She was not listening. She was smiling, thinking of the evening.

“The tumblers were very good and so were the minstrels. Your father had thoughtfully arranged for them to sing one of the King's songs, which pleased him mightily.”

“It would,” I said.

“And do you know … he asked about you.”

I felt a tremor of alarm. “What did he say…of me?”

“ ‘Your daughter Mary is at my Court,’ he said. ‘Your son, too. But I believe there is another…a younger…’ I said to him, ‘Your Grace, that is Anne. She is laid low in her bed. She is not well.’ ‘Oh,’ he answered, ‘What ails the wench?’ ‘It is nothing much, she assures me,’ I replied. ‘A headache… and a little fever.’ ‘I should have liked to see her,’ he said. ‘Is it true that she plays on the lute?’ I told him how beautifully you played and sang and how you have put us all to shame with your grace and your fine clothes and that you have been in France. I don't think he liked that very much for he said, ‘It would be well if she forgot she has lived in France and took up with our English ways.’ I said quickly that I knew you soon would. Then he said, ‘Headache, eh? Tell her she must have lingered too long in the rays of the sun.’”

“Did he really say that!”

“Yes—exactly that. I was about to say that the sun was not very strong just yet but felt that might sound like contradicting him.”

“Is that all he said…of me?”

“Yes, that was all, for the dancing had begun. You should see him dance. He leaps higher than any. You would know that he was the King if nobody told you. What a pity that you had this attack…now.”

“When is the party leaving?” I asked.

“Today. Your father will be going with them. How quiet it will seem when they have gone!”

“And peaceful,” I said.

“Now rest, my dear. I will send up some broth… something soothing. You must try to take it.”

“I will try,” I said feebly…“ to please you, dearest Stepmother.”

They had gone. When I heard the clatter of departure, I sat up in my bed and laughed.

It had been quite an adventure and I had rescued myself very cleverly, I thought. Now that it was over, I did not regret anything. He had obviously been displeased. He had spoken figuratively when he had remarked that I had stayed too long in the rays of the sun. Did he believe in my sudden illness? I wondered. But he would no doubt have forgotten the incident by now. I was just a saucy wench who had played a little trick on royalty; but wenches did not play such tricks, particularly those with ambitious fathers.

Oh well, it was over now.

It was strange that my father had not mentioned James Butler. I supposed it was because he had been so taken up with the King's visit, which was certainly enough to make him forget anything else; still, there might have been a reference to such an important matter.

At first I reveled in those peaceful days. I sat often in the rose garden and went over that scene again…word by word, and laughed at it. How daring I had been! But all was well. He had forgotten all about me by now. He probably dismissed me as a foolish girl. I thought perhaps he might speak to my father about me, but if he had, I should surely have heard.

George and Mary were at Court and so was Thomas Wyatt. I saw Mary Wyatt often, and our friendship carried on where it had left off in our childhood. I became more and more attached to my stepmother, but her interests were in the herb garden and the kitchens; she was a perfect housewife, and I was quite different from that. I did feel the lack of stimulating conversation; I often thought of those days in France with Marguerite and I became very nostalgic.

Every day I expected to hear that James Butler was on his way to Hever and I was to meet him. But nothing happened.

I used to sit with my stepmother while she worked on her embroidery, for in accordance with her housewifely excellence she was very clever with her needle; and she would tell me of her humble life in the country and how she was at last fitting into our castle ways.

“It amazed me,” she said, “that your father should have chosen me.”

“He is a clever man, my father,” I reminded her.

“And that he should bring me here… where I have actually met the King! I would not have believed it possible.”

“I can understand it—and I think it is my father who is the fortunate one.”

“And such a charming family I inherited! You…who are such an attractive young lady…so worldly in your way… and your beautiful clothes and your manners and playing and singing as you do…to bother to talk to me!”

I was touched and said: “Dear Stepmother, it is you who honor us.”

And indeed I felt it was so, for there she was with her goodness— which I felt none of us shared.

“Your brother George…he is so clever… but always kind to me. And Mary …” Her eyes clouded a little for, affectionate as she was, her strict upbringing would not allow her to approve of Mary.

I said: “Mary is the King's mistress.”

“Poor Mary. She will suffer remorse.”

“Not Mary. She revels… not so much in her position but in the relationship. You know she was also the mistress of the King of France.”

“That scandal, yes…I do know.”

“Don't waste your sympathy on Mary. She will always be as she is.”

“It's a pity… and that nice husband.”

“He is weak. He just stands by.”

“He has to, your father says, because of the King.”

“He should not. If he were a real man, would he?”

“The King is very powerful.”

“I do not admire Will Carey,” I said firmly. “And what do you know of James Butler?”

“I hear he is a very charming young man.”

“That is what they would tell me. I will not be bartered. They will have to look elsewhere. I am no Will Carey.”

“Oh dear, I hope there is not going to be trouble.”

“You have married into an ambitious family, dear Stepmother.”

“I wish there was less of that in the world.”

“No one would strive to get on but for ambition. Life would be peaceful… but static, dear Stepmother. I do not think that would be entirely for our good. The point is, passions have to be moderated; they have to be used by us; it is only when they begin to use us that they become dangerous.”

“You are too clever for me, my dear. But it is nice to hear you talk. I hope beyond all things that you will find a nice husband whom you love and who loves you… and be happy for ever more.”

I kissed her. I thought she was more like a mother to me than my own had been.

She made Hever very pleasant during my stay there.

It did not last very long.

One day a messenger came from my father. He had found a place for me in the Queen's household. I was to be a maid of honor and should prepare to leave without delay.

The peaceful time was over. I was not entirely sorry, for peace to one of my nature was not always desirable for long. I found the atmosphere of Hever without my brother and Thomas Wyatt rather boring. And much as I loved my stepmother, she was hardly a stimulating companion.

So I could not help feeling a sense of expectation and excitement as I prepared to leave Hever.

Love Affair

AND SO I CAME TO COURT to be a maid of honor to Queen Katharine.

I was struck immediately by the difference between the French and English Courts, though oddly enough they were both presided over by a young, forceful, monumental figure of a King and a Queen who was retiring and pious. Manners were gallant at Henry's Court but less affectedly so; there was a lack of that intellectual quality which had been inspired by Marguerite and followed by François; culture was less in evidence here, although the King was a lover of music, poetry and all the fine arts. This was of a more robust nature. The masques were less subtle, the dances more strenuous, given to leaping, bounding and athletic prowess rather than grace. There was a vitality in the English Court which replaced the languid elegance of that of France.

It was very interesting to me and I felt alive as soon as I arrived. I realized, more than I had before, that the country was no place for me.

I was quickly initiated into my role of maid of honor. I was allowed a servant—a woman, of course—and one dog, which should be a spaniel. I was given a certain allowance of food for myself and my dog, and it was far more than our needs. Food was plentiful at Court, served plain, without the fancy sauces so beloved of the French; my maid, my dog and I breakfasted on bread and beef, and more ale than we could possibly drink was supplied to us. There were hens, pigeons, rabbits and all kinds of pies served for dinner and supper; and on Fridays we had salted eels, plaice, gurnet and whiting… and almost any fish one could think of.

I had never been interested in food—but it did show a concern for our welfare.

My sister Mary was one of the first to greet me.

She was well and happy and showed no sign of any shame, though it was well known what terms she was on with the King. He had been right when he had said it was considered an honor to be chosen by the monarch.

Mary was looking very pretty and pleased with life. When I came to think of it, she always had. She had not been entirely crestfallen even when she had been expelled from the Court of France. Mary took everything in her philosophical way.

She embraced me warmly and said how pleased she was to see me at Court.

“You will find the Queen a little… serious.” She grimaced.

“I imagine she is rather like Queen Claude.”