George knew he shouldn’t really be staring at the Queen in such consternation, but he couldn’t help it. His shock had temporarily overridden his usual adherence to protocol.
“You want me to marry Katherine Stafford? Katherine Stafford?”
“Yes.”
“Her father tried to have you poisoned! He did poison Anne! Annie! Our little sister! And now you want me to marry his daughter?!”
“Yes!” Marie rose to her feet, cutting her brother off. She understood his qualms, had had them herself at first, even though it had been her idea. But this really was the best way of both rewarding Kathy for her current loyalty and also providing something that should dissuade her – and indeed any of her family - from ever trying to move against the King or the Howards in the future.
She put her hand out to her younger brother, “Please, George. I know I said I’d let you marry the girl you wanted to rather than whoever Papa wanted to foist on you, but this is different. This is about keeping myself safe, keeping Annie safe, keeping my child safe. Keeping all of us safe. Can’t you help me do that? Don’t you want to help me do that?”
“Of course, but...”
“Good. Then you’ll marry Kathy Stafford at Easter and I’ll hear no more about it.”
“Easter! But that’s barely a couple of weeks away!” George exclaimed. Marie said nothing, merely looked at him in that steady way that she had always had, even when she was merely his older sister in the nursery and not his Queen. Flushing under her scrutiny, George swallowed back his retort and nodded. Once she had his agreement, Marie softened instantly.
“I’m sorry, George. But it really is the only way. Try not to take it out on Kathy, won’t you? She’s got no more choice in the matter than you do, and she’s been through so much already.”
George struggled with himself for a few moments and then nodded.
“I’ll try not to do it more than I can help,” he said reluctantly, “If you’ll do one thing for me.”
“Name it and I’ll see what I can do,” Marie promised. She owed him that, at least.
“You get the pleasure of telling Papa that his only heir is marrying a traitor’s daughter.”
Marie grimaced and was about to say something when Lady Sarah suddenly pushed the door open.
“Pardon the intrusion, Madam, but I thought you’d want to know. Lady Anne’s fever’s broken.”
Marie and George exchanged glances. A second later, they were racing to get past Sarah, protocol – and Marie’s need to take care - forgotten as they both strove to be the first at their younger sister’s bedside.
*** *** ***
Anne blinked, stirred and murmured. Her eyes flickered groggily open and she took in her surroundings, trying to work out what had happened. The last thing she remembered before fevered dreams was Marie’s white face as she, Anne, collapsed to the floor, shaking.
“Marie? Mama?” she called out softly, her throat sore from disuse.
“Annie!” Her mother sprang up and hurried over, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Anne didn’t answer at first, not sure what to say, “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“A week. You’ve had us all worried to within an inch of our lives. The fever was so high...we thought we were going to lose you, Annie.”
To Anne’s surprise, her mother’s voice shook. Blinking again, she realised there were tears in the older woman’s eyes.
She wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d never been close to her mother. Well, maybe she had, once, but six years in France had all but shattered their bond; had meant Anne’s maternal figures had been Marie and Duchess Marguerite rather than Lady Elizabeth Boleyn
nee Howard. It was gratifying to know her birth mother cared for her, but to know she cared so much...Anne bit her lip before deciding to pretend the moment had never happened.
“Can I sit up, Lady Mother?”
“Of course!” Elizabeth looked startled, as though she’d been far away in thought, but she helped Anne sit up, supporting her with first her arms and then with silken pillows before turning briefly away from the bed.
“Edith. Tell the Queen Lady Anne’s awake,” she ordered, “And the rest of you, out! They’ll want some privacy.”
There was a half-audible response and then footsteps. A few moments later, Marie appeared, a jesting smile on her lips.
“Well, well, little sister. Decided to re-join us in the land of the living after all, have you?”
“You should know by now. It’ll take more than some belladonna and a mustard-induced fever to get rid of me,” Anne returned.
Yet their joking banter couldn’t hide the relief in Marie’s eyes at seeing her little sister alive and conscious, nor Anne’s desire to feel her sister’s arms around her, a wish that was soon granted as the older Boleyn sister settled herself beside Anne on the bed, leaning against the rosewood headboard to support herself, her arm around Anne’s waist.
“So what have I missed?” Anne asked, her dark head against the shoulder of Marie’s ivory gown, somehow instinctively knowing that, just for today, the rules of protocol were broken between the two of them.
“Well, not many people know yet, but our brother has been betrothed to Lady Katherine Stafford.”
“Buckingham’s daughter?” Anne raised her eyebrows, “That’s quite a coup. Papa must be cockahoop.”
Marie scoffed, “If only. Buckingham is the one who poisoned you. He paid a boy to lace the wine. His daughter told us – admitted she’d overheard him plotting. Henry had him confined to the Tower within minutes of finding out. Lady Katherine’s marriage to George is her reward for turning her father in.”
“But that means George is marrying a traitor’s daughter!” Anne’s jaw dropped, “Not that I don’t understand your reasoning, Marie, but how did you get Papa to agree to that!”
Marie blew out her cheeks, “He doesn’t actually know yet. I’ve been putting that conversation off. Anyway,” she continued hurriedly, “They’re to marry at Easter and Princess Mary is coming back to Court for the celebrations. Henry is talking of having her stay on this time around, so she can meet her brother when he arrives.”
“The King’s still adamant your child will be a boy then?”
“Of course he is. I daren’t try to talk him down from his confidence, but I fear what might happen if this child isn’t a boy.”
“It will be,” Anne said confidently, “You’ve given the King every other one of his heart’s desires. Why shouldn’t you give him this one?”
“I wish it were that simple!” Marie laughed.
Anne knew she ought to be paying heed to what Marie was saying, but her attention had uncharacteristically wandered. Sitting up gave her a better vantage point from which to view the room and, now that she was no longer quite so focused on Marie, had realised there was someone slumped in a chair in the corner. He was fast asleep, which explained why her mother hadn’t thrown him out as well.
“Marie,” she whispered, “What’s Henry Percy doing here?”
“What does it look like? He’s keeping watch over you. He has not left your room for a week. Not without a royal command. You can imagine what Mama's reaction was to that. Half my ladies have been on chaperone rotation in here!”
“You mean...Harry’s been here all the time?” Anne couldn’t help flushing. Marie clearly had to fight back a chuckle as she pushed Anne’s matted hair out of her eyes.
“Ever since he found out you were ill. If you ask me, he knows exactly what, or rather, who, he wants in life.”
“Me?” Anne laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous! Yes, we get on well, yes, maybe you could even say we care for each other, but I’d hardly say I’m Countess material!”
“Let’s give it a year or two,” Marie laughed, before kissing Anne’s forehead and sliding awkwardly off the bed, “I’m going to get Dr Linacre to take a look at you.”
Anne stifled a groan. She hated medical examinations.
Yet somehow, this one was quicker and pleasanter than she expected it to be. And it wasn’t because Dr Linacre was shirking his duties, either.
No. It was Anne’s daydreams of what life would be like, were she Harry’s Countess and Lady of Alnwick that made the time pass more quickly than usual.
