The contest was but halfway completed when Jane saw a man in royal livery enter the stand and speak into the King’s ear. Henry scowled, stood up and departed without a word, leaving Anne and everyone else staring after him. Jane looked at her brothers, wondering what this portended. Trembling, she turned back to the lists. There was a buzz of speculative conversation all around. The knights were still charging at one another, but the crowd’s attention was elsewhere. Jane looked over to where the Queen was sitting. Anne had a fixed smile on her face. Norris was not yet out of the running, yet he failed to appear. Jane began to feel sick to her stomach. It was beginning.
When the jousts were over, she and her brothers were among the throng that returned to the palace, where Bryan and Carew were waiting for them.
“The King has left for Westminster,” Bryan said. “He took only six persons with him, including Norris. He asked me to give you this.” He handed Jane a sealed letter. It was brief and unsigned. That which we have longed for will soon come to pass. M.S. has confessed all, and more.
“What does it mean?” she asked, handing it to Edward as the others craned to read it. But she knew.
“It means that Smeaton has confessed to something and possibly incriminated others,” Carew said. “I’ll wager he did not enjoy his visit to Master Cromwell’s house.”
“This means that the Lady will soon be unseated,” Edward declared. “And then…”
Jane could not bear to think of what would happen then. Yes, she was to marry the King, which was cause for great joy, but first there was this huge, threatening abyss to be overcome. She did not know how she would pass through it.
* * *
—
“The Queen has been arrested!” Nan cried, flying into the apartment and startling Edward and Jane. “It’s all over the court! She was taken to the Tower this afternoon in broad sight of the people.”
“What is she charged with?” As Edward leapt up, Jane started to shake.
“Treason, it is said. Some say adultery. But no one seems to know any details.” Nan’s eyes were glittering with excitement.
There was a brisk knock and Bryan burst in. “You’ve heard,” he said. “I just saw Chapuys. He said to tell you, Jane, that you must not hold yourself responsible in any way, for this is divine vengeance on Anne for all the wrongs she inflicted upon the Queen and the Princess.”
“So he believes she is guilty?”
“He is sure of it. I think we all are.” He looked at Edward and Nan, and they nodded gravely. “He predicts that the outcome of the affair will be her execution.”
Jane closed her eyes, not wanting to think about it.
Presently Carew and Thomas joined them. “I thought you would be here,” Carew said to Bryan. “I came to salute my future queen.” He bowed low to Jane.
“Amen to that!” Thomas beamed. “Why are you looking so miserable, sister? You will soon be wearing a crown.”
“It is true,” she said. She turned to Bryan and Carew. “Keep this to yourselves, as I am allowed to tell only family. The King has asked me to wed him, and I have accepted.”
“By God!” Bryan and Carew exclaimed in unison, and embraced her in turn. “This calls for a celebration!”
“I had rather wait until this terrible business is all over,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
Bryan faced her. “Jane, you should be rejoicing with us that his Grace has escaped this great peril and danger, and that you are going to marry him and be our queen. And when this she-devil is no more, any children you bear his Grace will be undoubtedly legitimate. So we all have several causes for rejoicing!”
Suddenly, from somewhere distant, there came a resonant boom.
They all stared at one another. “That’s a cannon,” Thomas said.
“They’re firing from the Tower to let the world know that someone of high rank has been imprisoned,” Carew said. “They did it some years back when the Duke of Buckingham was taken there.” There was a silence as they all recalled Buckingham’s bloody death on the block—for committing treason.
“This change is long overdue,” Bryan said. “A new queen on the throne, and the Princess restored to her rightful place.”
“And sons for the King, by the grace of God,” Edward added.
Jane turned away. Anne was not even tried yet. But of course, it was rare for anyone accused of treason to escape death, and Anne, she was sure now, was guilty. Everyone said so.
Jane did not want to show her face in the court. She could not face the prurient interest of the courtiers, or the sudden silences whenever she appeared. She stayed behind the locked door of the apartment and waited for news. Late that night, Edward came to tell her that Lord Rochford too had been taken to the Tower.
“He must have been involved in the conspiracy,” he said. “Of course, the reformists are in shock. They fear that a change of religion is inevitable.”
“As indeed I hope it will be,” Jane said, envisaging the monumental task that lay ahead of her. She was not sure that she was equal to it. Oh, how she longed for Mother to be here, to lay her head on that ample warm bosom and confide her fears, knowing that Mother would not try to jolly her out of them, but would understand.
She was praying for some word from Henry to tell her what was going on, but there was nothing. She hated being left at Greenwich while he was at York Place. Edward said that he had not appeared in public since Anne’s arrest.
At midnight, to her amazement, he came to her, cloaked and hooded. He was tense, restless and very angry. Edward and Nan quickly retreated into their bedchamber.
“Dear God, I have so longed to see you,” Henry said, clasping Jane tightly to him. “I came by barge from Whitehall, and I must go back there soon. I cannot tell you…Do you have some of that Rhenish left?”
“Of course.” Jane broke away, lifted the cloth off the ewer and poured him a full goblet. “Sit down and rest.”
He downed half of his wine almost immediately. “Smeaton confessed to adultery with the Queen. After I raised him from nothing! And he said he was not the only one. He named Norris—Norris that was my friend and most trusted servant!” His face twisted in bitterness as everything fell into place, and Jane began wondering if she should tell him what she had seen at Mireflore.
“He incriminated Weston also, whom I have loved, and William Brereton of my Privy Chamber,” Henry went on. “She has had to do with them all! And Jane, the worst of all—he named Rochford too.” His face flushed. “Her own brother!”
“Oh, my God!” Jane cried, shocked to her soul. “It’s—it’s unthinkable that anyone could stoop to such wickedness.”
“You would believe it, Jane, if you saw the evidence, which I hope you never will. The details are revolting.” Henry drew in his breath. “And on top of her fornicating, she was plotting to have me murdered. Well, she shall pay for it! The law will take its course.”
“You will not have her burned?” Jane begged.
“No, darling, I have not forgotten my promise. She shall have an easy death, if it makes you feel better. And she is being held in comfort in the Queen’s lodgings. It is more than she deserves!” His mouth set in a grim line. “Well, I will be rid of her soon. And to make sure that there is no impediment to our son succeeding to the throne, I have today ordered Cranmer to find grounds for annulling my marriage. Elizabeth must be declared a bastard. My Council say there is no guarantee that she is mine, given that Anne has been unfaithful on numerous occasions throughout our marriage.”
“Do you believe that Elizabeth is not yours?” she asked.
He sighed. “Of course not. You have only to look at her to see whose child she is. She has as much of me in her as she has of Anne. But I have been warned that speculation about her paternity can only undermine the security of the succession. The way must be clear for me to make a
new, undisputed marriage.”
Jane spared a thought for Elizabeth, not yet three, and so soon to be motherless and disinherited. The thought was almost unbearable. An innocent child…But there was Mary to be thought of, Mary who had been cruelly deprived of her birthright. She summoned her courage. “Henry, when I am queen, my dearest hope is to see the Lady Mary reinstated as heiress to the throne.”
Henry shook his head. “Jane, you are a fool. You ought to be soliciting the advancement of the children we will have together, and not any others.”
Stung, she leapt to defend herself. “I do think of them, but also of your peace of mind, for unless you do justice to Mary, Englishmen will never be content.” Her hand flew to her mouth as she realized that she had dared to criticize the King’s policy toward his elder daughter, which no wise person risked doing these days. She waited, head downcast, for him to explode.
“Jane, look at me,” Henry said. She raised her eyes to see that he was not angry, but gazing at her lovingly. “Once again, you shame me by your kind heart. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m like an old bear at the moment, lashing out at everyone. It’s this awful business with Anne that has put me in a foul temper. I will think about what’s to be done with Mary, I promise you, but for now I have enough to deal with. And I came to tell you that I’m staying secluded in my privy chamber at York Place until all this is over.”
“Then I will not see you?” she asked, dismayed. She needed his presence, and his conviction, to overlay her qualms about Anne.
“Yes, you will, darling, very soon. I can hardly bear to be without you, but it will not be for long.” He kissed her, gently and longingly, then released her. “I prefer to remain in seclusion for now. This whole business is humiliating for me. I’ve given orders that I will see only Master Cromwell and a few of my councillors and secretaries. And you, when I can.”
She understood. For a king who exuded such power and virility, it was shaming for the world to know that his wife had cuckolded him with his best friend, a lowly musician and her own brother.
“I will send for you as soon as I am able,” he promised, and disappeared into the night.
* * *
—
Chapuys came to see Jane late the following afternoon. It was the first time he had ever sought her out directly or visited the apartment. Her brothers were all there, and looked suitably impressed.
Chapuys bowed low to her. “Mistress Jane, I came to tell you that I informed the Princess at once of the Lady’s arrest, and she has sent back to say that I am to give you and Master Cromwell and all your friends every assistance in pressing for your advancement.”
She hugged her secrets to herself. How she wished she could tell Chapuys that Henry had asked her to marry him. But Henry would tell him in his own good time, and that could not be yet. Still, it was encouraging to know that the Princess supported her. How jubilant Mary must have been to hear of her great enemy’s arrest.
“When you write to the Princess, please send her my heartfelt thanks,” she asked. “I have not been idle on her behalf.” She recounted her conversation with Henry. “Once this is all over, I hope his Grace will look on her with more sympathy. I will not desist, I promise you.”
Chapuys smiled. He really was a most attractive man, with that air of wisdom and compassion. “These arrests have shaken everyone. I hear there are now five men in the Tower with the Queen, and some gentlemen at court are in fear for their lives, lest they should be accused next. Even Sir Francis Bryan was questioned by Cromwell this morning, and he is known to be your man.”
Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. “Not Bryan?” She saw Edward blench. “No, I assure you,” Chapuys said. “I saw him afterward, and he told me he made it plain that he was unquestionably the Lady’s enemy and would profit from the fall of those accused with her. In all, he convinced Master Cromwell that he had abandoned her, so he has clearly been exonerated. He is a lucky man. Yet I am wondering if his going free was intended to give credence to the guilt of the others.”
“Thank God!” Jane’s heart was pounding.
There was a rap on the door. An usher in the King’s livery stood there.
“I must leave you,” Chapuys said. He bowed and departed.
The usher handed Jane a sealed letter and waited. She opened it and read, her spirits faltering.
Darling,
I will send for you as soon as I can, as I promised, but I think people will be the less suppositious and the more convinced of the matter in hand if you are not seen in public. Sir Nicholas Carew has offered his house as a refuge, and he will escort you there immediately. Take one of your brothers with you for company. The time will not be long, I promise.
Written with the hand of him who loves you with a true heart. H.R.
She turned to her brothers. “He is sending me away, to avoid gossip and prejudicing the proceedings against the Lady,” she said. “Nicholas Carew has placed his house at my disposal, and I am to go there today. I have no idea where it is, and I do not want to be sent away.”
“If the King commands it, you must,” Edward said sternly. “A lot rides on this.”
“Nicholas has a house in the country,” Thomas told them. “It’s not far from London.”
“It’s at Beddington in Surrey,” Edward said. “Who is to accompany you?”
“Sir Nicholas is to escort me there, but the King said I should take one of you for company.”
“I am needed here,” Edward said quickly. “Someone has to keep an eye open for what is happening.”
“I am for Whitehall this afternoon,” Thomas put in.
Edward glared at him. “What business have you there?”
“I too am keeping an eye open” was the rejoinder.
“I will come with you, Jane,” Harry said. She looked at him gratefully. “I will help you pack,” Nan offered.
* * *
—
Jane disliked Beddington Park on sight. It had been a long ride from Greenwich, more than twelve miles through the outlying villages of London, but after leaving the little market town of Croydon, they had entered a vast deer park, which Carew proudly informed them was his.
“Not far now,” he said. Dusk was already deepening into darkness. Presently a church came into view. “The house is beyond.” He pointed a finger. As they approached, Jane saw the forbidding black silhouette of a great mansion outlined against the sky. “My father built the hall and the two wings,” Nicholas related.
All Jane wanted to do was to turn her horse and gallop away. The place looked so sinister. She took a deep breath as they approached.
It was now evening, and servants were awaiting them, holding torches aloft. Close to, she could see that the house was of red brick and set amid neat gardens, but it still felt forbidding. Carew helped her from her horse as Harry looked about him appreciatively.
“It’s a fine place you have here, Sir Nicholas,” he said.
“Wait till you see the great hall.” Their host smiled. “It was the inspiration for the one at Hampton Court.”
It was on a smaller scale, of course, but Jane had to concede that it was magnificent, with its hammer-beam roof, high windows and oak paneling.
“You will be tired after your journey,” Carew said. “My steward will show you to your chambers.” A man in livery came forward.
Jane’s room was luxurious, more so than any at Wulfhall—the measure of Carew’s success at court. The bed had a rich counterpane and heavy damask curtains, and there was a bench set with cushions and a solid oak table with turned legs. A fresh-faced maid in a clean gown and coif was waiting to unpack.
“I’m Meg, mistress,” she said. “I will serve you while you are here. If there is anything you want, just ask.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, sinking down on the cushions. She was saddle-sore and weary, unu
sually tired—which might be down to her condition—and ill at ease, despite the luxury of the house. She was praying that Henry would summon her soon, for she did not want to stay here any longer than necessary. “I think I will retire, Meg,” she said. “Stay with me. I do not like to be alone at night. Is there a pallet bed you could use?”
“There’s one here, mistress,” Meg said, pulling it out from under the tester bed. “I’ll make it up.”
Jane went downstairs to thank Carew for his hospitality and bid him good night.
“I’ll be heading back to court first thing in the morning,” he said, “but in my absence, my steward will supply anything you need. You’ll find that my cook keeps a good table.”
* * *
—
It was hard to sleep that night. Jane hated having the curtains closed, so the moonlight was streaming in through the lattice-paned window, casting shadows in the room. She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to see them, and thought of Henry, wondering what he was doing and thinking, and of Anne, immured in her prison in the Tower. She could only imagine her agony of mind. What must it feel like to be locked up there, fearing—and with good cause—that the only way out would be via the scaffold?
She thrust the thought away and made herself think of Mother and Father, who would hopefully be on their way to London soon. She prayed she would be gone from here by then. It was so quiet in this vast, empty house, especially with Harry sleeping in the other wing. She was grateful for the presence of Meg, snoring softly nearby.
She heard the church bell toll three before she drifted off. It seemed that she got up and padded to the window, where she stood looking out on the church tower opposite. There was a light behind its windows, a pale moving light shaped like a disc, that suddenly became a disembodied face with a black beard and no body, or so it appeared. Then everything went dark and it was gone.