The Other Boleyn Girl - Philippa Gregory

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are recovered and returned to court?’

      I sank into a curtsey. ‘If it please Your Majesty.’

      ‘You have been at your parents’ home, all this long time?’

      ‘Yes. At Hever Castle, Your Majesty.’

      ‘You must have rested well. There is nothing in that part of the world but sheep and cows, I think?’

      I smiled. ‘It is farmland,’ I agreed. ‘But there was much for me to do. I enjoyed riding out and looking at the fields and talking to the men who work them.’

      For a moment, I could see that she was intrigued by the thought of the land, which after all her years in England she still only saw as a place for hunting and picnics and the summer progress. But she remembered why I had left court in the first place. ‘Did His Majesty order your return?’

      I heard a little warning hiss from Anne behind me but I disregarded it. I had a romantic, foolish thought, that I did not want to look this good woman in her honest eyes and lie to her. ‘The king sent for me, Your Majesty,’ I said respectfully.

      She nodded and looked down at her hands where they were quietly clasped in her lap. ‘Then you are fortunate,’ was all she said.

      There was a brief silence. I wanted very much to tell her that I had fallen in love with her husband but I knew that she was far above me. She was a woman whose spirit had been hammered and forged until she could only ring true. Compared with the rest of us she was silver, while we were pewter, a common mixture of lead and tin.

      The great double doors swung open. ‘His Majesty the king!’ the herald announced and Henry strolled into the room. ‘I am come to lead you into dinner,’ he started, and then he saw me and stopped in his tracks. The queen’s considering gaze flicked from his transfixed face to mine and back again.

      ‘Mary,’ he exclaimed.

      I forgot even to curtsey. I just stared at him.

      A little warning tut from Anne failed to recall me. The king crossed the room in three long strides and took my hands in his, and held them to his chest. I felt the scratch of his embroidered doublet under my fingers, the caress of his silk shirt through the slashings.

      ‘My love,’ he said in a low whisper. ‘You are welcome back to court.’

      ‘I thank you …’

      ‘They told me that you were sent away to learn a lesson. Did I do right to say you could come back unlearned?’

      ‘Yes. Yes. Perfectly right,’ I stumbled.

      ‘You were not scolded?’ he pressed.

      I gave a little laugh and looked up at his intent blue gaze. ‘No. They were a little cross with me, but that was all.’

      ‘You wanted to come back to court?’

      ‘Oh yes.’

      The queen rose to her feet. ‘So. Let us go to dinner, ladies,’ she said generally. Henry threw a quick glance at her over his shoulder. She held out her hand to him, imperious as a daughter of Spain. He turned to her with the old habit of devotion and obedience and I could not think how to recapture him. I stepped behind her and bent low to arrange the train of her gown while she stood, queenly; despite her stockiness, beautiful; despite the weariness in her face.

      ‘Thank you, Mistress Carey,’ she said gently. And then she led us in to dinner with her hand resting lightly on her husband’s arm, and he inclined his head to her to hear something she said, and he did not look back at me again.

      George greeted me at the end of dinner, strolling to the queen’s table where we ladies were seated with wine and sweetmeats before us. He brought me a sugared plum. ‘Sweets for the sweet,’ he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.

      ‘Oh George,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your note.’

      ‘You were bombarding me with desperate cries,’ he said. ‘Three letters I got from you in the first week. Was it so awful?’

      ‘The first week was,’ I said. ‘But then I became accustomed. By the end of the first month I was rather taking to the country life.’

      ‘Well, we all did our best for you here,’ he said.

      ‘Is Uncle at court?’ I asked, looking around. ‘I don’t see him.’

      ‘No, in London with Wolsey. But he knows all that is going on, don’t you worry. He said to tell you that he will be hearing reports of you and he trusts you now know how to behave.’

      Jane Parker leaned across the table. ‘Are you going to be a lady in waiting?’ she asked George. ‘For you are sitting at our table and on a lady’s stool.’

      George rose unhurriedly. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies. I did not mean to intrude.’

      Half a dozen voices assured him that he did not intrude. My brother was a handsome young man and a popular visitor to the queen’s rooms. No-one but his sour-tongued betrothed objected to him joining our table.

      He bowed over her hand. ‘Mistress Parker, thank you for reminding me to leave you,’ he said courteously, his irritation clear behind his sweet tones. He bent and kissed me firmly on the lips. ‘God speed you, little Marianne,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘You are carrying the hopes of your family.’

      I caught his hand as he was about to go. ‘Wait, George, I wanted to ask you something.’

      He turned back. ‘What?’

      I tugged at his hand to make him lean down to me so that I could whisper in his ear. ‘Do you think that he loves me?’

      ‘Oh,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Oh, love.’

      ‘Well, do you?’

      He shrugged. ‘Whatever does it mean? We write poems about it all day and sing songs about it all night but if there is such a thing in real life I’m damned if I know.’

      ‘Oh George!’

      ‘He wants you, I can tell you that. He’s prepared to go through a degree of trouble to have you. If that means love to you then yes, he loves you.’

      ‘That’s enough for me,’ I said with quiet satisfaction. ‘Wants me, and is prepared to go through a degree of trouble. That sounds like love to me.’

      My handsome brother bowed. ‘If you say so, Mary. If that is good enough for you.’ He straightened up and immediately stepped back. ‘Your Majesty.’

      The king stood before me. ‘George, I cannot allow you to spend the evening talking to your sister, you are the envy of the court.’

      ‘I am,’ George said with all his courtier charm. ‘Two beautiful sisters and not a care in the world.’

      ‘I thought we should have some dancing,’ the king said. ‘Will you lead out Mistress Boleyn and I will take care of Mistress Carey, here?’

      ‘I should be delighted,’ George said. Without looking around for her, he snapped his fingers and, alert as ever, Anne appeared at his side.

      ‘We’re to dance,’ he said shortly.

      The king waved his hand and the musicians struck up a quick country dance so we arranged ourselves in a ring of eight people and started the flowing steps first one way then the other. At the opposite side of the circle I saw George’s familiar beloved face and, beside him, Anne’s smooth smile. She looked as she did when she was studying a new book. She was reading the king’s mood as carefully as she might look at a psalter. She was looking from him to me as if to measure the urgency of his desire. And, while never turning her head, she was checking the mood of the queen, trying to get an idea of what she had seen or what she felt.

      I smiled

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