At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (12 page)

“Dress yourself for travel or I will order my men to stuff you into your clothing,” he snapped when she caught at his arm. He shook her off and once more retreated to the outer room.

“Oh, Lady Anne, whatever are we to do?” Meriall wailed. “There are men waiting to escort you to a litter. Your brother’s men.”

A quick glance around the chamber showed Anne that her belongings had been removed. Any money and valuables were out of her reach, at least for the present, and the guards Edward had set would prevent her from asking for help from any of her friends at court.

She had depended upon George to defend her. His defection left her with no recourse, for a wife had few legal rights and fewer resources.

She had been betrayed by the one person who should have stood by her. George had given in to Edward’s demands with nary a whisper of protest. Her husband had taken his brother-in-law’s word over his wife’s.

Bitterly disappointed, frustrated, hurt, and angry, Anne began to dress. An hour later, in the pale light of dawn, she and her maid were escorted out of Greenwich Palace and tucked inside a litter. The curtains had been pinned together on all sides so that no one would see who was within. Anne sank down onto the cushions and into despair.

L
ady Anne was taken away by her husband at dawn, Your Grace,” Will Compton said. “No one knows her destination.”

King Henry’s expression was a combination of disbelief and irritation. He did not like to have his plans thwarted. He’d been disappointed but not angry the previous night, when Will had returned to the royal bedchamber alone. The duke’s arrival at his sister’s lodgings had been sufficient excuse for Will’s failure to bring Lady Anne back with him. He’d been able to avoid telling His Grace that she had declined the honor of becoming a royal mistress. He’d also neglected to mention that she was breeding.

The king had declared himself content to wait a bit before he tried his luck with her again, but now Lady Anne was gone. Will could scarcely believe it himself, or how strongly he’d reacted to hearing the news. Over and above desiring her, he
liked
Lady Anne. And for all his banter, some of it admittedly ribald, he knew full well that she had never done more than laugh and talk with any man but her husband. Everyone carried on harmless flirtations at court. It was expected.

“I never thought the Duke of Buckingham would carry out his threat,” he said, half to himself. Too late, Will remembered that he’d
not given the king any particulars of the duke’s visit to Lady Anne’s chamber.

His Grace’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What does Buckingham have to do with his sister’s departure?”

There was no help for it. Will supplied the details he’d left out of his earlier account, including the duke’s arrogant claim that a Stafford was too good to be a Tudor’s mistress. A part of him was glad to do so. He’d spent an uneasy night, wondering if the duke had dared lay a hand on Lady Anne, or had provoked George Hastings into doing so. A man had the right to beat his wife for far less than the possibility that she’d committed adultery, but the thought of bruises on Lady Anne’s delicate skin had turned his stomach.

“Bring the Duke of Buckingham to me,” the king commanded, barking the order at one of his gentlemen ushers. When he turned back to Will his face was a mottled red, a sure sign of rising temper. “How dare he remove one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting from court without Her Grace’s permission?”

Will started to speak, then stopped himself. The king in this mood was not to be trifled with. But King Henry had known him too long and too well.

“Say what is on your mind, Will. You’ll not be flogged for it.”

“I was wondering if perhaps he had it. The queen’s permission, that is. After all, it was Lord Fitzwalter’s wife, sister to both Buckingham and Lady Anne, who shared her suspicions with her brother. Lady Elizabeth is one of Queen Catherine’s favorite ladies. Perhaps she also whispered in Her Grace’s ear. Your Highness’s lady wife might welcome the opportunity to rid the court of a rival.”

“Catherine is queen. Her position is secure.”

“Who knows how women think, especially when they are breeding?”

At this none-too-subtle reminder of the reason why the king meant to avoid his wife’s bed and seek the favors of another woman, King Henry looked thoughtful. His Grace, at eighteen, had not had many dealings with females, thanks to his father’s overprotectiveness. He seemed uncertain how to react to the possibility that his wife was
jealous, especially since he had no intention of admitting that he’d done anything wrong.

“I believe, Your Grace,” Will said by way of distraction, “that Lord Fitzwalter’s wife is to blame for everything that transpired last night. Had she not alerted her brother, Lady Anne would still be at Greenwich.”

“Then she will be banished,” the king decided, “and her husband with her.”

The Duke of Buckingham’s arrival at that moment solidified His Grace’s resolution. Buckingham radiated arrogance. He barely sketched a bow to the king, as if he considered them to be equals.

King Henry rounded on his highest-ranking subject with a roar. “How dare you interfere with my pleasures?”

“Any man has the right to look out for his family!” Buckingham shouted back. “A duke more than most!”

“I decide who stays at court and who goes, not you. Or have you forgotten who is king here?”

It was a dangerous moment. If the look in Buckingham’s eyes was anything to go by, the king’s cousin would have liked to lay hands on his sovereign and thrash him to within an inch of his life. At the very least, Will expected him to burst out with a statement so treasonous that it would land him in the Tower.

Buckingham barely managed to contain his temper. “Am I not the head of my family, Your Grace? Is it not my responsibility—nay, my duty—to discipline those in my care, even as Your Grace exacts punishment from wrongdoers in this realm of England?”

“Your sister left your care for that of her husband. I was witness to their marriage myself.”

A wise man, Will thought, would be wary of that look in the king’s eyes and even more cautious when His Grace used that soothing tone of voice. Buckingham was not a wise man. He was unwilling to admit that he might have overstepped his authority.

“George Hastings relies upon me for advice,” he said. If he’d been taller, he’d have been looking down his long, patrician nose at the king.
“He agreed with me that his wife would benefit from a period of contemplation away from court.”

“Send for Lady Anne,” the king commanded. “I prefer to have her here at court.”

Buckingham was unable to hide his smirk. “May I suggest you ask the queen if she will accept my sister back before I go to the trouble of fetching her, Your Grace?”

“Her Grace will have need of Lady Anne’s services,” the king replied, “since she will be losing those of Lady Elizabeth.”

Buckingham’s color rose. “Your Grace, I must protest. My
elder
sister did nothing to merit dismissal.”

“Did she not? She meddled where she had no business meddling. She must go. I will not have her here.”

“Have you spoken to the queen of this?” Buckingham demanded.

Will winced and almost felt sorry for the duke. That had been the wrong thing to say.

“The queen will do as I command!” King Henry bellowed. “As will you, my lord Buckingham, if you wish to remain at court.”

Temper combined with an overweening pride pushed the duke into hasty speech. “I have no wish to stay where my wisdom and experience are not valued!”

“Go, then. And do not return until I recall you.”

Buckingham backed out of the privy chamber, as protocol required, and the yeomen of the guard gently closed the door behind him as soon as he’d passed through.

King Henry looked surprisingly cheerful as he reached for a goblet of wine. “It will be no hardship to do without my lord Buckingham’s presence for a time.”

But the king was not smiling later that day, after his interview with the queen. When Her Grace heard she was to lose Lady Fitzwalter, she objected in the strongest terms anyone had ever heard from that gentle lady. Finding the king adamant, she burst into tears. That did her no good, either. The king disliked such displays and left her apartments in a rage.

“Come with me to the tennis play,” he barked at Will, who’d been waiting for him in the queen’s presence chamber.

It took an hour for the king to work off his pique, but he was calm again by the time he’d trounced Will soundly in every match. They were both drenched in sweat.

“Will you recall Lady Anne?” Will dared ask.

The king considered for a moment, then shook his head. “Better to make a clean sweep of Staffords in the queen’s household. I will promote Tom Boleyn’s wife, Bess, to fill one of the vacancies. She’s a duke’s granddaughter. And I will be generous and allow the queen to choose the other replacement.”

Will longed to protest, but knew better than to do so. Once the king made a decision, he did not change his mind.

T
hey stopped briefly in London, at Hastings House in Thames Street. Lady Anne knew the sounds and smells of the city even before she was freed from the litter, escorted indoors, and fed. Afterward, they traveled until dusk, but she had no way of knowing in what direction. The manor house at which they stopped for the night was not one Anne had ever visited before and the few servants she glimpsed did not look familiar to her. While Meriall went off with one of George’s men to fetch food and drink, he escorted his wife to a bedchamber and locked her in.

Wearily, she sank into the room’s single chair. The bitter thoughts that had plagued her throughout the long, uncomfortable journey left her feeling restless and agitated. She had nursed her resentment for hours. The two men who should have defended her honor—her husband and her brother—had turned against her when she had done nothing to deserve their mistrust.

It had been her brother’s certainty that she’d sinned, with Will Compton if not with the king, that had convinced George to believe it, too. Hypocrite! How dare the duke condemn her for taking a lover—especially when she had not!—when he himself had kept more than one mistress over the years?

Had he succeeded in seducing Madge Geddings yet? No doubt he
had, for Madge had already been half in love with him before Anne left the ducal household to marry George. Anne could not fathom why her arrogant, much older brother would appeal to a pretty young woman. She could only suppose it had something to do with the power he wielded.

Dismissing Madge from her thoughts, Anne surveyed the room in which she was imprisoned. In the last light of the day she made out a bed with a lumpy mattress, a small table, a wardrobe chest, and a wooden screen. With an effort, she rose and lit the candle on the table, then went behind the screen to make use of the close stool she found there. No one had thought to provide washing water. She was not surprised. She doubted their arrival had been expected.

The room had a single window that looked out over a courtyard. She could see no sign of the church spires of London in the distance, nor any other landmarks that might tell her in which direction they had traveled. She did not know where she was or where they were bound.

Edward had threatened to send her to a nunnery. She found it difficult to believe that he might have meant what he said, and yet everything about this debacle defied belief. Edward and George should have accepted her protestations of innocence without question. She did not lie. Nor had she ever lain with any man who was not her husband.

At the sound of the door opening behind her, Anne whirled to face her accuser. Of their own volition, her hands curled into tight fists.

One of George’s henchmen came in first, bearing a tray. He set it on the table and left. Then George entered, closing the door behind him. He pulled the chair up to the table and gestured for her to sit.

She remained where she was. “Why do you refuse to believe me?” she demanded. “I have told you nothing but the truth.”

“Sit and eat. I do not intend to starve a confession out of you.” His voice was harsh and he refused to meet her eyes.

She wondered why she bothered trying to talk to him. It was obvious that he had set his mind against her. “If you imagine I would ever
confess to something I did not do, you are more of a fool than my brother is!”

As she stalked past him to the table, she caught a brief glimpse of his face. For just that moment, she thought she saw a flicker of distress in his expression. Hope flared in her that he might weaken and listen to her at last, but when he spoke again his words were as cold and unyielding as ever.

“What we do is for your own good, Anne, and for the good of your soul.”

“According to my brother?” She had no appetite, but she picked up a chicken leg and took a bite. She had a feeling she would need her strength in the coming days.

“Yes, according to your brother, who bore witness to your sin.”

“He saw nothing untoward.”

“That is not what he says.”

“And is he the king, now, that he must be listened to? Or God?”

“You will not aid your cause by blaspheming.”

“I will fill the air with my curses if I must listen to such hypocritical pap for much longer!” She flung the drumstick at him. It struck his doublet, leaving a greasy smear.

“I will send your maid to you,” he said stiffly. “You will want to get a good night’s rest. We leave again at dawn.”

“Oh, yes,” she muttered as he slammed out of the room. “I must be well rested to ride all day in a closed litter.” She was tempted to throw the entire tray at the door. Instead she forced herself to eat every bit of the food.

She had just consumed the last morsel when Meriall arrived with washing water and toiletries. The maidservant’s brow was knit with worry and she looked as if she had been weeping.

“Well?” Anne demanded. “What have you discovered?”

“Oh, madam, they are taking you to a nunnery, just as the duke threatened.”