At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (26 page)

And suddenly it all made sense. “You?”

He grinned at her. “Your humble servant, my lady.”

“George will not be pleased.”

“I believe His Grace said something about requiring Lord Hastings’s presence at court.”

“I am certain that even if he is living at Greenwich or Richmond, my husband will manage frequent visits to London.” Anne spoke in her most repressive voice.

“I thought you objected to being kept prisoner.”

Anne felt her face grow warm and hastily took another swallow of wine.

“You are a miracle, Lady Anne,” Will said in a low, husky voice. “You have a bloom in your cheeks and a bounce in your step. Dare I hope my presence accounts for a small portion of your response?”

Disconcerted by the intimacy of the moment and her own reaction to it—an intense and unsettling desire to move closer to Will Compton—Anne abruptly stood.

Will also rose, but was considerate enough to keep his distance. “It is the king’s wish that you prepare Baynard’s Castle, but you may refuse.”

“As I tried to refuse him once before?”

The irritation in her voice surprised a quick grin out of him. “Even so.”

Anne drew in a strengthening breath. One did not say no to the king without good reason, but she was under no obligation to act upon the physical pull she felt toward Will Compton, no matter how compelling it seemed at this moment. When she had performed this task for His Grace, she would return to court, with George, and reap the rewards of royal gratitude.

“Tell His Grace that I will take up residence at Hastings House on the last day of March,” she said. “That will give me a full month to prepare Baynard’s Castle for Queen Margaret’s arrival.”

W
ill Compton welcomed Lady Anne into Baynard’s Castle wearing a wide grin. “Do you really need two chaperones?” he teased her.

“I do not need even one. I am perfectly capable of resisting your crude blandishments on my own.”

“Alas, how well I know it. But why, then, did you move into Hastings House with both Lady Hungerford and her mother in tow?”

“For the pleasure of their company,” Anne assured him in lofty tones. They had entered the great hall and her words echoed in the huge, open space. Empty, the place had a bleak and disused appearance.

“Well,” Will said, “since it appears you are gifted with their presence, you may as well take advantage of their expertise. Lord Hastings’s grandmother should have knowledge of Queen Margaret’s likes and dislikes. As I recall, she knew the queen well before Her Grace’s marriage.”

“She did,” Anne agreed, “and relishes telling stories of her days in the household of Queen Elizabeth of York, Queen Margaret’s mother. At first, from the way she spoke, I assumed that she was still the unmarried daughter of the Earl of Northumberland at the time. But when I
gave the matter closer thought, I realized that she had, in fact, been twice widowed by the time she became part of the court of King Henry the Seventh.”

Will chuckled. “She scandalized the entire court by taking Hugh Vaughan as her third husband. True, he was a champion jouster, but he had no title. As yet, he had not even been knighted.”

“That does not mean she
approves
of scandal,” Anne admonished him, and produced a list of the many things that needed to be done to make Baynard’s Castle ready for Queen Margaret’s arrival.

During the days that followed, Anne and Will established a surprisingly good working relationship. She could not help but enjoy his company, especially since, aside from the occasional suggestive remark, he was a model of propriety. By the second week she had stopped being nervous around him and was able to give herself over to her enjoyment of the task of decorating one of the king’s houses.

Baynard’s Castle had been renovated by King Henry the Seventh to remove fortifications and make it more comfortable as a dwelling. It boasted two octagonal towers, one of which contained the privy lodgings. It also had its own watergate, a cobbled courtyard, and a large walled garden. Just to the north, and most convenient from which to transport furnishings, was the royal wardrobe of beds, where all manner of household furnishings were stored.

Anne paused on one bright morning to look out over the city toward the redbrick walls rising at Bridewell, the palace the king intended to replace the burned-out shell of Westminster Palace. Ever since a fire had destroyed most of that ancient edifice, the court had been obliged to use the Archbishop of Canterbury’s palace at Lambeth as a London residence. The many offices that had once been located in Westminster had been moved to temporary quarters constructed on the green in the Tower of London.

“Building at Bridewell does not seem to progress very rapidly,” she remarked to Will when he came up beside her to see what had caught her attention.

“Cardinal Wolsey is in charge of the construction. Since he is using
some of the same men and materials to renovate his own house of York Place, which is building apace, Bridewell feels the neglect.”

Anne heard the derision in his voice. Her brother spoke in the same way of the cardinal. “Is Wolsey grown so very powerful that he can neglect the king’s interests in favor of his own?”

“Some think so. They may be right.”

“Is he. . . a friend of yours?”

Will’s expression hardened. “We understand one another.”

Anne started to ask another question, then stopped herself. She had no wish to become involved in a discussion of politics. Neither did she wish to seem to favor any faction at court. When she returned there, it would be to enjoy its pleasures and pastimes and the company of her husband, not to indulge in intrigue.

As for Cardinal Wolsey, she winced to recall that she had once bared her soul to him. In a letter written from Ashby de la Zouch when she was at her most vulnerable, she had detailed her mistreatment at Littlemore Priory and revealed the prioress’s lack of chastity, too. The only result of this outpouring had been a curt reply, dictated to a secretary, telling her Wolsey would take the matter under advisement. Nothing, so far as Anne could tell, had ever been done to investigate the priory, nor had there been any repercussions for the mighty Duke of Buckingham.

Over time, Anne’s desire for revenge had faded, but she could not help but resent Thomas Wolsey’s attitude in taking her complaints so lightly. She had no desire to have any further dealings with the priest who was now a cardinal.

W
hen all was in readiness to receive Queen Margaret, Lady Anne received her reward. First she would join the king to greet his sister just outside London. She would ride into the city with them to escort Her Grace to Baynard’s Castle. Once that task was complete, she would be reinstated at court as a member of Queen Catherine’s household. She and George had already been assigned one of the double lodgings at Greenwich.

Anne had missed her husband, especially during the long, lonely nights at Hastings House. During the days, Will Compton had distracted her. Once or twice, to her chagrin, she had caught herself wondering what it would be like to have him warm her bed. She had firmly resisted the temptation to find out, but she was very aware of his eyes upon her as she entered the great hall of his house in Tottenham.

“Sir William,” she exclaimed, her gaze going unerringly to the shadowy corner where he stood, “I had no idea this was such a magnificent establishment.” The moated manor house, situated a half day’s ride from London, appeared to have been newly renovated.

Will came toward them, on the surface paying equal attention to each of the noble ladies in Anne’s party and greeting their husbands with equal animation. But before long he attempted to draw her away from the
others for a private word. He was not successful. George kept pace with them, one hand possessively gripping Anne’s elbow as they walked.

“I acquired this property two years ago,” Will said, “along with two other manors in Tottenham—rewards for my service to King Henry. I had the newest sections rebuilt in brick, the same building material I am using in the construction at Compton Wynyates. Is the place worthy to receive a queen, do you think?”

“Entirely suitable for royalty,” Anne assured him.

“Since Queen Margaret will not be staying here,” George Hastings said, “the condition of the house matters little.”

“George,” Anne chided him. “How can you say that? Her Grace travels with her six-month-old daughter. Accommodations at any place she stops to rest, whether for an hour or a month, are most important.” She gave a light, nervous laugh. “Why else should I have spent so much time of late making certain all is in readiness for her at Baynard’s Castle?”

“Why indeed,” George asked, and glowered darkly at Will.

“Cry peace, Hastings,” Will said in a low voice. “The king does not desire enmity between us.”

“Then His Grace should not have tried to separate me from my wife.”

“Stop it. Both of you.” Irritated, Anne stepped between them. “No matter what the king’s intention, I did naught during the last few weeks but furnish rooms for his sister.”

Will sighed. “She is telling you the truth, Hastings. Much to my regret, I admit. You are married to a paragon of virtue. A pity you cannot appreciate that.”

“You dare—!”

“George!” This time, Anne got a good grip on
his
arm. She hauled him away into a window embrasure. “You claim to trust me,” she hissed at him.

“I do. It is Compton I cannot put my faith in, especially when he has no less a personage than the king playing matchmaker for him.”

“With all these people about, I believe I am safe from any acts of impropriety.”

Looking a bit sheepish, George conceded her point.

“Then permit me to speak with him for a few moments alone. You may glare at us from the opposite side of the chamber if you like, but keep your distance. This is neither the time nor the place for a brawl.”

“George Hastings does not deserve you,” Will said when she reached him. “I would trade all I have for such a wife.”

“Stop your nonsense!” Anne snapped at him. “We’ve no time for it, not with Queen Margaret due to arrive at any moment.” Her Grace had been staying the last few nights at Sir Thomas Lovell’s house in Enfield and that was but a short ride from Tottenham.

Will did not touch her, did not even stand close to her—there were too many people watching them—but his voice dropped to a lower pitch that compelled her attention. “If I do not say this now, I may never have the chance again, and I want you to know how I feel about you, Anne. Even when you were great with another man’s child, I could not stop myself from thinking about you, longing for you. No other woman will ever mean as much to me as you do.”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head from side to side in denial. Perversely, this seemed to encourage him.

“You do not strike me, or scream, or—worse—mock me. I believe that is because you feel what I feel. Perhaps you already love me, although surely not as much as I love you.”

Anne’s eyes popped open. “Stop, I beg you. I love George.”

“Perhaps you do, but you have always had feelings for me, too.”

She swallowed convulsively and clasped her hands in front of her to still their trembling. “For pity’s sake, Will, speak no more of this. Do you want me to be sent back to Littlemore Priory?”

Startled by the suggestion that she might be imprisoned again, he took a step back. Anne inhaled deeply, struggling to rein in her emotions. She had barely regained her composure when the fanfare sounded to announce the arrival of the Queen of Scots. Her opportunity to speak privately with Will was at an end. George reappeared at her elbow and they went outside.

Queen Margaret was dressed in fine clothing—supplied by her brother—and accompanied by a number of ladies and gentlewomen. The nursery staff followed. Anne heard the wails of an unhappy baby inside an ornate litter.

“It is a delight to see you again, Your Grace,” Will greeted the woman who dismounted in his courtyard. He wore a fixed smile on his face and Anne was grateful that their years at court had taught them both how to school their features.

In the years she had been in Scotland, Margaret Tudor had grown old and stout. The beauty of her youth had fled, and with it had gone the carefree girl Will remembered. This Margaret was frightened, Anne realized, and trying not to show it. She had no idea what kind of reception to expect from her brother the king.

“Master Compton, is it not?” she asked. Her voice was sweet and low and much like that of her younger sister, Mary.

“Sir William Compton these days, Your Grace, but still at your service.”

His courtliness seemed to bolster the queen’s confidence. Anne knew all too well the effect it had on most women. Then it was time to come forward and be presented. She firmly pushed all personal thoughts of Will Compton to the back of her mind.

When the queen’s party had refreshed themselves, they set out again. This time Queen Margaret was mounted on a snow-white palfrey sent to her by Queen Catherine. A series of signals had been arranged to assure that King Henry and the lords and ladies he’d brought with him would reach the market cross in Tottenham at the same time that his sister, approaching from the opposite direction, arrived there. Their carefully staged public reunion went off without a hitch. Then, riding together, they set out for London, some eight miles distant.

The noblemen accompanying the king vied with one another for attention, both in dress and in the number of attendants they brought with them. Liveried retinues were the order of the day, from the king’s own servants in Tudor green and white to Anne’s brother’s men in their red and black livery with the silver Stafford knot as a badge. The
retainers of the Marquess of Dorset and of each earl and baron had their own distinctive colors. Riding all together, they made a splendid sight.

Crowds gathered all along the way, appreciative of the display and cheering for the king and his sister. Margaret insisted upon stopping every time a child appeared carrying flowers to present to her. As a result, it was late afternoon before they made their triumphal entry into the city, and nearly six in the evening before they arrived at Baynard’s Castle, where a late supper awaited them. That meal marked the end of Anne’s responsibilities, but the entire month of May was to be spent in feasting, jousting, and pageantry at court. Anne intended to enjoy every moment of it.