It was the familiar pattern which had worked so well in my case. What if it worked for Jane Seymour?
How could it? I had been alert, clever, and Jane was a fool. She would never be able to plan as I did to hold him off.
I had many enemies at Court, and they would, of course, know of his feelings for Jane. They had always sought a way of being rid of me. What if they saw the answer in Jane? It suddenly struck me. She had two very ambitious brothers. I wanted to find out, if I could, all about those Sey-mour men.
I discovered that they claimed descent from a companion of William the Conqueror who took his name from St. Maur-sur-Loire in Touraine. The St. Maur had become Seymour. The two brothers, Edward the elder—he must have been about my age—and Thomas, a little younger, were eager to make their way at Court. I had no doubt that they had noted the spectacular rise of the Boleyns at Court—in a small way through Mary's liaison with the King and a much greater way through his marriage with me.
It must be that they were seeking advancement through their sister Jane.
The idea seemed quite preposterous, because she was such an insignificant little creature.
I did not think a great deal of the matter then, for I was now very preoccupied with my coming child.
Then came the day when I found them together. I had come into the room suddenly and there they were. She was seated on his knee; she was simpering and he was looking at her fondly. I saw that glazed expression which I remembered so well as it had been so frequently directed at me.
Jane Seymour sitting there on the King's knee! Where was the virginal young lady who had to guard her honor? She did not seem to be so very concerned with that at this moment.
I just stood for some seconds staring at them.
Jane Seymour saw me. She leaped to her feet. The King looked full at me, and there was anger in his eyes. He was caught, and he hated to be caught. He always looked then to blame someone else. He would blame me, of course. But I would not be humiliated before Jane Seymour.
I turned abruptly, and departed.
I felt sick and ill. How far had it gone? Was he trying to repeat what had happened to us? Who was behind her? Edward and Thomas Sey-mour, the ambitious brothers? Who else? How many enemies had I at Court? Too many to be counted.
I went to my chamber.
Nan Saville ran to me in alarm. “Your Grace…you are not well.”
“I think I will lie down.”
She helped me to my bed. That night my pains started. I was in agony. It was far too soon. I could not bear to be disappointed of my one great hope now.
They sent for the midwife and the doctors. I could imagine how the news was spreading around the palace.
“The Queen is in labor. But it is too soon.”
“Oh God,” I prayed. “You know how much I want this child. My future depends on it… perhaps my very life.”
But God did not answer my prayers. My child—a son—was born dead.
Henry came into my room. He looked down at me. I saw his clenched fists, his glittering eyes, his cruel mouth.
His disappointment was as bitter as my own.
“You cannot give me sons,” he said. “You are no better than that other.”
I hated him. If I had married Henry Percy, I thought now, I might have been a happy woman. But he had chosen to guide my life. He had robbed me of my lover and offered me a crown…and now he was threatening to snatch it away from me. I hated him—and I did not care that he knew it. I was finished. I knew that, as sure as I knew anything. I understood Katharine's feelings as never before. She had served him well for twenty years…I not yet three… but it was long enough for him to tire of me and want to be rid of me.
I said: “It is you who have done this. It is your infidelities… that have upset me so that our child is born dead. I saw you with that silly slut on your knees.” I laughed. “You might have chosen someone more worthy.”
He was furious. He hated me for having caught him in such a position.
He roared: “I see God does not wish to give me male children. And you…you will have no more sons by me.”
He was blaming me. I was speechless with indignation.
He murmured: “When you are on your feet, I will speak with you.”
Then he left me.
I lay numb with misery and fear. I had lost my last chance.
I wondered what would happen to me now.
I did not see him for several days.
I knew there was no way of luring him back to me for the time being. He seemed to be completely obsessed with Jane Seymour. His affair with her was common knowledge. But how far it had gone, I did not know.
He went on one of his journeys through the country. I did not accompany him. It was given out that I needed to rest to recover from my miscarriage.
I was in a precarious position.
I turned to George—the only one I felt I could trust.
I was resting in my bed when he came to me. It was a good place to talk because we could be quite alone.
He sat by the bed, looking grave.
He said: “I am worried about the Seymours.”
“You think they are plotting?”
“I know they are. There are not two more ambitious men at Court than Edward and Thomas Seymour. They look for great things through their sister Jane.”
“They profit from our example, George, I'm afraid.”
“You must try to get back to Henry.”
“He hates me, I believe.”
“Love and hate are said to be very close.”
“He has said I shall have no more boys from him.”
“When did he say this?”
“When I was lying exhausted after I lost my child because I was so upset when I came upon him with Jane Seymour on his knee.”
“He knows you saw him?”
“Yes, of course.”
“That would make him angry. He hates to be caught.”
I laughed bitterly. “There is little you can tell me about him, George.”
“You must get a boy. It is imperative.”
“A thought has come to me. Katharine had many miscarriages, did she not? And now … look at me. We have both had girls… but always if the child is a boy it miscarries. Why should that be?”
“Perhaps boys are more difficult to come by.”
“That does not seem to be the case. There are many of them about.”
“What are you thinking, Anne?”
“That it is due to something in Henry. I begin to believe he will never have a healthy boy.”
“He had Elizabeth Blount's boy.”
“Yes… but that was long ago. And have you noticed young Richmond? There is a delicate look about him. I do not think he will live long.”
“But at least he was born.”
“Mary is delicate, but she lives. But she was born to Katharine after several miscarriages. Elizabeth was my firstborn and she is very healthy, but I think she gets that from me. I have these misgivings, George. And if I am right, it means that Henry will never beget a healthy boy.”
The horror of this dawned on him.
Then he said: “What hope is there then?”
“None. The more I consider it, the more I believe that the fault lies with him.”
“He would kill anyone who suggested it.”
“I know. Perhaps sometime I shall say it to him.”
“Anne, for God's sake have a care. Is there anything that might make you think…”
“That I am right? There is a sore on his leg which does not heal well. I wonder about it.”
“That sort of disease?”
I nodded. “Sometimes I believe it makes men and women unable to bear healthy children.”
“But there is Elizabeth.”
“I was fresh. I was healthy. And she is a girl.”
“I cannot believe you are right when you say the King is incapable of having healthy children.”
We did not notice that the door had opened and Jane Rochford stood there.