Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (68 page)

“I carried on. What else could I do? As I’d planned, I did not identify myself, but embraced Anna and told her I had been sent by the king. She did not know me, Nan. Not at all, even though she’d been sent my likeness.”

Nan made a sympathetic murmur of sound. She dared not speak for fear she would say the wrong thing.

“She seemed bored!” The king’s voice rose in outrage. “She had been watching a bullbaiting from her window when I arrived. She spoke a few words in Dutch or German. I know not which, but the sound of it grated on my ears. Then she returned to the window.”

Greatly daring, Nan slid her arms around the king and gave him a tentative hug. He might be king, but he was a man, too, and he had received a terrible shock. The bride he had longed for was nothing like her portrait. And to add insult to injury, she had ignored him, thinking him
a mere messenger. Had she treated him with proper deference, he might have looked more kindly on her lack of physical beauty. There was no hope of that now.

“I left the room to assume the purple velvet coat I had brought with me.” He was still wearing it. “When I returned, everyone bowed, and Anna seemed to recognize me at last. She realized her error and curtsied, but we still could not converse.” The king expelled a shuddering sigh. “I like her not, Nan. How can I marry her?”

Nan bit her lip. It was not her place to remind him that he’d already signed the marriage contract. All that remained to seal the treaty was consummation.

The king heaved another great sigh and kissed Nan’s cheek. “I’d have done better to marry you, Nan.”

Her heart stuttered. “That is kind of Your Grace to say, but I am only a humble gentlewoman. I am not worthy to be queen.”

“You are a woman of great beauty and you always smell sweet.” He turned her in his arms. “She has a very evil smell about her. How am I to take such a one into my bed?”

He did not expect an answer, and even if Nan had wished to give him one, she was prevented. His lips found hers. His hands slid to her waist and gripped her tightly, molding her body to his.

She did not resist. She did not dare. He was already in a volatile mood and the least resistance would turn him against her as easily as his reception by Anna of Cleves had changed his mind about her. Feigning eagerness, she kissed him back. She thought of Ned in the hope that it would make what was to come more bearable. If she pleased the king, if she eased his acceptance of a marriage he disliked, she would have influence. Prestige. Power. And a baron, at the least, to marry when the king tired of her.

His fingers were clumsy as he unlaced his codpiece. In his eagerness, he tumbled her to the floor. Nan found herself lying on a bed of rush matting and furs with the skirt of her black satin gown shoved up to her waist. The king engaged in a few minutes of frantic pawing and fumbling
before he tried to push himself into her body. He’d barely entered her before he spilled his seed. A moment later, he collapsed on top of her and began to snore.

Stunned, nearly crushed by his great weight, Nan struggled to breathe. She pushed at the king’s massive shoulders. He grunted and rolled aside. He did not wake as Nan freed herself and sat up.

In the candlelight, his features slack, King Henry was an appalling sight. He was nearly bald. Even his beard was sparse, and there was far more gray in it than red. His face was deeply lined, with pouches under his eyes and sagging jowls. The rest of him was even worse—a great belly straining against his doublet; a pathetic little male organ, spent, dangling inside the opened codpiece; and, not quite hidden by his hose, the bulge of bandages.

As quickly as she could, shaking all over, Nan stumbled to her feet and straightened her nightgown. She was careful not to wake the king. Her first thought was to run away, to escape, but she stopped herself in time. Her jumbled thoughts cleared. What was done was done. It was up to her to make the best of the situation.

She was the king’s mistress now. He was already married by proxy, but he despised his new queen. He had said that he’d have done better to wed her. There was food for thought. After all, he’d rid himself of his first two wives by having those marriages annulled. Who was to say he might not annul a third?

As Nan stared down at the damp spot on the rush matting, an idea came to her. Perhaps nothing so grand would come of this night’s debacle, but as long as there was a chance …

Moving quietly, her eyes on the king lest he should wake, Nan seized the cheese knife and cut through the twine that held the stained section to those on either side. Slicing through solid matting was more difficult, but she managed it. The knife was very sharp. Carrying the rectangular piece she’d detached to the hearth, she stirred the fire with a poker until the flames were sufficiently high, then tossed in the tightly woven rushes. The material caught instantly and was consumed in moments. Satisfied,
Nan returned to the king and lay down beside him to wait until he awoke.

A short time later, His Grace’s puffy eyes opened. He stared at Nan in bleary confusion. She wondered if he recognized her. She’d seen him use spectacles in private. It was possible his eyesight was failing him along with the rest of his body.

“Nan,” he said at last. She could see his struggle to recall where they were and what had happened between them. When he reached for her, she scooted away.

“Your Grace.” She gave him what she hoped would be taken for a shy smile. “I fear I am too sore for more of your lovemaking.” She ducked her head, averting her eyes. “It was my first time, as Your Grace knows.”

She sensed rather than saw the slight start he gave upon noticing the missing piece of matting.

“I … I burned that section. It was stained with my blood. I … I did not think … I did not want everyone to …”

A low chuckle cut short her stumbling explanation. Nan did not dare glance up. She was afraid the king would see the elation in her eyes.

“My sweet Nan,” he murmured, “a virgin no longer.” He sounded well pleased with himself.

“It is not that I am not proud to be your mistress, Your Grace. Never that. You are a most wonderful lover. I never knew … I never—”

“Never mind, sweeting,” the king said. “A foot carpet will cover the hole and it will be our secret.”

Bracing his weight on the chair, he heaved himself to his feet. Nan pretended not to notice how difficult the process was for him. She waited to rise until he offered her a hand, then went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Whether he really believed her or simply thought her too innocent to realize that he was not much of a lover, he was willing to accept that he had taken her virginity. He would demand no further proof of her innocence. He would never know that she had deceived him. And if he did decide to annul his marriage to Anna of Cleves—well, that remained to be seen.

*  *  *

Q
UEEN
A
NNA BROUGHT
with her a hundred personal servants, including a physician, a secretary, and twelve maids of honor. When the king rode out of Whitehall toward Greenwich, this time taking with him most of the court—by some estimates as many as six thousand persons—he left Nan behind.

She had hoped to witness the new queen’s official reception. She had expected to enter Anna’s service before the wedding ceremony, which was now scheduled for the sixth of January. Instead, she and the other five English maids of honor selected by King Henry were told to wait at Whitehall until they were summoned.

“It is not fair,” Mary Norris complained that evening. The tall, thin maid of honor had changed little since Queen Jane’s death. At twenty-two, she was now the oldest of the group. She was also the plainest. “Everyone else is at Greenwich, set to enjoy banquets and masques and merry disports while here we sit, miserable and alone.”

“We could disguise ourselves and go,” Catherine Howard suggested. “Hire a wherry to take us to Greenwich. My silkwoman tells me that the London guilds have all procured barges and decorated them with flowers and banners. They mean to row down the river to the palace. There will be musicians onboard, and singers, too.”

Catherine was eighteen, a tiny but voluptuous girl with dark blond hair, hazel green eyes, and an effervescent nature. Nan had not met her until Catherine came to court, but she had known Catherine’s father, who had died the previous year. Lord Edmund had been comptroller of Calais until his death and a good friend to Nan’s mother and stepfather. He’d even consulted Honor Lisle a time or two for her home remedies. Nan felt her lips curve into a smile. Once, when Lady Lisle had given Lord Edmund a mixture to cure the stone, the concoction had caused him to bepiss his bed. His wife, who had been sharing it at the time, had beaten him soundly.

“We were told to stay here,” said dark-haired, brown-eyed Lucy
Somerset, the most demure of the group. “I do not think we should disobey the king.”

Nan was not sure what to make of Lucy. She was barely sixteen, but she carried herself with a dignity that made her seem older. Perhaps it was because her father was the Earl of Worcester, which gave her precedence over the rest of them. She lived in the maids’ dormitory and asked for no special favors, but her clothes were much finer than Nan’s and her jewels more expensive.

“No one would know.” Catherine’s wide green eyes sparkled with mischief. “That is the point of being in disguise.”

“But what if we are caught,” Kate Stradling objected. “We might lose our positions.”

Catherine’s giggle was infectious. “We will not be. I am skilled at creeping in and out of places after dark. And good at smuggling people in, too.”

“What people?” The third Catherine, Catherine Carey, a plump girl of seventeen, plainly failed to understand the implications.

“Men,” Catherine Howard said. “What would be the point of secrecy if we only brought other women into the dormitory?”

“I would not boast of such things if I were you,” Mary Norris said. “Not if you hope to catch a husband while you are at court.”

Catherine Howard tossed her head, unconcerned. “Men like a girl who is eager to please.”

“Not if she is eager to please
everyone,
” Mary shot back.

Nan frowned. Until Catherine Howard came to court, she had lived in the household of the old Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, who had houses at Lambeth, across the river from Westminster, and at Horsham, in the country. Nan had pictured an environment that was dignified and cultured, where young women connected to the powerful Howard family received lessons in music and dancing and other social skills. It appeared that, in truth, those girls had learned very different skills.

“I mean to disguise myself and go,” Catherine announced. “Who will come with me?”

“The last time someone visited Anna of Cleves in disguise, matters did not go well.”

All eyes turned toward Nan.

“You left the dormitory that night.” Cousin Kate made the statement sound like an accusation. “Were you with the king?”

Lucy’s eyes grew round as saucers. Catherine Carey gasped. The look Catherine Howard sent Nan’s way was one of grudging respect.

Nan sighed. “His Grace sent for me,” she admitted. She had not expected to keep that much secret. “It was just after he returned from Rochester. He needed a sympathetic ear.”

“What did he tell you about the new queen?” Kate asked. Rumors had already spread that Anna of Cleves was not quite what the king had expected.

Thinking quickly, Nan chose the lie most likely to divert attention away from the night she’d spent in the queen’s apartments with the king. “His Grace told me that Queen Anna brought her own maids of honor with her and that she meant to keep them.”

“Twelve of them,” Catherine Howard muttered, as if the sheer number offended her.

“You know already that this was the reason we were left behind,” Nan said, “and it follows that we must not go to Greenwich on our own, not even in disguise. We must wait patiently for the king to act.”

Nan did not tell the other maids how the king really felt about his new bride, or of her suspicion that he would try his best to find a way out of the marriage. She doubted he would succeed. If he refused to go through with the wedding ceremony, there would be international repercussions. Likely he would honor the treaty he’d signed and Nan would have to make the best of it. She could be certain of one thing, however—His Grace fully intended to send the twelve ugly Dutch maids home and put six pretty English girls in their place.

O
N THE SIXTH
of January, King Henry married Anna of Cleves at Greenwich Palace. At the end of January, when the court returned to
Whitehall, the Dutch maids were still in place. Two weeks later, Nan was still waiting to be summoned to wait upon the queen. She and Cousin Kate had been moved into Cousin Mary’s chambers, crowding Isabel and Jane. Mary, Lucy, and Catherine Carey were billeted with convenient relatives of their own at court. Only Catherine Howard had left Whitehall entirely, returning to the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk’s mansion just across the river in Lambeth.

“What I mind most,” Cousin Kate complained when she and Nan were alone in the Countess of Sussex’s apartments save for Constance and Kate’s maid, “aside from the loss of income, is the loss of all the privileges to which a maid of honor is entitled.”

“You still have a servant and bed and board.”

“I had my heart set on a spaniel.” The sulky expression on Kate’s face did nothing to improve her appearance as she primped before Mary’s looking glass. It had been a New Year’s gift from the earl to the countess and was garnished with two blue sapphires, two rubies, and twenty-six pearls, and had a small pointed diamond at the top.

“We will probably be paid our ten pounds for the year whether we serve or not.” Nan hoped so. She had very little ready money.

“But we have lost other privileges. Why, just my share of supplies for the six of us comes to more than twenty-four pounds a year.”

“Trust you to know the amount.”

Kate turned away from her reflection to tick off items on her fingers. “A daily ration of two loaves of coarse bread and three of white, four gallons of ale, a half pitcher of wine, and six candles; three torches every week; and from the last day of October until the first day of April, six talshides of wood and six bundles of faggots to keep the dormitory warm. And then there is the matter of getting husbands. I have met a gentleman I fancy and I warrant he’d consider marrying one of the queen’s maids of honor. An impoverished gentlewoman dependent upon a kinswoman for everything she has is another matter entirely.”