madam.’ Madge flashed a pretty smile, and put down her embroidery hoop.
‘Go with her, Jane and Mark.’ Anne said. ‘When you have found Seymour, seek out the king. Tell him I wish to dance.’
Anne waited until Mark and the two women had left the room then reached across the table and took George’s hand. She liked it when they were alone together; they could talk freely at last. ‘I do hope the king comes tonight.’
George squeezed her hand then pulled away and reached for his glass of wine. ‘Why should he not come?’
‘Why do you think?’ Anne scoffed. ‘Jane Seymour.’
‘That pale faced wench?’ George laughed. ‘You have nothing to fear from her, sister.’
‘Well, where is she then?’ Anne stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out upon the darkening parkland. ‘She ought to be here, attending on me, but I see no sign of her. Do you not think it strange?’ Nausea rose in her stomach as she thought back to that dreadful day in January when her worst fears had been confirmed. Henry may have served and cherished Anne, but his love spread far and wide:
She stood in the doorway gaping in shock. The king hurriedly removed his hand from Jane’s breast and the two of them jumped up, Jane hastily covering her modesty. Henry took some careful steps towards Anne. His hands were raised as if she were a wild beast who needed to be tamed. ‘Now, now, sweetheart,’ he had soothed, eyeing her swollen belly. ‘You must calm yourself. Do not endanger our son with reckless passion.’
Anne slapped him hard on the chest with both palms. ‘Why do you humiliate me thus?’ Pure rage coursed through her veins. She nodded at Jane, not daring to look at her directly lest she dive on the wench and pull that blonde hair out. ‘It is bad enough that you spread your seed around the whole court but why must you mess with the likes of her? I want her gone! Tonight!’
Henry had given her such a strange look, as if he were seeing her for the first time. ‘If I were you, I’d hold your tongue and have a care for my unborn son.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Now, go to your chamber.’
Anne stared at him for a long moment before curtseying and turning on her heel. With her head held high she walked back towards her apartments with tears in her eyes, ignoring the bowing courtiers who lined her path.
She suffered a miscarriage that night. Jane Seymour stayed at court but she was usually nowhere to be found. Like this evening. Curse the girl.
‘Come and sit down, Anne.’ George’s voice woke her from her reverie. ‘Let me beat you at cards again.’
Anne turned and smiled. George always cheered her up.
-
‘Now, sweetheart, I hope you will not spurn this small token of my affection.’ Henry beamed at Jane Seymour as he held out a small silver box. ‘Go on, take it.’
Jane smiled shyly, looking in turn at both the king and her father as if this latest gift had been entirely unexpected. No doubt it would contain yet another expensive trinket. A brooch, this time perhaps. Or even a ring.
Her father, swathed in furs, raised his eyebrows and nodded at her encouragingly.
‘Your majesty …’ Jane said softly. It was becoming difficult to find sufficiently grovelling words. ‘You do me too much honour.’
‘Nonsense.’ The king said. He was still a magnificent figure, tall and golden haired. His beautiful smooth skin was pink from the heat of the fire and his white shirt was loose around the top of his chest. He wore black silk hose and soft, leather slippers. Since the jousting accident, comfort was all. Jane knew that the pain from his ulcerated leg tormented him daily, but he seemed to be making an effort to be pleasant. She basked in the warmth of his smile.
‘If it pleases you to give me a gift, it pleases me even more to accept it, your majesty.’ Jane took the box and curtseyed low. ‘Thank you.’
‘Go with her, Jane and Mark.’ Anne said. ‘When you have found Seymour, seek out the king. Tell him I wish to dance.’
Anne waited until Mark and the two women had left the room then reached across the table and took George’s hand. She liked it when they were alone together; they could talk freely at last. ‘I do hope the king comes tonight.’
George squeezed her hand then pulled away and reached for his glass of wine. ‘Why should he not come?’
‘Why do you think?’ Anne scoffed. ‘Jane Seymour.’
‘That pale faced wench?’ George laughed. ‘You have nothing to fear from her, sister.’
‘Well, where is she then?’ Anne stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out upon the darkening parkland. ‘She ought to be here, attending on me, but I see no sign of her. Do you not think it strange?’ Nausea rose in her stomach as she thought back to that dreadful day in January when her worst fears had been confirmed. Henry may have served and cherished Anne, but his love spread far and wide:
She stood in the doorway gaping in shock. The king hurriedly removed his hand from Jane’s breast and the two of them jumped up, Jane hastily covering her modesty. Henry took some careful steps towards Anne. His hands were raised as if she were a wild beast who needed to be tamed. ‘Now, now, sweetheart,’ he had soothed, eyeing her swollen belly. ‘You must calm yourself. Do not endanger our son with reckless passion.’
Anne slapped him hard on the chest with both palms. ‘Why do you humiliate me thus?’ Pure rage coursed through her veins. She nodded at Jane, not daring to look at her directly lest she dive on the wench and pull that blonde hair out. ‘It is bad enough that you spread your seed around the whole court but why must you mess with the likes of her? I want her gone! Tonight!’
Henry had given her such a strange look, as if he were seeing her for the first time. ‘If I were you, I’d hold your tongue and have a care for my unborn son.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Now, go to your chamber.’
Anne stared at him for a long moment before curtseying and turning on her heel. With her head held high she walked back towards her apartments with tears in her eyes, ignoring the bowing courtiers who lined her path.
She suffered a miscarriage that night. Jane Seymour stayed at court but she was usually nowhere to be found. Like this evening. Curse the girl.
‘Come and sit down, Anne.’ George’s voice woke her from her reverie. ‘Let me beat you at cards again.’
Anne turned and smiled. George always cheered her up.
-
‘Now, sweetheart, I hope you will not spurn this small token of my affection.’ Henry beamed at Jane Seymour as he held out a small silver box. ‘Go on, take it.’
Jane smiled shyly, looking in turn at both the king and her father as if this latest gift had been entirely unexpected. No doubt it would contain yet another expensive trinket. A brooch, this time perhaps. Or even a ring.
Her father, swathed in furs, raised his eyebrows and nodded at her encouragingly.
‘Your majesty …’ Jane said softly. It was becoming difficult to find sufficiently grovelling words. ‘You do me too much honour.’
‘Nonsense.’ The king said. He was still a magnificent figure, tall and golden haired. His beautiful smooth skin was pink from the heat of the fire and his white shirt was loose around the top of his chest. He wore black silk hose and soft, leather slippers. Since the jousting accident, comfort was all. Jane knew that the pain from his ulcerated leg tormented him daily, but he seemed to be making an effort to be pleasant. She basked in the warmth of his smile.
‘If it pleases you to give me a gift, it pleases me even more to accept it, your majesty.’ Jane took the box and curtseyed low. ‘Thank you.’
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