The King’s Mistress. Darcey Bonnette

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ She breaks off a piece of bread and begins to nibble on it.

      “There is need of her as long as he says there is,” Norfolk says, his voice firm. I stiffen at the tone. “You still do not seem to grasp how this affects us, how this will elevate us.”

      “I am a duchess!” Mother cries. “I don’t aspire for more!” Her eyes shine bright blue with loathing as she regards Norfolk. “When I became Catherine’s lady-in-waiting all those years ago, I pledged her my loyalty. She has it still.”

      “And a lot of good it’s done you,” Norfolk interposes. “Your ‘loyalty’ earned you banishment and nothing more. You are not remembered with favor by anyone and you certainly are not missed. Yet you will not take the opportunity to redeem yourself with the new regime.”

      “Pah! ‘New regime’! Really, I haven’t been so amused in weeks.” At once her countenance turns stony. “I tell you, Thomas Howard, I will not go. See how the court finds you when they see you dragging me, screaming obscenities and biting your wrists, at Anne’s ceremony. See how dignified you’ll look then.” She sits straight in her chair, her gaze unwavering. “I will not go.”

      Norfolk turns to me. “Leave this room,” he orders.

      I do not hesitate. I run from the parlor, tears filling my eyes. I admit I am as much disappointed in missing my delicious supper as I am in my parents’ relations. This time I do not stay to eavesdrop. I run, the sound of clattering plates and trays following me all the way to the nursery. I am hoping that what is occurring in my imagination is worse than what transpires between them now.

      Bess is awaiting me there. She is as beautiful as when I left her, perhaps a little fuller of figure, but it compliments her. Her long flaxen curls fall about her shoulders uncovered, as if she were a young maiden.

      “I set myself to work as soon as I heard you were coming,” she says as I run in. Her smile is broad as she opens her arms.

      I fall into them, unable to control my sobs. I cry for my parents, for myself, for Queen Catherine, for things I do not understand.

      “No tears, lamb,” she coos. “Let’s celebrate your homecoming!”

      “But my mother and father …” I whimper against her skirts. “They—”

      She waves a dismissive hand. “You mustn’t worry your pretty head about them. They take care of themselves.”

      “But why must they always be at odds?” I cry, pulling away.

      Bess averts her head and I regret the question, knowing I have inadvertently put her to shame. I embrace her once more.

      “Are you still hungry, my lady?” she asks then. My stomach growls loudly in response and I giggle. “We’ll send for some food from the kitchens and then you will tell me everything,” she says in a cheery voice as she takes my hands, drawing me to the settee. “Tell me of Lady Anne and the king and how all the ladies dress. Tell me of the food and the jousts and masques.”

      I am all smiles, thrilled to be the center of attention and purveyor of knowledge. The food arrives—plates of cold meat, cheese, bread, and a decanter of wine. I invite Bess to share with me but she declines.

      “It wouldn’t be proper, dining with my lady,” she informs me.

      “Nonsense,” I say. “You’re too humble, as though you forget you’re gentry yourself. Dine with me, my Bess. You have been working so hard to make my home nice for me. You deserve fine food.”

      Bess smiles and takes some mutton. She chews with enthusiasm, licking her fingers soundly.

      As I enjoy my supper I tell her about all the new colors that Anne has set herself to naming, the gowns she designs, the voluminous sleeves and glamorous French hoods. I brag about the food, tell her that to dine at the court of King Henry is tantamount to eating in Heaven itself. I describe the grandeur of the jousts and elegance of the masques. She is riveted, stopping me now and again to ask a question or make a comment.

      “Do you have friends, Lady Mary?” she asks me. “Do you get along well with the girls? They are kind to you?”

      I am so touched by her concern my throat swells with tears. “Yes, for the most part they are kind. My cousin Anne can be … difficult at times.” I laugh as I think of her. “But as strange as she is, I can see why the king is so taken with her. She is full of fire and life. She’s very smart, much smarter than I could ever be. She talks like a scholar and argues about religion and politics like a man. She appreciates art and beauty and music. I think we shall have a most learned and cultivated court under her rule.”

      “You think it will happen, then?” Bess asks.

      I nod. “It is almost a certainty. She is being elevated to the peer-age.”

      Bess’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand as though stifling a gasp.

      “She is to be Marquess of Pembroke,” I go on to say. “It is unprecedented.”

      “Then I suppose everyone will be happy—at least the king and Lady Anne and His Grace your father,” Bess comments.

      “They will be indeed,” I say, but my voice is void of the triumph I should feel for my family. “Still, I worry about the people’s response to her. They have been so cruel.” I relay the incident on the barge and the jeering cry, “ ‘We want no Nan Bullen.’ ”

      Bess says nothing and I realize I have again made her uncomfortable in her position.

      I squeeze her hands and continue. “Imagine how it must be for them,” I say. “Anne and the king can’t control their love for one another. I know a lot of people have been hurt.” I think of the Princess Mary and Queen Catherine. I think of poor, dead Cardinal Wolsey. I think of Thomas More, who I have heard, was at last allowed to resign his post as lord chancellor, to be replaced by Thomas Audley. How my father lamented over that appointment! He claimed chest pains, but all knew he was wrestling with his religious convictions and the rightness of King Henry’s increasing denial of papal authority. “But I wonder, had they a real choice in the matter, would they have stayed this course? The king is a victim of his passions—he has very little self-control. And Anne— well, she must love him, too. I can’t imagine all the trouble they have gone to being for nothing. It must be due to their great love.”

      Bess looks at me, her liquid brown eyes filled with an emotion akin to pity. She reaches out, cupping my cheek in her hand.

      “You are a good girl, Mary,” she tells me. “Stay that way.”

      I nod with a small smile. At once our heads turn toward the door as we hear footfalls approaching.

      “It is His Grace,” says Bess. Her tone registers something between panic and anticipation; her eyes reflect both fear and expectation. She rises. “I must go, my lady.”

      “I’ll look forward to seeing you more on the morrow, Bess,” I tell her.

      She throws me a kiss and exits. I hear her and my father exchange a few words outside my door.

      “Damn stubborn woman is what she is,” Norfolk is saying. “We will see if tonight’s exertions have brought about a change of heart.”

      Bess СКАЧАТЬ