My stepmother understood me well and she tried so hard to wean me from my unhappiness that I felt I had to respond and pretend that I was forgetting—and that helped me to forget.
She would consult me about the management of the house, and although I was not really interested, I would feign to be just to please her. I rode a good deal; I walked; I hunted; I hawked; I was often at Allington Castle, and Mary often came to Hever.
My father paid rare visits. He did not reproach me as I had expected him to; he behaved as though the matter was closed. But he did not speak of my future and I began to feel that I was to be left at Hever for the rest of my life. It was at least peaceful, and I had grown to love the surrounding country. It was home in a way. But I missed the Court. I designed my dresses but what was the use if no one was there to see them except the local people and a few country friends. They understood nothing of fashion.
Mary came visiting us once. She was sparkling with pleasure. Life was very good to her. My stepmother was in a flurry of excitement, making sure that all was befitting for such a personage as my sister had become. I laughed at these preparations. “She may be the King's mistress,” I said, “but she is still only Mary.”
Mary was as little likely to give herself airs because of her position as she was to feel shame because of it. She lived by simple rules and it was not long before she was betraying a few secrets to me.
When we were alone together, she slipped easily into the role of a sister who, although she might be older, had always been dominated by me to a certain extent. She had never seemed to understand discretion and it was easy to learn what one wanted to from her.
She told me something of what had happened about Henry Percy and myself. Being close to the King she had seen what effect it had had in royal circles. Not that she was in the least discerning, but even she could not fail to be aware of such a contretemps, particularly when it concerned her sister.
She said: “The King was in a mighty rage. He sent for Wolsey. I don't know what he said to him, but Wolsey was with him for a long time. I did hear the King say something about ‘those upstart Boleyns.’ I thought that was the end of me. He shouted: ‘Send for Northumberland.’ The Cardinal left him, and the King did not send for me. I only knew that he was very angry because one of our family had dared to think she could marry with the mighty Northumberlands. It was a surprise to me. After all the King had done for our father. I thought he had taken a sudden dislike to me. As a matter of fact, he had been falling off in his attention for some time now. Well, I had a long run. Few people last as long.”
“Oh, Mary,” I said. “I wish it wasn't so. It is so demeaning.”
“To be the King's mistress! My dear Anne, it is an honor. People vie for it.”
“Why, Mary? Why you? I know most of them feather their nests. They look for honors… riches… but you…”
Mary's eyes were glazed with memories. “He is a very fine man,” she said.
“Of course he has a beautiful crown.”
“I never think of that. I think he liked me for it. No one has ever lasted as long… not even Elizabeth Blount.”
“I cannot understand Will Carey.”
“He is a gentle soul. He would never make trouble. He is happy enough as long as he doesn't know too much about it.”
“He must know … all. Everyone knows.”
“There is great discretion at Court. The King does not want people to know. He wants them to think he is a faithful husband … and he would be…if hecould.”
“Most of us would be virtuous if sin was not so enticing,” I said.
“Well, there is the Queen, you know. She behaves to me as though I were just one of her maids of honor. There is never any mention…of the fact that I visit him at night. Those in attendance disappear when I slip in and when I come out. And nobody ever says when I return to the maids’ apartment, ‘Where have you been?’”
“But they all know!”
“But it is not spoken of… and that makes it seem all right.”
I laughed. “These matters are conducted differently in France.”
“Well, this way is better. It makes it easier for everyone. But I did think it was the end. He sent for me so rarely… and the occasions were becoming less and less frequent. They stopped altogether for several months. I thought it was over. And then, suddenly, recently, it started again. He was very affectionate. He seemed to have forgotten that we were the upstart Boleyns and a member of our family had attempted to marry into the House of Northumberland.”
It was impossible not to laugh with Mary, although I deplored her position and would have preferred our father to have done without what I called his ill-gotten gains, because I felt life at Hever was intolerably dull, and I could not help urging Mary to talk of the Court.
When she had gone, it seemed duller than ever.
After a year of so of this quiet country existence, George came home. I was much happier then. George and I had always been two of a kind; the family bond between us was close. Now I had a companion; we rode together; we hawked and hunted; but best of all we talked.
There was an occasion when we had visitors from the Netherlands. George had met them on one of his visits abroad and we entertained them for a few nights at Hever.
I remember that night as we sat around the table after the meal and how we talked long into the night. Our visitors were fascinated by the works of Martin Luther and they talked glowingly of the reforms which were needed in the Church. They talked of the growing anxiety throughout the Catholic world and the attempts to destroy this man. So far they had not succeeded and those who followed him were growing in number. There was going to be a revolution throughout the Church, and the outcome would be that a new doctrine of protesters would be formed…a branch of the old religion, but an improved religion with much which was evil in the old removed.
When they departed, with many thanks for our hospitality and in particular for our participation in those interesting discussions, they left with us two books by Martin Luther—one of which was his famous address The Christian Nobles of Germany and the other his treatise The Babylonish Captivity of the Church.
George and I spent many an hour reading them and discussing them afterward.
He had received a grant of the Manor of Grimston in Norfolk, for which he was extremely grateful.
“The King has been generous to our family,” he said. “Our father has done very well out of his daughter. The Boleyns have always found a way to improve their lot. Oddly enough, it has usually been through the women.”
“Sometimes I think I would rather have stayed humble…in our London merchant's home. He at least kept his pride and his honor.”
George laughed at me. “My dear Anne, you have become a simple country maiden with your talk of pride and honor. The King likes Mary…very well. Let him honor her family. What always amuses me is that it should be Mary. Do you remember…we used to despise her just a little, when we were young. She never saw the point of our conversation. She was never really with us, was she? And now …here she is, our charming little benefactress.”
“You've become cynical, George.”
“It's the only way to live at Court.”
“Then perhaps it is better to live away from Court.”
“Oh…you like the quiet life, do you?”