Free Secrets of the Tudor Court by D.L. Bogdan Page A

eating in Heaven itself. I describe the grandeur of the jousts and elegance of the masques. She is riveted, stopping me now and again to ask a question or make a comment.
    "Do you have friends, Lady Mary?" she asks me. "Do you get along well with the girls? They are kind to you?"
    I am so touched by her concern my throat swells with tears. "Yes, for the most part they are kind. My cousin Anne can be...difficult at times." I laugh as I think of her. "But as strange as she is, I can see why the king is so taken with her. She is full of fire and life. She's very smart, much smarter than I could ever be. She talks like a scholar and argues about religion and politics like a man. She appreciates art and beauty and music. I think we shall have a most learned and cultivated court under her rule."
    "You think it will happen, then?" Bess asks.
    I nod. "It is almost a certainty. She is being elevated to the peerage."
    Bess's eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand as though stifling a gasp.
    "She is to be Marquess of Pembroke," I go on to say. "It is unprecedented."
    "Then I suppose everyone will be happy--at least the king and Lady Anne and His Grace your father," Bess comments.
    "They will be indeed," I say, but my voice is void of the triumph I should feel for my family. "Still, I worry about the people's response to her. They have been so cruel." I relay the incident on the barge and the jeering cry, "'We want no Nan Bullen.'"
    Bess says nothing and I realize I have again made her uncomfortable in her position.
    I squeeze her hands and continue. "Imagine how it must be for them," I say. "Anne and the king can't control their love for one another. I know a lot of people have been hurt." I think of the Princess Mary and Queen Catherine. I think of poor, dead Cardinal Wolsey. I think of Thomas More, who I have heard, was at last allowed to resign his post as lord chancellor, to be replaced by Thomas Audley. How my father lamented over that appointment! He claimed chest pains, but all knew he was wrestling with his religious convictions and the rightness of King Henry's increasing denial of papal authority. "But I wonder, had they a real choice in the matter, would they have stayed this course? The king is a victim of his passions--he has very little self-control. And Anne--well, she must love him, too. I can't imagine all the trouble they have gone to being for nothing. It must be due to their great love."
    Bess looks at me, her liquid brown eyes filled with an emotion akin to pity. She reaches out, cupping my cheek in her hand.
    "You are a good girl, Mary," she tells me. "Stay that way."
    I nod with a small smile. At once our heads turn toward the door as we hear footfalls approaching.
    "It is His Grace," says Bess. Her tone registers something between panic and anticipation; her eyes reflect both fear and expectation. She rises. "I must go, my lady."
    "I'll look forward to seeing you more on the morrow, Bess," I tell her.
    She throws me a kiss and exits. I hear her and my father exchange a few words outside my door.
    "Damn stubborn woman is what she is," Norfolk is saying. "We will see if tonight's exertions have brought about a change of heart."
    Bess says nothing. I realize I am not breathing. I wonder what he meant by "tonight's exertions." Part of me wants to run to my mother to check on her welfare, but I daren't.
    "Come, now, Mistress Holland," Norfolk says in a tone I never hear used; it is almost solicitous. Almost loving. "Let us to bed."
    My heart sinks. I do not want to hear that.
    I return to my lavish supper set on my little table. My room is so spacious, the furniture and tapestries so vibrant with beauty.
    But I am alone and do not appreciate the food anymore, nor the surroundings. I take to my bed, escaping my loneliness the only way I know how, through sleep.

    In the morning I am summoned to Mother's chambers. I make certain to appear neat and proper, my hair brushed, my hood straight, my face and hands