The Last Boleyn(149)

Anne stopped struggling and screaming and leaned against him for a silent moment. Then she lifted her tear-streaked face and looked long at Mary. Staff released her.

“When will the child be born?” she asked tonelessly.

“In the autumn, sister. I love you, Anne, and I would wish your blessings.”

“I cannot give you that, Mary. No, I cannot. You have deceived me terribly when you said you were my friend and I trusted you. It is enough I let you go away. Does the king know of the child?”

“No, Your Grace,” Staff said low.

“You may rest assured George and I will not tell him,” she said and her eyes went jerkily over Mary’s shoulder toward the door. “But perhaps Master Cromwell will.”

Cromwell glided toward them across the carpet. “I am sorry I could not come as soon as you sent me word I was needed, Lord Stafford. I was leaving by barge and had to be rowed back to shore. What service may I give?”

“The question is, Master Cromwell,” Anne said, moving a few steps to face him, “what have you heard already? What did you know of all this long ago? I warrant you knew as many of the details as Lord Stafford himself.”

“Of their liaison, Your Grace?”

“Of course! Did you think I spoke of archery practice or jousting?”

“I have suspected for some time that Lady Stafford was with child, Your Grace, though I knew nothing of the marriage.”

“For conversation’s sake, I will assume that is a truthful answer,” Anne replied. “Then you two are to be congratulated. You gave Cromwell’s army of clever spies the slip. That is almost amusing, is it not, Cromwell?”

When he did not answer, the queen’s desperate control shattered again. “Get them out of my sight, king’s man! Banish them, get them well on the road before my father or the king hears of the pregnancy—not for the daughter whose very being depends on it, no, but for the beautiful daughter with the Howard looks and simple heart who bears live sons! Get out of here, all of you. I have much to do!”

Mary wanted to hug Anne farewell, but she felt crushed and exhausted, not terrified as she had expected. She curtseyed and backed away, but Anne had turned to the window and George, dear loyal George, put his hands to her shoulders, and they were still standing like that unspeaking as the doors closed.

In the hall courtiers still clustered around the queen’s threshold as though awaiting favors. There will be no favors today, Mary thought grimly, as she took Staff’s arm and they wended their way through the maze of people behind Cromwell. Jane Rochford darted up from nowhere, no doubt lagging about to hear the rest of the screaming through the door.

“Lord Stafford, Mary, I am so happy for you!” she gushed.

“Thank you, Jane,” Mary said low. “Please, please do not goad the queen so, and try to be a friend to her.”

“George is friend enough for her and that pretty musician Smeaton,” Jane replied tartly. “I do not see that George left with the rest of you.”

They walked on leaving the girl behind, but Mary could still hear her petulant voice speaking to someone else. They were nearly on the road to Wivenhoe now, and soon there would be a great distance between them, gossip and the court. They would be on the road to freedom from all of this and, God willing, they might be able to stay away a very long, long time.

“You lead a charmed life, Stafford,” Cromwell finally spoke when they were out of the crush of eager faces in the hall by Mary’s room. He smiled at them, but his voice was as cold as usual no matter what the words. “It is a rare man indeed who can flaunt authority and propriety and walk away unscathed. Will you need a contingent of guards on the road?”

“Thank you, no, Master Cromwell. Mary and I have four servants between us and that shall suffice.”

“Then let me only say,” Cromwell went on, his eyes shifting to Mary’s face, “that I shall be your ally and not your enemy should you have the need of aid even at little—where is it now?”

“Wivenhoe, near Colchester, Master Cromwell.”

“Yes. Maybe I shall visit you sometime. I would like to meet your ghosts.” He pivoted stiffly to face Staff. “Let us say it plainly, Lord Stafford. You and I have always been clever chess players. You are one of the few who have even beaten me. Now you are off on an adventure which greatly intrigues me.” He glanced at Mary again. “The Boleyns, all of the Boleyns, may need friends, and I am simply volunteering. Do you believe me, Stafford?”

“Yes, Cromwell, for various reasons, yes. Only remember that I am quite through having my wife be a pawn in anyone’s chess game ever again. I will die first.”

“Then we understand each other perfectly, as I thought we always did. Good luck to you both. If you wish to know the winds of the times, you have only to write to me.”

“Thank you, Master Cromwell,” Mary said and forced a small smile. “If you have any influence on my sister, sir, please counsel her to curb her temper and the king can be hers again.”

He stared squarely into Mary’s wide eyes. “We can only hope for that, I think, Lady Stafford, and hope is often a last resort.” He bowed to them in the deserted hall and was gone.

“We are going to Wivenhoe, girl,” Staff told the sleepy Nancy when they entered Mary’s room. “The whole world knows your mistress and I are wed and will soon enough know of the child. Pack several dresses and we will have the rest sent after us. The day is getting late, but we will not sleep under this roof tonight.”