“Do not fear for me, dear Mother,” I said to her, for in the closeness of our relationship I had dropped the word “step”; and I think that, for her, that was a reward for all the kindness she had shown me. “I have had such example that I shall always know how to take care of myself.”
And I meant that.
When Thomas went back to Court, I was desolate. I re-read Luther's books but it was frustrating to discover points for discussion and have no one with whom to discuss them. Mary Wyatt was not always at Allington, and much as I loved my stepmother, such matters were beyond her understanding; nor would she have wished to know of them.
There came a time when an even greater honor was bestowed on my father. My stepmother had to go to Court for the ceremony. She was very nervous and wished that I could accompany her; I found myself joining in that wish. But I had been exiled and there had been no invitation for me to return. So I must remain at Hever.
When she returned I heard what had happened.
It had been most impressive. She was so proud of her husband. He was certainly a very great man, she said, and now he had been made Viscount Rochford, a peer of the realm.
The ceremony had taken place in the great hall at Bridewell. Such beautiful tapestries had been hung on the walls, and Thomas had been led up to the dais on which stood the King himself under a canopy of gold.
“Your father is extremely pleased,” she told me. “He has worked hard for this. He told me that the Emperor Charles is so delighted with his services to his country and ours that he is giving him a pension.”
“Yes,” I said, “my father has come far. Did you see Mary?”
“Yes. She is very well and happy. All seems to go well with her.”
“I'll swear my father is very grateful to her.”
“Your father has earned his success through his loyal service to the King,” she replied with a hint of reproach; and I did not take the matter further, not wishing to upset her.
She told me later that there had been some gossip about the newly created Duke of Richmond. He was the son of Lady Talboys, who had been Elizabeth Blount, and the people seemed to think it was significant that he had been given the title.
“He is the King's son,” I said.
“Oh yes. There does not seem to be any doubt of that. I heard that the King is very proud of him. There is a great deal of talk about the King's sadness because the Queen cannot get sons.”
“There was always such talk. The boy was called Henry Fitzroy and that is clear enough. The King never denied he was his son. In fact, from what I heard, he seems proud of it. It is proof that he can get sons even if the Queen cannot.”
“Well, he has made him Duke of Richmond, and some seem to think he is going to have a very special place at Court.”
“He is not very old, is he?”
“About six years old, I should say. But there was a great deal of talk about it. They say the Queen was not very happy.”
“I should think not, poor lady. It is like a reproach to her.”
“As if she could be blamed! Such matters are in God's hands.”
“Well, I can see you have enjoyed your little excursion.”
“It was not as bad as I thought it might be. You know how I fret about these things. I was not cut out to be the wife of an important man.”
“I hope he appreciates you,” I said.
And so my father continued in his rise.
We had visitors often at Hever. People came from the Court at my father's invitation. Not that he accompanied them, but if they were traveling in the vicinity of Hever, he told them there would always be a welcome there. I was happy to help my stepmother entertain them. It was a pleasant way of keeping in touch with events for I found it irksome to be shut away in a little backwater, knowing nothing of the world except what I learned through others. I felt that I could not continue in this way of life much longer. I did not, in fact, believe it would be expected of me. It was inevitable that a husband would be found for me… perhaps some obscure country gentleman who, after my disgrace at Court, would be considered, providing he was wealthy enough to meet my father's demands.
I had heard from these visitors from time to time about the wars in which we were engaged. We were now allies of the Pope and the Emperor. My father's reward from the latter had been due to his services in helping to strengthen the bond between him and King Henry.
I often thought of that time at Ardres and Guines when the two Kings had so falsely made their pact of friendship… the jousting, the wrestling… all the pomp and show. What a pitiful waste it had been! How much better it might have been if the money had been spent for the good of their countries instead of bolstering up the arrogance and egoism of the sovereigns.
And now they were enemies.
So I was always interested when my father's friends came with news of what was happening.
We were seated at supper, I remember, in the great hall, and my step-mother was flushed with her efforts to provide my father's friends with a meal worthy of his state. As we talked, I could see that her eyes were on the serving men and women, and I guessed that her thoughts were in the kitchen.
And then came the news. “The King of France is now the Emperor's prisoner.”
“King François!” I cried.
“Exactly, Mistress Anne. He was deserted by the Constable de Bourbon. The papal troops had driven the French out of Italy, and our soldiers, with those of the Emperor, were invading the north of France. The King of France had put up a good fight on all fronts on which he was being attacked and for a while had some success. But in February the Emperor's troops completely routed the French at Pavia and the result is that François is the Emperor's prisoner. He is kept in Madrid.”
I felt very sad when I thought of him …his gallantry, his wit, his love of beauty, his self-assurance. A prisoner! Surely not François! “He will have to give up a good many of his conquests, I doubt not,” I said.
Then I wanted to hear more about the situation. In a way, I regarded France as partly my country since I had been brought up there. These people were not just names to me. I wondered what Louise was feeling now that her Caesar was the Emperor's prisoner; but most of all I was sorry for Marguerite. She would be beside herself with grief.
Later I heard that he had become very ill in his prison and would have died but for the fact that Marguerite had gone to Spain to nurse him. There was something very beautiful about the bond between those two, although people tried to besmirch it and accuse them of incest. I had never believed that. I could understand relationships that did not have a physical nature. Many people could not. I think they were apt to judge what their conduct would be in certain situations and imagine that others would act in exactly the same manner.
I thought about François and Marguerite a great deal and tried to get news of them. But soon after this my own life began to change, and my thoughts were all of my own affairs.
My father came to Hever. He seemed a little more interested in me and was quite affable. Prosperity suited him. Viscount Rochford was even more pleased with life than Sir Thomas Boleyn had been.
He said to me: “We cannot have you living like a country wench forever.”
I thought: Now it is coming. I shall be presented with some country gentleman and must be ready to listen to his virtues and how he would make an adequate husband for one who cannot expect better, having disgraced herself at Court.
But this was not so.
“It is possible,” he said, “that I might find a place for you in the Queen's household.”
Great excitement possessed me. I should be there. Thomas would be there. George would be there. Mary, too… and my father.
So I was to go. My sins were forgotten. I was no longer the outcast.