the face young Catherine pulled at the thought of needing to be kept safe, then met the eyes of Mary Stafford over the heads of the children, who were both hugging their mother. Mary knew the dangers and intrigues of life at court.
She remembered how young Anne had been when their father had sent them both to the French court. Anne had been six years old, and she herself had been twelve. They had both been completely unaware of the pitfalls they could encounter being surrounded by adults who were intent on pursuing their own interests. Mary knew Meg would do her utmost to guard the innocence of this Howard girl.
Chapter 2 - 1536
eg loved her new position as lady’s maid, but as the summer of 1536 moved towards autumn, life was subdued at Hever. The crops grew and were harvested, the cows were milked and butter and cheese were churned and put for storage in the cold rooms, sheep and pigs were slaughtered and the meat was cured, smoked and salted into barrels for the coming winter.
But there was little joy in anything for either Mary or Meg.
She worked hard to serve Catherine and also to support Mary in her grief, grief which couldn’t be spoken about except in whispers between themselves.
‘I miss Anne.’ Mary’s head bent to her embroidery and her voice was low. ‘I miss George too, but Anne and I were friends as well as sisters.’ Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked across at Meg, who was busily stitching pin-tucks into the bodice of a new shift for Catherine.
‘They were both so kind to me, each in their own way.’ said Meg. ‘The court will be so different without them and all their friends.’
‘Hmph!’ huffed Mary ‘The Seymour snakes will have their own friends round their sheep-faced sister.’
‘Hush, Mother.’ hissed Catherine, her own sewing ignored in her lap. ‘The servants may carry tales. We don’t know who the spies are any more.’
‘My servants don’t spy on me.’ Mary was indignant. ‘Monseigneur Norfolk would roast them on a spit if they betrayed us.’
Their heads bent back to their stitching, each lost in their own thoughts of the death and betrayal that had touched all their lives that summer. Sounds of horses’ hoofs on the gravel below their window made Mary turn her head to see who was paying them a visit. Many of their old friends had conspicuously stayed away recently, reluctant to admit a friendship with the Boleyns that might taint their own fortunes with the King.
‘Monseigneur comes to see Father more often now,’ sighed Mary ‘No doubt they are planning to send Cat to court when she is a little older.’ The unspoken words ‘when we Howards are more welcome’ hung in the air.
‘You will come with me, won’t you, Meg?’ Catherine’s voice had a breathless, anxious note as she thought about leaving her home and making her own way at court.
‘Of course I will, Mistress Cat,’ Meg smiled at the younger girl, ‘and you will have a beautiful wardrobe of clothes when that time comes.’ She shook out the shift and held it up so Cat could see the tiny pin-tuck stitching running down the bodice.
‘Anne had beautiful clothes.’ Mary’s voice lowered ‘When we were girls, she loathed the fact that she had to wear gowns I had outgrown because father was too parsimonious to spend more money.’ Mary laughed, ‘She made me alter them just so, because she hated sewing but she still wanted to look fashionable. Then, when she came home from France,’ Mary’s eyes began to shine at the memory, ‘everyone was so overwhelmed by the fashions she brought, the colours, the styles. French hoods were everywhere, and long over-sleeves, all because of Anne.’
‘I remember,’ whispered Cat, head bent so her mother wouldn’t see her tears and shed more of her own. ‘I remember the smell of lavender that surrounded her, and I remember how she – sparkled.’ Cat looked up and smiled.
‘And George’s friends, making jokes and composing poems and music.’ Mary smiled at the memories crowding into her own mind. ‘Funny Harry Norris, always smiling, even when he wasn’t, and Tom Weston, like a Labrador puppy, always wanting approval. Tom Wyatt and George vying with each other to think of more insults, and both playing cards with Will Brereton, who hardly spoke but who could be relied on in a crisis.’ Mary’s voice saddened as the memories overwhelmed her again. ‘Only Tom Wyatt escaped. And I so miss Anne!’ Tears began to fall, soaking into the girdle she was embroidering.
Meg and Cat exchanged glances and then both bent their heads to their sewing.
***
‘Hell’s teeth, Thomas,’ exclaimed Norfolk as he paced in front of the window, watched by his brother-in-law Thomas Boleyn and his sister Elizabeth, ‘I refuse to lose all we have gained to this milk-sop marriage. I’m having to deal with Cromwell now. Cromwell! A blasted Lutheran, Thomas! Can you imagine?’
‘But, Monseigneur,’ Thomas Boleyn’s thin voice was a complete contrast to the Duke of Norfolk’s customary bellow, ‘what can we do? Our fortunes are on the wane, and we are not welcome at court.’
‘You’re not!
’ Norfolk’s voice was rising ‘But I am still a member of the Privy Council. I just need eyes at court. Eyes I can trust, in the Queen’s household.’
Sir Thomas and Lady Elizabeth exchanged glances and waited for Norfolk to complete his thought.
‘How old is Mary’s daughter?’ he asked, with his back to them. Elizabeth closed her eyes.
‘Eleven, Monseigneur.’ Thomas supplied. Elizabeth couldn’t speak.
‘Old enough then, to be one of the junior maids in waiting.’ Norfolk’s voice lowered slightly, as he spoke his thoughts aloud.
‘She is rather young, don’t you think Monseigneur?’
‘Nonsense, Thomas. Anne was only….’ A smothered squeaking sound behind him made him turn, to see his sister pressing her kerchief to her lips in order to stop herself screaming. He went to her side and sat.
‘Forgive me, Bess. I hadn’t thought…’, a soldier’s rough apology. ‘But,’ he continued, convinced he was right, ‘we need eyes on those Seymour bastards.’ He grasped her fingers in his. ‘I do my best in the King’s service, Bess, but I can’t be with the Queen’s household as well. Even Cromwell only has Jane Rochford to give him information, and after what she said about…’ He stopped, realising his lack of tact as Elizabeth pressed her eyes closed against the hurt he was causing with his words.
He walked over to the bell-pull in the corner and gave it a firm tug. Almost instantly, Geoffrey came to the door and bowed.
‘Tell Lady Mary and her daughter to join us,’ he barked as he turned back to gaze through the window. The servant turned silently and left the room.
‘I shall tell Mary what an honour it will be, and even though you two aren’t welcome, I’m sure Mary’s daughter and one of Edmund’s daughters won’t be noticed. They are very young, after all, and will be almost invisible.’
Mary and Catherine entered the room, Catherine holding Meg’s hand. As they entered, Meg extricated herself from Cat’s grip and slid against the hangings on the back wall. Cat wanted her there, but she didn’t want to be noticed by the fearsome Duke.
In The Midst of Madness: Tudor Chronicles Book Two Page 1
