The past year had been challenging for Elizabeth and Thomas. Even though his career had flourished and he had travelled abroad to represent the king on numerous diplomatic missions, problems at home had continued. After many strange and frightening episodes, Thomas’s mother, Lady Margaret Boleyn, was diagnosed by their physician as being insane.
‘We’ll care for her at home,’ Elizabeth had said to her shattered husband.
‘Would she be better with one of my sisters?’ he had asked.
Margaret had delivered eleven children, of these, eight had lived into adulthood, but Elizabeth had shaken her head.
‘Hever Castle has been her home for most of her life,’ she had said. ‘To move her to another property could cause her more fear and confusion. I’m happy to remain here and care for her.’
Thomas had nodded, understanding this was the perfect reason for Elizabeth to stay away from court while he was abroad.
Now, Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s hand, before leaning forward and tucking a loose curl behind her daughter’s ear, a gesture left over from Mary’s childhood.
‘Your Papa is negotiating a very important meeting between King Henry and King Francis. It is to take place in France and will be the biggest, most glamorous meeting of kings ever seen,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It’s a huge honour for Papa to be one of the organisers. He’ll be home soon, but then it will be Lent and, as you know, the devout are supposed to abstain from the enjoyment of the marital bed. It would be a dismal way to begin your marriage if we were to postpone the ceremony to coincide with a period of abstinence.’
Mary gave a watery smile at her mother’s arched eyebrows. ‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘Tomorrow, you’ll become an important woman at court,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Your husband-to-be is a cousin of the king. He is also his friend and he holds a high position. Remember, William is an Esquire of the Body and a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, as his wife, you will be included in the inner circle of court life. Your life will be your own to create, my dearest, and I will be here whenever you require help or advice.’
‘But Papa?—’
‘Your grandfather, the Duke of Norfolk, will more than make up for Papa’s absence. As will your many uncles, aunts and cousins,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Your grandfather told me himself he will be the proudest man at court, being able to give you in holy matrimony to William.’
Mary wiped her eyes and a cheeky grin spread across her face. ‘Don’t forget step-grandmama, Duchess Agnes will also be there,’ she said, and Elizabeth closed her eyes in pretend horror, which made them both giggle.
The newly built Chapel Royal at Greenwich Palace on the River Thames was packed with courtiers. The vast Howard family and the extended Boleyn family watched as Mary Boleyn married Sir William Carey, even though the bride’s father and sister were absent. However, the king was in attendance and Elizabeth had no choice but to welcome him as he sat beside her, his legs jammed against her, the bulk of his body formidable in its presence. His shadow jaded the happy occasion, but Elizabeth managed to feel a swell of pride as Mary and William exchanged their vows.
‘Mary is beautiful,’ the king said as the radiant couple left. ‘Although, she is but a sketch, you are the finished painting, my love.’
He kissed her hand, then looked up, gazing into her eyes.
‘Soon, my dearest Lizzie,’ he said, ‘our time will be upon us and we will be able to declare our love to the world. You shall be my queen, forever.’
He gave her a grave smile, then swept away to join his friends, Nicholas Carew and Anthony Browne, members of his inner circle.
Elizabeth swayed on the spot, wondering at the king’s words, then she felt a hand under her elbow and turned to see her sister Anne.
‘He’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘You’re safe.’
Elizabeth looked at her in alarm.
‘Thomas explained the situation has worsened and your father and brother are encouraging the king,’ said Anne and her voice shook with anger on her sister’s behalf. Elizabeth felt a wave of love towards her husband, as well as relief to have her sister by her side. ‘Don’t fret about the king, his presence means the couple has been honoured by his attendance,’ remarked Anne as Henry strode away, laughing with Nicholas Carew and Anthony Browne.
‘Of course,’ said Elizabeth. ‘My eldest daughter is married, this is the most important thing to remember.’
They watched as William and Mary left the chapel arm-in-arm.
‘It feels like only yesterday when we were girls ourselves with Mother at Sheriff Hutton discussing our own marriages and children,’ said Anne.
‘She would have been so proud of Mary,’ said Elizabeth with a sad smile.
The crowd swirled around them and Anne whispered, ‘Have you heard the rumours?’
‘No,’ Elizabeth replied, continuing to try to make sense of Henry’s words.
‘Bessie Blount, who has delivered him both a son and a daughter, has been replaced. The whispers suggest the king’s moved on to Jane Pollard, the daughter of Sir Lewis Pollard, a member of Parliament from Devon.’
‘I thought Bessie was married to Sir Gilbert Tailboys,’ replied Elizabeth.
