“I suppose I might send for anyone if I needed them,” I retorted with a laugh which, to my annoyance, seemed to border on a giggle.
“This is a serious matter. You could very easily do that which would prove unseemly. You are not in your grandmother’s home now. You are in a dangerous place, niece. I am here … ready to help you. I will advise you on all occasions.”
“I have no doubt that you would do that, but let me tell you, Uncle, that I have done very well so far without your help, and I propose to go on doing so.”
He was really angry then. It was only because he was so accustomed to protocol that he could restrain himself from striking me, I was sure.
He stepped back a few paces and muttered: “I have done my best. I ask Your Majesty’s leave to retire.”
I gave it readily, fury raging within me.
It was some time after before I asked myself what I had done.
When I received the letter from Joan Bulmer, I read it with great concern: it was only after a closer perusal that I began to feel a qualm of uneasiness. It brought back memories I would rather suppress.
I had believed I had loved Francis Derham until I had met Thomas, then I had realized I had been overwhelmed until I came to know true love. I had indeed loved Thomas, and if events had turned out as we had hoped they would, I should have been very happy with him. But the King had seen me, and I had had no alternative but to go to him.
I was happy now. The King’s devotion was wonderful. I enjoyed seeing his face soften when he looked at me. It was easy to keep him happy. Love-making was so much a part of my life. I think it had been meant to be since the day when Manox had begun to initiate me. I can only believe that there are some people like that.
And now Joan Bulmer. She had married and acquired the name Bulmer since our acquaintance. I really did not want those people whom I had known in the past to be near me now. I had been a little uneasy when I had heard that Katherine Tylney was in the household. It was not important, I told myself. It was just that I would rather they were not there.
I looked back over parts of her letter. It was quite a long one.
If I could wish you all the honor and good fortune you could desire, you would never lack health, wealth, long life, nor yet prosperity.
There was nothing wrong with that. It appeared that her marriage was not a happy one, and she went on to ask for a place in my household, for she desperately needed to get away from her present circumstances.
I know no remedy without your goodness. You could find the means to get me to London. If you could write to my husband and command him to bring me to you, he would not dare disobey. I beseech you to find a place for me. The nearer I were to you, the gladder I would be of it. I would write more unto you, but I would not be so bold for considering the great honor you are toward, it did not become me to put myself in presence: but the remembrance of the perfect honesty that I have always known in you hath encouraged me to do this.
I know the Queen of Britain will not forget her secretary, and favor you will show.
Your humble servant with heart unfeigned,
Joan Bulmer
No, I did not like it. The reference to my honesty, my humble servant. I tried to thrust my misgivings aside.
I did not reply to the letter for a few days, and then I found myself watching for another letter from Joan Bulmer.
This was foolish. Joan and I had been on fairly friendly terms. She was now in dire straits, poor girl. Had I not always been ready to listen to the trials of others and help if I could? Not that I had had much chance of doing so in those days, but they had always known I was sympathetic and would help if I were able.
No, this was just the letter of a woman in distress. She was unhappy. She wanted to be away from her husband, and at Court. I could understand that.
I was not quite sure of my feelings. Perhaps I was too uneasy to look clearly at how I felt. I kept wondering what the King’s attitude would be if he knew that the Duchess had come into that room and had seen me rolling on the floor with Francis Derham. I pictured those little eyes sinking into his fleshy face with fury. I was wise enough to realize that by no stretch of the imagination could he picture himself in a similar position. His obesity … his bad leg … and I knew that thought would irritate him beyond control.
There was another matter which disturbed me, but only faintly.
I knew he longed for me to announce my pregnancy. There seemed no reason why I should not. But it was the familiar story. So far, there was no sign.
He was so enamoured of my youth and loving nature that he had not yet complained. But would he in time? My poor cousin had gone to the scaffold, many said, because she had only produced one child and that of the wrong sex; and when she might have given birth to a son, she had miscarried and he had lost his patience by that time.
I shut out all thoughts of such a thing happening to me. He adored me. But then he had adored Anne. He was an extraordinary mixture of ruthlessness and sentimentality. He always had a reason for his actions which made them right in his opinion. One could be in high office one day and in disgrace and disfavor the next.
Being light-hearted by nature, I did not dwell on these matters. The King loved me dearly. I was the wife for whom he had been searching all his life. I was safe.
Then I wrote to Joan Bulmer, offering her a place in my household.
When Joan arrived, I sent for her. She had changed a little. Her attitude toward me was different. But then, so was that of everyone—the outstanding example being that of my uncle, the Duke. I had seen little of him since my outburst, about which I was pleased. He must understand that he could not control my life.
Joan knelt and expressed her undying gratitude. I made her rise and told her that I hoped she would be happy at Court.
“I knew Your Majesty would help me,” she said. “You were always so kind … to everyone.”
There was a slight smile about her face as she said those words. I knew she was looking back, remembering.
“And now you are the Queen herself… and as kind as you ever were. Your Majesty, I shall always remember. I shall never forget.”
Why did it occur to me that it was not only my kindness she was remembering, but incidents from the past?
“I look forward to serving Your Majesty … in whatever capacity you wish … as I always tried to do.”
There it was again … that covert smile. It would have worried me then if I had allowed it to.
I said: “I believe you were not very happy in your new life.”
“I was not, Your Majesty. Oh, it will be a great pleasure to serve you … just as I did in the old days at Lambeth.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Mistress Tylney has promised to show me what will be expected of me.”
“You will find this different from the Duchess’s household.”
“Oh yes, Your Majesty.”
When she had gone, I sat thinking of her. She brought back memories which I would rather forget.
She settled in and was soon a close friend of Katherine Tylney and, in that light-hearted way, which was typical of me, I ceased to think about her.
Lady Rochford was the first to bring the news. I should soon have heard it, she said, for indeed the whole of London was talking about it.
“The Lady Anne of Cleves has been brought to bed of a fair boy,” she announced.
“The Lady Anne!” I cried. “A boy! No, it cannot be. It is false. I do not believe it.”