“I would not care if you were a serving maid. But I do not think that this is a case so simple.”
“But your father wanted you to marry Mary Talbot.”
“It was long ago that that was talked of. I will see my father. I will talk to him. It may be that I can explain to him. It may be that when he sees you…”
“But the King …”
“It may be that the Cardinal only mentioned him to make me give way. I cannot see what interest the King could have.”
“I think he seeks revenge on me.”
“But, my dearest Anne, there are many ways he could have done that had he wished. He could have refused to have you at Court.”
“I do not understand him. I see him watching me sometimes and there is anger in his eyes.”
“It is your fancy. Wait until I see my father. Do not give up hope, my love.”
“No. I will cling to it. I cannot bear to do anything else.”
“I must go. The Cardinal must not know that we have met.”
We parted.
A fearful premonition was creeping over me that there was some evil force working against me.
I did not see him as I had hoped. But I heard what had happened.
It seemed that my enemies were going to extraordinary lengths to ruin my life.
As the meeting between the Earl of Northumberland and his son did not take place in private, there were gentlemen of the Cardinal's entourage to bring news of it to the ladies of the Queen's household, and from them I learned what had taken place.
The Earl must have been amazed to receive a summons to come to Court just to listen to an account of the misdemeanors of his son in engaging himself with a girl who was not considered worthy of the House of Northumberland.
The interview took place in the great hall of Wolsey's palace. The Earl had previously been in consultation with the Cardinal for some time; then he went into the gallery where his son was called to him.
The Earl berated Henry, calling him proud, licentious and an unthinking waster. Such abuse, as all must know, was so untrue that it astonished and maddened me to hear of it. His son had no regard, went on the irate Earl, for his father or his King. He might have brought disgrace on his father and his noble house. He had done his best to ruin them both. But by good fortune, his sovereign and the noble Cardinal had seen fit to warn him of what his profligate son was doing; and therefore he had learned of what sorrow was being brought to his house. He had come to tell his son that he must desist from his folly without delay. He was considering disinheriting Henry and naming one of his brothers as his successor, for the Lords of Northumberland had great duties in the North and these cold not be performed by a profligate waster.
Poor Henry! I could imagine his distress to have his character so misrepresented simply because he had fallen in love and wished to marry. I knew that he was not quick with words as I was; his temper did not rise as mine did. It was those very differences which had attracted me. I wished I had been there. I would have told the Earl—and the Cardinal, too— what I thought of them. I knew in my heart that my poor Henry was not fitted to deal with them.
I could imagine his standing there accepting the abuse, stammering that he loved me, telling them of my perfections. That was not the way to handle them.
And then the Earl turned to the Cardinal's servants, who were listening to this harangue, and told them not to make excuses for his son's faults, and to treat him harshly when the need arose. Then he went out to his barge in a state of great anger.
I sought to cheer myself. It was not the end. The Cardinal's men had been told not to spare him, which meant that he would stay in the Cardinal's household. At least he would not be far away.
But even that hope was soon past.
A few days later I heard that Henry was banished from Court and that he had already left for Northumberland.
I wanted to see the Cardinal, to demand to know what it all meant. Why was everyone so determined to destroy my future happiness? I would have them know that I had Howard blood in my veins. Perhaps they would care to throw insults at the Duke of Norfolk. In private I stormed; I raged; I made up conversations between myself and the Cardinal in which I flayed him with my tongue until the man cringed; but of course it was only my own angry face which looked back at me in the mirror, not the bland one of the great Cardinal. In my thoughts I argued with the King. Why did you have to do this to me? I know you have not forgotten that time at Hever. I see you watching me. Is it possible that a great King could want revenge just because for a few minutes a young girl made him feel foolish?
But these imaginary conversations did nothing but increase my fury.
I was very sad, very hurt and very angry. I supposed it was called broken-hearted for I was listless and had no interest in anything.
My father summoned me to his presence.
He looked at me coldly. “So you have disgraced yourself with young Percy,” he said.
“Disgraced! We were to have been married.”
“Foolish girl. You should know that the marriage of the future Earl of Northumberland must be arranged by his family.”
“We are as good as they are…almost.”
“You have displeased the Cardinal.”
“Why should my affairs displease him? If he is so worried about my low birth, let him look to his own.”
“You are too forward. You are lacking in modesty. Your presence at Court is no longer needed.”
“Do you mean…?”
“What I mean is that you are to leave at once for Hever.”
So I was banished too.
It did not matter to me very much where I was. What was the use of being at Court if he was not there?
Over the moat, under the portcullis, into the familiar courtyard …I was home, banished from Court, banished from joy for ever more.
My stepmother greeted me with pity and affection. She knew of the broken love affair.
“You will feel better at home,” she told me. “I will look after you.”
I fell into her arms and, for the first time since it happened, I was weeping. I think I alarmed her, for it was so unlike me, and as always with me, my tears were more tempestuous than those of other people—just as my anger and my pleasure seemed to be.
She was a great comfort to me. I was able to talk to her. She understood how much I had cared for him and why. I told her of our meetings and our plans; and she listened and wept with me.
She assured me that I would recover in time. “Time is our friend in trouble,” she said, “because it tells us that the sorrow cannot last for ever.”
I was sure mine would.
“I shall never forget him,” I told her. “He was not in the least like the man I should have expected to marry. He was no great warrior. I am surprised that I could care for such a man as he was… but as soon as we were together I knew that I was for him and he was for me. He was not like any of the others and nor am I… but the difference between us was great. Oh, it is good to talk of him … to someone who I think will understand.”
“There, my darling child,” she said. “Talk to me. Tell me… and if you would be quiet, then we shall just sit together… close like this… and you will know my thoughts are with you.”
I do not know how many weeks passed thus. I lost count of the days. Sometimes I lay in bed from sunrise to sunset; and my stepmother would come up and sit by my bed.
“There is nothing to get up for,” I told her.
And she would sit there, so that if I wished to talk to her I did and if I was silent it did not matter.
I have never forgotten what she did for me at that time.
Then one day a messenger came from Court from my father.
Among other things he brought a letter for my stepmother. He wished to know how I was faring. Was I sulking in my disappointment?