“We had much to discuss,” I replied.
“What a handsome gentleman!” she murmured. “I doubt there is one to match him in the Court. There is no doubt of his feeling for you.”
“Was it noticeable?”
She nodded, her eyes bright with mischief.
“It was a mercy,” she said, “that none of the others were here. After I had brought him to you, I made a point of seeing them and telling them that you had retired. I said I would summon them if they were needed.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
She smiled at me conspiratorially. “Your Majesty, if the gentleman should have cause to visit you again, may I suggest that it might be more convenient to receive him in my room? It is easily reached from yours by that pair of steps and is closer to yours than any. If the need arose … it would be a simple matter to slip back to your own room.”
I looked at her in amazement and said sharply: “He came with a special message of great urgency, Lady Rochford. It is not likely that he will come again.”
She bowed her head. “A thousand pardons for my forwardness, Your Majesty. I wished you to know that, if ever you need my services, they are at your command.”
“I know your good intentions, but it is unlikely that the gentleman will have cause to visit me again.”
Jane bowed her head and looked humble, but her excitement outweighed her humility.
The King had rejoined us. He was in good spirits. In spite of this, he seemed very old to me. It must have been because I was comparing him with Thomas. I had not stopped thinking of Thomas since that night in Lincoln when he had come to me. How I loved Thomas! How I longed for him!
Strangely enough, I did not feel as guilty as I supposed I should. I had had no choice. I had been forced into this marriage. If I could have chosen between a comparatively humble life as Thomas’s wife at Hollingbourne and my royal state, I would not have hesitated for a moment. It would have been Hollingbourne for me.
But there had been no choice, and I had done the best I could. I had made the King happy. If it were ever known what had happened, I knew what my fate would be. Had I not seen it come to pass before? I did not really believe that my cousin had been guilty. It had never been proved. But the verdict the King wanted had been given, her fate decided; and I was guilty.
But who need ever know? Thomas would not tell. Nor would I.
If I had made the King happy, could I be blamed? I had certainly pleased him. I was pleasing him now. I tried even more than I had before because of what had happened. It was not in my nature to concern myself with trouble which had not yet come. I could be even more loving with Henry because I could delude myself into thinking he was Thomas; and Henry was more delighted than ever with his Queen.
We arrived in York, where Henry was to meet the King of the Scots, and, to his fury, a deputation arrived from Scotland with the news that the King would be unable to keep the appointment.
Henry’s rage was great. The journey had been arranged, in the first place, with the express purpose of this meeting, and now his Scottish nephew was acting in a very arrogant manner. It was most humiliating. He had a false notion of his own importance if he thought his petty little kingdom could so flout its mighty neighbor.
People were afraid to approach him. I was the only one for whom he had a gentle word; he needed a great deal of soothing, and I performed that duty admirably.
Perhaps it was inevitable that, having taken the first step, Thomas and I found the temptation to take more irresistible.
There were occasions when the King was away on state business and Thomas contrived that he stay behind, and it was only to be expected that we take advantage of this.
I realized, of course, that Jane Rochford knew what had happened in Lincoln, and there was no sense in trying to hide it—particularly as I needed her help.
Jane was very sympathetic.
“Indeed,” she said. “Thomas Culpepper loves you, and there is no doubt that you love him. He is young and handsome and you were betrothed to him once.”
“No, Jane, I was not really. There was only talk of it.”
“Well, there would have been a betrothal. I can see no harm … as long as no one knows.” Her eyes sparkled. “Now we shall have to go carefully. We do not want any of the women prying. And why should they? If we are careful, we shall outwit them. If you use my room, I shall remain in yours. If by any chance one of them should come to your chamber, I would be there and should be able to hold them off until I could reasonably bring you back to your chamber.”
“Do you think that could be done satisfactorily?”
“Your Majesty, we will make it so. It is a good plan. I will take a message to Master Culpepper. I will tell him how he can come up the backstairs where I shall be waiting for him. I shall bring him to you and there shall be none to see him but ourselves.”
We were excited by the plan. I was sure Thomas was too, and once it had been put to us, we would be ready to incur any risk, so anxious were we to be together.
Jane was such a ready conspirator, as anxious—or almost—to bring about the meetings as we were. It was the sort of adventure she loved to take part in.
I remember one occasion well. We were at Lincoln again, and the King was riding off to a nearby meeting at the house of one of his loyal friends some distance away, so that he would spend two nights there. For the first night the plan worked, but on the second, as I was going up to Jane Rochford’s room, two of the ladies-in-waiting came unexpectedly to my room. They were Katherine Tylney and another, called Margaret Morton.
They looked surprised, and I felt it would be wise to give them some explanation. I told them I was going to Lady Rochford. I should have dismissed them, but I hesitated and they came with me to Jane’s room.
Jane looked amazed to see them, but she could say nothing, and I knew that she was uneasy, for she was about to go and meet Thomas to bring him up to me.
She was flashing a signal to me to get rid of the women, so I told them that I should not need any of them as I was not quite ready to retire and just wished to have a little private conversation with Lady Rochford before doing so.
They immediately retired but probably thought it rather strange.
When they left, Jane laughed.
“I feared Your Majesty would keep them here to meet the gallant gentleman,” she said.
It seemed rather amusing, although it had given me an uneasy moment. I am afraid I was not good at thinking quickly in such a dilemma. But when Thomas arrived, the little mishap was quickly forgotten.
The next night that the King was absent, I made sure the ladies were dismissed early.
Despair
IT WAS OCTOBER before we arrived at Windsor, and at the end of that month we were back at Hampton Court. Henry expressed his great pleasure in being in one of his favorite palaces.
“It was tiresome that His Majesty of Scotland should have seen fit to disappoint us,” he said. “But, I promise, he shall be the one to feel that disappointment and learn that he should have given a little thought to the matter before behaving in such a fashion. The rest was well enough. I’ll swear that there were many who were inclined to play the rebel who will think now very seriously before they attempt it. And here I am, back in Hampton Court with my sweet young wife. At least I am blessed in her.”
It was at such moments that I experienced a twinge of conscience. But all would be well, I assured myself. Thomas and I would be very careful, and in fact I made a special effort to be even more loving toward the King—if that were possible. It was no use being remorseful. I could not have resisted Thomas however much I had tried. I now felt that, from the first moment I had met him when we were children, we were meant for each other.