A story was being circulated about a girl of seventeen or so—my age— who impersonated me in the North of England, where it was unlikely anybody had seen me. She went from village to village telling a sad story of the persecution she had suffered, explaining that she had escaped and was trying to reach the Emperor. Her name turned out to be Anne Baynton and she collected a fair amount of money, so she did succeed in deceiving people. It showed their sympathy to me that none attempted to betray her and instead were willing to help her on her way.
Meanwhile I lay sick in my bed, hovering between life and death.
At length I did begin to recover, for Dr. Butts was determined that I should. He had to prove that my sickness was not incurable. I had always known that he was the best doctor in the kingdom. He was aware of the cause of my illness, and although it was due to a certain extent to illnourishment, it was the sheer misery which I had suffered which was the chief cause.
And as I returned to health there was born in me a determination to live to fight for my rights. I had been through so much that there was little worse that could happen to me. I was denied the company of those I loved; those of my friends who would visit me were turned away. I was kept from my mother; I was deprived of the company of my dear Countess; and Lady Bryan was no longer with me. I told myself I had touched the very nadir of my suffering.
I was very weak and scarcely able to walk across the room; but at least I was alive.
To my surprise, one day I had a visitor.
I was astonished when Lady Shelton came to my room. She said, “Her Grace the Queen commands you to her presence.”
I felt suddenly very cold, and my hands began to tremble.
Lady Shelton was smiling at the prospect, I presumed, of a royal princess having to obey the command of that woman.
I said, “You know my condition. I am unable to walk across the room without help.”
She smiled secretively with a lift of her shoulders.
“Her Grace the Queen commands your presence,” she repeated.
“If she wants to see me, she will perforce have to come to me.”
With a smirk, Lady Shelton nodded and disappeared.
I sat down on my bed, putting my hand to my heart. It was beating wildly. What had I done? I had shown my contempt for her. What would be the punishment for such conduct? Should I be sent to the Tower?
The door of my room was opened. I stared in surprise, for it was the woman herself. I could not believe it. I half rose.
She shook her head and signed for me to remain seated.
She was impressive, I could not deny it. She had an air of distinction. In that moment I could almost understand my father's obsession with her. She was most elegantly attired—not flamboyantly and yet more outstanding for the sheer elegance, the cut of her clothes and her style of wearing them.
I noticed the band about her neck which many had copied but none wore as she did. I noticed the long hanging sleeves to cover the sixth nail. Marks of the devil, I thought, which she has exploited to add to her grace.
Her enormous dark eyes held mine. I was trembling, unable to believe this was really happening. It must be something in a dream. I had thought of her so much. I had conjured up this vision. But there she was. She had seated herself on the bed facing me. She smiled. It changed her face. She was dazzling.
She said in a gentle voice, “You have been very ill.”
I did not answer and she went on, “But you are better now. This rift… it has gone on too long. I do not want it to continue. I understand your feelings, of course, and I have come to talk to you, to make a proposition. If you will come to Court I will do all in my power to restore your father's love for you.”
I listened dazed, becoming more and more convinced that I was dreaming.
She smiled graciously. What did it mean? I reminded myself that I hated her. There was some ulterior motive in this… some evil purpose. She must be thinking that I was overwhelmed by this show of friendship. Did she expect me to fall on my knees and thank her?
I remained silent. I could find no words to answer her.
She went on, “There must be an end to these differences between you and your father. It is not good for the King, for you or for the country. So let us put an end to them.”
I heard myself stammer: “How?”
She smiled confidently. “You will return to Court. I promise you, you will be well treated. There shall be no discord. Everything that you had before will be yours. Perhaps it will be even better. There is only one thing you must do to achieve this.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
“You must honor me as the Queen. You must be respectful … and accept that this is now a fact.”
I could listen to no more. I saw it all. She and my father wanted me there to tell the people that I was not being shut out and ill treated. They did not want me. They would not accept me as the Princess Mary. I was not to be a princess. That title was reserved for this woman's bastard.
I said to her, “I could not acknowledge you as Queen because you are not Queen. I know of only one Queen of England, and that is my mother.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are a fool,” she said. “A stubborn little fool.”
“I can only speak the truth,” I retorted. “If you would speak to my father on my behalf … if you would persuade him to allow me to join my mother…I should appreciate that.”
“You know that is not what I meant. I am suggesting that you come to Court. All you must do is accept the fact that there was no true marriage between the King and your mother, that I am the King's wife and Queen of this realm and that my daughter, Elizabeth, is the Princess of England.”
“But I accept none of this. How can I when it is not true?”
“Do you know you are in danger?” she said. “You incur the wrath of the King. Do you realize what could happen to you? I am giving you a chance to save yourself…to leave all this …”—she looked round the room with contempt—“… all this squalor. You shall have a luxurious apartment. You shall have all that is due to you as the King's daughter.”
“As the King's bastard, you mean.”
“There is no need for you to stress the point.”
“I stress it only to show its absurdity. I am the King's legitimate daughter. It is your daughter who is the bastard.”
She had risen. I thought she was going to strike me.
“I see that you are determined to destroy yourself,” she said.
“It is others who will try to destroy me,” I replied. “They have already tried persistently, God knows, but they have not succeeded yet.”
“I see I have made a mistake,” she went on. “I thought you would have more sense. You are stupidly blind. You do not see the dangers of your situation. You carelessly provoke the King's wrath. That can be terrible, you know.”
I took a shot in the dark. I had heard life was not running smoothly for her and the King, that he looked at other women now and then and was perhaps beginning to regret the hasty step he had taken. I said, “As we both know.”
It is true, I thought. I noticed the sudden color in her cheeks, the glint in her magnificent eyes.
She turned to me. “You will regret this,” she said. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I have given you a chance.”
After that she left me. Lady Shelton was hovering.
I heard Anne Boleyn say, “The girl is a stubborn little fool. I will see that her Spanish pride is brought low.”
It had been a shattering experience. I sat on my bed, my limbs trembling so violently that I could not move.
WE WERE INTO ANOTHER new year, 1535. Could there ever be another like that which had gone before, when my father had shocked the whole of Europe by the unprecedented action of breaking with Rome?
I could not believe that even he could look back with equanimity on what he had done. He was never one to admit himself wrong, but surely he must suffer some disquiet in the secret places of his mind. How could he not? He was a religious man, a sentimental man. Oh yes, if he paused to think, he must suffer many an uneasy qualm.