The Only Boleyn

Summer 1522 - Mary's Moment

When we returned to the castle, the first glimmers of stars were beginning to peek through the thick, deep blue sky. We rode our horses into the stables and the sound of the court making merry in the chambers greeted us, dispelling the quiet we had enjoyed away from the busy huddle. I dismounted my horse myself, for Percy appeared to have forgotten the tradition, but I didn't mind - he nodded at me with a smile as he handed his horse over to the stableboy, and as I reached the stairway to the ladies chambers, I turned back to see him with a broad beam plastered across his handsome features. My head still spinning in excitement, I decided to retire to my chamber immediately, my aches from the hard ride beginning to set it once the adrenaline had worn off.
I slipped into my chamber unnoticed except for the chambermaid at the door of Mary Tudor's room - but she didn't matter.
The room was eerily quiet without Mary there, but I quickly lit the candles to brighten the place up a bit. I summoned a maid to bring me cold water to splash my face with in an effort to wipe the happy smile off my face, for I knew that I could not be seen to act like such a fool in front of the whole court. There was a place for me in the world, and it didn't involve me finding my own love. What might develop from my affection for Henry could only ever be temporary, and I knew this from the moment I allowed myself to recognise the respect I had for him. My place was here, using my talents to serve my family; bettering ourselves in the world.
I didn't wait up for Mary, though.

*

As the bright summer sun streams through the two slits in the wall of my chamber, I wake up to find that Mary has still not returned. Rubbing my eyes, I shake the last remnants of drowsiness from my head, and conclude that I had better attend to Queen Katherine, so that there was at least one Boleyn sister seen to be behaving properly.
The serving-girl informs me that the ladies have gone to the Queen's private chapel, and I manage to slip in, unseen by the Queen whose face is downturned in prayer. I slide into the pew next to Mary Tudor, who scolds me for being late with a knowing smile on her face.
"Over there." She whispers to me, before ducking her head down to pray again.
I turn to where she had gestured, only to see my sister Mary seated behind the Queen, openly grinning to herself.
Sinful girl, I thought to myself as I clasped my hands together and looked down, ready to pray. Thinking of such carnal pleasures in a place of worship!
The Queen prayed most feverently that morning, and for a longer duration than usual. Probably for the salvation of Mary's sinful soul, I observed wryly to George once we met the men to take a turn in the gardens. He scoffed and replied that if Henry's satisfied demeanour was anything to go by, Mary could do with the extra prayers.
Mary did, however, settle into the position of the King's mistress with unsurprising ease. Her appetite for the lavish lifestyle it brought with it was consistent - and however tawdry her taste for jewellery was, there was no doubt that she was the most adorned lady at court, excepting the Queen.
    Mary had become, to the older ladies of the court, a pretentious little upstart with no concept of what she was getting herself into. When they thought no Boleyns or Howards could hear them, the gossips of the court whispered into Mary's ear the dangers of her position. Think of Bessie Blount, they said, think of the danger you put yourself in. Mary, the fool, is too besotted with Henry to think straight half of the time - she never leaves his side and will run through the palace when he calls for her at night.
    And he undoubtably adores her - I don't have much to do with the man, myself; he never gives me more than a cheerful greeting as I pass him in the halls, or stops to ask after my sister's health. But it is clear from the smiles he gives her, even in public, and the lovelorn looks he throws her way that she catches with radiant happiness. It is enough to make one sick, the way the two fawn over one another, the way they think of themselves as two star-crossed lovers brought together by fate.
    "Of course, she will never hold his attention for long," I say to Howard when he calls me to his study after dinner one evening, "She is too boring."
    "Well, she's doing a good job at the moment." Howard replies, spreading his hands out in front of him, palms up, "She just needs to give him a son, and that shouldn't be long given the amount of time they spend together." Howard snorts at his own joke, reaching out with his greasy palm to the tankard of wine he keeps on his desk at all times.
    Ignoring the vulgar comment, I continue, "But Mary won't keep him. Henry doesn't want something he can have at the click of a finger. Mary needs to start acting more difficult to control - he'll enjoy the chase."
    Howard holds up a finger to halt me. "Enough, Anne. Mary is doing well, and you're there to help her. What are you complaining about?"
    I descend into a sulky silence, and watch as Howard takes a large swig of his wine. "Now," he says, "How does Carey fare?"
    "Well enough," I replied, thinking of the disturbing change I had seen in William since Mary became the acclaimed mistress. In his own sort of grief, he had turned to the darker side of the court, the drinking and the gambling, and it was common knowledge that he visited the bathhouses 4, if not 5 times a week.
    "Good," mused my Uncle, "We can't have a loose cannon like him risking everything."
    He put his tankard down with a clunk, and fixed his serious gaze on me again.
    "King Henry has expressly asked about your marriage arrangements."
    There was a moment's pause as I realised what Uncle had said, and a further silence as I fought to banish all thoughts of Percy from my mind.
    "He wants you to go to Ormonde. He thinks you should marry soon."
    I kept very still, my usually active mind overrun with chaos.
    "You should be complimented," said Howard, picking up his wine again and swilling it around, "This is all down to Mary, you know."