At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (25 page)

“One more reason for him to lord it over the rest of us,” Will grumbled.

Soon—very soon—he would have to make a decision. He could wholeheartedly support Wolsey, or he could openly ally himself with the man but covertly oppose him. There would be considerable irony involved if he took the latter course. Should he choose it, he would be climbing into bed with a Stafford, but it would not be the luscious Lady Anne. Will would have to form an alliance with her brother, the Duke of Buckingham.

C
ourtiers crowded the docks at Deptford, a little upstream from Greenwich Palace, eager to follow the king and queen aboard the ship Queen Catherine had just christened
The Virgin Mary.
Lady Anne hung back, feeling slightly queasy even though she still stood on solid ground.

She was thinking of finding her horse and returning to Greenwich, rather than join the rest of the court on board for a feast and an inaugural sail, when a familiar figure appeared beside her. Robert Gilbert, once her brother’s chaplain and now his chancellor, was the most trusted man in the Duke of Buckingham’s service. Anne had heard that he was in London, buying up great quantities of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, and silk. Given Edward’s love of fine clothing, that news had not surprised her. Edward owned one purple satin doublet that was decorated with gilt spangles, little golden bells, and appliquéd antelopes and swans made of fine gold bullion.

She looked around for her brother but did not see him. That did surprise her, since it seemed to her that every other nobleman in the kingdom was present. Her gaze rested briefly on the Duke of Suffolk and his wife. The king’s sister was glowing, obviously well content with her second marriage. She had the best of all possible worlds, Anne thought.
She had wed a man of her own choosing, one with whom she was in love,
and
she’d kept the title Queen of France from her first, arranged marriage.

“A word, my lady?” Gilbert’s black eyes bored into her, demanding her cooperation.

“I’ve time for little more than that,” she warned him.

“His Grace the duke wishes you to send word to him at Thornbury,” he said quickly, “should you hear any news of Archbishop Warham.”

“What sort of news?” In addition to being Archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham was Lord Chancellor. He was also a dull old stick.

“There are rumors afoot that he may resign his post. He is said to be weary of public life. If the chancellorship goes to Cardinal Wolsey, Wolsey will have unprecedented power for a man without a drop of royal blood in his veins. By adding Lord Chancellor to his other offices, he will be able to run roughshod over the royal household, the Privy Council, and Parliament, too.”

Anne grew tired of hearing about the upstart cardinal. He was supposed to have begun life as the son of a butcher. Whether that was fact or fiction she had no way of knowing, but she did not hold it against him if it was true. Many poor boys made something of themselves through advancement in the church.

“Leave me out of the duke’s schemes, I pray you,” she said wearily. “Go back to your cloth buying.” Had she not told Edward that she would not spy for him? As usual, her brother had not listened to a single word she’d said.

Gilbert’s pockmarked face took on a look of deep consternation. “What do you know of my mission in London, my lady?”

“I know nothing, nor do I wish to.”

But Gilbert’s reaction made her wonder if there was more to his shopping spree than the duke’s desire to dress himself in the finest and most costly fabrics. Expensive cloth could also be used as a gift, or rather for a bribe, but who did Edward wish to keep sweet? And why?

“Where is my brother?” she asked as Gilbert started to turn away.

“Why, at Thornbury, Lady Anne. Where else should His Grace be?” Gilbert seemed genuinely surprised by her question.

Relieved that no new encounter with Edward was imminent, Anne dismissed her brother’s man and returned her attention to the ship. She could see the king on the deck, dressed in a sailor’s coat and breeches of cloth of gold. He intended to pilot
The Virgin Mary
himself, taking her down the Thames to the sea. If appearances were anything to go by, King Henry thought the only skill required for this task, aside from dressing the part, was the ability to blow the large gold whistle he wore around his neck. This he did, loudly and repeatedly, to call the members of his party aboard. Anne hoped that more experienced sailors were standing by, to keep His Grace from running the ship aground on her maiden voyage.

Anne hurried up the ramp just as a crew from the dockyard came out to remove it. She was resigned to enduring the voyage. At least it would be blessedly short.

The Virgin Mary
was enormous, requiring 120 oars to power her when she was not under sail. She had been designed to carry a thousand men and two hundred big guns. Anne had assumed, given the size of the vessel, that the ride downriver would be smooth. She soon discovered that she was mistaken.

A dizzying combination of smells rose up to taunt her from tables spread with the rich food prepared for the king’s feast. The aromas did not mix well with the sway of the ship. Queen Catherine was the first to retire to a cabin, followed soon after by the Queen of France. On unsteady legs, Anne made her way to the nearest rail. She did not feel an enclosed space would suit her just now. She stared at the passing shoreline, hoping that by watching a fixed point she could persuade her roiling stomach to settle.

Will Compton found her there a few minutes later. “Lady Anne?” He sounded concerned. “Are you ill?”

“The chop of the waves is. . . unfortunate.”

“I know a sovereign remedy for seasickness.”

“I fear you cannot cure what ails me, Sir William. In common with Queen Catherine and the Duchess of Suffolk, I am breeding.”

She glanced up in time to surprise a peculiar expression on his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. She did not know why, but she suddenly felt it was crucial that he answer her.

“I was wishing the child were mine,” he said bluntly.

She should have been offended. Strangely, she was not, but she was puzzled. She knew well enough that Will Compton would have liked to bed her. There was nothing new in that. In truth, he had told her that he desired her so many times that she’d become inured to his claims of undying devotion, just as she’d grown accustomed to the harmless flirtation they’d resumed upon her return to court. She enjoyed his company and knew he enjoyed hers.

But there was something different about this declaration, something that suggested his feelings for her might go far deeper than she’d imagined. Anne’s gloved hands gripped harder on the painted rail in front of her. She did not know what to say. How could she engage in lighthearted banter with him if he truly meant what he’d so often said to her—that he was in love with her?

“Will you return to Leicestershire?” he asked after a long, strained silence.

“No.” In that matter, she had taken a firm stand with George. “I will travel no farther than Stoke Poges, and only retire there at the last.”

“Good,” Will said. “I would rather have you here and out of my reach than not have any sight of you at all. Now, come and try a bit of marmalade. It is marvelous good for settling a queasy stomach.”

L
ady Anne gave birth to a girl at Stoke Poges just three days after Queen Catherine’s daughter, christened Mary after her father’s sister, was born at Greenwich Palace. Lord Hastings chose to name his newest child Catherine.

Anne was anxious to return to court and planned to remain where she was only until her churching. For that month, she chose to remain indoors, not only because George insisted upon it, but also because the winter was uncommonly cold. Even inside the snug manor house, it was difficult to keep warm. Anne spent much of her time in the well-heated nursery and it was there that her mother-in-law, Lady Hungerford, located her on a blustery mid-afternoon in early March.

“Sir William Compton is here with a message from the king,” she announced.

“Have you sent someone to find George?” Anne asked. Her husband had gone out on horseback early that morning, as he often did, to visit tenants and tend to estate business.

“Sir William asked for you.” Lady Hungerford sent a disapproving look Anne’s way. Until she’d been churched, a woman was not supposed to entertain anyone, let alone a gentleman. Only the fact that
he’d come from court, apparently on official business, had persuaded George’s mother to fetch Anne to him.

Puzzled, Anne followed the older woman into her private parlor, an upper chamber warmed by both hearth and brazier. It was filled with all manner of treasures, everything from reliquaries and crosses and jeweled caskets to elaborate, intricately made chamber clocks. George’s mother had also indulged in the great extravagance of a carpet for the floor. In most houses, carpets were used only to cover tables.

Most of the rest of the females in the household were already there. They surrounded Will Compton, one of them helping him out of his snow-covered traveling cloak and all of them peppering him with questions. Everyone wanted to hear the latest news from court.

Will turned, smiling, as Anne entered the chamber. His bold gaze ran over her, as if to assess how much damage childbirth had done to her figure. What he saw appeared to please him and a mischievous glint came into his eyes. It was impossible not to respond to such obvious admiration, even with George’s mother watching her every reaction.

“Lady Anne,” Will said, bowing low and sweeping off his bonnet. “You are well, I trust?”

“Very well indeed, Sir William.” She sent a servant for food and drink and stared at the waiting gentlewomen until they returned to the large embroidery frame where they had gathered to work on an altar cloth.

“I have a matter of some importance to discuss with Lady Anne on the king’s behalf,” Will announced. He glanced toward Lady Hungerford, still hovering nearby. “It is, for the moment, a matter that requires secrecy.”

Lady Hungerford looked annoyed but, given no other choice, dutifully left the chamber, taking her women with her. Giggles and speculative backward glances accompanied their retreat. When Meriall brought wine and seed cakes, Anne seated herself at the small table where the tray had been placed and fixed her guest with a steely-eyed gaze. “My maidservant stays, for propriety.” She’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

“As you wish.” Will agreed so readily that she grew suspicious.

“I thought your mission demanded secrecy.”

“I lied to rid us of Lady Hungerford’s looming presence. Do you want me to call her back?”

Anne had to smile. Again. “No.”

“Good.” He sat opposite her, picked up his wine goblet, and took a sip of what Anne knew to be an excellent Burgundy. “You may have heard that the king’s older sister, Queen Margaret of Scotland, fled her adopted homeland several months ago.”

“She was regent of that country until she married a Scottish earl,” Anne murmured, recalling what little she knew of the matter. “That turned the other noblemen against her. She must have feared for her life, poor woman. The Scots are a vicious people.” Anne had never met Margaret Tudor, but since Will had been in her brother’s service from an early age, he must have grown up with Her Grace.

“Queen Margaret,” he said, “left England to marry the King of Scotland more than a dozen years ago. She did not have an easy time of it. Although her royal husband did his duty and she duly gave birth to an heir to the Scottish throne, King James was not faithful to her, or even kind. Nor did he care much for the treaty with England their marriage was intended to seal. When we went to war with France three years ago, and King Henry and his army were occupied across the Narrow Seas, James followed a long-standing tradition and invaded England from the north. He was slain in battle at a place called Flodden Field. The new king is not old enough to rule and will not be for some years to come.”

Anne listened to this recitation with growing impatience. She knew all this. “I do not need a history lesson, Sir William.”

“Queen Margaret was breeding when she left Scotland. She tarried in the north of England to give birth to a daughter and now intends to travel south with that child, Lady Margaret Douglas. She wishes to visit her brother at court. King Henry has agreed. The queen’s party will arrive at the beginning of May, but certain preparations must be made first. That is where the king needs your help.”

“I, too, serve at the will and pleasure of the king.” Mirroring Will’s movements, Anne sipped her wine.

“Queen Margaret will occupy Baynard’s Castle during her sojourn in the south of England. It is His Grace’s wish that you prepare it to receive the queen. You are to take whatever is needed from the royal wardrobe of beds, and order provisions, as well.”

Anne frowned. “The king has household officers to attend to such matters. Why does His Grace choose to entrust the details to me?” The officers of the wardrobe and their assistants were accustomed to traveling ahead of King Henry when he went on progress, specifically to prepare houses along the way for royal occupation.

“Perhaps the king thinks this occasion requires a woman’s touch.”

“Even so, why mine? Surely the queen has someone among her ladies who might better undertake the task.”

“Your London house is in Thames Street, hard by Baynard’s Castle. Do not quibble, Anne. To be sought out for such a duty is a great honor.”

She selected a seed cake and nibbled. After the enforced boredom of her lying in, she could not help but respond to the challenge, and it would be delightful to furnish an entire palace at the king’s expense. “I would need assistants,” she said aloud.

Compton set aside his goblet and leaned closer. “There will be someone living in Baynard’s Castle to help with furnishing and provisioning the place. One of the king’s most trusted gentlemen has been assigned to serve you in any way that you require.”