Read Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set Online
Authors: Kate Emerson
T
HE NEXT WEEKS
passed with excruciating slowness. Then Anne Herbert and Jane Mewtas paid a visit to Sussex House. Jane lived beside Our
Lady of Barking in Tower Street, not far distant, and since both women had been maids of honor at the same time as Mary and Jane Arundell, no one saw anything unusual in subsequent visits, singly and together, over the next weeks.
On her second visit to Sussex House, Jane pressed a small packet into Nan’s hand. “His Grace sends his best regards,” she whispered, “and looks forward to the day when your beauty will once more grace his court.”
The gift was a small likeness of His Grace. The miniature portrait was exquisite, Master Hans Holbein’s work, painted on vellum that had been glued to a playing card and then cut into an oval shape to fit into a small gold frame. Nan kept it hidden, since she did not want to arouse Cousin Mary’s suspicions, but she took it out often in private to stare at it and daydream.
Gatherings of the former maids of honor at Sussex House soon became a regular event. They speculated about the identity of the next queen, talked about clothes, and exchanged news of the court: Anthony Denny had been appointed as chief gentleman of the privy chamber; Margaret Skipwith had left court to marry Lord Talboys; the king had been excommunicated by Pope Paul III.
“More rumors of treason are afoot,” Jane Mewtas reported in early April, “even after last month’s executions.”
Another plot, Nan thought without much interest. New ones seemed to spring up daily, each one more insubstantial than the last. But the king took no chances. The penalty for expressing a treasonous opinion was the same as for fomenting rebellion—death.
“There are times,” Cousin Mary said, “when I am glad to be away from court. There is too much intrigue. Nor are we free of it in London. I am well pleased that we will soon be leaving here.”
Startled, Nan dropped a stitch.
“Where are we going?” Kate Stradling asked, equally surprised.
“My lord husband informs me that in a few days’ time we will travel into Essex to spend several months at the new property he has acquired near Boreham.”
Go away? For
months
? That would not do. Nan sent a beseeching glance in Jane Mewtas’s direction. Jane hesitated, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was time to put into effect the plan they had been hatching since Anne and Jane first came to call at Sussex House.
That evening, Nan’s old complaint, the megrim, returned with a vengeance. Or so Nan told anyone who would listen. Such acute headaches, accompanied by dizziness and extreme sensitivity to light, had been strangely absent since the previous autumn. Although Kate was clearly suspicious, she could not voice her doubts without revealing her own complicity in Nan’s earlier deception.
When Jane Mewtas called again the next day, Nan was still abed, the red-and-white damask curtains drawn and all the candles save one snuffed out. Cousin Mary was in a state, concerned for Nan but reluctant to delay her own departure.
“You will have to travel to Essex in a litter,” Nan’s cousin decided.
Nan shielded her eyes with one arm and injected a pitiful quaver in her voice. “Let me stay here, coz, I beg you. Constance can look after me until I am able to ride.”
“Impossible!”
On cue, Jane Mewtas spoke up. “She cannot stay here unchaperoned, but neither can she make such a long journey in her present state. Surely there is somewhere here in London where she can stay until she is fit again.”
“Her sister is with Lady Rutland, but they are presently at Enfield.”
“Then let her come to me. Peter and I have room and we would be glad to have her.”
“Even ill?” Cousin Mary sounded doubtful.
“A megrim does not last forever. It only seems like it. Why, this is the perfect solution. Nan can be moved the short distance to Tower Street, together with her maid, and the rest of your household can depart on schedule.”
Mary did not hesitate long. She gave orders for Constance to pack Nan’s belongings. That very afternoon, Nan went home with Jane.
Her new lodgings were small and cramped compared with the old, but the Mewtas house stood close to the Thames and could easily be accessed by the royal barge. Nan’s bedchamber under the eaves was tiny, but she had it all to herself.
Two days after her arrival, she was sitting on the window seat, passing the time by hemming a handkerchief, when the door abruptly opened to reveal the king.
“Your Grace!” Nan rose in a flurry of skirts and sank into a curtsy. The handkerchief and a pair of shears, in a case of crimson velvet, tumbled to the floor.
The king lifted her by the elbows and greeted her with a kiss. In itself, that was nothing out of the ordinary. The exchange of kisses was as common as the clasping of hands. But this was no brief brushing of lips. King Henry lingered. When he stepped away, his eyes gleamed, anticipating more kisses to come.
“It is a delight to see you again, Mistress Nan.”
“Your delight cannot surpass my own, Your Majesty.” This was the first time she’d been completely alone with him. A sudden attack of nervousness had her trembling. More than three months had passed since their last encounter. What if she had been wrong about the intensity of his interest in her?
His great booming laugh was both startling and reassuring. “Do you strive to outdo your king in compliments, sweetheart? I say my delight is the greater.”
Nan bobbed a second curtsy. “Your pardon, Your Grace. I am no doubt mistaken. And yet, I take such pleasure in your company that I feel as if the sun has just come out after forty days and forty nights of rain.”
“Saucy minx.” He linked his arm through hers and guided her back to the long, padded bench beneath the window. “Sit, my dear.”
He settled himself beside her and took her hands in his, caressing them lightly. He frowned at the lack of rings on her fingers. She wore no jewelry at all except for the miniature of himself as a pendant. Her gown was plain, too, made of violet cloth lined with red saye.
In contrast, the king’s fingers were heavy with jewelry, as were other parts of his person. His gown was scarlet and gold brocade, slashed so that puffs of white satin, held with gold clasps, came through the openings. He wore a white satin sash and a collar of twisted pearls with ruby medallions. Even the linen shirt that showed above the neckline of his doublet was heavily embroidered with gold thread.
King Henry slipped an arm around Nan’s waist and drew her close for another kiss. Nan found it pleasant, although not as stimulating as the kisses she’d shared with Ned. She returned it with as much fervor as she could manage, but even as she willed herself to encourage him to seduce her, she had to fight an urge to pull back. It had been easy to imagine being intimate with the king, but the reality was far more difficult.
The king might wear fine clothing, but he was much older than she. He was also alarmingly large and heavy. There was a great deal more of him than she’d remembered! Fingers that suddenly put her in mind of sausages stroked her arm and toyed with the pins that held her cuffs in place. She inhaled deeply, reassured when she caught a whiff of the same wonderful scent he always wore. But when he embraced her, she could not suppress a small sound of distress. She felt overwhelmed by his massive physical presence and intimidated by the thought that
this was her king
.
King Henry responded to her whimper with a sigh. Releasing her, he sat back, as if to study her. He did not seem angry, but when Nan looked at him, dismay cascaded over her. How had she ever thought this man was handsome? He had piglike eyes in a jowly face. Just as Constance had said, he was a fat old man.
Struck by a mixture of terror and confusion, Nan’s eyes filled with tears. Her entire body trembled. When she spoke, her voice shook. “I … do want to please you, Your Grace.”
His touch was gentle as he used his own handkerchief to brush moisture from her cheek. “You please me greatly, Nan, and you would please me even more if you were to become my mistress, but to find you so innocent of the ways of men gives me pleasure, too.”
Nan bowed her head to keep him from reading her expression. He had misinterpreted her reaction. He thought her sudden revulsion was the fear some brides experienced.
He thought she was a virgin.
Unable to bring herself to admit that she was not, Nan struggled to clear her mind. She needed time. She needed to think through what the king’s misreading might mean. But he was waiting for her to say something.
“To be your mistress would be a
g
-
g
-great honor, Your Grace.”
Her nervousness seemed to amuse him. She could hear it in his voice. “You have no experience by which to judge, dear Nan.”
She did not correct him. One did not contradict the king of England. “Your Grace flatters me,” she whispered, still avoiding his eyes. “I know not what to say. I would fain keep your good opinion of me, and your friendship.”
“I would be a
very
good friend to you, Nan.” Again, he sighed. “What a great pity it is that I must make a foreign alliance. I cannot marry an Englishwoman, but if I could, I would need to look no further for my bride.”
Nan’s head jerked up and she stared at him in amazement. She’d dreamed of hearing him say such a thing to her, but she had not really believed it was possible. Knowing that he considered her worthy to be his queen left Nan feeling breathless.
“But I am not free to wed where I will,” the king continued, caressing her palm with his thumb as he spoke. “My agents abroad have at last found a suitable princess for me to marry.”
King Henry’s gaze shifted away from Nan. He was staring at the busy street below her window and the view of the Tower of London beyond, but Nan doubted he noticed any details. His eyes had a faraway look in them.
“Her name is Anna of Cleves. One of my agents who has met with her says that she outshines the Duchess of Milan as the golden sun surpasses the silver moon.”
“It is good that we will soon have a new queen,” Nan whispered. She wished she believed it.
Swift as a striking snake, the king’s attention shifted back to her. “Nothing will happen quickly.”
Nan’s heart stuttered. Her mind raced through tangled thoughts. In a moment, His Grace would embrace her again. For the interim, until his new bride arrived in England, he wanted a woman to warm his bed. He craved feminine company, someone to pamper and amuse him.
She could be that person. She’d be a fool to refuse the honor. And yet, if she did not send him away at once, he would discover the truth about her virginity. Would he care that she was not the innocent he’d supposed? Nan was afraid to find out. She shuddered to think what he would do if he decided that she had deliberately misled him.
King Henry kissed her again, more fervently than before. Nan willed herself not to respond in any way. Had he only been paying lip service to high ideals when he’d stopped before, or did he truly admire women who went to their marriage beds with their maidenheads intact? He was the king. He could slake his lust with her whether she showed any inclination to participate or not, and no one would reprimand him. Besides, she’d made it plain enough that she was his for the taking. But she did not want this, not now. Rigid with tension, she felt his lips move to her throat, his hands caress her breasts.
When he abruptly released her and stood, Nan kept her eyes tightly closed. Had her lack of response angered him? Worse, had she just lost any chance to advance herself and her family? Silence stretched between them until she thought she would scream.
At last he spoke. “Will you join Lady Sussex at Boreham?”
Slowly, Nan opened her eyes, where tears once more shimmered. “I would rather remain here.”
The king’s smile was tinged with lingering desire and what Nan thought was regret, but she saw no temper there, no threat of retribution. “I would rather that you remain here, too. I crave more
from you, Nan, but for the nonce I will hold you to your offer of friendship.”
With that, he left her. Nan retrieved the partially hemmed handkerchief from the floor and used it to dry her tears. By the time Jane Mewtas arrived a few minutes later, she had control of herself again.
“His Grace did not stay very long.” Worry creased Jane’s brow. She and her husband had their own stake in Nan’s success with the king.
“Not this time.” Nan reached for the fallen shears with unsteady fingers. She was not sure what she wanted anymore, but she had time to consider. Nothing had to be decided today.
“Will he return?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Nan said. She was certain of that much. The king of England had promised her his friendship.
I have delivered your token to my Lady Sussex, who doth heartily thank your ladyship for the same. Her ladyship is somewhat acrased, and as far as I can learn she is not well pleased with Mrs. Anne; and though the matter be forgiven I do perceive she hath not forgotten it.
—John Husee to Lady Lisle, 26 May 1539
8
On the twenty-first day of May, Cat Bassett returned to court. She came at the invitation of the king, but without Lady Rutland, who was due to give birth to yet another child in only two months’ time. King Henry was hosting a banquet that evening for a group of his late wife’s gentlewomen. Cat was not quite certain how she’d come to be included in their number. She could only suppose that it was because, had Queen Jane lived, Cat would have had the place Anne Parr vacated to marry Will Herbert.
A yeoman of the guard escorted Cat to the lodgings she was to share with her sister. She’d been looking forward to the chance to spend time
with Nan. They’d not seen each other since shortly after Queen Jane’s death.
She heard the racket well before they reached their destination—laughter, high-pitched feminine voices, and the clink of glassware. Grinning, the yeoman of the guard opened the door for her and took his leave.
There was scarcely space in the room for another person to squeeze in. Cat recognized three former maids of honor—Nan and Jane Mewtas and Anne Herbert. She also knew Joan Denny slightly, since Joan was a distant Bassett cousin, but the other woman was a stranger to her.