The Secret Bride (20 page)

It had not been a social invitation. Charles knew that well enough as he sat in one of his uncle’s exceedingly uncomfortable tapestry-covered chairs in a room equally designed to make him uncomfortable. Nevertheless, when Thomas Brandon issued his nephew a summons, his appearance was nonnegotiable, for all of the times Charles had gone there, hat in his hand. There was always Anne and her welfare to be concerned about, no matter what else. As usual, Thomas kept him waiting. Charles knew, of course, that his uncle did this to set him off his game. But this time Charles was determined not to be unnerved by whatever the old snake felt it necessary to say in person.

Ten days after his return to court from sea duty, Charles looked up casually as Thomas Brandon came with labored steps, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped walking stick, into the room at last. He was purposefully imposing, in a costume of claret-colored velvet with black slashings and a heavy jewel-studded neck chain. Stiff-backed and stone-faced, his uncle sank into the chair facing Charles. He drew up a waiting goblet of wine, drank from it, then at last spoke.

“Well, then, to the point, shall we?”

“The sooner the better,” Charles replied blandly.

“It does not do the family name at all well for you to be making so indelible a mark at court these days and continue on with no title whatsoever.”

“Difficult for me to do otherwise when
you
acquired everything of value in the family, Uncle.” The sounds of servants walking past in the corridor beyond the door filled the sudden, awkward silence as Thomas Brandon’s stare went cold.

“I also acquired power enough, Charles, to see to the offer of a wardship for you and with it the potential use of a title all your own.”

Charles struggled not to show his surprise. Thomas Brandon had never done anything for anyone without there being strings attached. Everyone at court knew about the death of Sir John Grey, Viscount Lisle, and the subsequent passing of the little girl’s mother, Muriel Knyvet, in childbirth. The daughter had therefore inherited a title and fortune. A great unease began to snake its way up Charles’s spine. There had been enough jockeying for the acquisition of her guardian-ship since his return to set court tongues wagging.

“Elizabeth Grey?”

“The very same. And I have it on good authority that His Highness will grant it.”

Charles involuntarily sprung from his chair. “I do not wish that particular title.”

Thomas arched a single silvery brow in surprise. “You are too good to be Viscount Lisle, are you?”

“To access the title I must become betrothed to her.”

“That
is
how it customarily works.”

“Lady Grey is but eight years old!”

“At least you shall not need to question her experience.”

Thomas Brandon was delighting in this predicament, Charles could see by his indelicate sneer and the finger he placed beside his chin. “You seem rather unappreciative, my boy, for one with few similar options.”

That much, he realized, was true. While his company was well favored by the king, Charles was still the poor relation among the most intimate circle, and no number of positions Henry bestowed upon him changed that fact. In spite of all he had obtained in the last few years, this opportunity was not to be matched.

“And, after all, it is only a wardship we are acquiring for now. Not a wife.”

Charles studied him for a moment. There was not a single thing he actually liked about his uncle. “We?”

“You know my policy well enough. Of course it shall be a loan for the time being. But with John Grey’s sizeable fortune stuffed into your coffers you shall at last be able to return to me everything you and Anne owe me, and then some.”

“My own uncle charging me interest?”

“Let us not forget that I took pity on you, boy, back when there was no one else. If not for my kindness all these years, you would be tending hogs in Cheapside, and that sister of yours would be begging in the streets with a mask over her poor scarred face.”

Charles was unsure if he felt more revulsion or anger at that particular moment. This key opportunity was more like a deal with the devil. “I must have time to think.”

“Considering other options?” Thomas asked pointedly because he knew well enough there were no other options available. He let the question hang there for a moment, then he lowered his gaze to add, “Do not confuse my goodwill with affection, Charles. You may be my brother’s son, but he is my brother long dead. Since another Brandon is to remain at court in the company of the king, he shall do so appropriately titled, and not as my poor relation. In your current state you are an embarrassment to me and a drain on my coffers. I shall expect you to take the offer by week’s end so that I may submit it to the king’s offices for approval.”

Thomas Brandon stood with his nephew only then, like a punctuation mark to all he had said, and proceeded toward the door through which he had come. As always, the meeting was terminated without so much as a polite farewell.

“So, then. Tell me all about Mary.”

“The princess Mary?”

“The very one you speak about ceaselessly when you are here.” His sister sweetly laughed, and then touched his knee.

“Yes, the very one.”

As he always did after he had seen his uncle, Charles cleansed his heart and his mind by a visit with his sister, Anne. They sat together in the cozy little fire-stoked nook near the door, made comfortable by two padded chairs covered in tapestry fabric, and two goblets of rich Gascony wine.

“Well, let me see. . . . After my accident in the tournament, she and her companion did bring a confection to my chamber. And then we spoke for what seemed an eternity after my return from the sea, until the same lady did draw her from her apartments, she said, for propriety’s sake.”

“That would be Mistress Popincourt?” Anne chuckled more boldly. Jane’s behavior at court was no secret to Brandon and thus his sister knew every detail he knew. “Mary loves her, Anne. So I must also.”

She turned back to her brother’s gaze. “So then, is Her Grace as caring as she is lovely?”

“Every bit, I am afraid.”

“Does she yet know your heart?”

“No, and she shall know nothing beyond my attraction to her. I would not do that to her. Besides, that exercise in futility does not become my court reputation as a profligate at all,” he joked. Yet the cavalier tone he had long maintained when Mary was the subject slipped away just a little. Partially, he knew it was because pretense was difficult with Anne. Partially, it was because he was bursting to tell someone his heart and, in all the world, his sister was the only one he trusted fully.

“If my memory serves me,” she observed without a judging inflection, “the lady Mary will be seventeen just before Lent. There seems not so much difference between you now.”

“No matter what I feel, she is the king’s sister. Her age will change, the rest will not.”

“Yet are you not his closest friend?”

“I and approximately ten other gentlemen are his closest friends.”

“I fear you give yourself too little credit, brother.”

“And you give me too much,” he declared, drawing up her hand and kissing it tenderly. “Although I love you with every fiber of my being for it, the truth is I have been insuf-ferably self-indulgent these past years. I am a man with a reputation at court. I have done things for my own advancement that most find objectionable at best. No, my lady Mary is not to be sullied by the likes of me. The king trusts me with her and I should like to keep it like that.”

“And what if she actually returns your affections, brother?  What then?”

“It would mean not a thing more than it does at this moment. You know perfectly well her life is not her own. Nor is her heart. I owe every bit of the favor her brother has shown me for remembering that.”

“But if the king does cancel her betrothal to the Prince of Castile, as you believe he may do, what then? Can you just sit idly by and watch His Highness choose a new husband?  Can a viscount not ask more rightfully for the hand of a princess than a man with no title at all?”

He sank back in his chair, studying her as a warm autumnal breeze blew in upon them through the window, fluttering the curtains. “Uncle was here?”

“He visits occasionally, yes. News that is of benefit to anyone in our family seems worthy to him for making the trip. So when you are Viscount Lisle can you not more rightfully broach the subject with the king? God knows, if there were ever anyone ambitious enough to do it, it is you.”

“Not when she can have a prince, Anne. No, I’m done with marriage for a while. This time I shall be wise. Perhaps by the time my little ward grows up I shall have repaired my reputation and be ready to marry again. But not before then.”

It was a declaration delivered so forcefully he nearly believed it himself.

Look with favor on a bold beginning.

—Virgil

December 31, 1512, Greenwich Palace “I am going to approve the petition, granting you the wardship to make you Viscount Lisle.” Henry smiled proudly as he sat in his private cabinet, at his leather-topped desk, the walls around him lined with prized maps that he had begun to collect. Beside him, Edward Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham, lingered near the ornamental cage by the window where the king kept two nightingales.

“But most key to what I have arranged for us will happen this spring, when we attack France by ground. I want you with me, Charles, to fight beside me. I shall announce properly at the banquet this evening that, as marshal, you shall be the one to command all the English army.”

“After what happened at sea, I am not certain I deserve such an honor. I don’t suppose I will ever get over that,” he said haltingly. What he meant was that he was not certain he wished to get over it. Sometimes guilt was a good thing. It could strengthen a man. If it did not kill him first.

“Well, you had better try. That was not your fault. Howard was in charge and
he
let me down, not you. He has been right to stay at sea. You are my dearest friend, Charles. I trust you with my life and perhaps I should have trusted you instead of him with the admiral’s post. You have proven your loyalty to me again and again. Since you are the only one worthy of the honor, and the responsibility, you are to be appointed High Marshal as we go to war in spring. That is the end of it.”

Charles was stunned at Henry’s insistence, considering his own youth and inexperience. There was no greater honor, no bigger military responsibility than overseeing the entire English army. But he knew well and understood Henry’s passion for the chivalric code and the romance of war, which he had gained from his father. It was in part that legacy that was urging him on, pressing him to attack the French for land that had once belonged to the English.

“But the advancement to viscount. I don’t really know if—”

“It is a sound elevation, especially as you go out to command our army. You shall have an annuity of twenty pounds from it as well. I only regret I did not think of it first.” He shrugged.

The money would barely cover his clothing bill, and he still owed a small fortune not only to the previous king’s estate but to his uncle. “Very well, I do wish the wardship and title, Harry,” he said in an intentionally familiar tone. “What fool would not? I just do not wish the wife to go with it.”

“Is
that
the problem?” Henry threw back his head and laughed deeply, his eyes lighting. “Well, based on the age of Lady Grey, my friend, you have time enough to decide about that. Or is it that you have someone else in mind?”

The question surprised him, and for one mad moment, he actually considered answering truthfully. “There is a certain girl of the court. . . .”

“Well, then pursue her, man. Ho, by all means. You are no longer a married man. Of course you will need to seek my approval for a marriage of any sort, but you do have it on sound authority that the King of England has a soft spot in his heart for you.”

Henry wrapped his powerful arm across Brandon’s shoulder as they strode away from Buckingham, who he could tell had been listening, out of the chamber together and then down the length of the impressively portrait-lined hall. “Besides,” Henry remarked, “while the child has suited your purpose up until now, I actually have someone far more spectacular in mind for you myself than young Lady Grey.”