The Boleyn King (10 page)

That should please his mother. And despite any irritation she might cause, William was never so happy as when he pleased his mother.

19 September 1553
Whitehall Palace

After three weeks of delay at Dover, the court has returned to London. It’s a relief to be away from the English Channel. Everywhere I went the sound of water followed, whispering of how dreadfully ill I would be the moment I set foot on board ship. It never came to that. King Henri kept putting us off—first because his wife was ill, then he himself, then something about the weather that sounded suspect even to me. Lord Rochford went about for a day or two with a very black look, and William was in council meetings for nearly twelve hours straight
.

That was five days ago. Four days ago we left Dover behind—along with all thoughts of a French treaty. It appears the French were more interested in playing with William than in actually making peace. They will learn soon enough that Will is not to be mocked. But for now, selfish being that I am, I am merely grateful that I shall not have to cross the sea anytime soon
.

I am not the only one relieved. Elizabeth went so far as to blink three times when informed that we were to make for London. It’s as much emotion as I’ve seen from her in a month. As the time drew near for Calais and the treaty and her betrothal to Charles, she seemed to pull ever more into herself. She would never say so, but I am sure she is glad not to have to marry just yet
.

While at Dover, Dominic went everywhere Rochford did. It seems an unlikely pairing—Dominic has always been so straightforward. But he has picked up on Rochford’s trick of blanking his eyes so that one has no idea just what he might be thinking. I suppose that will be useful in diplomatic situations. It’s rather irritating for the rest of us
.

I do enjoy being in Elizabeth’s service. Not all has been smooth, for there are many who covet my position. But Mistress Ashley has eased the way with her unhesitating acceptance of me. She has known me nearly as long as she’s known the princess, and sometimes I catch her about to scold me or send me running along to bed before she remembers that I am quite grown and have responsibilities of my own now
.

We are beginning well enough in our autumn pleasures, for there is to be a wedding tomorrow. Eleanor Percy is to marry Giles Howard, and we are bidden to attend. A wedding is always festive, even if …

Minuette paused, searching for a polite way to end that sentence.
A wedding is always festive, even if … Giles Howard is a horrid man whom I wouldn’t wish on any woman. Even if … I suspect William of arranging things for his own advantage
.

It doesn’t concern me
, she told herself sternly.
What William does is his own affair
.

But
affair
was a poorly chosen word and set her off again wondering what it was that William saw in Eleanor Percy, a woman incapable of sustaining any conversation longer than five minutes.

It’s not conversation he wants
, her treacherous mind whispered. And when she found her mind wandering to the shadowy details of what he did want, Minuette shut her diary emphatically. Biting her lip, she eyed Elizabeth. The princess appeared totally absorbed in her account book, and Minuette hesitated to interrupt her for something as trivial as a vague sense of discontent.

Without looking up, Elizabeth said, “What is bothering you, Minuette?”

“Well, now it’s the fact that you can read my mind without effort.”

Elizabeth made a last entry, wiped her quill, and laid it down. “Truly, what is it?”

Since she still could not come up with a polite way to express herself, Minuette said it plainly. “Are you not bothered by this wedding tomorrow?”

“Why would I be?” Elizabeth asked in genuine surprise.

“It just seems so … cold-blooded. Eleanor Percy cannot possibly care for Giles Howard. And it is so rushed.”

“I am quite sure Eleanor is content. With the rush, as well as the marriage.”

Minuette weighed pouring out her true fear, but Elizabeth spoke first. “You need not worry. Eleanor will serve a particular purpose in Will’s life … but she will never be his friend.”

She picked up her pen once more and turned back to her work. “And all the better for Will. If he is content with a woman like Eleanor, then he is unlikely to ever do anything so disastrous as fall in love.”

William was relieved to be at Whitehall—away from Dover and his uncle’s black mood and constant arguments about Henri’s intentions. For three weeks Rochford had kept William busy from dawn to dusk with discussions of policy and the implications of the upcoming treaty. Now that the treaty appeared lost, William knew there would be continued debate by a council that seemed more anxious to talk than to act. He was prepared to endure a great deal of boredom in the coming days.

But not today. He had flatly refused to meet in council again until tomorrow, reasoning that they were all tired and would do better after a day or two of rest. Somewhat surprisingly, Rochford had agreed and William had enjoyed an afternoon of doing not much of anything—reading, gambling with some of his gentlemen—while his mind danced to Eleanor. The last three weeks of separation had only burnished her allure. Give her one night with her husband, and then she would be all his.

As he considered it, William felt a twinge that he smothered with righteous argument. He was doing nothing that had not been done a hundred times before by kings long dead—his own father’s first acknowledged son had been borne by a woman married to someone else. (He had never known his half brother; Henry FitzRoy had died the month after William’s own birth.) And it wasn’t as though Giles Howard were being secretly cuckolded. He knew the price of his return to royal favor.

When Dominic entered the privy chamber, William brightened and waved off everyone else. Weeks of tension had left their mark in the lines etched around Dominic’s eyes. Shadowing Rochford couldn’t be an easy task when the Lord Protector was in a rage.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dominic demanded, in a tone reminiscent of William’s mother.

“Tell you what?”

“That Giles Howard is back at court—and being given a lavish wedding at your expense.”

“It was hardly a secret. I assumed you knew.”

“If I had known, I would have stopped it.”

William gave a short laugh. “This marriage has nothing to do with you, Dom. Why do you care?”

“Have you forgotten what he did to Minuette?”

Why was it that Dominic could so easily make him defensive? “I have not forgotten.”

“Then why …” Dominic searched him with probing eyes.

He forced himself to look steadily back, knowing that Dominic could read him almost as easily as Elizabeth did.

At last Dominic shook his head. “Neatly done. Tell me, does Howard know the price of his return?”

“He’s pleased with his advancement. And I imagine he’ll be kept busy administering affairs on his new estates in Cumberland.”

“While his wife remains in Lady Rochford’s service.”

“Naturally.”

“Have you given any thought to the lady, beyond what you desire?”

William hovered on the point of real anger before shrugging it off. “I assure you, Eleanor is quite content with the arrangement. No matter how long she … however long we … she will be the daughter-in-law of one of the premier dukes in England. It’s more than her family ever dreamed.”

But Dominic placed the matter in more candid terms. “You mean she’s willing to sell herself for her family’s sake.”

Exasperated, William stood up ready to pace. “If you think I’ve bought Eleanor, you’re mistaken. She is no innocent and she needed no inducements. Eleanor’s only virtue is devotion to her own interests. Not the quality I would wish in a wife, but she will do nicely for now.”

He put his hands on Dominic’s shoulders and noted with satisfaction that their eyes were at last level. “Tonight is for pleasure, Dom. Get some sleep and then come dance with the bride. You’ve kept to yourself too much these last months. Find a woman—that’s what you need.”

Dominic attended the wedding as William had bidden him, but he did not dance with the bride. Arms crossed, he leaned against the linenfold paneling that adorned the walls of the chamber and considered the spectacle playing out before him.

It seemed that William had been right. Eleanor Percy—Eleanor Howard, now—looked remarkably content. She behaved impeccably toward her new husband and even coaxed the old Duke of Norfolk into dancing with her. Giles, dressed in the gaudiest bright blue doublet Dominic had ever seen, preened as he watched his wife and father. But before long his eyes wandered, and Dominic’s chest constricted when Giles’s hungry gaze lit on Minuette and stayed there.

She sparkled in a gown of shimmery shades of pink and white, deep in conversation with a young man Dominic did not recognize. Perhaps more than conversation, he thought. Her smile, the way she lowered her lashes demurely, the silver of laughter … Minuette was flirting. And Dominic was not the only one to notice. Every man within eyesight seemed to subtly orient himself to her.

He had seen this sort of feminine power before—despite her age, Queen Anne could still command any room of men she chose. It seemed Minuette had learnt more from the queen than just dancing and diplomacy.

Flirting is part of diplomacy
, he told himself, but his feet did not listen. He strode to Minuette and interrupted with only the barest attempt at civility. “If I might have a word?”

With surprised pleasure, she said, “Dominic, may I introduce Jonathan Percy? And this is Dominic Courtenay.”

Jonathan started to stumble out a greeting, but Dominic cut him short with a nod and an abrupt “Excuse us.”

He steered Minuette by the elbow to a window embrasure where they could be somewhat private. “What’s happened?” Minuette sounded genuinely worried.

Instantly he felt foolish. “I just … I wondered if you had made any progress amongst the queen’s ladies. Any information about Alyce de Clare that might help us?”

“That’s why you dragged me away from poor Jonathan? You were really quite rude.”

“Was I?” For the first time, Dominic registered the young man’s surname. “Percy—is he a relative of the bride?”

Minuette sniffed. “He and Eleanor are twins. Though one would never guess—Jonathan is quite cultured. He’s a musician, currently with the Bishop of Winchester. I think I’ll ask William to bring him to court.”

It seemed she was as unhappy with this marriage as Dominic. Because of William’s willingness to let Giles return to court so soon?

They both looked round as the music stopped. But William immediately clapped for more and went straight to Eleanor, standing next to her new husband. William did not even ask—simply took possession of her hand. Then the music struck up and they were dancing.

In spite of himself, Dominic was impressed by Giles Howard’s self-control. Only a flicker of his eyes betrayed possible discomfort. Whatever he had agreed to—unspoken or not—it could not be pleasant to stand by and watch your wife smiling radiantly in another man’s arms.

Dominic knew this was as close as William would come to publicly shaming Howard. Affairs in the English court were conducted circumspectly; gossip might run riot, but the only ones who would know for certain where Eleanor spent her nights were the gentlemen who escorted her to the king and then stood guard outside the door. For once Dominic was heartily relieved to be working for Rochford—there was no way he meant to stand twenty feet away while William bedded any woman.

Though Dominic had not been precisely celibate in the last two years, campaigning left little enough time for dalliance, and Rochford now drove him with an intensity that left no energy for anything else. When he wasn’t attending the Lord Protector, he was studying foreign affairs and the history of English diplomacy. In truth, watching Rochford work was the greatest tutorial. It had been a revelation to see what could be accomplished with the raise of an eyebrow, a few judicious words, and an occasional veiled threat.

“She is very lovely.” Minuette’s voice made him jump. Her gaze was fixed on William and Eleanor. “I imagine he’ll be happy with her.”

Dominic turned sharp eyes to her, wondering which “he” she meant. Surely she didn’t realize … surely she did. The entire court knew what was being enacted here tonight.

Before he could think how to change the subject, Minuette did it for him. “I have been speaking to the queen’s ladies, but they have told me nothing I did not already know about Alyce. It’s just that I didn’t want to know some of it.”

Since a dead woman seemed a safer subject just now than a living one, Dominic asked, “What do you know?”

“That she was ambitious, and poor, and not in the least sentimental. She used to laugh whenever I would talk about love or even kindness. ‘No one marries for love,’ she’d tell me. ‘That’s just a story we tell ourselves to cover our own natures.’ ”

Dominic didn’t ask if Alyce was ambitious and poor enough to be bought—clearly she had been. “So how did a woman so hardheaded fall pregnant?”

“Perhaps she knew herself less well than she thought,” Minuette said. “Perhaps she was surprised by love. She may have been reckless—but she could never be stupid. Whatever she did, she did it knowingly.”