When the Duchesse d'Alençon called to see her, she sent a message saying she was a little ill. She added: “It is to be expected.” Leaving her in that uncertainty as to whether she referred to her husband's death or her pregnancy.

She used to tell me what they said to her.

“We are anxious about your health,” said the Duchess of Savoy. “Marguerite would like to come here to be with you. Oh, I know you must be alone, but Marguerite could come and stay at Clugny… just in case you felt the need to see her.”

“Dear Duchess,” she replied. “You are too kind. I am as well…as I can expect to be. A little sickness now and then and I confess to feeling the need to rest more than I did.”

Mary went on: “She was in a panic. I thought at any moment she was going to shake me. Oh dear, the Trinity is suffering, I can tell you. And what is so amusing is that, if I am with child, whose it is—the King's or François's? It is clear that he wanted to be my lover and his devoted mother and sister do not believe that anyone could resist him. Oh, it is an amusing situation. I wish you were older… then you could understand how amusing.”

I wanted to say that I did understand. I knew how children were born; I had learned a great deal at the French Court. There was always gossip; I had picked up the language and could understand most that was said; and I really was knowledgeable beyond my years.

The game amused her; and the visits of Louise and Marguerite were frequent. She was always very merry when they had gone and would at times talk to me and at others remain silent. But being Mary she played the game to excess. Her bulk increased too rapidly. She made me pad her with quilting. I was the only one in on the secret.

The result was that one day the Duchess called and while Mary was talking to her, the quilting slipped. Completely sure of herself now as the mother of the King, Louise actually laid hands on the Queen and shook her until the padding dropped out.

The game was over.

It was one of those occasions when she could not keep to herself what had happened. Almost hysterical with laughter she described the scene to me.

“The Duchess was infuriated. Oh, little Boleyn, you are wicked. You did not fix me well enough. The padding fell below my knees. She pounced on it. She even shook me. She said in a thunderous voice: ‘You have deceived us.’ It would have been horrifying—if it had not been so amusing. Then Marguerite laughed. But Madame Louise does not forgive so easily. I had to think quickly. How to extricate myself from such a delicate situation? It was not going to be easy. She was right. I had deceived them—and in that moment they realized what very important people they had become. I said: ‘Madame, I know now and so do you that I am not to bear the King's child. Vive François Premier! ’ There! You see how important it is to choose the right words. Remember it when you are in a difficult situation. There I was—exposed. I had tricked them for weeks and now we were facing the truth. But those were the magic words she had been waiting to hear for twenty years; and she could not be anything but pleased to hear them spoken with such conviction. And I, with all my wickedness exposed, was forgiven because I said ‘Vive François Premier.’ ”

The French Court

SO HE WAS KING AT LAST.

He came to see Mary at Clugny. There was a subtle difference in him; his anxious days were over, he was safe on the throne.

I wondered what he would have to say to Mary, whether he would reproach her for the trick she had played on him, withholding the good news from him for several weeks and moreover putting him into a fever of despair.

He was with her for some time and when he left she sent for me. She was very pensive and, I think, alarmed, so I thought he must have expressed his displeasure.

But later I learned this was not so. François's sense of gallantry would never allow him to upbraid a beautiful woman.

Mary could not keep her anxieties to herself and I was the only one to whom she could safely unburden herself.

She said to me: “It shall not be. I have endured all this, have I not? And was it not on the understanding that, having married once for state reasons, the next time it would be for my own? That silly little Prince of Castile. That his name should be Charles is an outrage. I'll not have it. I will not.”

I stood by silently. She put the brush in my hands and signed for me to brush her hair. It soothed her in some way. She turned and looked at me. “My brother is negotiating a marriage for me with the Prince of Castile.”

“Your Grace will not submit…”

“Not I!”

“And the King of France?”

She laughed. “He was amused by the trick I played…so was his sister. Madame of Savoy less so. I think she would like to punish me very severely… and she would, if she could.”

“Oh no, Your Grace.”

“Yes, she would, but she cannot, can she? She would be afraid of offending my brother if they harmed me in any way. She will content herself by seeing me off… right away… out of France forever. But the King of France has other plans for me. Do you think I am very beautiful, little one?”

“Oh yes, Madame.”

“So does he. Oh, what elegant phrases! I wish I could understand them better. I shall be glad to speak English again. That is what is so pleasant with you. We can talk together… sensibly. It seems that between them the King of England and the King of France have decided my future. Just as though I were a piece of baggage. Shall we send her to the Prince of Castile or shall we keep her here for the King of France? I'll not have it. I told François so. He is greatly enamored of me. The trick I played has not changed the feelings he had for me from the moment he saw me. Rather has it enhanced them. He likes women of spirit. We laughed together over the padding. I told him that you were the only one in on the secret. He said, ‘Oh, the little one with the big dark eyes.’ What do you think of that?”

“I…I am surprised that he should have noticed me.”

“Oh, he sees all women. Just as he notices a painting or a building … but especially he notices women… and although you are but a child you are a woman, too. He says he is madly in love with me and will be desolate if I leave France. He plans that I shall marry here. He has even selected my bridegroom. He thinks the Duc de Savoy… another Charles if you please. He will be a complaisant husband, and François and I can embark on an idyllic love affair, which we were meant to do from the moment our paths crossed. It is a pity, he says, that he cannot make me his Queen. It would have been following the pattern set by my late husband with Anne of Brittany. But alas he is already married to Claude. But Claude is the most obliging of wives. Who would not be obliging to the handsome, charming, witty King of France? That is how matters are arranged in France. But there is one who will not fall in with these charmingly expressed arrangements. I think he was a little taken aback. He is not accustomed to refusals… and I made myself very clear to him.”

She was silent for a few seconds. Then she went on: “I told him there was a reason why I was not in love with him. I had already given my heart to another. I said there could only be that reason, for I, like the rest of the world, could not be unaware of the charm of the most attractive man in France. Oh, I was on dangerous ground, was I not? But I had a certain pleasure in treading it. He was so charming, he expressed himself envious of my Charles. He said something about bartering his crown to be in his place, which made me want to laugh. Did he really think I would believe that? But he was kind. He had to live up to his reputation for chivalry. He said that, since I had so honored this man by loving him, then he must be his friend. Nothing else would do… and if he could do aught to persuade my brother to give way to my will, he would do so. What think you of that?”

“That it is indeed good of him.”

“The point is, little one, does he mean it? Often there is something hidden behind these flowery phrases. But I really think he wishes me well… that is, if my good can bring no harm to him. One thing I am determined on: I shall never take that sniveling little boy from Castile.”

She dismissed me soon after that, and when I saw her again she was radiant. She could not stop herself giving me the news. Her brother, hearing of Louis's death, was sending an embassy to France to offer condolences and talk with the new King; and at the head of that embassy was to be Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.

She would see him soon. “And this time,” she vowed, “I shall not let him go until we are married.”

During all this time I was anxious about my own future. I had seen how cursorily her maids of honor had been dismissed in the days after her marriage. I only had remained and that was on account of my youth and unimportance. I was wondering what would happen to me if she married Charles Brandon. Should I be sent home? The thought of returning to the life at Hever or Blickling was a little depressing. I had grown accustomed to the French Court. I liked listening to the chatter, picking up pieces of gossip and scandal; I liked very much the dresses. I was interested in fashion and enjoyed helping the Queen to dress. She said I had a feeling for color and often she would say to me: “Should I wear this, little Boleyn? What think you?” She would pretend that the question was merely rhetorical, but she sometimes took notice of what I said.

I was growing up fast. If I had been precocious when I arrived, I was more so now. I missed little. I knew when men and women were lovers, though many of them thought they carried on their intrigues secretly. Now and then I plucked up courage to bring a scrap of scandal to the Queen's ear which greatly amused her.