The Boleyn Prince

Chapter 26

Jasper the gardener had done a wonderful job in rejuvenating the Beaulieu gardens Mary Tudor thought to herself as she wandered through a meadow of wildflowers that ran through the west side of the palace.
Now that she was recovered from her illness and the weather was finally on the turn, Mary took comfort in being out in the gardens rather than confined indoors.
Today, the weather was especially warm and fine, so she had decided to picnic in the gardens, much to delight of the younger maids.
The large wooden table usually used in the stables had been dusted off and covered with a fine blue cloth, with cold meats, breads and fruit laid out on gold plates.
She tried not to think of the plundered Monasteries her fine table wear had been stolen from. But the gold twinkled in the sunshine as an ever-present reminder of the terrible sacrilege committed in her father's name.
At her maids urging, Mary had instructed the musicians to join them in the gardens and the young ladies of her service were having the time of their lives dancing to the lively tunes coming from the lute and tambourine players.
Mary would have liked to hear the sound of the viol. An Instrument her mother had brought with her from Spain when she had first come to England. She had spent her childhood enthralled to its light and delicate sound, but Spanish music and instruments had long been replaced by French ones since Anne Boleyn was known to favour them above all.

Mary was roused from her daydreaming by the sight of little Kathryn Howard standing before her. Her wide brown eyes stared intently at her mistress. Her heart shaped face was flush with exertion from her dancing.

"Your Grace, There is a Mistress Seymour in the hall, asking for you," she said lightly.

Before Mary could question her, Kathryn was distracted by the musicians who had been encouraged by the other maids to strike up another tune and hurried over to join the dancing.
Kathryn was a sweet girl, pretty and vivacious. Mary had reluctantly found herself becoming fond of her. She was, however, a terrible maid. She was dreadfully capricious, lacking in decorum and dedicated only to showing off in pretty clothes and dancing. It was hard to believe she came from such a polished and refined family as the Howards.
Still, she was by no means the worst of the maids George Boleyn had appointed to her household. She was certainly flighty and boasted little in the way of common sense, but deep down she had a good heart. Mary could trust that Kathryn was not a spy. Unlike some of the other women in her service.

The woman waiting in the hall was plump, sombre, and pale-faced, dressed after the French fashions.  Yet a quick inspection of her clothes revealed their material was ageing, despite the expensive silk fabric from which it was made.
Her burgundy skirt was stained with watermarks and despite the expertise that had re-sown the headlines, it betrayed their repairs. Mary could tell from her own experience at Hatfield that multiple adjustments had been made.
On her head, a matching French hood was perched on top of her pale blonde hair.
She offered Mary a deep and respectful curtsey, and she was quick to assume this she was not one of that despicable woman's spies.

"Mistress Seymour?" The name was familiar, but Mary could not recall where she had heard it mentioned before.

"I am, Your Grace. It is most kind of Your Grace to receive me. I thank you."

"What can I do for you, Mistress Seymour?"

"If Your Grace will pardon my boldness. I have come to ask if you might be in need of attendants as you establish your new household?"

"The comptroller has made all necessary appointments for the running of the household, Mistress Seymour.

The look of disappointment was evident on the girl's pale face, and Mary felt for her.

"Have you served in a lady's household before?"

"Oh yes, Your Grace. I had the honour to serve your late mother, God rest her. And until recently I served Queen Anne."

"Forgive me I don't understand. How do you find yourself without a position?"

Jane fiddled with the pomander at her dress and hung her head. "The Queen dismissed me, Your Grace," she admitted in a low voice.

"Why were you dismissed?"

Colour came to the girl's pale face for the first time. "His Majesty had..." her voice trailed off into silence and at once Mary remembered where she had heard the woman's name before.

It had been back before that woman had borne little Henry. Lady Shelton and Lady Clere had been talking between themselves about the child the so-called Queen was carrying. Lady Shelton had remarked how the child had better be a boy for all their sakes or all the Howards would soon be bowing to the Kings' new paramour Jane Seymour.
It had been about the same time that Mary had received an anonymous note telling her to be of good cheer for her troubles would soon be over. That an ally was on the rise and when the time came would prove to be the very best of friends to her.
Mary could only conclude that this young woman who stood before her, humbled and exiled was the friend of whom the note had promised and was determined to help her.
She wanted so much to have a friend in her new life. Someone in whom she could confide. Just as she had done with Susan Clarenciex. She was dreadfully alone at Beaulieu, surrounded only by Boleyn spies. It would be an enormous comfort to have someone about her who she could trust and who could talk to her about her mother.

"I would be glad to have you in my service, Mistress Seymour," Mary said graciously. "I am alone here at Beaulieu and there so very few people about me who knew my mother or who would dare speak of her."

Relief washed over the pale girl's face. "Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you much. It was the honour of my life to serve your mother and I swear I shall serve you with the same fidelity."