“I so dislike returning north only to admit defeat,” Lord Cambridge said.
“Perhaps,” Will soothed, “Lady Philippa will find some suitable gentlemen. If anyone can, she is the lady for the task.”
But Philippa was having no more success finding eligible gentlemen willing to go north for Elizabeth than she had been able to find one for herself those years ago. Yet she understood. King Henry’s court was the center of the universe. One came here because one wanted to be here. Not in the north of England forever. And Elizabeth was not helping herself at all. She had taken up with Anne Boleyn and her coterie of young people. Of all the people she might have involved herself at court, Elizabeth had aligned herself with the king’s whore, even knowing how much Philippa disapproved.
But Elizabeth had taken Lord Cambridge’s advice, and decided to enjoy herself. It was not often she had or even made time for herself. While many who knew her said her burden was heavy, Elizabeth never considered it in that manner. She was the lady of Friarsgate, and she had responsibilities. Now, however, she was at court, and an entire new world had been opened up to her. She found she was actually enjoying being frivolous, if only for this month. She did not grow weary with all the excitement. It was actually quite refreshing for her.
“You are the only lady I have found able to keep up with me,” Anne Boleyn said a week later as they sat together in the gardens of the palace. “How is it so, I wonder?”
“I am used to hard work, unlike most of the ladies of the court,” Elizabeth said. “I do wonder, though, if you ever sleep, dear Anne.” They were now on a first-name basis.
“Sleep is a waste of time, Bess.” Anne Boleyn had christened Elizabeth with this appellation, and Elizabeth had not forbidden it. “I have so much to do, to see, to be!”
“You have a lifetime, Anne,” was the reply.
“I am to be twenty-five in November,” Anne said. “That is practically old, and I am not yet a wife.” She sighed. “I might have been, you know. I was courted by Harry Percy, Northumberland’s scion, but Wolsey, damn his eyes, stopped it.”
“Why?” Elizabeth wanted to know.
“Because the king wanted me,” Anne said candidly. “But he has not had all he desires,” she confided. “I told him I should never be his mistress, and while the queen was in the picture I could not be his wife. I follow the example of King Edward’s wife.” She smiled grimly. “But I have had my own back on Thomas Wolsey. I said I would when he forced Harry Percy into marriage with another. And everyone laughed at me, but they are not laughing now. Wolsey has been brought down, and is gone from court.”
“Where has he gone?” Elizabeth wanted to know.
“He has been sent to York, for it is his archbishopric, but he cannot seem to get any farther than Cawood,” Anne replied. “No matter. He’ll never have the king’s ear again. A man of the church, Bess, and he pimped for the king! If he had just let me have Harry I should be a wife and mother now. But no one ever allows me my way. I must do this, and I must do that! The king commands. My uncle, the duke, commands.” She sighed. “And everyone hates me. They but wait for the king to stray again.”
“I do not hate you, Anne,” Elizabeth said.
“You know little of me but what you have heard,” Anne said forlornly.
“Aye, I have heard the gossip,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I know you now, Anne, and there is little truth to rumor, I have learned.”
“You always say exactly what you are thinking, don’t you?” Anne said. “How I envy you that ability. I must couch every word that I utter carefully so that that which I mean is understood perfectly, and cannot be confused or used against me.”
“I have not been brought up as you were, Anne. When you were nine, you were off to France in Princess Mary’s wedding train. I was running barefoot through my mother’s meadows chasing the sheep. When you were twelve, you were in the household of Queen Claude of France. I was learning the business of how my estates are managed. When you were seventeen, you joined this court. When I was fourteen, the responsibility for Friarsgate became mine. I am a country woman by inclination and breeding. You are a noblewoman, a courtier. I should not be understood in my world if I spoke as a courtier speaks,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “My family has attempted to smooth what they consider my rough edges, but they have not, I fear, been as successful as they would wish. If my forthrightness does not offend you, then I am glad. I cannot be that which I am not.”
“Nay, you do not offend me,” Anne replied. “You are the only person whom I can believe or trust, Bess Meredith. My uncle, the duke, asked what it was I saw in you. He would not approve our friendship but that your nephew is one of his pages, and the son of the Earl of Witton. I said your honesty pleased me.”
“And that I am here for but a short while,” Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eye. “I have seen the duke. He is a formidable-looking gentleman.”
“Aye, he is formidable,” Anne agreed. “He is the head of our family, and I must do what he tells me to do.” She shivered. “Sometimes I say no because I know now I can go to the king, and he will protect me. My uncle does not like that, but he must acquiesce, for he has no other choice. The king will be obeyed above all.”
“He is kind to you, and yet you are not lovers,” Elizabeth noted.
Anne Boleyn looked startled. “Why would you say that?” she asked.
“You said it first,” Elizabeth replied.
“Everyone thinks I am,” Anne responded, “but I’ll not be like my sister, Mary, poor creature. The king married her off. He has recognized one of her children, although she says the other is his too. Her husband uses her to his own advantage, and cares not that the king kept her as a mistress even after their marriage. I will not let my children be born with the stain of doubt upon them.”
“I think that you follow the correct course. The king will get his divorce eventually, Anne. And he loves you. I have been here but a short time, and I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you,” Elizabeth said.
“But when we are wed,” Anne said, and there was a hint of fear in her voice, “I must give him a healthy son. What if I cannot? What if I fail as Katherine of Aragon has failed? What will happen to me?” Then she caught herself up sharply. “I will not think on it. Of course I will give the king a son when we are wed one day.”
“You will be queen,” Elizabeth said softly.
“Aye, I will,” Anne Boleyn answered her, and a tiny smile touched the corners of her thin mouth. “And I shall do what I want, and no one, not even my uncle, the duke, will gainsay me, Bess. And everyone who has been unkind to me will suffer for it! What good is it to be queen if you cannot even the scores?” And she laughed wickedly.
“You must be a good queen,” Elizabeth said.
