I looked with envy at the slight swelling below Mary's waist. She had children… healthy children who loved her and whom she loved. Why should they be denied to me?
For a few seconds I felt envious of my simple-minded sister who thought love was more important than ambition, and for a fleeting moment I would have changed places with her. But the moment passed.
I said: “And what do you think is going to happen now?”
“We shall be married.”
“You will leave the Court.”
“It is what we want,” she said, smiling contentedly.
So Mary was banished from Court and married Sir William Stafford. In due course she gave birth to a son.
How cruel fate was! Why give a son to Mary and deny one to me?
There was a ray of hope. François had agreed to consider a marriage between his son the Duc d'Angoulême and Elizabeth.
I was delighted. François had not deserted me after all. If he thought of my daughter as a possible wife for his son, she must be legitimate in his eyes, and that meant he considered my marriage with Henry valid.
This was particularly comforting because George had discovered that the matter of a pre-contract between myself and Northumberland had been revived. The King wanted the matter looked into closely. That was very ominous.
But this action of François's was significant.
I realized afterward that François had no intention of allowing the marriage; he made such outrageous demands as part of the betrothal agreement that they could only be rejected by the Council.
François would have known all along that they would be. But still he had offered to negotiate, which was the important thing, and I still clung to the hope that he had done it out of kindness to me, for I could be sure he was aware of the state of affairs at the English Court.
I kept thinking of George's words. I must act quickly. I must make the King reasonably friendly toward me so that we could occasionally share a bed. Otherwise how was I going to get a son?
He was deeply involved with his mistress. I had to break that somehow for I had discovered that she was a fervent advocate of Katharine and Mary. It might well be that she had been put in the King's path with instructions to become his mistress that she might further the cause of these two. There were all sorts of schemes afoot; there were spies everywhere. Chapuys was a very energetic man, and he had not yet despaired of getting me ousted and Katharine's and Mary's rights restored to them.
An idea occurred to me which I admit was wild, but I was getting desperate.
My cousin Madge Shelton had come to Court. She was an exceptionally pretty girl. Her mother was my father's sister. I had always liked her, perhaps because she had shown a great admiration for me. She used to copy my clothes, my manner, the way I walked; it always amused me. She was delighted to come to Court and I think it was partly because she could be near me.
Naturally such admiration delighted me. She was such a gentle girl, constantly trying to do something which would please me; and not for her own gain either—just to hear me say thank you and smile at her.
Now that I was Queen, she thought I was wonderful. Little did she know of my inward disquiet. She saw me at Court surrounded by admirers, many of them men behaving, as they always had, as though they were in love with me.
There was a faint family resemblance and, as she rather slavishly copied the fashion I had set, I think she looked more like me than any girl at Court.
The idea came to me one evening. I was sitting with the King on the dais, for on certain occasions we had to make a show of being together, when Madge appeared. She was dancing and looked particularly pretty. I saw the King's eyes come to rest on her, and there was in them that glazed expression which I remembered had been directed toward me so often in the past.
His mistress then came close in the dance, and his eyes were all for her. But I had seen the look he gave Madge.
I dismissed the idea. It was preposterous; but at the same time there was an urgent message hammering in my brain. I must get a son.
I decided to speak to Madge.
“I want to talk to you very privately,” I said. “And what I say must be between us two.”
Her lovely eyes opened very wide and she looked at me with something like idolatry.
“We have been very good friends, cousin,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.
“Right from the time when we were both very young. I fancied even then that you had a liking for me.”
“Oh, Madam…yes,” she said.
“I need your help.”
She looked startled; but I could see that she wanted above everything to please me.
“I hope you will feel you can give it to me.”
“But you have done so much for us all… the whole family…”
I laid my hand on her arm. “This is something very special. I am going to be very frank. You must have heard that the King and I are not on very good terms of friendship at the moment.”
She did not answer. Of course she had heard. The whole Court was talking of it.
“It is on account of a certain woman. She is his mistress. She has taken him away from me. She is my enemy.”
Madge looked suitably shocked.
“Yes,” I said, “She is continually talking of the virtues of Katharine and Mary. The King listens to her. And she speaks ill of me. I cannot have that.”
“She should be punished.”
“That is what I intend to do.”
“But how can I help?”
“I think the King likes you.”
“He has scarcely seen me.”
“Oh yes, he has. I have seen him look at you, and I know well his ways.”
She was amazed.
“Cousin,” I went on, “I know not what will become of me if this woman continues to pour her poison into the King's ears.”
“How can you stop her?”
“By supplanting her.”
“But you are the Queen. For you the King has done so much.”
“Men are strangely fickle, cousin. Their loves do not last.”
“But the King loved you for many years. For you he has broken with Rome.”
“The King loved the chase. He wanted a son. He could not get one with Katharine. He wanted me, too. I think it was in that order. You see how I trust you, cousin. I am talking to you very frankly, and what I say does not go beyond these four walls. I believe you love me and would do a great deal for me.”
She nodded.
“May Heaven bless you! This is a big thing I am going to ask of you.”
Her eyes were shining with purpose. She would do it, I knew, for me.
“I want you to lure the King from his mistress.”
“I?”
“Yes, you. You have a freshness and charm and he has already noticed you. Be in his way. Smile…nervously. Seem overwhelmed when he looks at you. Let him see that you think he is the most handsome, powerful, god-like being on Earth. He will respect your judgment and immediately fall in love with you, because you are indeed very attractive.”
“But I don't think…”
“Try, Madge. My future could depend on it. I want you in her place. I want no more talk of how good and wonderful Katharine and Mary are; I want you instead to talk of me, to tell him of my incomparable charms, my looks, my brains and above all my great fondness for him. Tell him that I am desolate because he has turned from me. Make him believe that, although I may not show this to him, it is because I am uncommonly proud and of a somewhat inflammable nature. Tell him that I admire him …as you do… and as all women of discernment must.”
“And do you?”
I laughed loudly and checked myself. No hysteria. The plan was so wild it might not succeed. But I was desperate and it was worth a try.
“Madge,” I went on earnestly, “for my sake I want you to take the King away from his mistress. It is time he began to be tired of her. It is very important to me that he ceases to soften toward Katharine and Mary. It is of even greater importance that I get a son.”