Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (31 page)

‘Madame?’ Mary’s voice cut through my own, deep thoughts; I failed to notice that both Nan and Mary were holding up the next layer of my gown. This was a red silk, padded skirt that reached down to my ankles, supported by a very minimal bodice and cut into a deep U- shape at the front and a similarly deep ‘V’ at the back. I had learnt that it was this layer that principally gave the volume and movement to a lady’s gown. I stepped into it, allowing Mary to tie it into place as I asked,

‘Is she at home? Who is looking after her?’ Mary picked up the next layer which was a kirtle, a sleeveless garment made of white silk and bejewelled round its square-cut neckline. Slipping it over my head with Nan’s assistance, she answered,

‘Yes, Madame. She’s at home in Cheshunt and I believe that her cousin, Kat, is visiting and attending her.’

Kat Champernowe was a name that I knew well. When Joan first mentioned her cousin, I had struggled for a moment to understand why her name was so familiar, and why it had filled me with such warmth. Of course, I soon realised that Mistress Kat would later become the loyal and long-serving governess to my daughter, Elizabeth. Even before my daughter was born, I always felt that I owed her a tremendous debt of gratitude of which she could never know, and of which I could never express; I must confess that I longed to meet her. As I mused on this, Mary laced my kirtle into place down the back of the garment; this had the effect of raising up my rather small, pert breasts in the manner which I knew Henry much admired. Yet I felt that without Joan, our little circle of friends was not complete, so I asked,

‘When do you expect her to return to court?’

‘Sir Anthony told me just a few days ago that the worst of her sickness seemed to be over and that Joan hopes to be back at court in the next few weeks,’ Nan replied, as she straightened my skirts . . I looked down to admire the sumptuous material from which the kirtle was made. For that momentous evening, I chose a blue cloth of silver to contrast against the bodice and skirt, which was fashioned from plain cloth of silver and edged with a silk welt of the same colour; all of which were a gift from the King. Still thinking about Joan, I said almost to myself,

‘I’m glad of it’ but before I could say more, my ladies presented my gown, the outer layer of my dress, into which I stepped obligingly. Nan laced the bodice snugly around Anne’s slender body, before covering the lacing up the front of my gown with a stomacher, which was pinned along the left and right sides of my torso. In the meantime, Mary began the process of turning back and stitching into place the wide cuffs which were fashionably close-fitting round the upper arm and flared below. These were always lined with a costly fabric; on this occasion with miniver—a rich, white fur—which also lined the train of my skirt. In order to show off the cut of the French gown to best effect, the generous folds of the outer skirt were always gathered at the waist at the back. I cast a glance over my shoulder, twisting to see the train of my gown extended away behind me in a long trail.

As Nan laced the false foresleeves into place just above my elbow, Mary brought out my casket of jewellery, which had accompanied me from Hever. By that time, its contents had swollen considerably with the King’s most generous bounty. For my debut at Windsor, I picked out two necklaces, one a choker, the other much longer, which, when worn, dipped down below the neckline. These were made from gold, set with clusters of pearls, sapphires and diamonds and matched the jewellery sewn around the neckline of my kirtle, again around the girdle which had been clipped around my waist, and finally, the billaments sewn around the edge of my French hood. The finishing touches were then put into place; the addition of numerous rings to my delicate fingers, the pinning of a diamond and sapphire brooch, decorated with three pearl droplets, to the front of my gown, and the placing of the hood upon my head. At last, I stood back to admire my friend’s handiwork. Anne famously was no beauty, the antithesis of the fair skinned, blonde haired, blue-eyed epitome of feminine looks so admired in the Tudor age; but she was utterly stunning and her presence beguiling. I knew that on that special evening, the King would not be disappointed with her.

A little after six o’clock, accompanied by my two ladies, I made my way to the King’s Privy Chamber, where a private feast had been prepared to honour Anne’s return to court. For the first time, I was to approach the doors of the King’s Privy Apartments in full view of the court and with no sense of shame. The King had tired of pretence and wished to show me off to all his courtiers. Thus, with a great swishing of skirts, our little party proudly swept through the King’s Presence Chamber at Windsor; many faces, some familiar and some new, acknowledged Anne’s presence as courtesy dictated. There was no doubt that there was great curiosity and acknowledgement of the obviously elevated status of Mistress Anne, who was now attended by two women of gentle birth.

The passage from my Privy lodgings had taken me through the vast Great Hall and equally magnificent Watching Chamber, before turning left to pass through the 30 metre long, King’s Presence Chamber. Eventually, I arrived at the doors to Henry’s private apartments. In the room beyond, which was the King’s main sitting room, a huge, sturdy oak table dominated the centre of the room and was bedecked with silver gilt plate laid out for supper. The fire, which had been alight all day, had now died back to red-hot, glowing embers, casting a warm glow across the faces of those men and women already in the company of the King. I was slightly taken aback, for I had expected a relatively small, intimate gathering to celebrate Anne’s arrival at court. Thankfully, I had to pause briefly in the doorway whilst I awaited my announcement. It gave me a chance to catch my breath, for clearly Henry intended to celebrate in style and the room was abuzz with thirty or more of the most prominent nobles, gentlemen and ladies in the land. Sadly not all, of those invited had shown themselves as supporters of Anne.

I caught a glimpse of Henry; one arm leaning against the mantle of the huge stone fireplace, the other arm gesturing as he talked with great energy and humour to those around him. I recognised that standing in the closest proximity to the King were: the Duke of Norfolk, my father and mother, my brother George and his wife Jane, and Sir William Carey, one of the King’s Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. Unfortunately, his wife, my sister Mary, was not present, and I wondered if she was at their country estate, or whether, due to the awkwardness of the situation, she had simply not been invited.

‘Mistress Anne Boleyn, Your Grace!’ the deep and resonant voice of the King’s usher proclaimed aloud. Henry looked up immediately and broke into a broad smile, as he spoke loudly and effusively, causing all the assembled courtiers to look in my direction,

‘Mistress Anne, at last! We have been long awaiting your presence!’ He laughed with great mirth, gesturing for me to come over. As I moved forward, the wider circle of Henry’s dinner guests made way for me to join Henry’s side. Having dipped into a deep curtsey, I rose and Henry placed his arm around my waist, kissing me on the lips. Audible only to my family, who were gathered around him, Henry then asked me, ‘Pray tell me sweetheart, how dost thou like my gift to you?’ Henry beamed as he glanced towards Nan and Mary, who were standing close behind me in attendance. I too broke into a radiant smile, for I could not hide the joy that was in my heart, not only to be reunited with my friends, but to know that I would never have to wait upon the Queen again. When I spoke, my words conveyed my deep sincerity and gratitude.

‘I am deeply touched, honoured and grateful to Your Grace for such a precious gift. I marvel at how such a humble a girl like me could be worthy of such bounty from so mighty a King; the likes of which I am sure I will never be able to repay you.’ Henry chuckled and said, ‘Now, my love, I have another surprise for you.’ All around, the wider circle of dinner guests discreetly continued their private conversations.

‘Another surprise?’ My face must have shown a bemused mixture of confusion, delight and incredulity that there could possibly be more. I looked between the faces of my mother, father and brother, who were all smiling at me; they clearly shared in Henry’s mischief.

‘Lady Lee, please come forward and join us.’ It seemed that Henry had been planning this moment, a special surprise for his lady; it was to be the crowning glory to an otherwise perfect day. Through a nearby doorway, from beyond Henry’s Privy Chamber, my dear friend Margery appeared. I could not believe my eyes! With sheer delight I ran forward and we embraced each other with great joy. For a few moments, I could hardly speak from shock and disbelief. Henry then said, ‘Lady Lee has come back to court and I have granted her leave to attend upon you. How like you this, sweetheart?’ Finally, I found my voice again.

‘Your Grace, I am undeserving of such great honour and of such boundless generosity. I am forever your most humble servant.’ I always maintained a degree of formality with the King in the presence of others; even if the ‘others’ were intimate family members. Henry’s eyes were alight with love and admiration. So happy was I in that moment that I must have lit up with the sparkle of a thousand diamonds. It was clear that Henry wanted to give me the world.

Addressing the assembled dinner guests, the King announced loudly,

‘We find, ladies and gentlemen, that this day has given us a hearty appetite. Let us eat!’ With that, we took our places; I at the right hand of the King, as his guest of honour.

The supper that Henry had ordered to honour Anne was sumptuous indeed. We were served with a fantastic array of different meats including; beef, veal, bacon, kid goats, coneys (which by then, I knew was the Tudor term for a rabbit), calves, and lamb, as well as a variety of unusual birds including plovers, larks and pipers. Dressing the centrepiece of the table was a magnificent swan which had been stuffed for our amusement and consumption, along with two splendid, model galleons made from marchpane and covered entirely with edible gold leaf. By that time, I was more than a little used to the excesses of Henry’s court. Yet as we were served with a seemingly never ending array of dishes, I could not help but be astonished by the unceasing abundance laid before us. Ale, beer and fine French Gascon wine flowed through the evening, along with merry conversation and much laughter. Henry was in great spirits—as ever he was when Anne was by his side. Yes, life was sweet indeed then. Nothing, and no one, could eclipse the King’s love for Mistress Boleyn. Unfortunately, I knew the painful truth for myself, that Henry’s love would always be conditional; conditions which I knew, even then, were ultimately beyond Anne’s control.

After we had all supped, our party followed the King through into the Presence Chamber, where a large number of courtiers had already assembled in anticipation of the King’s arrival. Henry made it known that there would be much dancing and merrymaking that evening. So, when we arrived into this substantial and most elegant room, there was a lively atmosphere underscored by a frisson of excitement. Henry’s nobles were ever keen to weigh up a new power base at court; the ever-changing and shifting sands of court faction keeping everyone on their toes. Before long there was more laughter, storytelling and good humour coming from the King, which soon spread infectiously around the room. By the soft light of so many candles and torches, the court musicians serenaded us, and our high spirits made for much energetic dancing. As ever, Henry only had eyes for me, as a web of delicious sexual tension spun around us and we flirted outrageously with each other; the rest of the world seemed to melt away for a few glorious hours.

Sometime later, with the King in hearty discussion with some of the most intimate members of his Privy Chamber, I found myself, more than a little intoxicated and alone with my father. Yet despite this, I noticed that my brother was in deep discussion with a gentleman that I recognised had attended upon the King when he met my mother and me upon our arrival at Windsor. Taking another sip of the delicious, full-bodied, red wine from my glass goblet, I turned to my father. Pointing toward George, who stood in one of the two large, recessed windows overlooking a central, inner courtyard below, I asked,

‘Father, who is the gentleman talking with George?’ I cocked my head to the side quizzically, noticing how the room seemed to move along with my head. I mused on just how much I would regret drinking so much of this strong wine in the morning when I was to ride out hunting with the King. My father turned to follow my gaze before speaking,

‘Sir Thomas Cheney. He is a distant cousin of yours, through my aunt Isabella. Unfortunately, Sir Thomas finds himself in a rather delicate situation. Swaying slightly, I enquired about this ‘delicate situation.’

‘Sir Thomas is seeking the wardship of a young lady by the name of Anne Broughton, the stepdaughter of Sir John Russell. Wolsey already has granted him the wardship of her younger sister, Katherine. Yet, I believe that Sir John is now petitioning the Cardinal to sell Katherine’s wardship back to the family and have Anne declared of age.’ I must confess that it took me a few moments to make all the links between the often complex web of family connections that existed at court. I knew that my father could see Anne’s sharp—if rather inebriated—mind at work, and so he went on, ‘I believe Sir Thomas is keen to have your patronage, and wonders if, in return for his allegiance and loyalty, we might somehow . . .’ My father paused for a moment, looking for the most appropriate word, ‘. . . encourage Cardinal Wolsey to promote the granting of Anne’s wardship to Sir Thomas.’ I nodded silently taking in the ramifications of what my father was suggesting, before I spoke again,