The Last Boleyn(144)
She rummaged in her wooden jewelry box under the crimson garnet necklace, the huge Howard pearl drop and the other gifts from Staff’s dead aunt she had stored there which she dared not wear among the gossiping courtiers. Her fingers seized the tiny carved pawn from that chess game in France so long ago. She stared at it unblinking and held it tight in the palm of her hand as she sank down on the floor against the velvet draperies of her bed curtain and began to sob.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
June 9, 1534
Whitehall Palace
As her baby grew and Mary’s waistline swelled, she withdrew more and more from the court around her. That was easy enough lately, for the king and queen had been on a leisurely summer progress through the green midlands of England. His Grace had even cancelled an important diplomatic trip to France to take Anne on the journey. It was commonly known that the queen was with child again and that Henry Tudor had given her one last chance to produce his heir. But now, the king and queen had returned to Whitehall and this happy retirement of Mary’s would soon be over one way or the other. Either her sister would need her enough to keep her about when she knew she was with child and married to a man not of her choosing, or she would be banished or worse.
Staff had been forced to accompany the royal party, for the king favored his attendance in whatever martial or sporting endeavor he undertook. The three weeks had dragged by for Mary. She had spent the time walking, thinking, and talking to Nancy and to the Boleyn cousin Madge Shelton, whom their father had brought to court as one of Anne’s new ladies-in-waiting. The girl was winsome and lovely with a perfect oval face and curly blonde hair almost as light as her own. Madge’s green eyes danced with the excitement of being at the court even though its royal lord and lady had been gone these last weeks. The king had wanted to take the new and charming Mistress Shelton along on the trip, but had given in to his wife’s refusal when he discovered that the queen was beginning another pregnancy.
Mary felt somewhat guilty that she liked the seventeen-year-old girl so much, for the whole truth was that Mistress Shelton had been brought to court by Thomas Boleyn to hold the king’s attentions for his petulant and increasingly nasty Queen Anne. In one fell swoop, as Thomas Boleyn had planned, the green-eyed Madge had become her royal cousin’s maid and the king’s latest mistress. Mary hoped fervently that the three-week sabbatical and the new pregnancy would soothe Anne’s vile torment of the girl. Mary also prayed that the joy over the new child would allow Staff and her to tell Anne of their marriage and ask to be retired to Wivenhoe.
It had been almost a half hour now since the huge royal entourage had clattered into the courtyard of Whitehall, and Mary began to pace in her room, wondering how long it would take Staff to free himself and come to see her. When he saw her waist, he would know the time of secrecy had passed for them, for neither cloaks nor dresses with high waistlines could hide it now. She glanced down at the completed and painstakingly written letter on her table under the sunny window. She began to skim the words, though she knew them by heart and the old haunting feeling returned. It was like guilt, hate and love all mingled together in a crucible of pain.
The door sprang open and she turned, half expecting to see Nancy with another report on the returned travelers since she had heard no footsteps in the hall. But it was Staff, so tall and handsome, grinning, and he had come back to her.
“My love, I was waiting and waiting...” she began, but he smothered her words with a crushing kiss. Then, with a look on his face of more awe than concern or worry, he put his hands on her shoulders and stood her armlength away.
“Lady Stafford, I believe the whole world will know you are pregnant now as well as your sister. We can delay their being told no longer. That is obvious. Who has guessed or asked? I did not imagine three weeks could make such a difference, but indeed, sweetheart, the child has blossomed and that means a certain end to our secret. I thank God they are in a fairly hopeful mood because of the queen’s new pregnancy. Does your father know of our child? Cromwell?”
“I have not seen my dear father, Staff. He has been about and Madge has seen him, but he stays well out of my way.”
“Then Madge must know. You have seen much of her then? I am not sure that is wise, for the sharp edge of the queen’s wrath may yet fall on the girl.”
“Really, my love,” Mary said, looking up into his concerned face, “the girl is my cousin, though I have not seen her for years before father hauled her into this mess. But she is new here and alone, and I remember how terrible that can be in a vast court.”
Staff sank down on the bed, and pulled his boots off and sighed, wiggling his toes. “I applaude your sweet motives, lass, but the wench is hardly alone. In her first week at court this spring, the king bedded her, the queen screamed at her, and Norris continues to make a fool of himself over her whenever His Grace is not around. Just be careful you do not stand too close to her if the queen’s axe should fall. I would have to bet that Her Grace will have little Madge Shelton, cousin or not, out of here in a week. So anyway, Madge has no doubt guessed about your babe. And Cromwell?”
“I have seen him twice, but I wore a pelisse each time. He has been very busy with the king gone, but he approached me in the gardens by the river once and I dared not run away as I wished. We walked for a little while.”
“I assume he behaved himself, except for his beady eyes, that is, which try to caress you every time you are in view.”