The Last Boleyn(67)

She was famished that afternoon and downed a huge bowl of frumenty while Anne sat by the bed and repeated all Will, George and their comrades had been telling her of life at court.

“George is so unhappy, Mary. I tell you, if father tries to marry me to someone as silly as Jane Rochford, I shall run all the way back to France! Oh, by the way,” Anne added as she took a swift peek in the cradle on her way out, “that man you spoke of, the tall and charming Will Stafford, came with Will. You are right. They are fast friends. See you when father arrives.”

Mary put her spoon on her emptied pewter plate. Staff here with Will? However did they both get away? Would he come to see the baby or think it was only for the family to see? Suddenly, for the first time since the birth, she thought of how she must look. Her stomach was so much flatter but, even tightly bound, she had a long way to go to get back to her normal waistline. “Mother! Semmonet!”

“Mary, are you all right? Hush, sweet, or you will wake Master Henry Carey,” Semmonet scolded lightly as she bustled in. “Still hungry? Your father has just ridden in.”

“Semmonet, I need a mirror, comb and rice powder. I must look terrible!”

“You must not do too much so fast, dear. You just look a little pale. Here, look in the mirror.”

“Rosewater, too, please.”

“Maybe Lord Bullen will be more interested in the baby than in how you look, child. Or, is this for someone else?” She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, but Mary ignored the stare and Semmonet darted out again.

Indeed her hair looked like a Kentish haystack, but her face was not too pale. Somehow she thought she showed good color. And she knew the robe looked well, for it was the lovely lace and ribboned one from her wedding night.

George appeared, then mother. Then father swept in with a broad smile. Perhaps he had heard the child had the king’s hair.

He bent to kiss her forehead and gave her hair a quick caress. He studied the baby at length, leaning close over the cradle. “A fine son, Mary. I know Will is proud.” The statement hung there, and he said no more.

“We shall unwrap him for you to see, father,” Mary said with a nod to Semmonet.

“Let the lad sleep, daughter.” He clapped his hands together loudly as if to silence all the little conversations in the room. “The Bullens are fortunate—again. Mary bore a fine son and still looks beautiful, which is another blessing because in June Will is to fetch you back to court. The king himself told me he misses your golden smile, my dear, and,” he lowered his voice, “no doubt, he would like to catch a glimpse of little Henry, too.”

George chortled deep in his throat, and Anne’s shapely eyebrows arched up as if to say, “I knew it all the time.” Mary said nothing, but she did feel relieved. It was not that she would see the king again or even that the news pleased her father so much. Perhaps she had missed the excitement of life at court.

“Mary.” Thomas Bullen leaned both palms on the bed beside her so firmly that she almost rolled against his arms. “I know you are tired now, but this is a wonderful day for the Bullens. No one has gone back into favor like this before, but I had faith we could do it. And, as I promised, Anne and George will be there too, so you have absolutely nothing to fear. All right?”

She smiled in the direction of the cradle although she could not see the tiny head from where she was. “All right, father.”

“Excellent. Now, one more fortunate piece of news. Anne, His Grace has been thinking of your happiness as well as Mary’s.”

“Yes, Father?” Anne stepped forward near the foot of the bed with her hands clasped to her breasts and her dark eyes dancing in anticipation.

“His Grace has set a most favorable match for you with a fine title and estates. You will come to court with George next week, serve the queen and be wed, in the autumn, in Dublin.”

Anne looked stunned. Her eyes glittered and then hardened dangerously. “To whom have I been promised in Dublin, Father?”

“To James Butler, a fine match. He is heir to the entire Ormond estates. You will live at Kilkenny Castle on the Rive Noire. He is handsome, red-haired, an Irishman of course, and you will be a fine lady.”

“Should I not have been consulted? At least Mary gets to live at court. I should like to also and not for just a few months while preparations are made to ship me off to some man I have never seen and do not wish to wed.”

“We shall talk further of this honor, this royal command, Anne. Later.” He glanced down eagerly into the cradle as if the subject were closed, but Mary saw clearly that it was not.

“I have only arrived from France, my lord, where you sent me to be schooled and groomed to return to the English court, and then, perhaps, marry some landed Englishman. I do not favor being sent to the barbarous Irish in some dark castle I have never seen to breed red-haired sons for some lord I cannot love. If you will not listen and I must plead with the king directly, I shall do so!”

“Elizabeth, settle the girl down. I should have realized it would be too much of a surprise and she would need time to think.”

“No, father, I need no time to know what I think. George has married Jane Rochford as you ordered, and he pines away for the girl he truly loves. Mary is wed to Will Carey, but,” she lowered her voice ominously as though Will could hear from the solar below, where he waited, “she beds with His Grace and somehow bears sons to them both.”