I, Jane: In The Court of Henry VIII (45 page)

“Your Grace is a busy man, far too busy for pleasantries with a distant relation,” Jane acknowledged.

“A relation nonetheless,” he countered effortlessly. “And blood really is the thing, after all.”

It was an odd phrasing, with so many people recently imprisoned in the Tower of London for offenses punishable by death. For a moment, she could not think how to respond.

Thomas Cromwell padded forward, interrupting her ruminations. “We also thought it was time we offered you our formal support,” he announced.

“Am I in need of your support?” she asked with a note of cautious surprise.

“A crown is a heavy burden, my lady.”

Jane did not yet possess a crown. There was much more to endure before that became a reality. Yet these two powerful men paid court to her as if she were a queen—when there was still another on the throne.

“Is support
all
that you wish for me?” she dared to ask Cromwell, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“In truth, no.”

Jane’s heart fell at his response.

God save me,
she thought.
God save William.

“The real reason we are here is to escort you to Hampton Court, where you shall begin planning your wedding, as well as selecting your household staff.”

For a moment, Jane misheard the words, and she thought he had meant the Tower instead. Everyone feared the Tower at the moment. If one of the king’s dearest friends, Henry Norris, and the queen herself could be arrested and sent there, no one was safe. And it was Norfolk, after all, who had seen his own niece, Anne Boleyn, taken there. What might he do with Jane, his other relation, if she did not behave to their liking?

Jane wrapped her arms tightly around herself to ward off a
sudden shudder. “But how can I plan a wedding when there has yet been no divorce?”

Norfolk’s craggy face remained expressionless. “The king’s party has already gone. ’Tis by his command that we leave, just past midday.”

“Whom do I take?” Jane asked, hearing the panic in her own voice, unaccustomed to the pressure of decision making.

“A queen does as she pleases, my lady,” said Cromwell.

“So you are here to serve me, then?” she asked, feeling a spark of confidence.

“Indeed we are,” answered Cromwell.

“Splendid. Then send for Princess Mary to be delivered to York Place. They will reunite there.”

The two powerful men exchanged a glance, and Jane could see it was the last request either of them expected to hear. For a moment, both of them were pressed into silence.

“Oh, cousin, I am not certain that would be a good idea with everything that is about to—”

But Jane cut the duke off. “Your Grace declared yourselves here to serve me, and that is what I wish. His Majesty is in need of his children around him just now. He has told me so directly.”

“It is only that the disgraced queen never wished to be reminded that there was another queen before her, or a child to compete with her own offspring,” Cromwell explained.

“Well, if you did not know it before, be aware that I am nothing like this queen.”

Again, the two men exchanged a glance, but she saw capitulation in both of their expressions, a tacit agreement that they would do as she asked. It was at that precise moment that Jane felt her first jolt of
real power. It surged through her, unlike any other sensation she had experienced before.

“Now, who do you recommend to oversee the details of my wedding? I am certain he wishes us to marry directly after the divorce, since the matter of an heir is still paramount in his mind.”

Jane knew that she sounded aloof, perhaps even slightly haughty. But if she was going to gain their respect and their compliance, she would need to make certain that she betrayed no fear.

The divorce would go through, and she would be queen, whatever that took.

“I do have someone in mind, Mistress Seymour, well vested and trustworthy. His name is Sir William Sidney. He has a lovely daughter, Lady Mary Dormer. Her husband is in my employ; thus, I can assure you that she shall fit seamlessly into your new household,” Cromwell offered.

Jane wrung her hands as she paced the tiled drawing room floor, her heels pounding out the rhythm of her heart. Sir William Sidney and his daughter were downstairs in the courtyard ready to accompany Jane to Hampton Court, where she was to wait, protected, until after the divorce. Cromwell had informed her that the Sidney duo was most anxious to be a part of her train. Surely God was playing with her in this, for what other explanation could there be? Jane remembered only parts of the conversation with Cromwell after that, even though it had occurred only an hour earlier.

“You must take better care not to give yourself away,” Anne warned her as she finished dressing Jane for the journey.

The costume was new, commissioned by the royal tailor. It was more elegant than any of her other traveling gowns, made of a rich amber silk with a tasseled yellow sash and prominent rosary hanging
from the waist. There was also a slim line of rare miniver sewn into the bodice. Like her jewelry, the dress made a statement about Jane’s growing influence. “These are dangerous times at court, and no one is safe. If the king gets wind of any more betrayal, there’s no telling what he might do,” Anne continued.

Jane lowered her eyes in agreement. She must do this. She must take on the unaware wife of the man she loved in order to protect herself and William.

“Now, this will be entertaining,” Thomas murmured under his breath as they approached the young woman and her father, who wore such hopeful, naive expressions that Jane felt a rise of nausea flood her already guilty heart.

“I am sorry, Jane,” Francis Bryan said quietly. “I tried to put him off the idea of including them as soon as I heard, but Cromwell and I have never been on the best of terms.”

Sir William bowed to her, and his daughter Mary curtsied as though Jane were already queen. That seemed to be the new standard of things.

Mary was the first to speak. “I have been waiting a very long time for this moment.” Her wide, buttery brown eyes met Jane’s cautious gaze.

“Oh?” Jane managed, hearing how much the single word sounded like a croak. “And why is that?”

Now it was father and daughter who exchanged a glance.

“Forgive me, Mistress Seymour, for saying so, but I never fancied the former queen,” Sir William revealed. He moved in closer and lowered his voice as if he were about to utter some great state secret. “It was not right the way she stole another woman’s husband like that. She was shameless, and poor Queen Katherine was so unsuspecting.”

“That
was
a shame,” Jane concurred, trying not to look too closely at the balding, kind-faced man and his pretty daughter. “Queen Katherine was a wonderful, noble woman.”

“After she was banished, I did not wish to attach my family to court,” he explained. “But now with you by our king’s side—”

“I am not there yet, my lord,” she cut him off gently. “Much could yet happen.”

“Oh no, mistress. He is as good as widowed already. Everyone is saying the case against Lady Anne is secure.”

Jane felt an uneasy dread crawl up her spine. “Surely she shall be shamed in her divorce and banished from England, and nothing more.”

William’s wife looked at her with a sweet, soft smile, but her words were full of venom.

“If you will pardon me saying, my lady, banishment is not good enough for someone who takes another woman’s husband, then makes a cuckold of him.”

Though she spoke of Anne Boleyn, Jane was uneasy to hear such a sentiment from the wife of her own great love. Jane felt as if she might be ill right then and there.

“Where shall your husband be, Lady Dormer, if I were to take you permanently into my employ? Amid all this talk of infidelity and divorce, should you not pay heed to that question?”

Mary Dormer’s smile was indecipherable. “Oh, my William? He is as faithful as a monk, and bound by Master Cromwell, who gave him his opportunity at court. One of the homes we own is in Wiltshire, very near where your family resides, in fact. Did you not know that? He favors that property the most of all our holdings.”

“You might have been too young to remember,” Thomas suddenly put in with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “But Master Dormer
was with us as children when we were called to France to attend the late Princess Mary when she became Queen of France.”

Jane cast her brother a confused little look, but his expression told her that he had spoken the words intentionally. “I remember,” Jane said, managing those two words, though each tasted like rust on her tongue.

“As to my husband, since you so kindly asked,” said Mary Dormer sweetly, “he shall work closely with Master Cromwell and the king at York Place until the end of this business with the queen; then he shall join us at Hampton Court. I am most proud of the advancements he has made, as you might imagine.” She beamed in a way that pierced Jane deep in the heart. Her words remained there, twisting.

“Yes,” said Jane, her stomach tightening with the thick sludge of guilt. “I can imagine.”

They rode together to Nicholas Carew’s elegant mansion in Beddington, which was secluded enough for the king to conceal her there during this growing tumult. They would progress to Hampton Court soon after. Beddington was only a mile by barge down the river from where Henry was installed in London at York Place, as Cromwell and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cranmer, worked toward the trials of the accused men and an annulment of the royal marriage, which would be much speedier than a divorce. Jane was surprised to feel a slight kindling of empathy for the beleaguered queen.

For so many years Anne Boleyn had wanted nothing more than to be queen. Now Archbishop Cranmer was about to announce, with the stroke of a pen, that she had never been queen at all. And while Jane knew it would be unwise to protest, with decisions already
made at the highest level, she was reasonably certain that the accusation of infidelity with five different men was unfounded. She did not have proof to aid the embattled queen, but she had spent enough time in Anne’s company to know she likely had only ever indulged in such flirtations to incite the king’s jealousy. She had never truly wanted anyone but Henry.

As it had been with Katherine, Jane knew it was Henry’s ardent desire to be free of the marriage that was primarily driving this wild and slightly frightening course of events, and she was trying her best not to let it frighten her. To preoccupy her mind, Jane marveled at the sheer elegance of Nicholas and Elizabeth’s home in Beddington Park—a stately redbrick structure with a clock tower, a brightly painted blue door, and a long driveway guarded by a great iron and golden gate. The mansion was surrounded by lush emerald lawns and flanked by heavy evergreen trees.

It was a cool and windy day for May, and Jane felt a chill as she walked before the Carew servants, who lined the walkway in order to be presented to her. As she passed them, they bowed and curtsied to her, as nearly everyone she met did now. It was overwhelming and distracted her—until she saw her sister, Elizabeth, waiting for her near the open door, radiant and smiling. They embraced deeply, and Jane felt unexpected nostalgic tears wet her cheeks.

“Hal mentioned you might come to court, but I had no idea he meant so soon.” Jane wept with happiness. “I am heartily glad you are here. Your husband is at home with the children, then?”

“He is, but he sends his love. It was such a kind invitation from the king that Anthony could not deny me a chance to attend my own sister, the queen,” she said with a genuine smile.

“I am not queen yet, remember.”

“You shall be soon enough, once she is dead.”

“The marriage is to be annulled,” Jane quickly countered. “There is no reason to execute her.”

“We shall see about that, shan’t we?” said Thomas as he came up the steps to greet his youngest sister with a hearty embrace.

Jane shook her head to cast off the comment, glad to have the three of them reunited like this. As to anything else, she decided not to think about it. For now.

Dresses were strewn everywhere. There was an entirely new and elegant wardrobe assembled and prepared for her review in the grand, carpeted withdrawing room to which Jane was shown. Behind her, Elizabeth, Lady Ughtred, Elizabeth Carew, and Anne Seymour awaited her reaction with smiling faces. Jane was stunned by the yards and colors of luxurious silk, embroidered velvet, ermine, pearls, and beadwork laid like an offering at her feet.

“’Tis breathtaking,” she murmured, pressing two fingers to her lips.

“’Tis a wardrobe fit for a queen,” said her sister with a note of happiness further brightening her face.

“Commanded by a king for his lady,” explained Elizabeth Carew.

“Hal saw to this?”

“Approved of each pearl and button,” Lady Carew confirmed. “He confides to my husband that he is tired of being unhappy, and you make him happy.”

“And now you really must decide what you shall wear for your wedding. There’ll not be time to add the jewels if you do not, and His Majesty has ordered that your wedding dress be very grand,” Elizabeth said.

Jane’s wedding dress would be ornamented as her predecessor sat in the Tower of London. What, she wondered, must Anne be doing alone in her chamber, which was actually a prison cell, as Jane chose fabrics for her wedding gown? Perhaps if she had not seen Katherine’s sad end, the bitter irony of Anne’s situation would not come to mind now.

Jane had been witness to a great many things in her life. Now she was at the epicenter of it all. On her wedding day, Katherine had worn a dress of white embroidery and miniver; Anne had worn a gown of crimson velvet with rubies. She would wear emerald satin so that everyone could see how it matched her new husband’s eyes. Her dedication to him would be reflected in every choice she made for the wedding.

Yet, even after everything, the image of Anne Boleyn, alone and frightened for her life, haunted Jane. But she pushed it aside. No one could outrun their destiny, and she felt that down to her soul.

Later that afternoon, as Jane sat wearily amid the pile of gowns, each of which she had tried on, she accepted a small goblet of claret from Lady Carew’s maid. She lay against the back of an embroidered settee to catch her breath with her new ladies of honor. Mary Dormer’s presence made the wine necessary for her.