The Other Boleyn Girl. Philippa Gregory
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Название: The Other Boleyn Girl
Автор: Philippa Gregory
Издательство: HarperCollins
isbn: 9780007370146
isbn:
‘I can’t be his mistress,’ I whispered back.
‘No choice.’ He shook his head.
‘I can’t do it,’ I said out loud. I gripped tightly on my brother’s comforting clasp and looked down the long dark wood table to my uncle, as sharp as a falcon with black eyes that missed nothing. ‘Sir, I am sorry, but I love the queen. She’s a great lady and I can’t betray her. I promised before God to cleave only to my husband, and surely I shouldn’t betray him? I know the king is the king; but you can’t want me to? Surely? Sir, I can’t do it.’
He did not answer me. Such was his power that he did not even consider replying. ‘What am I supposed to do with this delicate conscience?’ he asked the air above the table.
‘Leave it to me,’ Anne said simply. ‘I can explain things to Mary.’
‘You’re a little young for the task of tutor.’
She met his look with her quiet confidence. ‘I was reared in the most fashionable court in the world,’ she said. ‘And I was not idle. I watched everything. I learned all there was to see. I know what is needed here, and I can teach Mary how to behave.’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘You had better not have studied flirtation too closely, Miss Anne.’
Her serenity was that of a nun. ‘Of course not.’
I felt my shoulder lift, as if I would shrug her away. ‘I don’t see why I should do what Anne says.’
I had disappeared, though this whole meeting was supposed to be about me. Anne had stolen their attention. ‘Well, I shall trust you to coach your sister. George, you too. You know how the king is with women, keep Mary in his sight.’
They nodded. There was a brief silence.
‘I’ll speak with Carey’s father,’ my father volunteered. ‘William will be expecting it. He’s no fool.’
My uncle glanced down the table to Anne and George where they stood either side of me, more like jailers than friends. ‘You help your sister,’ he ordered them. ‘Whatever she needs to ensnare the king, you give her. Whatever arts she needs, whatever goods she should have, whatever skills she lacks, you get them for her. We are looking to the two of you to get her into his bed. Don’t forget it. There will be great rewards. But if you fail, there will be nothing for us at all. Remember it.’
My parting with my husband was curiously painful. I walked into our bedroom as my maid was packing my things to take them to the queen’s rooms. He stood amid the chaos of shoes and gowns thrown on the bed, and cloaks tossed over chairs, and jewel boxes everywhere; and his young face showed his shock.
‘I see you are on the rise, madam.’
He was a handsome young man, one that any woman might have favoured. I thought that if we had not been ordered by our families into this marriage and now out of it that we might have liked each other. ‘I am sorry,’ I said awkwardly. ‘You know that I have to do what my uncle and my father tell me.’
‘I know that,’ he said bluntly. ‘I have to do what they all order as well.’
To my relief, Anne appeared in the doorway, her mischievous smile very bright. ‘How now, William Carey? Well met!’ It seemed as if it were her greatest joy to see her brother-in-law amid the mess of my things and the wreckage of his own hopes for a marriage and a son.
‘Anne Boleyn.’ He bowed briefly. ‘Have you come to help your sister onwards and upwards?’
‘Of course.’ She gleamed at him. ‘As we all should do. None of us will suffer if Mary is favoured.’
She held his gaze for one fearless moment, and it was he who turned away to look out of the window. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘The king bids me to go hunting with him.’ He hesitated a moment and then he came across the room to where I stood surrounded by the scatterings of my wardrobe. Gently, he took my hand and kissed it. ‘I am sorry for you. And I am sorry for me. When you are sent back to me, perhaps a month from now, perhaps a year, I will try to remember this day, and you looking like a child, a little lost among all these clothes. I will try to remember that you were innocent of any plotting; that today at least, you were more a girl than a Boleyn.’
The queen observed that I was now a single woman, lodged with Anne as my bedfellow in a little room off her chambers, without comment. Her outward manner to me changed not at all. She remained courteous and quiet-spoken. If she wanted me to do something for her: write a note, sing, take her lap dog from the room, or send a message, she asked me as politely as she had ever done. But she never again asked me to read to her from the Bible, she never asked me to sit at her feet while she sewed, she never blessed me when I went to bed. I was no longer her favourite little maid.
It was a relief to go to bed at night with Anne. We drew the curtains around us so that we were safe to whisper in the shadowy darkness without being overheard and it was like France in the days of our childhood. Sometimes George would leave the king’s rooms and come to find us, and climb onto the high bed, balance his candle perilously on the bedhead, and bring out his pack of cards or his dice and play with us while the other girls in nearby rooms slept, not knowing that a man was hidden in our chamber.
They did not lecture me about the role I was to play. Cunningly, they waited for me to come to them and tell them that it was beyond me.
I said nothing while my clothes were moved from one end of the palace to the other. I said nothing when the whole court packed and moved to the king’s favourite palace, Eltham in Kent, for the spring. I said nothing when my husband rode beside me during the progress and talked to me kindly of the weather and the condition of my horse, which was Jane Parker’s, lent under protest, as her contribution to the family ambition. But when I had George and Anne to myself in the garden at Eltham Palace, I said to George:
‘I don’t think I can do this.’
‘Do what?’ he asked unhelpfully. We were supposed to be walking the queen’s dog, which had been carried on the pommel of the saddle for the day’s ride and was thoroughly jolted and sick-looking. ‘Come on, Flo!’ he said encouragingly. ‘Seek! Seek!’
‘I can’t be with my husband and the king at the same time,’ I said. ‘I can’t laugh with the king when my husband is watching.’
‘Why not?’ Anne rolled a ball along the ground for Flo to chase after. The little dog watched it go without interest. ‘Oh go on, you stupid thing!’ Anne exclaimed.
‘Because I feel all wrong.’
‘D’you know better than your mother?’ Anne asked bluntly.
‘Of course not!’
‘Better than your father? Your uncle?’
I shook my head.
‘They are planning a great future for you,’ Anne said solemnly. ‘Any girl in England would die for your chances. СКАЧАТЬ