I doubted that anyone in England had more enemies than I at that time. Vaguely I was aware of the antipathy, but I tried not to let it bother me. If I had been older and wiser, I should have been deeply shocked and horrified and certainly alarmed by the rancor I engendered.
One day the Duke of Norfolk asked to see me. I wondered why he had come. I was very wary of him. I suspected that he, like Suffolk, had used me to help discredit Wolsey; and I suspected they would work against me with the King if they had a chance.
Norfolk said that he had been handed a note which had been written by the Countess of Northumberland and sent to her father, the Earl of Shrewsbury. The Earl had brought it to the Duke, who thought I ought to see it.
I took it, wondering what Henry Percy's wife should have to say to her father which could be of interest to me.
I opened it and, when I read it, I was trembling with dismay.
Here was one of my enemies who could do me harm if she wished— and she clearly did wish. She had written to her father to say that her husband, Henry Percy, had admitted to her that, while he was in the service of Cardinal Wolsey and I was a maid of honor to Queen Katharine, he had had a pre-contract with me.
I stared from the paper to Norfolk. He was smiling sardonically, fully aware of the contents of the letter.
“I thought, Lady Anne,” he said, “that you would wish to give some thought to the matter.”
“It is of no importance,” I lied. “But it shall be shown to the King.”
He bowed and retired.
I sat there reading and re-reading the letter. How she must have hated me! Her marriage had been a failure from the start. Henry Percy would have been a faithful husband to me. I wondered if he still thought of me, and I was sure he did. Mary Talbot's vindictiveness was evident in this note. How reluctantly he had married her—and she knew it.
Now she would have heard of the brilliant marriage which lay ahead of me. Henry Percy would know, too. And what was he thinking now? Of what might have been, I dareswear, with a certain longing, as I did now and then when I was particularly frustrated and thought that nothing would ever come of my attachment to the King.
Now she saw a chance of revenge—this petty Mary Talbot who had had the misfortune to marry a man who was deeply in love with someone else.
But she had a point. That was the frightening aspect. One always thought of precedents when such occasions arose. Not so long ago Richard III had declared himself to be King because of his brother's pre-contract with Eleanor Butler before marrying Elizabeth Woodville, thus rendering illegitimate those two little Princes who had died so mysteriously in the Tower. If this pre-contract with Henry Percy was proved to be valid, my offspring with the King could be declared to be a bastard.
There was only one thing to do: I must lay the matter before Henry without more delay.
I went to him. His face lit up at the sight of me. Then he saw that I was disturbed.
I said: “Norfolk has just handed this to me.”
He took it, read it and cried: “My God, this must not be.”
He looked at me questioningly.
I said: “There was no signed contract of marriage. You know full well that when I was at Court I knew Northumberland and that there was talk of marriage between ourselves. It never went further than that. It was you who arranged with Wolsey to separate us.”
“Thank God,” he cried. “Then there was no pre-contract.”
“Once we thought that we would marry, which we might well have done if it had not been prevented.”
“I will give this to Cromwell at once. We cannot let it pass. Norfolk knows of it… and Shrewsbury, of course.”
“You think this will prevent our marriage.”
Henry smiled. “Sweetheart, nothing on God's earth is going to prevent our marriage. That rogue Cromwell will sort it out.”
And Cromwell did.
Percy was summoned to appear before the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Privy Council.
I knew that I could rely on him. He had loved me deeply; I think he had never forgotten me. He would know that I wished to marry the King, that I must marry the King after all that had passed between us. He was loyal as I had known he would be. He admitted that he and I had known each other at Court and there had been an attraction between us, but there had never been a pre-contract.
Whether he had been threatened by Cromwell, I did not know, but I liked to believe that he said what he did out of love for me.
So that was another defeat for my enemies. The King—as he was determined to—believed Northumberland was speaking the truth, and the rest of the Council must also.
That little matter was settled and need not bother us further.
Henry was relieved that the question of my alliance with Henry Percy had been satisfactorily settled and he could talk of little else but our coming visit to France.
François had been a good friend to us throughout the troubled negotiations of the divorce. I wondered why. Was it because he was romantic at heart? Hardly that. He wanted an alliance against the Emperor. That was the answer. But we could not afford to ignore such a powerful ally.
François was eager for the visit, and as Henry and I should be together, and I should be traveling with him as his Queen to a man who was prepared to accept me as such, it should be a most enjoyable occasion.
“There is one point,” said Henry. “You are merely the Lady Anne Rochford. It is not a very high rank for the exalted position you will occupy. Therefore I have decided to make a change.”
I looked at him expectantly and he kissed me.
“I am going to make you a peeress.”
I felt dizzy with pleasure.
“I have thought out the matter and it is all settled. You are to be the Marquess of Pembroke. It is a title which I much esteem because it was last borne by my uncle, Jasper Tudor. It links you with my family.”
“Do you think that will be approved by the nobles?”
He spoke almost haughtily. “It is my wish.” Of course I was delighted. It was a great honor. It would set me above those who had resented having to pay respect to me.
Marquess of Pembroke! A title—and such a title—in my own right! I had clearly taken the right course.
Henry announced that his reason for bestowing this honor was because a monarch ought to surround his throne with the worthiest of both sexes, and so, by the consent of the nobility of the kingdom (he did not add that none of them dared withhold his consent), he was creating his cousin Anne Rochford, the daughter of his well-beloved cousin the Earl of Wiltshire, to be Marquess of Pembroke. Then he added a most important point: by putting on the mantle and the coronet, he was investing the name and title to the male heirs.
This was a precaution. If by some evil chance it should happen that my marriage to the King was prevented—although he had sworn nothing should—and I were to give birth to a child, that child could be assured of a grand title.
It was plain that the King wished to do great honor to me and to show all that I was the most cherished being at his Court, for this was the first example of a woman's being created a peer.
Everything seemed mellow on that lovely September morning— summery, yet with a touch of autumn in the air. Henry was seated in the Presence Chamber at Windsor Castle surrounded by many of the peers, including Norfolk, Suffolk, my father and the French ambassador.
I had been dressed in a surcoat made of crimson velvet and lined with ermine; it had short sleeves for I was to wear the mantle over it. I wore my hair as it suited me best, loose about my shoulders, and I was led in by a company of lords and ladies, at the head of whom was Garter-king-at-arms. My cousin Mary Howard, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, carried the robe of state and the golden coronet. Slowly I approached the King, between the Countesses of Rutland and Sussex, and knelt.