Anne Boleyn was now made Marquess of Pembroke, she was now a Peer of the Realm, on equal standing with Dukes and Counts. She was to have lands, castles, and an income of one thousand pounds a year.Her Father was now made an earl; the Earl of Ormonde. Her brother George took the title of Viscount Rochford. Mary Boleyn, now a widow after the sweat took her husband, was to get 100 pounds a year and her son Henry Carey was to be educated at a respected Cistercian Monastery. Her Uncle the Duke of Norfolk was now the most prominent adviser to the King.
It appeared nothing could stop the rise of the Boleyns.
Queen Catherine's countless pleading letters to the King assured him of her love and loyalty in everything, every single thing that he commanded of her unless it would put her immortal soul in danger. She would not deny her marriage.
Rumors swirled around court that Princess Mary, the King's only legitimate heir, was gravely ill. Her Lady Governess Margaret Pole, the King's Aunt and beloved friend of Queen Catherine was sick with worry, sending for physicians from even, it was whispered, the Moors.
"Her heart is broken by what her Father is doing to Queen Catherine," I once overheard Anne Stanhope telling my Father. "For no medicine in the world seems to be able to cure her."
The King, forever in a love-hate relationship with King Francis of France was now on the best terms with him since Anne Boleyn was for all intents and purposes a Frenchwoman in an Englishwoman's body. He was to go and visit France, the enemies of Queen Catherine's home country, with Anne Boleyn, Queen Catherine's enemy, on his side.
She was to go to France at the King's side, as what we did not know. Henry Fitzroy, Bessie Blount's bastard, now a strapping lad of 15, was to go with them, declared a Prince in all but name. He would wear purple, he would sit beside the King, he was to meet with the sons of King Francis, trueborn Princes, as though he was one of them. Princess Mary, the true heir, and Queen Catherine, the true Queen, were to be left behind.
Only one member of our family was selected to be part of the retinue; Lizzie. It was a mark of just how low we were in His Majesty's favour.
It rankled Father to the bone; I could tell from the stiff bows he gave to the King and Anne at his side, and his glares at her whenever he thought no one was looking.
He hated her. At first she had just been an obstacle, something temporary that would eventually be out of the way of the fulfillment of his ambitions, but now he saw her for what she truly was.
A threat.
Anne Stanhope had hoped she would be the one to go, but since she had found out that she was with child everyone in the family had been against it.
"We shall not take that risk," Edward had said, " Heirs are hard to come by these days."
Father agreed.
Anne, furious at this treatment she considered degrading, took it out on everyone. She snapped at Edward at every turn, while he begged her to maintain a good mood for the safety of the baby.
Lizzie and I could not hide our delight. Finally we the true daughters of the House could have a seat at the table! Well, Lizzie alone anyway. I did not mind as long as Anne Stanhope was humbled.
Lizzie was given the plum job of spying for us and reporting whatever was to happen in France. We were all waiting to see how the French would react to Anne Boleyn.
"They love her," I whispered to Lizzie the night before she was to set off to Dover to board the ship, along with the rest of the court. I was brushing her hair before bedtime, as I always did. "She is all but a Frenchwoman herself." I scoffed. "Half Frenchwoman and half Howard. No good shall ever come of that."
