The Other Boleyn Girl. Philippa Gregory

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      George greeted me at the end of dinner, strolling to the queen’s table where we ladies were seated with wine and sweetmeats before us. He brought me a sugared plum. ‘Sweets for the sweet,’ he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.

      ‘Oh George,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your note.’

      ‘You were bombarding me with desperate cries,’ he said. ‘Three letters I got from you in the first week. Was it so awful?’

      ‘The first week was,’ I said. ‘But then I became accustomed. By the end of the first month I was rather taking to the country life.’

      ‘Well, we all did our best for you here,’ he said.

      ‘Is Uncle at court?’ I asked, looking around. ‘I don’t see him.’

      ‘No, in London with Wolsey. But he knows all that is going on, don’t you worry. He said to tell you that he will be hearing reports of you and he trusts you now know how to behave.’

      Jane Parker leaned across the table. ‘Are you going to be a lady in waiting?’ she asked George. ‘For you are sitting at our table and on a lady’s stool.’

      George rose unhurriedly. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies. I did not mean to intrude.’

      Half a dozen voices assured him that he did not intrude. My brother was a handsome young man and a popular visitor to the queen’s rooms. No-one but his sour-tongued betrothed objected to him joining our table.

      He bowed over her hand. ‘Mistress Parker, thank you for reminding me to leave you,’ he said courteously, his irritation clear behind his sweet tones. He bent and kissed me firmly on the lips. ‘God speed you, little Marianne,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘You are carrying the hopes of your family.’

      I caught his hand as he was about to go. ‘Wait, George, I wanted to ask you something.’

      He turned back. ‘What?’

      I tugged at his hand to make him lean down to me so that I could whisper in his ear. ‘Do you think that he loves me?’

      ‘Oh,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Oh, love.’

      ‘Well, do you?’

      He shrugged. ‘Whatever does it mean? We write poems about it all day and sing songs about it all night but if there is such a thing in real life I’m damned if I know.’

      ‘Oh George!’

      ‘He wants you, I can tell you that. He’s prepared to go through a degree of trouble to have you. If that means love to you then yes, he loves you.’

      ‘That’s enough for me,’ I said with quiet satisfaction. ‘Wants me, and is prepared to go through a degree of trouble. That sounds like love to me.’

      My handsome brother bowed. ‘If you say so, Mary. If that is good enough for you.’ He straightened up and immediately stepped back. ‘Your Majesty.’

      The king stood before me. ‘George, I cannot allow you to spend the evening talking to your sister, you are the envy of the court.’

      ‘I am,’ George said with all his courtier charm. ‘Two beautiful sisters and not a care in the world.’

      ‘I thought we should have some dancing,’ the king said. ‘Will you lead out Mistress Boleyn and I will take care of Mistress Carey, here?’

      ‘I should be delighted,’ George said. Without looking around for her, he snapped his fingers and, alert as ever, Anne appeared at his side.

      ‘We’re to dance,’ he said shortly.

      The king waved his hand and the musicians struck up a quick country dance so we arranged ourselves in a ring of eight people and started the flowing steps first one way then the other. At the opposite side of the circle I saw George’s familiar beloved face and, beside him, Anne’s smooth smile. She looked as she did when she was studying a new book. She was reading the king’s mood as carefully as she might look at a psalter. She was looking from him to me as if to measure the urgency of his desire. And, while never turning her head, she was checking the mood of the queen, trying to get an idea of what she had seen or what she felt.

      I smiled to myself. Anne had met her match in the queen, I thought. No-one could penetrate beneath the veneer of the daughter of Spain. Anne was a courtier beyond all others but she had been born a commoner. Queen Katherine had been born a princess. From the moment she could talk she had been taught to guard her tongue. From the moment she could walk she had been taught to step carefully and speak kindly to both rich and poor, for you never knew when you might need both rich and poor. Queen Katherine had been a player in a highly competitive, highly wealthy court before Anne had even been born.

      Anne might look around all she liked to see how the queen was bearing up under the sight of me, close to the king, our gazes locked on each other, desire very hot between us. Anne might look; but the queen never betrayed any emotion more than polite interest. She clapped at the end of the dances and once or twice cried out congratulations. And then suddenly the dance ended, and Henry and I were left stranded without musicians playing, without СКАЧАТЬ