“Good day, Mistress Boleyn.” Wolsey nodded curtly in Anne’s direction. “How does your sister, Mary? We miss her cheerfulness at the court.”

Anne flinched at the open insult, the insinuation that Anne had taken Mary’s place and was much less pleasant. It was true that Mary was accommodating but also was true that she accommodated too often and with too many. As Anne’s friend I was tempted to ask the cardinal how did his mistress, the one hidden in the country with his two baseborn sons. But I did not, for it would not help my friend at all.

One of the king’s men came up to Anne and pulled her away for a moment when Wolsey slipped in to talk with the duchess. I, of little import, went momentarily unnoticed by either of them.

“Good day, my lady,” Wolsey said, his voice well trained as a social lubricant to coax secrets from among the unwilling. “I wonder, I wonder if you might help me help the king.”

The duchess, always attentive to her own high status, smiled graciously. “Of course, Cardinal. Anything to assist His Majesty. How may I be of service?”

“Do you recall the night the queen was married to Prince Arthur?”

“Indeed,” she said. “It was a time of great celebration. The prince and princess enjoyed themselves, and one another, immensely. It set off a frenzy of romance among the courtiers.” She dabbed a linen to her forehead, remembering her own youth, I supposed, as cloth sponged the fetid sweat from between the deep creases in her face.

Wolsey looked immensely pleased as he steered the duchess to a private corner to continue their chat. I heard no more.

It wasn’t a week later when we ladies were in the queen’s chamber sewing shirts for the poor when the king strode in. The queen’s principal lady met him with a sweet greeting. But he would have none of it.

“Where is your mistress?” he demanded.

“She is at chapel, Your Majesty.”

The king roughly strode past the woman and down the hall to the queen’s private chapel. He opened the door with no care to what state her worship may be in. “Lady, methinks it is time for us to resolve this matter.”

“Please, Your Majesty, join me in worship. And then we shall talk, and dine, and spend time together.”

His reply was rough, certainly not that of a husband of two decades, or even a kind friend. “Our time for talk is over, my lady, and I fear that for us to worship together would be an abomination. I am sending a contingent to the pope to request an annulment of our marriage, which must be a stench before our Lord.”

The queen stood and looked alarmed. She had a hard time regaining her balance on her feet after so long a time kneeling. I felt badly for her and wished for one of her other ladies to help her steady herself, but none dared. “Our marriage is true and pure!” she pleaded. Neither of them seemed to be aware of others listening, but that was the royal prerogative. We were to pretend not to notice, or repeat, what was said or done.

“We have never been honorably married. You were married to my brother, Arthur.”

“Perhaps in name,” she said, her Spanish accent getting even thicker with her fluster. “But not in truth.”

Henry roared his disdain. “No, madam, you may convince others, or even yourself, of that lie, but who other than a husband would know if his wife was a maid at their marriage or not?”

I glanced into the chapel and looked at his face. He was telling the truth, or at the very least believed that he was.

He blew past us like a squall on the Thames and as soon as he left we lesser ladies hastened away.

I tiptoed away and raced to Anne’s quarters to repeat the conversation to her.

In June Cardinal Wolsey left for France to discuss the king’s annulment, or, at worst, divorce, with the pope. He’d told Henry he was convinced that the Holy Father would see the truth of the matter and set things right quickly. Shortly after, Anne came to my chambers.

“I leave for Hever,” she said. “Will you come away with me?”

I nodded and replied, “Of course. But why? Will you risk losing the king’s favor if you depart?”

She shrugged in that most French manner. “Mayhap. But I seek to retain my maidenhood and for that, I fear, I must take my leave. I’ve told the king that my mother requested my presence and he cannot refuse without good cause.”

* * *

Our first weeks home I spent at Allington. My father seemed to have slipped into some kind of forgetfulness. I would ask him about accounts and he could not remember having told me the instructions he had given only hours before. I questioned the servants, but they offered little, seeming to be in fear of Edmund, and I suppose they were right. One night the three of us supped together.

“How is the king?” my father asked politely. Age had made him smaller and more frail. I’d seen him kick one of the hunting dogs earlier, hard, in the ribs, so I knew that whilst the outward man may have been changing in preparation to meet his Maker, the inward man had not.

“The king is in good health.”

“And the queen?” Edmund asked with a wicked grin. I knew he went back and forth to the court on my father’s business, and some of the king’s as well, but we never sought out one another’s company.

“It’s pleasant to serve with her ladies,” I said. Which was true, even though the queen never had a word for me herself, though I toiled long hours on her behalf.

“I was just telling Father how expensive it must be for Lord Blackston to keep you at court,” Edmund said. “The dresses, the jewels, the gifts you’re required to give.”

“My husband has not complained,” I answered, taking a bite of the roasted swan. I pushed the remainder around on my plate with a piece of bread.

“He has not the occasion, Simon tells me. He is too frail.”

Edmund seemed to be particularly well informed on my life as well.

“Mayhap he’s taking it out of the first installment of your dowry.” He threw down the rest of his glass of wine and put the cup on the table.

Installment of my dowry? Hadn’t it all been paid?

With relief, Edithe and I went to stay at Hever in July. I knew she was eager to be there for a long period of time, with her Roger and her children, and I was eager to get away from my brother and father though I missed being at my family home, which had been a warm and lovely place when my mother had been alive and in good health. Perhaps when Thomas inherited it would become more welcoming again.

We rode through the countryside and onto the long gardens that led to Hever Castle. The bushes were aflame with blossoms and the air heavy and ripe with their perfume. The grasses waved untended. I saw the priest just outside of St. Peter’s, blessing what looked to be a field hand on the way to the property. The priest was a kindly man, a godly man, and Sir Thomas kept him on though he was perhaps too old to attend to his duties any longer. As I approached the castle itself I gave a start. There was a messenger there carrying the king’s pennant, resplendent in the king’s colors.

Anne showed me to a room just down the corridor from her own. She was wearing a rich sapphire bracelet, one I knew to be new.

“Is one of the king’s men here?” I inquired.

She nodded. ‘’The king has sent me a letter and his man has been instructed to await my reply.” After I’d refreshed myself she drew me into her father’s paneled library. Henry’s letter claimed concern for her health and well-being and distress whilst not understanding what her intentions were toward him. He’d signed it, “Written by the hand of your entire servant.”

I drew close to her. “Does your father know of this?”

“Nay,” she responded. “Not this particular letter. But we’ve talked of how I should respond should the king write.”

“How shall you respond, then?” I asked.

“Honestly.” A few hours later, after a cheerful dinner with her mother, Anne showed me the letter she would return to Henry in the morn. In it she reiterated what she had already told him in person afore she’d left the court. She found him noble and worthy in every capacity and enjoyed his company above all others’. But she had given her maidenhead into her husband’s hands, and there, by the grace of God, it should remain.

We spent the next days wandering the gardens, reading Erasmus together and making plans for our future children. Perhaps our daughters would be friends, too, I mused. Anne laughed. “I am much more concerned with my sons! But yes.” She took my hand. “I would that our daughters would be friends too.” We sat down on the stone bench where we had once made our blood pledge and talked of gowns and slippers.

Henry arrived at Hever Castle within a fortnight.

Lady Boleyn was not, I assume, given to entertaining the king without the commanding hand of her husband but alas, he was away on the king’s business. “Lady, I require but simple fare and good company, and I know well that both can be found within your household,” the king replied. His visit was ostensibly to take advantage of the hunting in the area. He was hunting for certes. I could scarce hold back my grin, but he was kindly to me as well. He inquired after my husband’s health and thanked me for being a constant friend to Anne.

Anne appeared to be in high spirits. She rode out to the hunt with the king; ’twas a sport they both enjoyed, and being competitors, both of them, they passed the day in good pleasure. When they returned they rode side by side, her face flushed, her eyes shining; she looked beautiful in her velvet hunting outfit of forest green. Henry’s men and her serving ladies bantered and laughed behind them. I met them at the bridge over the moat afore they dismounted.

“I see you were successful,” I called out, indicating the stag.