Mary Boleyn: The King's Lover

The Wedding

Bans were read­­­­­­ at Mass that Sunday, announcing that Mary, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn and Lady Elizabeth would be married to William Carey, son of Thomas Carey and Margaret Spencer. Legally they were married since the marriage contract had been signed, but they would not begin their married life until after the ceremony.

Mary felt uncomfortably conspicuous, but hearing her name and William's together gave her a secret thrill. Gone was her reputation as a loose woman at the French court, now she was simply an English girl, the daughter of Thomas Boleyn marrying a man who had the favor of the king. She would be "Mary Carey" married to a husband that she loved.

Lady Elizabeth had obtained a position for her as a maid of honor to the queen. Mary was intimidated at first, not sure if Queen Katherine, Henry's neglected queen, was aware of her reputation, but the history of her behavior had been left in the French court. She found the queen kind and generous, although Katherine was intelligent and did not tolerate fools. She was flattered that Queen Katherine knew of her impending marriage and touched when she gave her a necklace with a little pearl cross hanging from a gold chain.

"Thank you, your Majesty," Mary curtsied, "It's beautiful, I will wear it at my wedding." She thought about the necklace Anne always wore, the "B" for Boleyn with three little pearls hanging from it. She was glad Anne was in France, serving Queen Claude. She would find a way to make Mary's day about her, something she was very good at. At least, on her wedding day, people would be looking at her, not the sultry Anne.

Her mother's chamber was full of fabrics and two seamstresses, and their assistants were measuring, cutting, and sewing the gowns—with English-style sleeves--that would make up Mary's trousseau.

"I don't see how we're going to get all your dresses made in a month," her mother complained, but the seamstresses knew their business, and the gowns were slowly taking shape, including her wedding dress.

"Please come and try your dress on, madam," said one of the seamstresses. Mary removed her gown and allowed the women to drape her dress over her and tie the laces of the stomacher. "Perfect," one of them said and Mary looked in the mirror.

The gold and white brocade suited her. Sir Thomas was parsimonious, but he had loosened his purse strings to provide Mary with an adequate trousseau. She turned back and forth in front of the mirror, allowing herself to admire what it reflected back.

Mary was known as the beauty in the family, but she seldom felt beautiful unless it was through the eyes of another. Francis had made her feel beautiful, but he had deceived and discarded her. William told her she was beautiful, he made her feel beautiful and loved. Now that she had William, her life would hold nothing but happiness, she told herself.

The next day she was back in the Queen's chambers, learning her new duties. Queen Katherine was patient, when Mary dropped the bible the queen asked her to fetch, or the packet of embroidery threads spilled across the floor, her mother winced. The queen, however, said nothing but waited patiently for Mary to retrieve the silken threads for the altar cloth she was embroidering.

She was reading from the queen's bible when Henry came into the room. The ladies, including the queen, stood and curtsied, then sat and arranged their skirts, wanting to look the best for their handsome king.

He greeted the queen, then announced, "I have come to see Lady Mary; I have a wedding present for her." He smiled at Mary, a smile that concealed a secret and she wondered what it was. He handed her a red velvet pouch, saying, "Open it, I wish to see if you like it."

Mary's trembling fingers opened the bag and spilled the contents onto her lap. A rope of precious pearls, shimmering and iridescent lay against the blue silk of her gown. She picked them up, running them through her fingers.