He laughed. He agreed with me. He was completely in her thrall.
When the King arrived, we all had to make our respectful bows and curtsies, and when he looked at his son, I could see he did not like the boy's pale looks; he tried to stop himself looking at Elizabeth but she had a way of pushing herself forward, even in the royal presence, and at times I saw him giving her a furtive glance. She looked more than a little like him. If he would have allowed himself, he could have been very pleased with her. She was the one among us most like him.
To my surprise, shortly after his arrival he sent for me, and when I entered his presence I found that he was alone.
“Come and sit beside me, daughter,” he said.
I was amazed at such condescension and obeyed with some apprehension.
He saw this, and it seemed to please him. “There, there,” he said. “Do not be afraid. I wish to talk to you. You are no longer a child… far from it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How long is it since you were born?”
“Twenty-six years, Your Majesty.”
“And no husband! Well, these have been tragic times for me. I have been disappointed in my wives… though Jane was a good wife to me. It would seem that there is some curse upon me. Why has God seen fit to punish me thus?”
I felt myself growing stiff with anger, as I always did when anyone said a word against my mother. I wanted to shout at him: You had the best wife in the world and you cast her off for Anne Boleyn.
I think he sensed my feelings and, as he was favoring me at the moment and meant to continue to do so, he was mildly placating.
“I was under the spell of witchcraft,” he said. “I was bewitched.”
I did not answer. His eyes had grown glazed. He was seeing her, I imagined, the black-eyed witch with all her enchantments, seducing him … turning him from a virtuous wife and the Church of Rome. It was necessary to see her thus now. It was the only excuse for murder.
“And Jane,” he went on. “She died…”
“Giving Your Majesty your son,” I reminded him.
“How is the boy? Does he seem weak to you, Mary?”
“He is not strong like Elizabeth, but Lady Bryan says that delicate children often become stronger as they grow older.”
“I did not have to grow out of weakness.”
“Your Majesty cannot expect another to have your strength and blooming health, not even your own son.”
“I do expect it, daughter, and methinks I do not expect too much… only what is due to me. I am too trusting. You see how I am treated. I believed that girl was sweet and innocent…”
I thought: Then you can have had little experience of women. It was strange to be with him like this—answering in asides remarks which I dared not say aloud.
He made a self-pitying gesture, and I tried to look sympathetic, but I kept seeing that poor child running along the gallery at Hampton Court. I kept thinking of her terror as she realized that the axe which was poised above her head was about to fall on her as the executioner's sword from France had on her cousin—his second wife.
“Daughter,” he was saying, “I want you to be beside me. I have no Queen now. I need someone beside me … someone who can play the Queen. We will have a banquet and a ball. We will set aside our gloom. We must, for the sake of our subjects. They like not this sadness. The people must be amused. So …you will come to Court. You will be beside me.”
He was beaming at me, expecting me to express my joy.
I was uncertain of my feelings. I was finding life dull and monotonous. I wanted to be at Court. I wanted to know what was happening, to see events at first hand, not learn of them through hearsay.
And here was a chance.
Yet to be near the King was dangerous. Well, I had lived with danger for most of my life.
He was looking at me steadily.
“I see the idea pleases you,” he said.
He leaned over and patted my hand in a fatherly gesture.
Not since I was a very little girl had he shown me such affection.
MY POSITION HAD CHANGED. I was now in high favor. The King would have me beside him. He made it clear that he recognized me as his daughter.
The loss of Catharine Howard had had its effect on him. He looked much older; even he could no longer deceive himself that he was a young man. His legs were swollen and very painful; his appetite had not diminished, and now that he had less exercise he was beginning to grow very fat. His glinting eyes and his petulant mouth often seemed almost to disappear in the folds of flesh about them. He was melancholy and irascible. People feared him more than ever. I was amazed at his gentle attitude toward me. His health was clearly not good. That running sore on his leg was an outward sign of the state of his body; for some time he had tried to conceal it, but now it was impossible.
Naturally there were spies about the Court whose intention was to report everything that happened, and it was soon known throughout Europe that the King was not in good health, that Edward was frail—and at that only five years old; and it would seem significant that my father had brought me to Court and was treating me with more affection than he had shown toward me since he had decided to discard my mother.
It was not long before King François of France was putting out feelers. His son Charles of Orleans was in need of a bride, and there was none he would welcome as he would the Lady Mary.
I was not very pleased. I had almost become reconciled to being a spinster, to living on the fringe of the Court; after all, there was a great deal to be said for a certain obscurity. One did not have to suffer those alarms every time trouble with which one could be connected sprang up somewhere.
I had settled into a routine, where I could read, write to my friends, occasionally receive them, walk a good deal—I was fond of fresh air, be with my ladies in the evenings by the fire or perhaps, in summer, sit out of doors with dear old Jane the Fool to enliven the hours. It might be a little dull and unadventurous but it was not without its pleasure, and peace of mind was something to treasure when one had had little of it.
How should I know what would be waiting for me at the French Court? Moreover, Chapuys would be against it. If there was to be a union—and I could not have Reginald; that seemed impossible now for he was getting quite old—I would have liked it to bring me closer to the Emperor.
In fact, I found the whole matter rather distasteful, particularly when I discovered that French spies had been questioning my bedchamber women. It was well known that throughout my life I had had bouts of severe illness, and these spies asked delicate and embarrassing questions. They wanted to assure themselves that I was capable of bearing children. They would be considering the many miscarriages my mother had had; my father's children— apart from Elizabeth—were not strong. The Duke of Richmond had died young; Edward was fragile, and I was plagued with illness from time to time. Did that mean that I might not be capable of bearing children?
How serious the negotiations were, I am not sure. The political situation on the Continent was never stable for long; friends became enemies overnight, and that had its effect on proposed marriages. It might have been that it was never intended that there should be a marriage.
The fact that there was a great deal of squabbling over the dowry suggested to me—now experienced in these matters after so many proposals which had come to nothing—that the proposed marriage was a gesture to give the Emperor some apprehension, as the last thing he would want would be an alliance between France and England. My father offered a dowry of 200,000 crowns and François demanded 250,000. Charles of Orleans was only a second son, it was pointed out; I do not know what the response was, but it might have been that the doubts of my legitimacy were referred to.